THE PHILANTHROPIST.
r .
Nearly everybody in Naples knew
the condescending and benevolent old
Duke, San DIodata, and nearly every
body loved him.
It was getting: dark; the people of.
fashion were returning from their
promenade on the quay. Beautiful
women, bold military officers, elegant
"horseback riders all of them greeted
the Duke with marked attention. v
Every one received the same pleas
ant and benevolent smile, with this
"difference, however, that in response
to a nod from out of the cushions of a
carriage, the Duke condescended to
bow, while on other occasions he con
sidered a familiar nod, a motion of his
hand, a wink of his small and spark
ling eyes as sufficient. .
The Duke was in an unusual hurry.
A magnificent dinner was to take place
that evening at Irisio's, in which all
the dignitaries of the city were to par
ticipate. It was almost necessary that
the noble philanthropist, the darling
of the people of Naples, should be
present on that occasion.
His valet, a dress coat decorated
with three badges and a low-cut silk
waistcoat over his arm, awaited him at
home.
Eccellecfea, it is high time!"
! The Duchess, a stately lady of 'about
the age of 50 years, made her appear
ance on the threshold.
(. "You are late, my dear."
I He kissed her hand politely and then
naked the valet:
"THE SAME WITn ME, MY CHILD."
"Any people waiting for me?"
(' "Yes, Signore Duca! Shall I send
them away?"
"By no means!"
But the Duchess held him by the
arm.
"Cher Due! The Princess of Monte -leone's
reception is at hand; I can not
possibly appear in the same robe for
the fourth time."
"You can not? Have it changed a
trifle, my dear. You have an excellent
taste in such things and always look
elegant always beautiful." '
"Flatterer!" replied the Duchess,
smiling without affectation. "But this
time I am at the end of my resources.
I must have money!" ;
'The same with me, my child! You
can not. find a soldo in my. pockets. 1
gave the lastI had to a beggar in the
"Villa Kazion ale."
"Then only one way is left for me: I
will nave to use a sick neaaacne lor a
Bah! This is a small matter! For
what purpose do you keep a dress
maker?" "There are three robes charged on
last year's account "
I "That leaves room for a fourth."
Saying this he withdrew to the audi
ence room.- A half a dozen people
crowded around him.
"Signore Duca my son!"
'Eccellenza per pieta P
"Monsignore have pity!"
J- "Adagio adagio, my children!" in
terrupted the Duke kindly, taking a
Beat ana wiping ms oaia bead, witn a
eilk handkerchief. "Every one in due
order. Who was here first?"
i "I, Signore Duca!"
i An old man in a peasant's jacket, his
legs wound in goat skins, stepped for
ward in .a stooping attitude.
'From the country, my dear old
friend P What troubles you?"
"Ah, Eccellenza. The King has
drafted my son, my only son, into the
army to send him into America. When
my reppe is gone, i must 3tarve, poor
cripple that I am! I and my three
orphaned grandchildren."
i "That, the King would regret very
tnuch!" The corners of the good old
Duke's mouth twitched with emotion,
hut he tried to preserve his dignity,
inquiring narsmy xor tne station, age
and name of the applicant and zeal
ously lotting them down in his note
book. After a little while, he motion
ed pleasantly with his hand:
"Addio, my old friend! You shall
keep your son and you shall have a
better opinion of our most gracious
King in future."
The next in order was a man who
liad been employed on a railway and
who asserted that he had lost his situ
ation without fault on his part The
Duke promised to obtain a new situa
tion for him. - His word sufficed to
satisfy the man.
The next to approach was a neatly
clad, tall young, fellow with the genu
ine face of the lazzarone.
"Is that you, Saivatore?" said the
Duke, familiarly. "Have you lost your
master again?"
'Eccellenza! my political convic
tions have induced me to give warning
to my former padrone, this Roman,
this Garibaldian -"
"Is that so? In other words, you
have explored your master's pockets
again." - -
"No! No! Eccellenza!" replied the
fellow, with the airs of hurt innocence,
hut the cunning sparkle of his eyes be
trayed how flattered he felt at the
close conjecture of his distinguished
protector. - "I would prefer to become
the camericre of some patriotic Nea
politan gentleman, to ' whom I could
make mvself useful during elections
without offense to my own convictions.
If Eccellenza would graciously -" .
What? You rascal! . My recom
mendation?" exclaimed the Duke with
an expression of moral wrath on his
face, but at th same time blinking
him kindly.
Sisslgnore, Eccellenza."
"Well! Well!" Alter a snort aeiitter.
ation. the duke tore a leaf from -his
note book and wrote the following on
it: . ' :
"Mr Dear Count: Knowing that
you are in need of a circumspect valet,
I take the liberty to recommend the
bearer of these lines to you as such; he
Is an authority among the Cammorrists
and a political power among the people
of Mercato otherwise ho is a thief of
the first quality.
"The Duke of San Diodato."
The young fellow received the care
fully sealed communication with de
light and kissed the Duke's hand.
