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About The alliance. (Lincoln, Nebraska) 1889-1889 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 26, 1889)
Popular Fallacies, : From Public Opinion. ' A verv onmmnn prror is to suppose that birds sleep with hea d beneath the wing. No bird ever sleeps so; the head is turned round and laid upon the back, where it is often conceal ed by feather3. That dos are kept in health by addition of brimstone -to their drink ing water. Seeing that stone brim stone is utterly insoluble in water, I fail to perceive what use it can pos sibly be to the dog. fTl I A. r - t L..iimAnna xuui cow tire iouu 3 oiHin-"i' Cows, as well as horses, in grazing I carefully avoid plants, whieh, like al the Iianunoulaccoe, are harsli,astrinl gent and somewhat poisonous. That washing the face in morning dew improves the complexion. Dew is distilled water; but, being merely very pure water, it cannot exercise any special iufluence on the skin; I ani unwilling, however, to dispel this pleasing illusion, and therefore say, "By all means, young ladies, wash your faces in the morning dew, in the full belief of its efficacy. To do so you must rise early and breath the pure morning air; this will benefit your health, and no doubt yourcom plexion at the same time." This is undoubtedly the lesson intended to be inculcated. That a fire is extinguished by the sun shining on it. The effect in this case is apparent and not real. A fairly good fire looks little better than a heap of white ashes under the powerful light ot the sun's rays. That there is economy in putting firebricks or clay-balls into a fire. Considering that whatever heat they give out is derived from the fire it self, and that, being themselves ut terly incombustible, they contribute nothing to the heat of the fire, there can be no economy in their use. Our method ot using fuel is, however, ter ribly wasteful; a very large percent age of combustible matter, as well as heat, goes up the flue and is wasted. That pipes are burst by a sudden thaw. That thaw merely finds out the bursting that has already been effected b the frOst. It is the ex pansion of water when passing into the icy state that bursts water-pipes of whatever material. That the bones are brittle in frosty weather. No doubt more bones are broken in winter than in summer, but this is due to the slippery stage of the roads at that season, not to speak of accidents on the ice and not to any abnormal condition of our bones. That "thunderbolts" are tangible realties that can be handled and pre served as curiosit ies. The only thun derbolt is the flash of lightning, oit en no doubt very destructive, but never accompanied by any solid. The only solid bodies that ever fall to the earth from the sky are aerolites or bolides, bodies coming from outer space and having nothing to do with thunderstorms. That mirrors attract lightning and should be covered or turned to the wall during a thunderstorm. This is a pure illusion, arising from the fact that mirrors reflect the lightning flash and thus add to the terror and apparent danger of the storm. A Somnambulist's Performance, Residing on the south side is a man whose physician has strongly advis ed him to indulge in a regular exer cise. This voting man has been trou bled with insomnia and is occasion ally afflicted with somnambulism. He belies, however, that he has the making of an athlete in him, and when he received his physician's in structions he resolve to bring it out. So he had a horizontal bar erected in the back yard of the house, and up on this he practiced daily. His principal feat was to grab the smooth bar with both hands and swing around with great rapidity. One night last week the young man's mother was awakened by thenosieof a door closing. She arose and tip toed toward the back part of the house. Looking out of the window she saw her son, clad in his night gown, revolving on the horizontal bar with lightning rapidity. Amaz sd at the spectacle of the gyrat ing son and his flapping night gar ment she aroused his father and told him about it. The old gentleman arose, donned his pants and went to the rescue. When he succeeded in stopping the revolutions of the flying boy he learned that he was asleep and that he had posed as a somnam bulist athlete. He awoke him with some difficulty and led him back to his bed. Now the -young man has his parents lock his doors and win dows when he goes to bed. He is anxious to regain his health, but he will not go so far as to do a horizon tal act in his nightgown Chicago Herald. Animal Life in the Gulf Stream, The surface waters of the Gulf stream teem with minute life of all kinds. There the young of larger ani mals exist, microscopic in size; and adult animals which never grow large enough to be plainly visible to the naked eye occur in immense quantities. By dragging a fine silk net behind the vessel, these minute forms are easily taken, and when placed in glass dishes millions un counted are seen swimming bark ward and forward. AVhen looked at through a microscope we see young jelly fishes, the young of barnacles, crabs and shrimps, beside the adult microscopic species, which are very abundant. The toothless whale finds in these his only food Hushing through the water, with mouth wide open, by means of whalebone strain ers the minute forms are separated from the water. Swallowing those obtained after a short period of straininir, he repeats the operation. The abundance ot this kind of life can be judged from the facts that nearly all kinds of whales exist ex clusively upon these an mais, most -of them so small that thev are not no ticed on the surface. Ralph S. Tarr in Popular Science -Monthly. 