Shell
Wilden.
CHAPTER VI.
Shell ia In the now almost disused
etlllroom of the Wilderness, dusting
delicate china tea-cups with a clean
glass-cloth. She Is singing at the top
of her fresh young voice, as she usual
ly does when working alone.
"Oh, here you are at last!” cries
Ruby, entering the room with a vic
timized air. "I have been searching
all over the house for you. Who ever
would dream of finding you down here
at the end of this long passage?"
"Anybody with an atom of sense,’*
answers Shell bluntly. "If you Insist
upon asking about fifty people to a
garden-party, with only two servants,
some one must give them a helping
hand."
"Absurd—afternoon-tea Is no trou
ble; but If you choose to encourage
their laziness of course they are will
ing enough to let you!"
Shell makes no reply, but placidly
proceeds with her dusting.
"VI and 1 want you up-stalrs,” con
tinues Ruby In a different tone. "We
have decided to wear those muslins we
hacL for the flower-show, only they
waivt altering a little, and some new
laeea tacking on."
“All r^ght—only I can't come Just
now," assents Shell readily—"the flow
ers have to be gathered and arranged
yet; and cook la steeped to her eye
brows In cakes—I promised to help her
as soon as I had finished these."
"Oh, but the dresses must be done
first! I’ll gather the flowers If neces
sary,” says Ruby In the voice of a
martyr, "even though going out In the
heat always docs give me a frightful
headache."
Shell reluctantly compiles, and Is
occupied for nearly an hour, then hav
ing still many household matters on
her mind, she rises to take her de
parture.
"Don’t go yet; you know how I ab
hor this sort of work," said Ruby
sharply—her only work so far has con
sisted In watching Shell's deft needle
darting to and fro.
"But, Ruby, I must—the tennis
courts want marking; and I must keep
my promlso to cook."
"Oh, we can manage now quite
well!" remarks Violet cheerily. "By
the way, Shell, what are you going to
wear?"—looking up with sudden In
terest.
"I? Oh, I don’t know—I haven't
thought!" returns Shell carelessly.
"My white serge will do as well as
anything—at any rate It Is ready."
"Don't wear stuff, It looks so hot;
besides, that serge looks horrid since
It was washed,” objects VI, who likes
Shell sufficiently to wish that she
should appear at her best.
"My dear VI, don't waste advice on
Shell—you know how self-opinionated
■he is. Besides”—with a slight uprais
ing of her eyebrows—"she is such a
child, it really doesn't matter much
wnai sne wears.
“Just so," assents Shell, shutting the
door behind her; but, all the same, she
goes away feeling rather sore at heart,
for there Is no small amount of con
tempt In Ruby’s tone. Though her
eldest slstor has assigned her age as
a reason for her drees not mattering,
ahe knows full well that the tone also
Insinuates a vast want of personal at
tractions too.
Yet. If she only knew it, she has
a charm all her own—the charm of a
genial spirit and a warm Impulsive
heart, which peeps out of her clear
gray-green eyes, and lingers amidst the
dimples of her crimson lips.
All that long summer afternoon
there Is no thought of self in the girl's
conduct. Bhe flits about, finding foot
stools and scats for old ladies, getting
pins and fresh flowers for girls who
have come Imperfectly provided, and
generally making herself useful.
“When will you be ready for ten
nis?” asks Robert Champley, who has
been watching her narrowly, though
unseen, for the past ten minutes.
“I am not going to play,” answers
Shell brightly, as she hurries across
the lawn with a sunshade for an old
lady who has left her own at home,
and now finds herself incommoded by
the ardent gaze of King Sol.
“But everybody says you play so
well; and yet I have never seen you
touch a racket,” he urges, with a smile,
on her return.
“Perhaps that is how I keep my
reputation," laughs Shell gaily.
“No—but, really, I like to watch good
play; you might be obliging,” pleads
her companion. Truth to tell, he is
beginning to take a deep Interest in
Shell, probably owing to the fact that
she seems to take no interest whatever
In him.
“Well, I will be,” responds Shell,
with a curious little smile; and then,
walking straight up to an exceedingly
pretty girl dressed in pale pink, she
says gravely, "Nora dear, Mr. Champ
ley is most anxious to meet with some
one who plays tgnnis really well, so I
thought I couldn’t do better than
bring him to you. Mr. Champley—
Miss Nora Fretwell;” and with a little
nod she proceeds placidly on her way,
having so disposed of her cavalier.
Five minutes later she is accosted by
Ted.
( “Isn't it a Jolly afternoon?” he be
iflna.
i “Yea, only rather warm," agrees
Shell, pushing her sailor hat a little
farther off her brow.
"Come Into the shade and let mo
fan you," suggests Ted coaxlngly.
“How very kind!” scoffs Shell. "But
I think I won't accept—It sounds so
much nicer than It really Is. Fanning
only makes one hotter; and the midges
are swarming In the shade."