Then the Duke turned to a pale
young woman who was endeavoring to
cover her thin shoulders and the patch
es on her dress with a large unclean,
black shawl. , ,
"What is your desire, my dear
woman?"
"Oh, Eccellenza, I am starving, to
gether with my two children who are
sick with fever!" She prostrated her
self at his feet. "My husband has
been sick a long time and can not find
work "
"Very well You send him to me to
morrow. We need a porter in our
club. If your husband can fill the
situation he shall have it."
The woman was profuse with her
thanks.
"Have you anything to eat for this
evening, cara mia ?" the Duke asked,
tenderly,
"How could we, Eccellenza ?"
The Duke passed his hand over his
eyes hastily. They were moist. He
thought of the feast to come. His
hands instinctively groped in his pock
ets. Then his glance fell upon the last of
the applicants. He was his tailor.
"Is that you, Jerrucci ? I have no
small change about me. Give the
poor woman five lire !"
He arose and rubbed his hands with
satisfaction. After some hesitation,
Jerrucci pulled out his purse and gave
the woman several pieces of silver.
"Signore Duca, Eccellenza here are
four ! I have no more "
"Good ! good ! honest Jerrucci ! That
will do for this evening ; will it not,
it "WW ii -V
my- nttie .woman "'- lie pauea ner
cheek in a fatherly way, "You shall
be cared for to-morrow- r"
And now he was alone with his tai
lor.
"Well, Jerrucci ?"
"Oh, Excellenza, I am in need of
money L 11 you would, be so kind toe
little account of last year "
The Duke interrupted him impatient-
ly:
"But, Jerrucci ! Don't occupy my
time with such insignificant matters !
Don't you sea that I have not a mo
ment to lose!"
"Eccellenza, my rent is due to-morrow
! My landlord threatens "
"He does ! If the fellow dares to
molest you, I will make it disagreeable
for him ! You tell him that I, the
Duke of Sau Diodato, hold you in high
esteem! Dou you understand? And
now addio,' Jerrucci ! We will talk
about this some other time."
VnnPC TXT TTrP i TXT T7 ATII
The tailor went vexation and ejre
had left his heart entirely. There was
even a faint smile of satisfaction on
his thin and yellow face.
The establishment of Irisio Brothers
lies on the shore of Posillipo, on a rock
that reaches some 50 yards into the
sea. Here a party of distinguished
gentlemsn were assembled around a
magnificently prepared banquet.
The sea murmured gently. The
crack of champagne bottles was heard
now and then. There were toasts in
prose and toast3 in verse, accompanied
by the soft notes of the mandolina.
' During tne last course the minstrels
withdrew to the long balcony, where
the coffee and cigaretts were to be
served to the eruests afterward. The
company was to rise from the table
amidst the sounds of the Italian nation
al hymn. Suddenly the Duke of San
Diodato left the table and the hall
The head waiter with his dress coat
and white necktie, who was superin
tending the banquet from the distance.
like a gentleman, and served nothing
with his hands except perhaps . some
cigarettes, came to meet him with zeal
ous politeness.
"I. say, Carlino," whispered the
duke; "just hand me a 20-franc piece
It is impossible to arouse enthusiasm
with these shabby bank notes. Now
you shall see how I remembar my poor
friends!"
When he re-entered . the hall the
noise of the moving chairs was begin
ning to intermingle with the last notes
of the national hymn.
The duke raised his full and dignified
voice: "One moment, gentlemen!"
De Sbaglio, a talented journalist, and
one of the duke's partisans, whose
large - intellect' and small conscience
were admired and feared in all Naples,
poked his neighbor, Onorevole Ucheri,
his friend and rival, in the side and
said jeeringly: .
"Our good old Duca is becoming
pathetic. I wager that he has some
roguery in petto.'1
"My friends!" said the Duke, with
emotion, "I saw a poor woman shed
tears to-day, the recolleetion of which
burns on my conscience while I am
within this gleeful circle furrounded
11
by affluence and luxury. The man
who can feast while he beholds his
fellow. man starve is a heartless crea
ture! Could I do otherwise, gentle
men than to promise help to this un
fortunate woman, whose husband and
children are stricken down by sickness?
Knowing your humane sentiments, my
dear friends, I take the liberty to beg
of you that you assist me in this char
itable act. Allow me to set you an ex
ample!'' He seized a silver platter with a
rest of macaroons on it, emptied them
on to the table cloth and then dropped
his gold piece into it noisily. The
head waiter, overcome by admiration
of this princely, munificence, saw from
a distance how the platter gradually
filled with gold pieces. Norte of the
distinguished guests would have kis
generosity appear inferior to that of
others, De Sbaglio excepted. With
the jeering look of a Mephistophetes
that was peculiar to him, he placed
some silver pieces on the platter, and
smiled ambiguously.
"My Duke" he said, "we people of
the press are the gypsies among the
aristocrats of the mind; .we have noth
ing that we can call our own, and we
can get and give what we have."
' The Duke was moved, and shook him
by the hand.