05LT FOB AWHILt. Dean," draw your chair besidems, For I lore to have you near. And I have Rome words to tell yon, That you noon or lute must hearl Cloner. dearie, for the darkness Seems to me to come apace, And, altho the daylight linerers; I can scarcely see your face. Dearie. we,hnv one together Liv'd. and been for fl.ty yearn; Fac'd the world, nnd fought its battle Thro' its hopeR mid thro' its fears; Now for one the fight is ending I am first ordain'd to fall, ' Leaving you n lone, my dearie, l'ou, who are my all in all! Dearie, stay those tears, I pray you. Hard it is stout heart to keepl But to me 'tis, in this raiment, Harder still to see you weep! "We are only parting, dearie, For awhile; therel take my hand! Kiss me, for my soul is pluming For the bright Eternal Land! Edward Oxea'.ord in Young Lady's Jour nal. A STRANGE COMPACT- It was a dreary night in the Win ter of 17. Outside a heavy, fog filled the narrow, unsavory streets of the metropolis and the lungs and eves of such unfortunates as chanced to be abroad. It even invaded the . i small wooden sanctums of the night, watchman, interfering with slumbers to which the inmates were both by age and office entitled. Across the river, in the dingy, ill-paved lanes of the borough, the fog seemed at its worst, a light warmish haze being the only indication of the presence of those shops which still remained open, and round which small, ill-clad urchins, with the most unmistakable intentions, persistently hovered. "A sweet night for footpads,' muttered young Dr. Mostyn, as he disengaged himself from a chance recontre with a post, and felt his way along by tapping with his stout stick at the house walls, a proceed- ins: by which he had already severely damaged the legs of three of his suf fering fellow-creatures, and poked a large hole in the kitchen window of a fourth. "And now," he continued, talking to himself for the sake of company, "for home and supper and a fire. Ah, nnd a patient or two, perhaps, v ho knows? At thischering prospect his spirits rose, and he banged mightily at the wall with his stick in consequence until at length, coming to a small street on las right, he turned smart ly clown, ana naving made sure o his own door, knocked brirkly at it. . "Who's there?" cried a shrill female voice in response. "It's I, Bet," said her master. "Open the door, mv good girl." "Not it I knows it," was the cheer ing reply. "You take yourself off, young man, whoever ypu are. There s two ounuogs ana tnree men with loaded guns standing bv me, to say nothing' - "Open the door, Bet!" roared her master through the keyhole. "Don't you know me?" "Is it 9 o'clock or 11?" propound ed the damsel; "because; if it's 11 o'clock, mveyes deceive me; and if it's 9 o'clock, your voice deceives me; for the doctor said he d be home at 11 and not before; and considering the fog, I should say a good deal arter. "Open the door!" said the surgeon sharply. "I'm back already because mv patient's dead. Come: ODen at once!" There was a creakin and shooting of the bolts as he finished speaking, and th door beTng cautiously opened. disco ved an angular woman of some 35 vears. whose nervous face cleared directly she saw her master. "I'm asking you pardon for keep ing you so Jong, sir," said she; "but one never knows who's who; and judging by the noises and runnings, there's been rare doings round the corner to-night." "Anybody been, Bet?" asked the surgeon, as, ten minutes later, he sat down to a carefully grilled chop. '"Not, a soul, replied hi3 hand maiden. "And a nice person you would be to open the door, if an accident had arrived. "Oh, I should nave opened it at once." said Bet with decision. "Direct ly they used the word "accident," I should have opened it and chancel it." Her master, smiling at her devo tion, drew his chair to the fire and having carefully filled a long clay pipe, fell to smoking with an air of great enjoyment and content. Then, thinking it extremely unlikely that he would be disturbed at that late hour, he dismissed his retainer to her quarters in a neighboring house, and being left to himself, lapsed into a brown study. It might have been the fog. or it might have been the unexpected death of his patient; whatever the cause, his thoughts took a very gloomv direction indeed,' and he shook his head despondinglv as he thought of future prospects. His mood was not made more cheerful by the room, which was large and dark: and pan eled with oak, and ornamented with battered oil-portraits ot dead and gone worthies, with whom he claimed uome kinship more or less remote, who seemed to stare at him to-night in a particularly ghostly not to say wooden manner. Besides all this, he was in love; and he had no sooner built a magnificent castle in the air and placed her in it, than an any thing but airy landlord called lor the rent, and the dream was spoiled. He had been sitting thus for some time, nursing his woes and sipping a glass of hot coghac which he had prepared, when he was disturbed , i ... i. dv a iouu imperative Knoeumnr at the iront door, whereat he . 