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( CHAPTER 1.-CoNTlaiEL ) .
A second and third attempt Miss Fulton -
ton made to solve the mystery of the
. haunted chamber. On the second night
the place was not visited , and the adventurous -
venturous girl had slept soundly from
2 o'clock until daybreak. But the third
night , just as 12 o'clock 'str'uck , she
heard the rattle of a key in the lock
and directly the door swung upon ,
creakingly , and the tall figure she had
once before seen stepped over the thres-
hold. This time the figure was black
only , simple black , and the veil that
covered her face and shoulders was
sabe : crape. She went forward until
she stood upon the blood stain on the
carpet and then sinking down to her
knees she muttered some unintelligible -
ble words that sounded like a denunci- i
ation. Then she rose quickly and turned -
ed toward the closet where hung the
bridal veil.
Helen sprang forward and grasped
her firmly by the arm. A hoarse cry
broke from under the black veil. With
a gigantic strength the arm was torn
from Helen's grasp , and , as before , the
figure banished in the shadows of the
corridor. But she had left behind her
- a souvenir. For closely clasped in
1
Telen's hand was a piece of torn cloth ,
' V and on carrying it to the light , Helen
saw that it was a fragment of heavy ,
lustreless black silk. The face grew
pale as marble and she leaned on a ta =
' ble for support.
"My God ! " she exclaimed , under her
breath"what if it should be ? "
Helen Fulton said nothing of her adV -
V veut ires to any one , but she was
watchful and alert , and very little took
place at the Rock of which she was not
cognizant. With Ralph she was a great
favorite. Her playfulness helped to dispel -
pel the gloom which hung constantly
i over him ; lie liked to listen to her childish -
ish talk and lie liked to be surprised
by the sudden flashes of wisdom be-
-
yondf her years that sometimes gleamed I
through the free carelessness of her
conversation. He took her out with Agnes -
nes and himself in the little Sea foam
and before she had been a month at the
Rock Helen Fulton knew every idclr of
the coast for miles and would manage
a boat as well as the roughest old fish-
, crntaa in the vicinity. Her father kept
} writing to recall her home , but she was
so happy there among the rocks by the
sea , she said , that she could not return
until she had seen the coast by the
light of-a summer sun , and so the indulgent -
dulgent old gentleman ceased to urge
lice.
CHAPTER .
r"
I'NDE GRAHAM
sat before a little
table in his cell.
He had a pen in his
hand , and writing
materials upon the
table. He laid
down the pen , and
leaned back
thoughtfullyy in his
chair.
His imprison-
tnent had brought upon him a great
change. His face was pale and attenuated -
uated , his lips had grown thin by constant -
stant compression , and his eyes , once so
bright and daring , were sad and misty
with the tears pride would not let him
shed. For as the time drew near when
his reprieve would expire , and the fatal
sentence of the law must be executed ,
lie felt a strange , yearning desire for
life. Before , when he had been so near
V death , he had hardly asked for life :
some way , it did not seem so easy to die
now. Once , he had loved in a wild.
passionate way-a little short of mad-
ness-Imogene Ireton ; he would have
given his life to have brought her one
hour of happiness. But that fierce passion -
sion had died a violent death. It had
been very long since he had thought of
leer with a single thrill , and gradually
there had crept into his heart. to be enshrined -
shrined there in secrecy , the sweet face
of Agnes Trenholme , just as he had last
- seen it , when she lay senseless in the
arms of Dr. Hudson , at the foot of the
; gallows from which she had saved him.
A thrill of exquisite pleasure sweptover
1iim , as he thought , if she had not loved
him she would not have risked so much
. -to save him ! He flushed , his mouth
grew tender as a woman's at the
, thought-he put out his arms as if toward -
ward some imaginary object , but
dropped them again with a sad sigh.
"A , prisoner-condemned to , die , " he ,
Zi1idl hoarsely to himself. "What right
have I to think a single thought of a
pure woman ? And yet at heart , God
knoweth , I am as innocent as she is ! "
He rose and paced the narrow limits
to him with nervous haste.