The journalist made a wry face, and
whispers to his neighbor at the left:
, "He is uncommonly tender and affec
tionate, our good old Duca! He must
be in an awfully tight pinch!"
"I hasten, gentlemen," exclaimed
the Duca, "to make a needy family
happy! I will return in half an hour.
Waiter! my carriage!"
The head waiter respectfully opened
the door of the antechamber for him
and the Duke handed him a gold piece:
"Ecco! Carlino! Grazie!
m m '
On the following morning the Duch
ess was surprised by the present of a
new robe from her husband. The
amiable lady thanked him, tenderly
kissing him on both cheeks, but she
was a great deal too sensible and ex
perienced to inquire whence the bless
ing had come.
An Aristocratic Canine.
"You mean dog collars," said a New
York Press reporter to the omniscient
society man. ,
"No, sif; I mean a dpg ring. You
see, fashionable people who love their
pets tired of gold and silver and stud
ded collars, so, after much laborious
brain searching, they hit upon the idea
of a jeweled ring."
"Isn't the ring liable to slip off the
animal's leg when in action?"
"It isn't for the leg. It's for the
tail."
"Don't you think their jewels will
excite the cupidity of dosr-stealers?"
"Undoubtedly; but you must remem
ber they will only be worn by animals
who are well able to take ca re of
themselves."
"Don't you think that it would be
an excellent idea if society people
provided their, dogs with eye-glasses
and toothpicks?"
"I never gave the subject any
thought"
"And with increasing civilization.
culture and refinement oughtn' t society
cats to be provided with bi-acolets?"
"Really, now, don't ask me such
questions. We men look after the
dogs. The welfare and adornment of
the cats is a matter for the considera
tion of the ladies."
At first the reporter was inclined to
believe that his informant, who sucked
most of his knowledge from the head
of his walking-stick, was lying with
Munchauseu-like aplomb. A stroll up
Fifth avenue, however, convinced him
that he had not been listening to an
innocent fiction. Within a quarter of
an hour half a dozen ring-tailed bull
dogs were encountered. Each of them
waddled along with a proper pride,
and each of them was accompanied by
one or more of those vapid specimens
of incipient manhood known as dudes.
Man is Composed of Air.
The following is from Justus Liebig,
the greatest chemist of the nineteenth
century: "Science has demonstrated j
that man, the being which performs
the greatest wonders, is formed of con
densed air, or solidified1 and liquefied
rrn c o c tViafr. Vita litroa rn stnnrlancorl qc
well as on uncondensed air, and, by
means of the same agent, moves the
heaviest weights with the velocity of
the wind. But the strangest part of
the matter is that thousands of those
tabernacles formed of condensed air
are going on two legs, destroying
other forms of condensed , air which
they may need for food or clothing, or
on account of their power, destroying
each other in pitched battles, by
means of the same materials of which
they ar5 composed. Chemistry sup
plies the clearest proof that, so far as
concerns this, the ultimate and most
minuts composition and structure,
which is beyond the reach of our
senses, man is, to all appearances,,
identical with the ox, or even with the
animals., lowest in the scale of
creation."
Alaska Bcaonrc33.
The list of Alaska resources grows
larger almost every month. Not only
is it said to have an abundance of min
erals and an inexhaustible supply of
coal, but it is now claimed by a few en
thusiasts that it is a great natural wheat
country in some parts. Still further, a
learned crank now comes forward to
prove that the heart of Alaska is a
magnificent semi-tropical region, being
protected from the cold of the north by
a lofty chain of mountains and arti
ficially warmed by vast a number of
volcanoes and hot springs. He admits
that he has never been in Alaska, but
the fact, he says, is really a point in
favor of his theory, for he is not bur
dened with any prejudices on the sub
ject.' ' : -.' - : ' - '
The man who is mo3t ready to give advice
is the one who received a great deal that he
failed to use. :
The weather is as uncertain as the age of
a girl over thirty. Richmond .Recorder.
THE FARM.
Airriealtirftl Jotes. 7--v;'
Cayenne pepper in moderation fs a
valuable ingredient in the soft food
for chickens. Toe much of it is irri
tating to the internal organs.
The winds of this season will make
sad havoc with the flocks if they are
exposed, and especially should the
hens be protected at night.
When a man is frightened or angry
his digestive organs do not work;
this is also true of an animal hence
the profit of keeping it in a peaceful
and fearless state by kind treatment.
In fattening hogs, have a dry
floored pen and plenty of clean bed
ding. Dispense with that half of the
pen generally allowed for rooting in
the ground.
The dairy interests of the United
States, says an exchange, foot up to
$3,000,000,000, while the entire
banking capital of thecountry is only
about $981,000,000. The number
of milch cows is 21,000,000, giving
an average of 350 gallons each an
nually, or 7,350,000,000 gallons in
a year. ,
Cows are liable to severe accidents
If compelled to tramp over icy paths
to water, or if, ice is allowed to ac
cumulate around the watering trough
In the yard. There is no room for
Question about the economy of tak
ing the extreme chill from the drink
ing water for stock. Yet there are
few farmers who will take the trouble,
and the least they can do is to see
that the chilly watering places are
not rendered inaccessible by ice block
ades. . Clorer For Snine.