4. . o snatched up one of the guttering candles and marched down the nar row stairs to open it. The feeble light of the candle, when he had done so, showed him a tall, strong ly built man of middle age, whose naturally fine proportions were in: creased by the fog, which clung to them and exaggerated them. The surgeon noted that he was richly clad, and also that the embossed hilt of a sword protruded from the skirts o: his coat, while hi face, from some powerful emotion, was pale and drawn. .'A7 you the surgeon?" asked the new-comer, abrupt. "At your service," was the reply. "Come in." The stranger obeyed, and waiting until the surgeon had secured the door, followed him up-stairs. "Examine me!" aaid lie, taKing on his laeed coat and stanxlfng pale and upright before him. ; "Unfasten your snirL, uiu uw other., falling in with his strange humor and commencing a careful ex amination. "Well?" inquired the stranger when he had finished. "Sound as a bell and as hard as oak." "Not likely to die suddenly?" sug gested his visitor. "No. I should think that that would be the last thing to happen to you," reolied the puzzled surgeon. Why, what is the matter with you? Do you feel ill?" "No. I feel halo and stronar, capable of enjoying life with the best. I've never had an illness in my life. But for all that I shall die at midnight." ' 'Of course," said the surgeon, some what provoked at all this mystery, if you are going to kill yourself, you 1 tr o can speak with more authority as to the time than anybody else. "In have no intention of commit ting suicide," was the stern rejoinder. "Nevertheless, at midnight my time expires, The manner oi my aeatn is unknown to me; but 1 shall never see the lifting of this dreadful blackness, which, on my last night upon earth, has fitly interposed ityelf between me and the heaven I have renounced." The surgeon, listening to this strange outburst, turned to the ta ble, and filling a glass with brandy, handed it to his extraordinary pa tient. " 'Twill put heart into vou," said he. ' - "But not a soui," said the other; and shuddering convulsively, drank it at adraught; then placing the glass upon the table, he drew a purse from his pocket and looked at the surgeon. "Your lee?" "Nothing. I know not what your that trouble is, but I wish much I could help you." "I ra past all help," said the other, sadly, moving toward the door; then pausing, as the surgeon took up one of the candles to light him down, he said, in irresolute tones: "As you shall judge, if vou care to hear?" "By all means," said Mortyn heart ily, as,replacingthe candle, he poked the fire and drew up a chair for his visitor. "Twenty years ago," said the lat ter, accepting the proffered seat and leaning toward the surgeon, "my cir cumstances wsre very different from what they are now. Young and strong-, I had at the death of ray pa rents rejected the bread of dependence offered me by relatives, and, full of hope I came to London to make my fortune. It proved to be harder work than I had anticipated; and in very short while I was reduced to the verge of starvation. One dreadful night, of which this is the twentieth anniversary, I was half crazed with poverty and despair. For two days I had not tasted food, nor did I see the slightest prospect of obtaining any. Added to this, I was deeply m love, though unhappily the interfer ence of those who should have been our best friends kept us apart. A.s I crouched shivering in the garret which served me for a lodging, I think I must ha ve gone a little bit mad." He broke off suddenly, as though unwilling to continue, and stared gloomily at the fire. "Well? said the surgeon, who had been listening with much interest. "Have you ever heard of compacts writh the Evil One?" demanded the stranger. "I have heard of such things?" re plied the surgeon, on whose spirits the occasion and the stranger were beginning to tell. "I made one," said the other, hoarsely. "Crouched by the empty grate, which mocked me with its cold bars and white ashes, my thoughts turned, as though directed by some unseen power, to all that ihacineara and read of such compacts. As my mind dwelt upon it, the subject lost much of its horror, until a gentle rustling in the neighborhood of the fire drove me with quaking heart to my feet. My fears, however, were but momentary, and with fierce de termination I called upon my unseen visitor to lend me his awful aid. As I spoke, the sounds suddenly ceased, and a voice seemed to cry in my ear: Write, write! I dragged a small table into the moonlight, which struggled through the begrimed panes of the window, and with my own blood and the miserable stump of a pen. wrote out the terms of an agreement, with the Prince of Darkness, possessed, as I did so, with the horrible consciousness of some thing in the room watching me. I vowed that if for twenty years i:c gave me wealth and the possession of her whom I loved better than my own life, my soul should be the for feit. If the next morning brought change of fortune, I should take it for a sign that he had accepted my conditions. I sighned it and swoon ed. When I awoie from the sleep in to which the stupor had merged, the sun was shining brightly into my foul lodging, and below was a mes senger who brought me news of a large fortune which had fallen to me through the death of an uncle. God forbid that my rash vow should have had aught to do with it. oince then, everything has prospered with me. I married the woman I loved. We have a large family. I have kept my secret to myself. To-night at 12 my time expires." "The change in your fortunes was a mere coincidence for you, then," said his visitor, whose face was now livid. "In the morning, when I awoke, the agreeement which I had left on the table had uisap peared." "Mostyn rose a. id. taking great care not to extingmsn the names, snuffed the candles. "As I supposed my death would bo a stricly natnrai one," continued the stranger, "I thought 1 would consult a surgeon, . in . or der to .see- whether my -heart was sou n d v o rjv e I .her I wa sv t o d ie as I have said, in a nerfectlv natural manner owing to Its disease. A watchman whom I met directed me to your oor." "Do yon iiveintheneighborhood?" "No-at Westminster," was the re ply. "But having put all my affairs In order, and wishing that my" dear ones should be no witnesses of my death, I have been roaming about the streets to meet it there." "Alone?" q-ieried the wondering surgeon. I hope so," i aid the other shud dering. "Be guided by me," said the