Thena seated himself and took up his
pen.
pen."Ft can do no harm , " lie said , thinking -
ing aloud. "I have always meant to
ask her to come to me , but not so soon
-not until y nearness to death should
Tiiake it my last request. But I am so
'hungry-for a sight of her face ! "
He wrote rapidly :
"Miss Agnes Trenholme-Is it being 1
i.
too presumptuous to ash you to make ,
my gloomy prison all bright for a little
while with your presence ? We were
playmates once , you know , and in the
memory of the dear old time , before
sorrow came , I ask you to visit me
here. I shall be unhappy until you
come. Will you be kind ?
"LYNDE GRAHAM , "
This little note cost Agnes a sleepless
night of weeping and prayer. But
when the morning came it found her
calm. She said nothing to anyone of
her intention , but toward noon she
dressed herself in her plainest
clothes and walked down to Portlea.
The jailer gave her access at once.
She stood alone with Lyncee Graham ,
His face glowed , his breath came
quick. If he had followed the dictates
of his heart , he would have sprung forward -
ward and folded her in his arms. But
he remembered that lie was a feon ! , and
restrained himself. Agnes went forward -
ward , downcast and confused , and put
her hand in his. The consciousness of
her love , the love lie had never asked
for , made her timid and shrinking.
"You see I have come , Lyncle. "
"I do. I thank you for it , and also
for calling me Lyncle. 0 Agnes , it
seems so much like the old times ! "
"The dear old times ! " she said softly.
" 0 Lyncle , Lyncle' " And all the terrible -
ble change that had come rushed over
her mind , and she burst into tears.
He smoothed the hair on her forehead -
head , his hand trembling , his voice
hoarse and unsteady.
"Hush , my child ! It is all in God's
hands. Cannot we trust him ? "
"Yes , I have. I do. But , 0 Lynde !
only three little months , and then- "
She stopped. She could not finish ( lie
sentence.
"And then I shall have passed away , "
he said solemnly. "It hill be better ,
perhaps , bat I have just begun to learn
how sweet life might be ! "
"Lynde. I want you to tell me that
you are innocent. I know that you
are. I have never felt a doubt of that ,
but I want to hear you say it. It will
be to me a great satisfaction. "
"You are good to trust me , Agnes. I V
am ilinnoceut. I wend : sooner have
died than harm should have come to
Marina. Ls that enough ? "
"Yes , your simple word is all I ask.
I am content. "
"I thank you yet again for your trust
in me. But I have never epressed to
you my gratitude for the little more of
life given me through your means. I
know all the risk you ran , and all the
sacrifice you made , and my heart is
full of gratitude. "
Ile leaned his head over hers , and
lifted her face-their lips almost
touched. The temptation that beset
him was aniost : too strong to be re-
sisted. If he could kiss her once , he ' .
thought , the remembrance would be so
sweet he should forget all that might
come in recalling it. But lie would not. 1
He was a man convicted and sentenced
to death for the crime of murder-his
very' touch : was pollution.
"Lynde , " she said , "I could not have I
you die. Why do I not feel the same ( i
terrible anxiety now , I wonder ? I
know that this time I cannot save you , 1
and yet I feel no fear. I seem to cast it
all out of my mind. "
He looked at her curiously. She
seemed like one who saw far away' in
the future something so bright and
beautiful that its glory pierced even
the midnight gloom of the unhappy-
present. And then , the glow faded ,
the light went out of her eyes. She
s
saw only the dreary prison cell , and
dropping her forehead on her folded t
1
arms. she sobbed unrestrainedly.
I
Lyncle Graham half lifted his arms to
1
take her into them , but refrained.
t
' 0 Agnes' " lie said , bitterly , "if I
only could ! if I had a right to comfort
you ! But you understand what stands
t
between us !