It will be a sign of progressive farm
ing when the owner of swine saVes
2kver for his hogs in winter, or goes
further and preserves in a silo sweet
zorn with which to winter and help
fatten his hogs. The possibilities of
hog rearing with the right kind of
3ilage are beyond reckoning. We
must have more hogs on the farm to
make more . fertility. The cost of
wintering is the present drawback;
but with clover, silage, and roots
there may be an immense increase
with corresponding profit. A good
breeding sow is a good investment,
with a little more faith in the natur
al food for swine.
Care of Cattle.
If the cattle are turned out of
doors to drink or for exercise, do not
let them remain out to long, and
guard against their having to plunge
through snowdrifts or against slip
ping upon icy places. A little ex
ercise in the open air in pleasant
weather is beneficial to all animals,
but a half-hour in each afternoon is
enough when the thermometer marks
below the freezing point in the sun,
and is too much in a cold rain or a
blustering cold, wind. Perhaps the
young stock, if well fed and lively
enough to caper and play about the
yard, may not be injured by a longer
season out of door, but they should
be taken in before they begin
to hump up their backs and turn
their tails toward the wind. Cultiva
tor. Bow to Milk a Coir.
The most economical way to milk
a cow, all things considered, is to
milk the two fore teats clean, leaving
off with a pretty full stream, and
then milk the hind ones down to a
short stream, and, returning to the
fore ones, milk them to the same con
dition, not touching the hind ones
again. This wil leave the teats
empty, and the bags too. It is a
false notion that tugging away at
the teats stimulates a cow to give
more milk; but, on the contrary,
emptying the bag as soon as possible
yields more; then the cow can have
the extra time to eat, which is a bet
ter stimulus than either. A slow
milker is never tolerated in the dairy
districts, and a "stripper" is an inju
ry anywhere. The sooner the cow is
milked, and all the organs connected
with feeding, digestion and secretion
are left in their natural condition, the
better it is for the cow. Rural Cana
dian.
Shiftless Farming.
That farming is too often carried
forward in a happy-go-lucky way,may
account for the large number of
shabby buildings, dilapidated fences,
and run-down appearances of the
farms generally. The owner may be
more often found lounging about the
village saloon, or dawdling about
the streets in an aimless way, than
at work on the farm. This is the
extreme case. His children are poor
ly clad, but often clean, for the poor
wife may be struggling to do her best
by them, despite the intemperance of
the husband. If the husband is
struggling to better himself and fam
ily, the buildings and fences will be
kept in decent repair until the time
comes when bettter can be built, and
the farmer will be found at home,
working earnestly to this end.? He
is not unthrifty. Years may qome
and go. A good vegetable garden
will be cultivated, and trees here and
there will be planted to give needed
shade and protection. The time as
length arrives when, the mortgages
having been lifted, a modest house
is built, and barns and sheds are ad
ded. The stock is thrifty and ac
cumulating from year to year,
the farm becomes .more and more
fertile and somethinglike the picture
of the home of Farmer Thrift is pre
sented to the view of the passer by.
Fortunately, in the West, compar
atively few surroundings of the first
slass are found. There are however,
enough to keep in mind the fact that
thrift in agriculture means a careful
attention to the work in hand, and
that an accurate knowledge from
month to month is necessary to
oring the balance at the end of the
right side of the ledger. Young
farmers, commencing to carve out
. farm, which picture will be your
lim through life? Prairie Farmer.
TALMACE AT ATHENS.
ErogreM of tin Celebrated Brooklyn
Divine on His Ptfgrimage.
He Discourses to a Group of Friends and
Countrymen in Ancient Athens on "The
Glorious Revelation to By'-An Eloquont
Sermon.
Having reached Athens on his pilgrimage
to the Holy Land, Rev. T. DevVitt Tal
mage last Sunday preached to a group of
friends, basin his discourse on the fol
lowing two passages from the Pauline
epistles : L Corinthians, ii, 9: "Eye hath not
seen, nor 'ear heard," and L Corinthians,
xiii. 2: For now we see through a glass,
darkly." The sermon was as follows :
Boih these sentences were written by the
most illustrious merely huraan being the
world ever saw, one who walked these
streets, and preached from yonder pile of
rocks. Mars Hills. Though more classic
associations are connected with this city
than with any other city under the sun,
because here Socrates, and Plato, and
Aristotle, and Demosthenes, and Pericles,
and Xenophon, and Praxiteles wrote ' or
chiseled, or taught or thundered oi
sung, yet in my mind all those men
and their teachings were ellpsed by
Paul and the Gospel ho preached in
this city and in your near by city cf
Corinth. Yesterday, standing on the old
fortress of Corinth, the Acro-Corinthus, out
from the ruins at its base arose in my
imagination the old city. Just as Paul saw
it. I have been told that for splendor the
world beholds no such wonder to-day as
that ancient Corinth standing on an
istnmus washed by two seas, the one sea
bringing the commerce of Europe, the
other sea bringing the commerce of Asia.