surgeon earnestly. "Return toyour home, and forget all about this mysterious compact you fancy you have made." His companion shook his head end turned to the door. "Are you going to roam about in the fog again?" asked Mostyn. "Unless you will let me stay here," said the other, glancing at him wist fully. J u "You are not nervous? you do1 not think I shall die?" "You will die of fright if you die at all, said the surgeon sturdily-. "But stay, and welcome, if you will." And to avoid the thanks of hia guest, he poked the'flre until1 the resulting blaze almost caused the candles to snuff themselves out with envy. For some time they sat silent. The streets were now entirely deserted, and no sound save the flickering; of the fire disturbed the silence of the room. Then the surgeon arose and, upon hospitable thoughts intent, busied himself with the little spirit-case which stood on the sideboard; and after sundry most musical gurglings from the bottle as it confided its con tents to the glasses, appeared in his place again with two steaming pota tions and a sugar-bowl. "Cognac," said he, "with all his fiery nature sub dued, now in its tranquil old age." "Thanks," said his visitor, taking the proffered glass. "The last toast I shall drink: Long life to you." He tossed off the contents, and again lasped into silence, while the surgeon slowly smoked his long pipe, removing it at intervals in favor of the spirit he had so highly commended. Half an hour passed, and a neigh boring church clock slowly boomed the Hour ot 11. une nour more. The surgeon glancing at his com panion to see what effect the sound nad upon him saw that his eyes were closed and that he breathed heavily. Raising cautiously to his feet, he felt the pulse of the strong sinewy wrist which hungover theside of the chair, and then, returning to his seat, sat closely regarding him, not without casting certain uneasy glances into the dark corners of the room. His pipe went out; the fire burnt low, and seen " through the haze ot fog ana smoke, the motionless figure in the chair seemed suddenly to loom large in front of him and then to almost obsecured by darknes. be For a few seconds it seemed his eyes closed. When he opened them the fire was out, and the figure in front of him still sat in the chair, though its head had now fallen on its beast. Full of horrible fear, he glanced hurriedly at the clock and saw that it was just upon the stroke ot 4, then he sprang. to theside of his guest and seized the wris b nearest to him. As he did so, he started back with a wild cry of horror. ; for some slippery thing, darting swiftly be tween his feet, vanished in the gloom of a neighboring corner. Ere he could recover himself, the the " man in front of him stirred uneasily, and rising unsteadily so his feet, gazed stupidly at him. "What's the mat ter?" he asked at length in dazed tones. "Matter!" shouted the still trem blingsurgeon. "Why, it's four hours past midnight, and you are alive and well." . With a violent start, as he remem bered his positiom , the stranger glanced at the mantle shelf. "Four o'clock!" said he "four o'clockl Thank God. there was no compact!" Then another fear possessed him: "Is it is the clock right?" "To the minute," said the surgeon. standing gravely by with averted head, as his visitor, heedless of his presence, fell upon his knees and buried his face in his hands. As he rose to his feet, the old church clock slowly struck the hour of four, appearing to both the listeners to do so with an emphasis as unusal as it was welcome. As the last stroke sounded, the stranger who could even now hardly realize his posi tion, threw up the window and extended his head. The fog had dis appeared, the air wras crisp and clear, and the distant rumbling of the early market-carts betokened the begin ning of another day. "How came I to sleep?" he inquir ed, closing the window and turning to the surgeon. "I drugged your drink. It was the onlv thing I could do. You were in such a stranga state of alarm, that you wouia either nave aiea or gone mad if 1 had not done so." The stranger extended his hand and caught the young sergeon's in.a mighty grasp. "You ran a fearful risk! Suppose that I had' died. My death would have been attributed to the drug, and you would have been accused of my murder." "I chanced it," said Mostyn simply. "There was no time for considera tion." "It has been a strange business," paid the other. "What could it have been that was in my garret that night, and what could have taken the agreement?" "Rats," said Mostyn, smiling. "One of them frightened me terrible just now, but it would not have done so if I had not been in a very excited condition. The same state of mind, perhaps, though in a milder form, that you were in on the night you wrote your agreement." "There were rats in the room, I re member," said the stranger, "but I never once thought of them. You have saved my" ,ason,ifnotmylife," and he again grasped him by the hand. "You shall not find me un grateful." Nor did he; for, aided by his in fluence, the young sergeon rose rapid ly to fame and fortune, which he shared in the most liberal manner with the girl for whom his poverty had long kept him waiting. - NOT MOVED BY FIRE. Dr. Talxnage on the Burning of Erooklya Tabernacle. The Destruction of the Great Church Does Not Mean that Hie Work in Saving Soul is Ended He will Go Bight Forward. The burning of Brooklyn Tabernacle left the vast congregation of Rev. T. De Witt Talmage without a houso for the moment, tut the Academy of Music was thrown open for them on ounuay, ana tne pastor spoke to an audience of vast size, his sub ject was The Baptism of Fire," and he took as his text Acts xx, 34, "None of these things move me." He said: But, Paul, have you not enough