She understood him fully , then. The
color leaped into her checks-she took 1
her hands gentlyy awayy from him.
"Lynce , I must go now. Sometime I
will conic again. Good-by. "
* * * * * , A t
About this time a veryy singular cir-
cuntstance occurred at the Rock.
Quito , the great dog that had been
t
Marina's , hadl been absent from home
ever since the marriage of Mr. Tren- f
holme. A friend of that gentlemen , a
sporting character , had borrowed the t
dog to take away with him into the s
wilds of New Hampshire , on a hunting
tour lie was making with some brother t
sportsmen ; and now having returned , t
he brought Quito home. From the i
very first , the dog behaved strangely. t
Mr. Trenholme thought he had been so S
long away that lie had forgotten his I
old friends ; but that was not the case , s
for he greeted Agnes and the housekeeper -
keeper in the most cordial canine man-
ner. But he was restless , and ill at a
ease. He smelled of the floors and the c
furniture , and his ears and tail were t
erect in an instant at the slightest
sound. He refused to eat , and would c
not lie down in his old place on the mat
in the library , but sat in a watchful attitude -
titude on the threshold of the sitting
room. Helen Fulton began to make '
advances to him at once.
"If he'd only : et me pat him , " she s
said to Agnes. "Patting is the finest s
cure for ill-temper. I always pat papa f :
when I ask him for money.
She put out her hand to the dog , t
"We'll be friends , won't we , Quito ? "
The dog winked his great intelligent
eyes , and laid his cold nose in her hand. i
,
r e
, . . .
She gat her arms around his shaggy
neck ,
"I love you , Quito , she said , enthu-
siastically. "Helen loves you ! And
let what will happen she'll stand by
you ! "
The dog barked understandingly , and
looked Into her face with eyes that were
almost human.
A little afterward , a piercing scream
echoed through the house. It came
from the hall above the main entrance.
Ralph rushed out of the library , where
he was writing , and Agnes , Helen and
Mis. Trenholme hurried to the.place.
For a moment they all stood petrified
with what they beheld.
Quito was holding Imogene pinioned
to the floor with his heavy body , and
his terrible teeth were buried in her
throat ! Every hair on him bristled
with rage , and his eyes gleamed like
coals. Imogene's face was purple , her
eyes starting from their sockets , and
the red blood flowing profusely down
her white neck to the floor.
Ralph snatched a musket from the
bracket in the wall , and struck the dog
a terrible blow , and then he lifted lino-
gene lip. Something like a thrill of
tenderness went over him as her head
sink helplessly to his shoulder.
"My poor girl , he said , pityingly-
then to one of the servants , "William ,
run quickly for the doctor ! "
Imogene heard him , and raised lien-
self quickly. .
"Stop , William ! " she said , impera-
tively. "It is not much. Bind it up ,
some of you. I want no doctors ! "
Ralph took her up to the housekeep-
er's room , and tlip old woman washed
and dressed the wound to the best of
her ability. It was severe , but no serious -
ious result need be apprehended.
"Now tell me how it happened ? " said
Ralph , seating himself by the side of
his wife.
She replied coldly :
"I hardly know. I think the doe
must be naturally ill-tempered. 1
brushed against him as I was passing ,
and instantly he sprang upon me.
Don't question me about it , please ? It
gives me the terrors to think of it.
Ralph left her and sought Quito.
Helen had taken him in charge , and
with hhPhead in her lap was doing her
best to comfort him for the rough treatment -
ment he had received at the bands of
his master. Ralph took the animal by
the collar , and Helen saw the glitter of
a revolver in his hand. She sheltered
the dog with her body.
"No ! no ! you must not have him , ii
you are being to ] till him ! I won't let
you ! "
"He has nearly killed my wife , hiss
Fulton ; I should not feel safe with him
at large. me only way to stop this is
end his life. "
"But I tell you , you shall not ! Mr.