From her wharves, in the construction of
which whole kingdoms had been absorbed,
war galleys with three banks of oars push
ed out and- confounded the navy yards
of all the world. Huge-handed ma
chinery, such as - modern invention
cannot eual, lifted' ship3 from the sea
on one sido and transported them on
trucks across the isthmus and set them
down in the sea on the other side. The
revenue officers of tha city went down
through the olive groves that lined the
beach to collect a tariff from all nations.
The mirth of all people snorted in her Isth
mian games, and the beauty of all lands sat
in her theatres, walked her porticos and
threw itself on the altar of her stupendous
dissipations. Column and statue and tem
ple bewildered the baholder. There were
white marble fountains into which, from
apertures at the sides, there rushed waters .
everywhere known for health giving quali
ties. Around these basins, twisted into
wreaths of stone, there were all the beau
ties of sculpture and architecture, while
standing, as if to guard the c03tly display,
was a statue of Hercules of burnished
Corinthian brass. Vases of terra cotta
adorned the cemeteries of the dead vases
so costly that Julius Caisar was not satis
fied until he had captured them for
Rome. Armed officciais, , the corinth
arii, paced up and down to see that
no statue was defaced, no pedestal over
thrown, no bas-relief touched. From
the edge of the city the hill held its mag
nificent burdens of columns and towers and
temples (1,000 slaves waiting atone shrine),
and a citadel so thoroughly impregnable that
Gibraltar is a heap of sand compared with
it. Amid all that strength and magnificence
Corinth stool and defied the world. Oh!
it was not to rustics who had never seen
anything grand tha.t Paul uttered one of my
texts. They had heard the best music that
had como from the best instruments in
all the world ; they had heard songs floating
from morning porticos and melting in
evening groves; they had passed their
whole lives among pictures and sculp
ture and architecture and Corinthian
brass, s which had been molded and
shaped until there was no chariot wheel in
which it had not sped, and no tower in
which it had not glittered, and no gateway
that it had not adorned. Ah, it was a bold
thing for Paul to st md there amid all that'
and say: "All this is nothing. . These
sounds that come from the temple of Nep
tune are not music compared with the har
monies of which I speak. These wa
ters rushing in the basia of Pyrene
are not pure. These statues of Bac
chus and Mercury are not exquisite. Your
citadel of Acro-Corinthus is not strong
compared with that which I offer
to the poorest slave that puts
down his burden at that brazen gate. You
Corinthians think this is a splendid city;
you think you have heard all sweet sounds
and seen all beautiful sights; but I tell you
eye hath not seen nor ear heard, neither
have entered into the heart of man. the
things which God hath prepared for them
that love him." Indeed, both my texts,
the one spoken by Paul and the one written
by Paul, show us that we have very imper
fect eyesight, and that our day of vision is
yet to come : For now we sea through a glass
darkly, but then face to face. So Paul
takes the responsibility of saying that the
Bible is an indistinct mirror, and that
its mission shall be finally suspended.
I think there may be one fcible in
heaven fastened to the throne. Just as now,
in a museum, we have a lamp exhumed
from Herculaneum or Nineveh, and we look
at it with great interest' and say: "How
poor a light it must have given, compared:
with our modern lamps." So 1 think that
this Bible, which was a lamp to our feet in
this world, may lie near the throne of God,
exciting our interest to all eternity by the
contrast between its comparatively feeble
light and the illumination of heaven. The
Bible, now, is the scaffolding to the rising
temple, but when the building is done there
will be no use for the scaffolding. Tbe
idea I shall develop to-day is, tisat
In this .world our knowledge is
comparatively dim and unsatisfactory, but
nevertheless is introductory to grander and
more complete vision. This is eminently
true in regard to our view of God. We
hear so much about God that we conclude
that we understand him. He is represented
as having the tenderness of a father, the
firmness of a judge, the pomp of a king and
the love of a mother. We hear about him,
talk about him, write about him. We lisp
his name in infancy, and it trembles on th'
tongue of the dying octogenarian. We
think that we know very much about him.
Take the attribute of mercy. Do we un
derstand it! The Bible blossoms all over
with that word Mercy. It speaks again
and again of the tender mercies of God ; of
the sure mercies ; of the great mercies ; of
the mercy that endureth forever; of . the
multitudes of his mercies. And yet I know
that the views we have of this great being
are most indefinite, one sided and incom
plete. When, at death, the gates shall fly
open, and we shall look directly upon him,
how new and surprising! We see upon
canvas a picture of tho morning. We
study the cloud in the sky, the dew upon
the grass, and the husbandman on the way
to the field. Beautiful picture of the morn
ing! But we rise at daybreak, and go upon
a hill to see for ourselves that which
)was represented to us. While we look,
the mountains are transfigured. The
burnished gates of heaven swing open and
shut, to let pass a host of fiery splendors.