affliction to move you f Are you not an exile from' youmative land With the most genial ana loving nature, have you not, in order to be free for missionary journeys, given yourself to celibacy i Have yOu not turned away from the magnificent worldly suc cesses that would have crowned your illus trious genius f Have you not endured the sharp and stinging neuralgias, like a thorn in the flesh? have -you not been mobbed on the land, and shipwrecked on the sea; the sanhedrim against you, the lloraan government against j'OJ, all the world and all hell against you "V hat of that" says Paul. "None of these things movo me!" It was not because he was a hard nature. Gentlest woman was never more easily dissolved into tears. He could not even bear to see anybody cry, for in the midst of his sermon when he saw come one weeping ner sobs aloud, "Wnati mean ye to weep and to break mine heart for I am ready not to be bound only, but also to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus." What then did Paul mean when he said, "None of these things move me" He meant, "I will not be-diverted from the work to which I have been called by any and all the adversities and calami ties." I think this morning I express not my own feelings but that of every man, woman and little child belonging, to Brooklyn Taber nacle, or that was converted thare, when I look toward the blackened ruins of the dear and consecrated spot and with an arousal faith in a loving God, cry out: "None of these things move me." u hen I say that, I do not mean that we have no fet ling about it. Instead of stand ing here to day in this brilliant auditorium, it would be more consonant with my feel ings to sit down among the ruins and weeo at the words of David : "If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning." Why, let me say to the strangers here to-day in explanation of the deep emo tion of my fiock, we had there in that build ing sixteen years of religious revival. I bo lieve that a hundred thousard souls wero bora there. They came from all parts of the earth and we shall never see them again until the books are opened. Why, sirs ! our children were there baptised, and at those altars our young men and maidens took the marriage vow, and out of those gates we carried our dead. V hen from the roof of my houso last Sunday morning at 3 o'clock I saw our church in flames, I said : "That is the last of the building from which w e buried our De Witt on that cold December day when it seemed all Brooklyn wept with my household." And it was just as hard for you to give up your loved one3 a3 for us to give up ours. hy, like the beautiful vines that still cover some of the fallen walls, our allections are clambering all over .the ruins, and I could kiss the ashes that mark the place whore it once stood. Why, now that I think of it, I cannot think of it as an inanimate pi e, but as a soul, a mighty soul, an indestruetiblo soul I am sure that majestic organ had a soul, for wo have oTtcn heard it speak and sing and shout and wail, and when the soul of that organ entered heaven I think Handel, and i.aydn, and Mozart, and Mendelssohn, and Beethoven were at the gate3 to welcome it. So 1 do not use the words of my text in a heartless way, but in the sense that we must not and will not bo diverted from our work by the appalling disasters which have befallen us. Ve will not turn aside one inch from our determination to do all wo can for the present nnd everlasting happi ness of ail the peoplo whom we may be ublJ to meet. "None of these things move me. None of the3e tilings move you." h"n J Jooned out through tha dismal rain from the roof of my houso and saw the church crumbling br ck by brick and tim ber by timber, I said to myself: Doss this mean that my work in Jirooklyn is ended? Does this terminate my association with this city, where I have been more than twenty years jrlad in all its prosperities, and sad in ail its misfortunes? And a still small voice came to mo, a voice that is no longer slill or small but most emphatic and com manding, through pressuro of hand, and newspaper column, and telegram and letter and contributions saying: "Go forward!" I have made and I now make appeal to all Christendom to help us. Vve want all Christendom to hoip, and I will acknowl edge the receipt of every contribution, groat or small, with my own hand. We want to build larger and better. V e want it a na tional church, in which people of all creeds and all nations find a homo. The contribu tions already sent in make a small hearted church forever impossible. Would notl be a sorry spectacle for angels and men if, in a church built by Israelites and Catholics, as well as an tne styles or peoDle com monly called evangelical, I should in stead of the banner of the Lord God Almighty, raise a fluttering rag of small sectarianism ? If we had three hun dred thousand doMars we would put them all in one great monument to the mercy of God. People ask on all sides about what we shall build. I answer, it all depends on the contributions sent in from here and from the ends of the earth. I say now to all the Baptists, that we shall have in it a baptistry. I say to all Episcopalians, we shall have in our services as heretofore at our communion table portions of the Liturgy. I say to the Catholics we shall have a cross over the pulpit and probably on the tower. I say to the Methodists, we mean to sing there like the voices of mighty thunderings. I say to all denominations, we mean to preach religion as vvide as heaven and as good as GotL We have said we had a total los3. But there was one exception. The only things we saved were the silver communion chalices, for they happened to be in another building, and I take that fact as typical that we awe to be in communion with all Chri3 teiSom. "I believe in the communion of saints!" 