Trenholme , I am your guest , and if I
want a dog's life spared , you can't be a
gentleman , you know , unless you spare
it. "
"Itldeed , I regret to deny you-
"But you need not regret , for I will
not have you deny me ! You can chain
the dog. But if you kill him , now marl :
-lie. if you kill him-and you shall not
-there will come a day when you will
be sorry for it ! "
Her singular earnestness influenced
hint strangely. There was something
about this girl he did not understand.
" Tory' well , " he said , ' i wiil humor
'roll. The deg shall be chained.
Come , Quito. "
"Thank you , " she said. "That's
dud. Give me the pistol. "
"Wllar ? Cannot you trust me ? "
"Pistols are dangerous weapons in
careless hands. Give it to me. I'll
; ill a squirrel for your breakfast with
t in the morning. " And taking the
weapon front his unresisting hand , she
utrried away.
tTO EE CONTINUED. )
TRICKS PLAYED BY PLANTS.
lrttnt Devices of the Calendula-Tho
Coly wheat's Joke.
Dr. Lundstrom has recentlyy described
some cases of alleged plant mimicry ,
ays London Public Opinion. The cul-
ivated plant known as Calendula may ,
n different conditions , produce at least
hree different kinds of fruit. Some
rave sails and are suited for transpor-
ation by the wind , while others have
hooks and catch hold of passing animals -
mals , but the third kind exhibits a more
lesperate dodge , for it becomes like a
caterpillar ! Not that the fruit knows
any thing about it , but if it be sufticient-
y like a caterpillar , a bird may eat it
by mistake , the indigestible seeds will
be subsequently dropped and so the
rick succeeds.
The next case is more marvelous.
There is a very graceful wild plant ,
I
witli beautiful , delicate flowers , known
o manyy as the cow wheat. Ants are
and of visiting the cow wheat to feast
on a sweet banquet spread out upon
he leaves. Dr. Lundstrom has ob- :
erved one of these ants and was surprised -
prised to see it making off with one of
he seeds from an open fruit. The ant
oolt the seed home with it. On explor-
ng some ant nests the explorer saw
hat this was not the first cow-wheat
eed which had been similarly treated.
iany seeds were found in the ant nur-
eries. The ants did not eat them or
destroy them ; in fact , when the nest
was disturbed the ants saved. the seeds
long with their brood , for in size , form ,
olor and weight , even in minute par-
iculars , the seeds in question resemble
ant cocoons. Once placed among the
ocoons it requires a better than an '
ant to distinguish the tares from the
wheat. In the excitement of flitting ,
when the nest is disturbed , the mistake
s repeated and the seeds are also saved.
The trick is found out some day , forr the
eeds , like the cocoons , awake out of
t
Jeep. The awakening displays the
aud. The seeds are thus supposed to
be scattered ; theyy germinate and seem
t
o thrive in the ant nests.
t
A preferred creditor-one who never
MCsents his bill.
I
ALMAGL l S SERMON.
THIS GLORIOUS HERITAGE OF
I EVERY CHRISTIAN.
Golden Tcst : "Put To In the Sickle , foa
the harvest Is Itipo"-Joel , III , 13-
;
Prayer and Song the Bulwarks of the
Christian Itoligion.
tom ,
}
HE sword has been
poetized and the
world has celebrated -
ed the sword of
1
Bolivar , the sword' '
of Cortez , anti the
i
sword of Lafayette.
f
The pen has been fi i
properly eulogized , ;
and the world has
celebrated the pen
of Addison , the pen
of Southey , and the pen of Irving. The
painters' pencil has been honoredr and
the world has celebrated the pencil of
Murillo , the pencil of Rubens , and the
pencil of Bierstadt. The sculptor's !
chisel has come in for high encomium ,
and the world has celebrated Chantrey's
chisel , and Crawford's chisel , and
Greenough's chisel. But there is one
Instrument about which I sing the first ,
canto that was ever sung-the sickle ,
the sickle of the Bible , the sickle that
has reaped the harvest of many cen-
turies. Sharp and bent into a semicircle -
circle , and glittering , this reaping hook ,
no longer than your arm , has furnished
the bread for thousands of years. Its
success has produced the wealth of na-
tions. It has had more to do with the
world's progress than sword , and pen ,
and pencil , and chisel , all put together.