The clouds are all abloom, and hang pend
ant from arbors of alabaster and amethyst.
The waters make pathway of inlaid pearl
for the light to walk upon; and there is
morning among the mountains. Now you
go home, and how tame your picture of the
morning seems in contrast! Greater than
that shall be the contrast between this
Scriptural view of God and that which we
shall have when standing face to face.
This is a picture of the morning; that will
be the morning itself.
Again: My texts are true of the Sav
iour's excellency. By image, and sweet
rhythm of expression, and startling antith
eses, Christ is set forth his love, his com
passion, his work, his life, his death, his
resurrection. We are challensed to meas
ure it, to compute it, to weigh it. In the
hour of our broken enthrallment, we mount
up into high experience of his love, and
shout until the countenance glows, and the
blood bounds, and the whole nature i3 ex-
vinrited. r have found him!" And yet it
to thSSh a glis darkly. We see not half
of that compassionate face. W o feel not half
the warmth of that loving heart. Wo
wait for death to lot us rush into his out
spread arms. Then we shall be face to face.
Not shadow then, but substance.' Not hop j
then, but the fulfilling of all prefigurement
That will be a magnificent unfolding. The
rushing out in view of all hidden excellen
cy; the coming again of a long absent Jesus
to meet us not in rngs and in icnury and
death, but amidst a light and pomp and out
btirsting joy such as none but a gloriflod
intelligence could experience. Oh! to gaze
full upon the brow that was lacerated,
upon too side that was pierced, upon the
feet that were nailed; to stand close up in
the presence of him who prayed for us on
the mountain, and thought of us by the sea,
and agonized for us in the garden,
and died for us in horrible crucifixion,
to feel of him, to embrace him, to
take his hand, to kiss his feet, to run
our fingers along the scars of ancient suf
fering, to say: "This is my Jesus! He
gave himself for me. I shall never leave
his presence. I shall forever behold his
glory. I shall eternally hear his voice. Lord
Jesus, now I see thee ! I behold where the
blood started, where the tears coursed,
where the face was distorted. I have wait
ed for this hour. I shall never turn my
back on thee. No more looking through
Imperfect glasses. No m-ore studying thee
in the darkness. But as long as this throne
stands, and this everlasting river iidws, and
those garlands bloom, and these arches of
victory remain to greet home heaven's con
querors, so long I shall see thee, Jesus of
my choice, Jesus of my song, Jesus of my
triumph forever and forever face to
face!"
The idea of my texts is just as true when
applied to God's providence. Who has not
come to some pass in life thoroughly inex
plicable? You say: "What does this mean !
What is God going to do with me now!
He tells me that all things work together
for good. This does not look like it." You
continue to study the dispensation, and
after awhile guess about what God means.
"He means to teach me this. I think he
means to teach me that. Perhaps it is to
humble my pride. . Perhaps it is to make
me feel more dependent Perhaps to teach,
me the uncertainty of life.',' But, after all,
it is only a guess a looking through the
glass, darkly. The Bible assures us
there shall be a satisfactory unfolding.
"What do thou knowest not now,
but thou shalt know hereafter."
You will know why God took
to himself that only child. Next door there
was a household of seven children. Why
not take one from that group instead of
your only one? Why single out the dwell
ing in which there was only one heart beat
ing responsive to yours ? Why did God give
you a child at all, if he meant to take it
away? Why fill the cup of your gladness
brimming, if he meant to dash it down!
Why allow all the tendrils of your heart to
wind around that object, and then, when
every fiber of your own life seemed to be
interlocked with the child's life, with
strong hand to tear you apart, until you
fall bleeding and crushed, your dwelling
desolate, your hopes blasted, your heart,
broken! "Do you supposo that- God
will explain that? Yea. He will make it
plainer than any mathematical problem
as plain as that two and two make four. In
the light of. the throne you will see that it
was right all right "Just and true aro
all thy ways, thou king of saints." Here is
a man who cannot get on in the world. lie
always seems to buy at tho wrong time and
sell at the worst disadvantage. Ho trios
this enterprize, and fails; that business,
and is disappointed. Tho man next door to
him has a lucrative trade, but bo lacks
customers. A new prospect opens. His
income is increased. But that year his
family aro sick; and the profits are expend
ed in trying to cure the ailments. He gets
a discouraged look. Becomes faithless
as to succoss. Begins to expect disasters.
Others wait for something to turn up; he
waits for it to turn down. Others, with
only half as much education ana character,
get on twice as well. He sometimes guess
es as to what it all means. He says: "Per
haps riches would spoil me. Perhaps pov
erty is necessary to keep me bumble. Per
haps I might, if things were otherwise, bo
tempted iuto dissipation." But there is no
complete solution of the mystery. He sees
through a glass darkly, and must wait for
a higher unfolding. V ill there be any ex
planation? Yes; God will take that man in
the light of the throne and say : "Child im
mortal, hear the explanation! You re
member the failing of that great enterprise.