1 think, if all the Brooklyn firemen and all insurance companies should search among those ruins on Schermerhorn street, they would not find a splinter large as the tip end of the little finger marked with bigotry. And as it is said that the exhum ed bricks of the walls of Babylon have on them the letter N, standing for Nebuchad nezzar, I declare to you that if we ever get a new church the letter we should like to have on every stone and every timber would be the letter C, for that would stand both for Christ and for Catholicity. The last two words I uttered in the old church on Friday night, some of you may remem bea, were "Hallelujah! Amen!" The two words that I utter now as most expressive of my feelings in this our first service after the Baptism of Fire, are Hal lelujah ! Amen 1 "None of , these things move me." We are kept in this mood by two or three considerations. The first is, that God rules. In what way the church took lire I do not know. It has been charged on . the light nings. Well, the Lord controls the light nings. Ho managed them several .thous and years before our electricians were born. The Bible indicates that, though they flash down the sky recklessly, God builds for them a road to travel. . In the Psalms it is said: "He made a way for the lightning and the thunder. " Ever since the time of Benjamin ' Franklin the world has bean trying to tame tha lightnings, and they seem to be quite well harnessed, but they occasinally kick over the traces. But though we caanot master great natural forces. God can and does, and that God is our Father and best Friend, and this thought erives us confidence. We are also reinforced by the Increased consolation that comes from confraternity of sorrow. Tho ieoplo who, luring the, last sixteen years, sat on tho other sido of the aisle, whose faces wero familiar to you, tut to wIiom you had never spoken you greeted them this week with smiles and tears as you said: "Well, the old place U gone." You did not want to seem to cry, and so you swept the sleeve near the corner . of tho eye, and pretended it was the sharp wind made your eyes weak. Ah! thera was nothing the matter with your eyes: it was your soul bubbling over. 1 tell you that it is impossible to sit for years around the same church fireside and not have sym pathies in common. Somehow you feel that you would like theso people on tha other side of the aisle, about whom you know but little, prospered and pardoned and blessed and saved. You feel as if you are in the same boat, and you want to glide up the same harbor and want to' disembark at the same wharf. If you put gold and iron and lead and zino in sufficient heat, they will melt into a con glomerate mass; and I really feel that last Sabbath's lire has fused us all, grosser and finer natures, Into one. It seems as if we all had our hands on a wire connected with an electric battery: and when this church sorrow started it thrilled through the whole circle, and we all felt the shock. The oldest man and the youngest child could join hands in this misfortune. Grandfather said, "I expected from those altars to be buried;" and one of the children last Sabbath cried, "Grand pa, that place was next to our house. " Yea, we are supported aud confident in this time by the cross of Christ. That is used to the fire. On the dark day when Jesus died, the lightning struck it from above, and the flames of hell dashed up against it from beneath. That tearful, painful, tender, blessed cross still stands. On it we hang all our hopes; beneath it we put down all our sins; in the light of it we expect to make the rest of our pil grimage. Within sight of such a sac rifice, who can feel he has it hardi In tho sight of such a symbol, who can be discouraged, however great' the dark ness that may come down upon himl Jesus lives! The loving, patient, sympathizing, mighty Jesus ! It shall not be told on earth, or in hell, or in heaven, that throe Hebrew children had the Son of God be side them in the firs, and that a whole church was forsaken by the Lord when they went through a furnace about two hundred feet wide. O Lord Je3us ! shall we take out of thy hand tho flowers and the fruits, and the brightness and tho joys, and then turn away because thou dost give us one cup of bitterness to drink! Oh, no, Jesus! we will drink it dry. But how It is changed! Blessed Jesus, what has thou put into the cup to sweeten it? Why, it has become the wine of heaven, and our souls grow strong. I come now, and place both of my feet deep down into the blackened ashes of our consumed church, and I cry out with an exhilaration that I never felt since the day of my soul's emancipation, "Victory! victory! through our Lord Jesus Christ?" . Your nans, ye trcmbl'.ns saints, Down irom t'ie wlllowj take Loud to t lie praise ot lovo Uivlaa Bl I every string awake. WTo are also re-en forced by the catholicity that 1 have already referred to. We are in the Academy to-day, not bacauao wo have no other place to go. Last Sabbath morn ing at 9 o'clock we had but one church; now we have about thirty, all at our dis posal. Tho.r pastors and their trusteea say: "You may take oar main audience rooms.you may take our lecture rooms, yo i may take our church parlors, you may baptise in oar baptisleries, aud sit on our anxious se it3." Ohl if tuerj be any largar heirta I ministers or larger hearted churches any where than in Brooklyn, tall m3 where they are, that I may go and 833 them before I die. Tha millennium has come. Peoplo keep wondering when it is coming. It his come. The lion and the lamb lie down to gether, and the tiger eats straw, lik2 an ox. I should like to have seen tvvj of the old time bigot3, with their swords, fight