Christ puts the sickle into exquisite
serinonic simile , and you see that instrument -
strument flash all up and down the
Apocalypse as St. John swings it , while
through Joel in my text God commands
the people , as through his servants now
he commands them"Put ye in the
sickle , for the harvest is ripe. "
Last November there was great no-
jcicing all over the land. With trumpet -
pet and cornet and organ and thousand-
voiced psalm we praised the Lord for
the temporal harvests. We praised
God for the wheat , the rye , the oats ,
the cotton , the rice , all the fruits of the
orchard and all the grains of the field ; '
and the nation never does a better thing
than when in autumn it gathers to
festivity and thanks God for the greatness -
ness of the harvest. But I come to-day
to speak to you of richer harvests , even
the spiritual. How shall we estimate
the value of a man ? We say he is
worth so many dollars , or has achieved
such and such a position ; but we know
very well there are some men at the
top of the ladder who ought to be at
the bottom , and some at the bottom
who ought to be at the top , and the only
way to estimate a man is by the soul.
We alt know that we shall live forever.
Death. cannot hill us. Other crafts may
be drawn into the whirlpool or shivered -
ered on the rocks , but this life within
us will weather all storms and drop no
anchor , and ten million years after
death will shake out signals on the high
seas of eternity. You put the mendicant -
cant off your doorstep and say he is
only a beggar ; but lie is worth all the
gold of the mountains , worth all the
pearls of the sea , worth the solid earth ,
worth sun , moon and stars , worth the
entire material universe. Take all the
paper that ewer came from the paper-
mila : and put it side by side and sheet
by sheet , and let man with fleetest penis
make figures on that paper for 10,000
years , and they will onlyy have begun to
express the value of the soul. Suppose -
pose I owned Colorado and Nevada and
Australia , of how much value would
they be to me one moment after I dc-
parted this life ? How much of Philadelphia -
adelphia does Stephen Girard own to- j
day ? How much of Boston property
does Abbott Lawrence own to-day ?
The man who "o-day hath a dollar in
his pocket hath more worldly estate
than the millionaire who died last year.
Iiow do you suppose I feel , standing
here surrounded by a multitude of
1
souls , each one worth more than the
material universe ? Oh , was I not
right in saying , this spiritual harvest is
richer than the temporal harvest ? I
must tighten the girdle , I must sharpen t
the sickle , I must be careful how I
1
swing the instrument for gathering the
grain , lest one stalk be lost. One of
the most powerful sickies for reaping 1
this spiritual harvest is the preaching
of the Gospel. If the sickle have a rose- t
waled handle , and it be adorned with
precious stones , and yet it cannot bring
down the grain , it is not much of a
sickle , and preaching amounts to noth- ri
ng unless it harvests souls for God. , t
Shall we preach philosophy ? The j ,
1alph Waldo Emersons could beat us }
Iii
Lt that. Shall we preach science ? The
lgassizes could beat us at that. The ,
minister of Jesus Christ with weakest !
1
arm going forth in earnest prayer , and ;
a
wielding this sickle of the Gospel , shall t
find the harvest all around him waiting
for the angel sheaf-binders. Oh , . this I .
harvest of souls ! I notice in the fields I
that the farmer did not stand upright I
t
when he gathered the grain. I noticed
f
he had to stoop to his work , and I noticed -
P
ticed that in order to bind the sheaves
c
the better he had to put his knee upon !
them. And as we go forth in this work
for God we cannot stand upright in our
i
rhetoric and metaphysics and our ei ti-
dition. We have to stoop to our work.
c
y , we have to put our knee to it or 1 A
we will never gather sheaves for the
Lord's garner. Peter swung that sickle I
on the day of Pentecost , and three thousand -
sand sheaves came in. Richard Baxter
swung that sickle at Kidderminster , I
and McCheyne at Dundee , and vast mula
itudes cane into the kingdom of our Ti
God.