This is the explanation." And you will
answer: "It is all right!"
I see, every day, profound mysteries of
Providence. There is. no question we ask
of tenor than Why? There are hundreds of
graves that need to be explained. Hospi
tals for the blind and lame, asylums for the
idiotic and insane, almshouses for the
destitute and a world of pain and misfor
tune that demand more than human solu
tion. Ah ! God will clear it all up.' In the
light that pours from the throne no dark
mystery can live. Things now utterly
inscrutable will be illumined as plainly as
though the answer were written on the
jasper wall or sounded in tho temple
anthem. Bartimeus will thank God that
he was blind; and Lazarus that he was cov
ered with sores; and Joseph that he was
cast into the pit: and Daniel that he denned
with lions; ana Paul that he was
humpbacked; and David hat he
was driven from Jerusalem; and the sewing
woman that she could get only a few pence
for making a garment; and that invalid that
for twenty years he could not lift his head
from the pillow; and that widow that she
had such hard work to earn bread for her
children. You know that in a song different
voices carry different parts. The sweet and
overwhelming part of the hallelujah of
heaven will not be carried by those who
rode in high places, and gave sumptuous
entertainments; but pauper children will
sing it, beggars will sing it, redeemed hod
carriers will sing it, those who were once
the offscouring of tbe earth will sing it.
The hallelujah will be all tho grander for
earth's weeping eyes, and aching heads,
and exhausted hands, and scourged backs,
and martyred agonies.
Again : The thought of my text is true
when applied to the enjoyment of the
righteous in heaven. I think we have but
little Idea of the number of the righteous
in heaven. Infidels say: "Your heaven
will be a very small placo compared with
the world of the lost; lor, according to
your teaching, tho majority of men will bo
destroyed." I deny the charge. I suppose
that the multitude of the finally lost, as
compared with the multitude of the finally
saved, will be a handfuL I suppose that
the few sick people in the hospitals of our
great cities, as compared with the hun
dreds of thousands of will people, would
not be smaller than the number of
those who shall be cast out in suffering,
compared with those who shall have upon
them the health of heaven. For wo aro to
remember that we aro living in only the bo
ginning of the Christian dispensation, and
that this whole world is to be populated and
redeemed, and that ages of light and lovo
are to How on. If this be so, the multitudes
of the saved will be in vast majority. Take
all the congregations that have assembled
for worship throughout Christendom. Put
them together, and they would make but
a small audience compared with the thous
and and tens of thousands, and ten thous
and times ten thousand, and the hun
dred and forty and four thousand that
shall stand around the throne. Those
flashed up to heaven in martyr fires; those
tossed for many years upon the invalid
couch; those fought in the armies of
liberty, and rose as they fell; those tum
bled from high scaffoldings, or slipped from
the mast, or were washed off into the sea.
They came up from Corinth, from Laodicea,
from the Rod sea bank and Gennesarot's
wave, from Egyptian brickyards and Gide
on's threshing floor. Those thousands of
years ago slept the last sleep, and these are
this moment having their eyes closed, and
their limbs stretched out for the sepulcher,
A general expecting and an attack from
tho enemy stands on a hill and looks
through a field glass and sees in the great
distance multitudes approaching, but has
iio idea of their num bers. Ho says : 'I can
not toll anything about them. I merely
know that there aro a great number."
And so John, without attempting to count,
says: "A great multitude that no maa
can number." Wo are told that hoavcu i
a place of happiness; but what do wo
know about happiness? Happiness ia lhi
world is only a half fioJgoi thlnsr;
a flowery path with a serpent hbsin
across it; a broken pitcher, from which
the water has dropped before wo could
drink it; a thrill of exhilaration, followed
by disastrous reactions. To help us under
stand the joy of heaven, the Bible takes u
to a river. We stand ou tho grassy back.
We see the waters flow on with ceaseles
wave. But tho filth of tbe cities is cmptie4
into it, and the banks aro torn, and un
healthy exhalations spring up from it, ana
we fail io get an idea of tho llivcr of Lif
in heaven.
We get very imperfect ideas of tho re
unions of heaven. We think of iomo festal
day on earth, when fatherand mothor wero
yet living, and the children came honu. A
good time, that! But it had this drawback
all were not there. That brother went off
to sea, and never wai heard from. That
sister did we not lay her away in the
froshness of her young life, never more ia
this world to look upon her I Ah! tfeera
was a skeleton at the feait; and tears
mingled with our laughter on that Christ
mas day. Not so with heaven's reunions. Ii
will be an uninterrupted gladuess. Many a
Christian parent will fook around and find
all his children there. "Ah I" ho says,
"can it be possible that we aro all here
life's perils over! the-Jordan passed and.
not one wanting! Why, even the prodigal
is hero. I almost gave him up. How lonar
he despised my counsels t but graco hat
triumphed. All here! all hero! Tell tho
mighty joy through tho city. Let the bell
ring, and tho angel mention It in their
song. Wave it from the top of the walla.