ing through thai goat firo on Scher merhorn stre2t lat Sabbath. I am sura the swords would hive united, and they who weilded them would have learned war ho more. I can never say a word against any other d3n mlna,tioa of Christ ians. I thank God I never hive bojn tempted to do it. I cannot bia ssctarl-in. I have been told I ou'ht to be, and I have tried to be, but I have not enough material in mo to mako such a structure. Every time I get the thing most done, there comos a lire, or something else, ana all is gone. The angels of God shakj out oi this air, "Glory to God in tbe highest, und on earth peace, good will toward mau." I do not know but I see on th-j horizon the first gleam of the - morning which shall unite all denominations in one organisation, distinguished only by the locality as in apost tlio times. It wiw then the Church of Thyatira, and tha Church of Theasaloni ca, and tho Church of Antioch, and the Church of Laodieeu. So I do not know but that in the future history, and not far off either, it may l3 simp'y a distinction of lo cality, and not of creed, as tho Church of New York, tho Church of Brooklyn, tha Church of Boston, tho Church of Charles ton, the Church of Madras, the Church of Constantinople, the Church of America. My dear brethren, we cannot afford to bo severely divided. Stauding in front of tho great foes of our commoir Christianity, we want to put on the whole armor of God and march down in solid column, shoulder to shoulder! one commander! one triumph! The trumpet nlc amart'a! strnln O Asiacl : jrlrrt th?o for i ho lltUt; Arise, tno combat to maintain; A -isiand u thy f es to fl'ght. We also feel reinforced by the thought that we are on the way to a heaven that can never burn down. Fires may cweep through other cities but I am glad to know that the New Jerusalem is fireproof. There will be no engines rusbing through those streets; there will be no temples consumed in that city. Coming to tho doors of that Church, we will find them open, resonant with songs, and not cries of fire. Oh, my dear brother and sister! If this short lano of life comes up so soon to that blessed place, what is the use of our worrying I have felt a good maDy time3 this last week like Father Taylor, the sailor preacher. He got in a long sentence while ho was preaching one day, and lost himself, and could not find his way out of the sentence. i;e stopiwd and said: "Brethren, I have lost tho nomina tive of this sentence, and things are gener ally mixed up, but I am bound for the king dom anyhow." And during this last weok, when I saw the rushing to and fro and the excitement, I said to myself, "I do not know just where we shall start again, but I am bound for the kingdom anyhow." I do not want to go just yet. I want to be a pastor of this peoplo until I am about eighty-nine years of age, but I have sometimes thought that there are such glories ahead that I may be persuaded to go a little earlier for instanco, at eighty- two or eighty-three; but I really think that. if we could have an appreciation of what God has in reserve for us, we would want to go, stepping right out of the Academy of Music into the glories of the skies. Ah! that is a good lend. Why, they tell me that in tnat iana tuey never nave a heart ache. They tell me that a man might walk five hundred years in that land and never see a tear or hear a sigh. They tell me that our friends who have left us and gone there, their feet are radio nt as tho sun, and that they take hold of he hand of Jesus familiarly, and that they open that hand and see in the palm of it a healed wound that must have been very cruel before it was healed. And they tell me there is no winter there, and that , they never get hungry or cold, and that the sew ing girl never waaes through tno snow bank to her daily toil, and that the clock never strikes twelve for the night, bat only twelve for tho day. See that light in the window. 1 wonder who set it there. "Oh!" you say, "my father that went into glory must have set that light in the window." No; gue&a again. "My mother who did fifteen yar ago in Jesus, I think must have set that light there." No; guons again. You say, "My darling little child, that last summer I put away for the resurrection, I think: she must have set that light thero In window." No;' guess again. Jesus it there; and he vill- keep it burn until tho day we ' put our finger tho set ing on the latch of the door and go in to be at home forever. Oh! when my sight gcta black in death, put on my eyelids that swoct ointment. When in tho last weariness I cannot tako another step, just help me put my foot on that doorsill. When my ear catches no more ,tho voices of wife and child, let me go right, in, to have my deaf ness cured by the stroke of the hwrpers whoso finger. fly over tho strings with tha anthems of the free. Heaven never burns down ! The fires of the last day, that aro already kindled in tho heart of the earth, but aro hidden bocauso God keeps down the. hatches those inter nal fires will aftor a while break through tho crust, and the plains, and the moun tains and the seas will bo consumed, and the flames will fling their long arms Into the sklos; but all the terrors of a burn ing world will do no .more harm to that heavenly temple than the fires of tho setting sun which kindle up the win dow glass of the house on yonder hill top. Oh, blessed land ! But I do not want to go thore until I see the Brooklyn Tabernaclo rebuilt You say, "Will it be?" You might as well ask mo if the sun will rise to-morrow morning, or if the next soring wiil put garlands on its head. You and I may not do it you and I may not live to see it; but tho Church of God doos not stand on two legs nor on a thousand legs. How did the Israelites get through lhe Red sea! 1 suppose somebody may havo come and said "There is no need of trying; you will get your feet wct?you will siwil your clothes; you will drown yourselves. ' VV hoover heard of getting through such a sea as that" How did they get through it? Did they go back No. Did they go to tho right No. Did thev go to the left? No. They went forward in the strongth of the Low! 