God.Oh , this is a mighty. Gospel ! It cap-
ured not only John the lamb , but Paul
lie lion. fen may gnash their teeth
Lt it , and clinch their fists , but it is the
power of God and the wisdom of God
unto salvation. But alas , if it is only
preached in pulpits and on Sabbath
( lay's ! W a must go forth into our stores ,
our shops , our banking-houses , our factories -
tories , and the streets , and everywhere
preach Christ. We stand in our pulpits
for two hours on the Sabbath and con-
I mend Christ to the people ; but there are
168 hours in the week , and what arc the
two hours on the Sabbath against the
IGG ? Oh , there comes down the ordination -
nation of God this day upon nIl the peo-
pie , men who toil with head and hand
and foot-the ordination comes upon all
merchants , upon all mechanics , upon
all toilers , and God says to you as he
says to me : "Go , teach all nations. He
that belleveth and is baptied shall be
savcdand , he that believeth not shall be
damned. " Mighty Gospel , let the whole
earth hear it ! The story of Christ is
to regenerate the nations , it is to eradicate -
cate all wrong , it is to turn the earth
into a paradise. An old artist painted
the Lord's Supper , and he wanted the
chief attention directed to the face of
Christ. When he invited his friends in
to criticise the picture , they admired
the chalices more than they did the
face , and the old artist said : "This i
picture is a failure , and lie dashed out
the picture of the cups , and said : "I (
shall have nothing to detract from the
face of the Lard ; Christ is the all of this
picture. "
Another powerful sickle for the reaping -
ing of this harvest is Christian song. i
I know in many churches the whole
work is delegated to a few people standing -
ing in the organ-loft. But , my friends ,
as others cannot repent for us and
others cannot die for us , we cannot
delegate to others the work of singing
for us. While a few drilled artists ,
shall take the chants and execute the
more skillful music , , when the hymn is
given out let there lie hundreds and
thousands of voices uniting in the ac-
clamation. On the way to grandears
that never cease and glories that never
die , let us sing. At the battle of Lnit- '
Zen , a general came to the king and
said : "Those soldiers are singing as
they are going into battle. Shall I
stop them ? " "No , " said the icing "men '
that can sing like that can fight. " Oh ,
the power of Christian song ! When I
argue here you may argue back. The
argument you make against religion
may be more skillful than the argument
I make in behalf of religion. But who
can stand before the pathos of some
uplifted song like that which we sometimes -
times sing :
Show pity , Lord , 0 Lord , forgive ! I
Let a repenting rebel live !
Are not thy mercies large and free ?
May not a sinner trust in thee ?
Another mighty sickle for the reaping - '
ing of the Gospel harvest is prayer.
What does God do with our prayers ? j
Does he go on the battlements of hearI I
en and throw them off ? No. What
do you do with gifts given you by those
who love you very much ? You keep
them with great sacredness. And do
you suppose God will take our prayers ,
offered in the sincerity and love of our
hearts , and scatter them to the winds ?
Oh , no ! lie will answer them all in '
some tray. Oh , what a mighty thing
prayer is ! It is not a long rigamarole '
Dr "ohs , " anti "alis , " and "for ever and
ever , Amen. " It is a breathing of the
heart into the 'heart of God. Oh , what
a mighty thing prayer is ! Elijah with
it reached up to the clouds and shook
down the showers. With it John Knox
shook Scotland. With it Martin Luther
shook the earth. And when Philipp
lIelanchthon lay sick unto death , as j
many supposed , Martin Luther came in
and said : "Philipp , we cant spare you :
'Oh , said he , "Martin , you must let
no go ; I am tired of persecution and
tired of life. I want to go to be with my i
Gad. " "No , " said Martin Luther , "you
shall not go ; you must take this food
Ind then I will pray for you. "No , 1
Martin ; said Melanchthon , "you must
et me go. " Martin Luther said : "Yell !