All here 1"
.No more breaking of hoartstrlngs, tut
face to face. The orphans that wore left
poor, and in a merciless world, kicked and
cuffed of many hardships, shall join thc;r
parents over whose graves they so long
wept, and gaze into their glorified counte
nances forever, faco to face. Wo may como
up from different pirts of the world, ono
from the land aud another from the depth
of the sea; from lives affluent and prosper
ous, or from scenes of raggod distress: but
we shall all meet in rapture and jubilee,
face to face.
Many of our friends have entered upon
that joy. A few days ago they sat with u
studying those Gospel themes; but they
only saw dimly now revelation hath come.
Your time will also come. God will not
leave you floundering in the darkness. You
stand wonderstruck and amazed. You feel
as if all the loveliness of life were dashed
out You stand gazing into the open cham
of the grave. Wait a little. In the pres
ence of your departed and of him who carries
them in his bosom, you .shall soon stand
face to face. Oh! that our last 'hour may
kindle up with this promised joy I May wo
boablo to say, like tho Christian notion?
ago, departing: "Though a pilgrim walk
ing through the valley, the mountain top
aro gleaming from peak to peak!" or, liko
my dear friend and brother, Alfrod Cook
man, who took his flight to tho throne of
God, saying in his last moment that which
has already gone into Christian classic:
"I am sweeping through the puarly gate,
washed in tho blood of tho lamb!"
A Drunkard's Hie hen.
Whisky has various eitects upon'it3
drinkers, but it usually briujjs to tho
surface their most prominent trait.
When it proceeds to ffet In Its work it
make3 some men sorrowful, oilier
boisterous, eorno quarroisomo and
others happy. There is a certain
newspaper man hi Chicago, according
to the Herald, upon whom hard liquo.
has a very pleasinjr elTect, so far aa ho
is concerned himself. For instance,
he will awake in the morning vr ith a.
head constructed of the effect of the
night before, and vainly search
through empty pocket for cocktail
money. Then he will jro ' forth upon
the highway, foeling like tho pauper
which ho is for tho moment A friend
will come along and uslc him to have a
drink. He accepts the invitation, and
this first drink represents an iinmagi
nary two-dollar bill in h la pocket. The'
second driuk raises this to $10, ami
when ho downs his fifth driuk he is
drawing an immaglnary salary of t0
per week. Along about 4 p. m. if his
luck in meeting convivial friend
stands by him, ho begins to consider
the advisibility of purchuslng the pa
per on which he works, and at 0 p. m.
he goes out to hire a good local BtaJT.
liefore he retires ho is, in his mind,
the proprietor of a great metropolitan,
daily, and is intending to givo away
gold watches as premiums with hi
"great dollar weekly." When ho
awakes the next morning he isngnin a
reporter out of a job, but before night
he owns tho paper again. Whisky
with him means fortune and prosperi
ty. -
St ran i Life In Alaska.
'The furniture in tho native hut i
very sparse, says a traveler writing
from the Yukon river In Alaska a few
birch-bark baskets, some spoons of
ivory, wooden dishes, arrows, spears,
maybe a gun, straw mats, and furs.
Every thiug smells worso than a soap
factory. The people are literally
covered with vermin. They aro miser
ably poor. They pet very littlo for
the game and fish they have to sell.
Doth' are so plentiful that wo havo
tired of ducks, goose, and salmon. A
I am writing there are somo magnifi
cent mountains in sight. They remind
me of the first range of tho Rockies in
Colorado. In the woods there aro lotj
wild roses, and tho hillsides aro a
green as any lawn in spring. It i
difficult to beliove that this is an arctic
land wheu you observo tho luxuriant
forests, the groeu grass, tho flowers,
and mark how warm tho days are.
But dig down ten inches anywhere and
you will find tho ground frozen hard.
At JMulato they havo dug twenty-livo
feet to get water, and tho ground wa
frozen all tho way down. In spite of
this tho weather is so warm that every
man is going around in his shirt
sleeves. Mosquitoes aro plentiful aud
ferocious."
One rit for Tiro.
Books of the sixteenth century speak
of the employment of trenchers at tho
table. They introduced, says Mr.
Hazlitt, "the fashion of placing a lady
and gentleman alternately at meals,
the couple thus seated eating from one
trencher." Walpolo relates that So
lato as tho middle of tho last centurv
the old duke and duchess of IlamilUm
occupiod tho dais at tho head of ibo
room, and preserved tho traditional
manner by sharing tho samo plate"
As long ago as tho tenth century,
and the habit continued long after,
two meals a day was tho rulo with all
classes. As tho times became bettar,
and more luxurious ways wero possi
ble, the supper was added, and oven in
some cases a sub-supper.
They Are Kicking.
A Canadian marriago, under exist
Ing laws, is a partnership for life; but
the Canadians are tired of the formal
ities which stand in tho way, and are
moving to secure a divorco court and
the conveniences which surround it.
They aver that separation without di
vorce tends to lowor tho standard oi
morality.