'Almighty ; aud that is tho way wo mean to get through tho Kcd boa. By going forward. But says someone: "If wo should build a larger church, would you bo ublo with your voico to fill it?" Why, I havo been woaring my self out for the last sixteen years in tryir.ff to keep my voice in. Give mo room whero 1 can preach the glories of Christ and iho grandeurs of heaven. Forward! We have to march on, break ing down all bridges behind us, making re treat impossible. Throw away your knap sack if it impedes .your march. Keep your sword arm free. Strike for Christ and Ilia kingdom whilo you may. No people vor had a better mission than you are sent on. Prove yourselves worthy. If I am not fit to be your leader, set me aside. Tho brightest goal on earth that I can think of is a country parson ago amidst the moun tains. But I am not afraid to load .vou I have some dollars; they are at your dispos al. I have good physical health; it is yours as long as it lasts. I have enthusiasm of soul; I will not keep it lack from your service. I have some faith in God, aud I shall direct it toward tho rebuilding of our now spiritual house. Come on, then. I will load you. Come on, ye aged men, not yet passed over Jordan I (Jive us one more nil uetoro you go into the promised land. You men in middle life, harness all your business faie- iiuc3 to tii. 8 cuterpriSv. Young man, put the firo of your soul into , this work-. Let women consecrate t ..eir persuasiveness and pernistcncc to this cause, and they will bo preparing benedictions for their dying hour uud everlasting re wards; and if Satan lNjally did burn that TabcrnMC'.e d jwn, as some say ho did, ho wili lind it tho poorest job he ever undertook. Good by, old Tabernacle. 1 put 'my fin gers to my lip and throw a kiss to tiio do parted church. In tho lust day, iiy wo bo ablo to meet the song a there suntr, mid tha prayers there offered, and the sermons thero preached. Good-by, old pla-.e, who'-e somo of us first felt the Gospel poacv, uud others hoard th9 last mossago ere th',v Hod away into tho skie3! Goo t-by, Brooklyn. Tabernacle of 1873! But wcleomo our now church. (l3eolt as plainly ui though it were already built!) Your gates wider, your songs moro triumph in t, your ingather ings moro glorious. Kiss out of tho ashes and greot our waiting vision ! Burst on our souls, oh day of our church's resurrection I By your altars may wo be preparad for tho hour when the firo" shall try ovcry man's work of what sort it Is. Welcome, Brooklyn Tabernacle of 1890! He NcYer Got I'ncu to lint tie i. Col. Jamos M. Thompson javo hi3 opinion as follows: "Tho quality of courage in battlo I. regard as being1 to a large extent a physical attribute. I have honrd a good deal of tallc about tbo nonchalenco of men in action, and their ease and composure after tlio iirst gun was tired, bti,t 1 never took much stock in it. 1 went through tlio war in tho army, and it was my fortune to bo in a portion of tho'tervicu in Virginia whero there was a goo 1 deal of hard lighting to do, and thor.J wasn't any creditable way to get out of it, either. I saw service in twenty- Mght battles, and lean freely saw that I for ono never got 'used .to it' 1 never went into a light without.' an all-pi-evaling tense of danger, and always glad when it was over. Of coarse moral courage, high patriotism, and' the military spirit kept tho majority of men right up to the mark, but there wero notable in stances of men whow physical natures simply failed to respond when called on. They eould not possibly go into a fight. A clear head and a full conception of tho enormous consequences of coward ice to themselves failed to spur them to the staving point, tnCL on tho first whiz of a bullet their signals of distress were visible to all in sight. 'A well-known Now York colonel, a per.'ect gentleman a.id sr-holar, a pa triot, nnd a really noble chow, was so weak in point f courage, and hi hu miliation so great at really being afraid to face dnnger, that he was forced to retire irom tho army, went to Wash ington pined away, mid died in a few weeks. I knew another prominent of fice r whoso friends, out. of considera tion for his well-known failing, used to manage, on one pretext or another, to keep him out of engagements, and thus shield him from exposure. Men like that aro to bo pitied, not blamed. They want to fight, but their bodies actually refuse to do "their wllL" Globe Democrat.' The SiiKiklnir mjrtnicnt. A crusade against tlio smoking com partment of sleeping cars bus, it is asserted, been inaugurated by Mrs. Frances Willard, the eloquent temper ance reformer. In an interview with ilr. George M. Pullman, this energetic lady argued that the smoking rooms should bo abolished and eieeial cars provided for users of tho weed, declar ing that under tho present urrangemcnt tho smokb is blovvii into the body of tho cars, to the disgust of the female occu pants. It is to bo admitted that if tho odor of stale tobacco smoke Invaded u sleeping car it would not bo agreeable to most people, but tho smooking rooms of tho modern sleepers aro so thorough, ly divided off that it takes a very criti cal nose in any other part of tho ear to know that the combustion of tobacco Is going on, !nd it is raro that the most fastidious traveler has any complaint to make on that score.lvailw.ry Age. Marriage is a feast whero the grnco la sometimes better than the dinner, Co Uou,