take this food , or I will ex-communi-
rate you. " He took the food and Martin -
tin Luther knelt down and prayed as
only he could pray , and convalescence
came and Martin Luther went back and
said to his friends : "God has saved the !
ife of Philipp Melanchthon in direct
answer to my prayer. " Oh , the power
of prayer ! Have you tested it ? * *
I invite any one the most infidel , any
one the most atheistic , I invite hint into
he kingdom of God with just as much 1
teartiness as those who have for fifty
years been under the teaching of the
Gospel and believed it all. When I was
lying in Philadelphia a gentleman told
r e of a scene in which he was a par-
icipant. In Callowhill street , Philadelphia -
delphia , there had been a powerful
meeting going on for some time and
ny were converted , and among oth-
ev : one of the prominent members of
he worst club-house in that city. The ;
ext night the leader of that club- !
ouse , the president of it , resolved that
he would endeavor to get his comrade
away' . He came to the door , and before
Le entered he heard a Christian song ,
rd under its power his soul was agi- ,
I
ated. He went in and asked for prayi i
1' . Before he came out he was a sub-
ect of converting mercy. The next
night another comrade went to reclaim
he two who , had been lost to their sin- ;
til circle. He went , and under the
aver of the Holy Ghost became a
hanged man , and the work went on
until they were all saved and the in-
amous club-house disbanded. Oh , it
s a mighty Gospel ! Though. you came '
here a child of sin you can goV away a
gild of grace ; you can go away singing : '
mazing grace , how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me ;
once was lost , but now am sound-
Was blind , but now I see. I
Oh , give up your sinst Most of your
ife is already gone. Your children
re going on the same wrong road. i
by do you not stop ? "This day is salvation -
vation come to thy house. Why not
this moment look up into the face of
Chrlst and say :
Just as I am , without one plea
But that thy blood was shed for me ,
And that thou bid'st me some to thee ,
0 LaBib of God , I come , I come ,
. . . . . . - . . . . - - . , . -
.v-Y
) di.
.yr
r
1 1
- 1
Goa r going to save you. You are
1
going to be among the shining ones.
After the tolls of life are over , you are i
going up to the everlasting rest , you are ' ' , r
going up to join your loved ones , departed - "
( parted parents and departed children.
1 my God , " says some man , "how can
I come to thee ? I am so far off. Who
will help me , I am so weak ? It seems
such a great undertaking. " Oh , my
brother , it is a great undertaking ! It
is so great you cannot accomplish it ,
but Christ can do the work. Ho will I
correct your heart and ho will correct '
your life. "Oh , you say , "I will stop ' i
profanity. " That will not save you. f ,
"Olt y'ou saY. "I will sto1) Sabbath- jt
breaking. " That will not save you.
There is only ono door into the Ling-
torn of God , and that is faith ; only one
ship that sails for heaven , and that is
i faith. Faith the first step , the second f
step , the hundredth step , the thousandth - , , t
sandth step , the last step. By faith we
i enter the kingdom. By faith we keep
In. By faith we tile , Heaven a reward ref
1
of faith. The earthquake shook down
I the Philippian dungeon. The jallor e
said : "What shall I do ? " Some of you
would say : "Better get out of the r
nlace before the walls crush y ou. r
What did the Apostle say ? "Believe '
ors the Lord Jesus Christ anti thou shalt V
be saved. " "Ah ; you say , "there's the
rub. " What is faith ? Suppose you were
thirsty and I offered you this glass of
water , and you believed I meant to give
it to you , and you came up and took it.
You exercise faith. You believe I mean
r
to keep my promise. Christ offers you ,
the water of everlasting life. You tales ti
it. That is faith.
Enter into the kingdom of God. Enter - ,
ter now. The door of life Is set wide
open. I plead with you by the blood i
sweat of Gethsemane and the death- C
groan of Golgotha , by cross and crown ,
by Pilate's court-room and Joseph's
sepulchre , by harps and chains , by
kirgdoms of light and realms of darkness -
ness , by the trumpet of the archangel
that shall wake the dead , and by the ' : ,
throne of the Lord God Almighty and
t1le Lamb , that you attend new to the
things of eternity. Oh , what a sad
tlting it will be if , having conic so near
heaven , we miss it ! Oh , to have come r
within sight of the shining pinnacles ,
of the cit5 ndl not have entered. Oh , 1 ,
to have been so near we have seen the {
mighty throng enter , and we not joining - ' .
ing them ! Angels of God , fly this way. !
Gcod news for you , tell the story
among the redeemed on high ! If there I
be one there especially. longing for
our salvation , let that one know it now.
tivii put down ol)1' sorrows. Glory be to
God for such a hoPc. for such a pa rile n , t
for such a joy , for such a heaven , for !
such a Christ !
Spook Out Your Lov , , .
A French journal gives one excellent ti
way by which we may advance Christ's /
kingdom , as follows : a
Let your friends know that you love '
them. Do not keep alabaster boxes of
*
} our love and tenderness sealed up '
until } your friends a r e dead. PL1 your ' , '
lives with sweetness ; speak kind , ap- . , .t t ,
proving words while their hearts can
hear them. The things you mean to
say when they arc gone say before they
go.The flowers you mean to send for ,
r
their coffin send to brighten their , .
homes before they leave them.
If my friends have alabaster boxes
full of perfumes of sympathy and affection - f
tion , which they intend to break over
my dead body , I would rather they ' -
would bring them out in my weary day ; t
anti open them that I may be refreshed
anti cheered by them while I need them.
I would rather have a bare coffin
without a flower , and funeral without -
out an eulogy , than life without - ;
out the sweetness of love and
sympathy , Let us learn to anoint
our friends beforehand for burial.
Post-mortem kindnesses do trot cheer " 1
the burdened spirit , Flowers on the
coffin cast-no fragrance over the weary
days of our lives. /
PROVERBIAL.
A maiden should never be ma riled in )
colors if she wishes to be happy , the
most unfortunate colors being yellow
and green.
Widows who re-marry ought not to
ie dressed in white. Wednesday is the
most fortunate day for marri ages , Saturday -
urday the most unluck y
The thirteenth of the month Is unfortunate -
tunate for all purposes.
Birds in flocks are lucky , and the
sun to shine upon a bride is most pro- i
pitious , denoting success in all maters
and mutual owe. '
If a green-pea pod containln t ; nine
)
peas is put by a maiden over the hail-
door , she will be married if the first t
stranger who enters l
happens to be a
bachelor. r
Daniel Webster was lofty and. digni-
fied. His
abstraction sometimes created -
ed the impression , of incivility where no 1 ,
discourtesy was intended.
GIadstone is polite to everybody. At
Ifs country home he knows everyone ±
n the vicinity , and has a kindly word S t
for even the poorest farm laborer.
William Penn's formal but kindly
politeness impressed even the Indians
with whom he dealt. One of the-
names given him by them was "The.
Good Big Chief. "
Madison made it a point to touch his ,
hat to everyone who bowed to him , and
the front part of his hat brim was always - l
ways worn threatbare in consequence
of this punctiliousness.
t
Henry Clay was said to make the
, ,
most engaging bow of any gentleman ,
of his time.
Haydn was the personification of
courtesy. He once said : "It does not t
pay to be impolite , even to a dog. " F
The Duke of Marlborough said that - ;
he owed his success as much to his ele- .
f
rant deportment as to his talents , -
Chesterfield was so graceful that one
of his contemporaries said it was worth
journey across England to see him
bow. >
d
Andrew Jackson was rough in his
manners , but he could be polite when
he pleased , He was always courteous V
to ladies. -
.
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