"It seems Impossible ever to say or
suggest the right thing to you," says
Ted with boyish Impatience.
“If I have been rude I am very
sorry," Shell returns thoughtfully;
“but all the same It Is true, you know.
Fanning only cools one for the mo
ment, nnd one is ten times hotter af
terwards." As she speaks she saunters
on a few steps by his side, that she
may not appear too pointedly unso
ciable.
"By-the-way, I had almost forgot
ten," remarks Ted, laughing—"Bob
and Meg charged me with a commis
sion. I am entrusted with a mysteri
ous packet, which I faithfully prom
Ised to deliver Into your own hands;"
and from his pocket he produces a
small and renarkably clumsy paper
parcel tied up with a bit of colored
wool,
"I think there must be some mis
take,” says Shell, looking at the prof
fered offering superciliously; "they
probably meant It for Kuby.”
"On the contrary, I was particularly
cautioned not to entrust It to your
sister,” laughs Ted. "I believe It Is
of nn edible nature, and they feared
the temptation might be too great."
Shell takes the pneket reluctantly,
and, standing still for a moment In
the pathway, cautiously opens It, dis
playing to view come half-dozen choco
late creams of a decidedly crushed and
not very tempting nppearance.
For a moment a beautiful and gentle
smile lights up her every feature; then
sho remembers with a start the part
she is acting, Rnd asks scornfully—
"What on earth Induced them to
aend me these things?"
"They probably thought, you would
appreciate them—poor children!" an
swers Ted, rather hotly. "They got a
box as a present this morning, nnd
wouldn’t give me any peace until I
consented to bring you over some. I
wish”—Indignantly—“that I had
thrown them away on the road.”
"It certainly would bave been
wiser,” retorts Shell, as she ruthlessly
tosses the small bundle away nmldiat
a clump of shrubs. "Children bave
such odd fancies.”
"I don't call that an odd fancy—I
call It a generous impulse,” corrects
Ted, stolidly. “By the way”—looking
at her keenly—"shall I tell them the
fate of their poor little present.”
"As you please," answers Shell care
lessly; and then, knowing the pain
that would be Inflicted by such a reve
lation, she adds quickly—"No. I think
perhaps you had better not. Some peo
ple Imagine that children are sensi
tive, and I have no wish to wound
their feelings, in case they possess
any.
‘‘In case they possess any?” repeats
Ted, positively flushing with mingled
anger and contempt. ‘‘You must be
very dense If you have not yet dis
covered that those children are of a
keenly nervous temperament,”
“I know I am dense,” admits Shell,
with not the faintest show of annoy
ance or resentment. ‘‘As for children,
I don’t profeas to understand them—
probably because I have no sympathy
with them."
Ted walks on beside her In thought
ful silence. It seems to him a sad
pity that Shell, who used to be such
a genial, sunny little creature, should
have changed into the hard callous be
ing now talking to him. He would
like to account for the phenomenon
in some way, and Is contemplating the
possibility of asking her if she has
been crossed in love, when their tete
a-tete is cut short by Mrs. Wilden.
“Shell dear,” says that lady, in a
troubled tone, “I wish you would run
in and see to the making of the coffee
—it is sure not to be properly cleared
if you are not there. Mr. Champlej
will excuse you, I am sure—he knows
that we cannot afford efficient ser
vants.”
"I am only too delighted to find that
England still possesses young ladies
who are not above making themselves
useful,” answers Ted, in a bantering,
teasing tone. "There is nothing I ad
mire so much as domesticity in a
woman. Most of our girls are getting
so blue that it will be a blue look out
for their husbands.”
“Yes, Indeed,” murmurs Mrs. Wil
den, as Shell, with a little toss of her
head, walks away. Dear Shell is most
useful—not very ornamental, but very
useful—thoroughly domesticated, and
Buoh a gentle, kind creature. I often
wonder how I should get on without
her.”
In the meantime Ruby, at the other
side of the lawn, is listening to a piece
of Intelligence which causes her cheeks
to turn pale, whilst she flutters her fan
with increaned nervous energy.
“You think the dear children need
change?” she is saying In a tone of
bewilderment. “I thought they were
looking remarkably well; and the pets
are alwaye in such excellent spirits.”
“Meg is not well," answers the father
decisively. "She seems languid and
heavy. The air her* w very relaxing
during the hot month*; 1 think I shall
take her to Scotland."
"Oh. not to Scotland—poor child—
the Journey would be so dreadfully
fatiguing!" pleads Ruby, as she thinks
with consternation of the Impossibil
ity of Inducing her mother to permit
her to go so far from home—for al
ready her quick brain baa formed a
plan for following the children.
"Yes, It might be trying for so young
a child,” agrees Mr. Chatnpley thought
fully. "In that case I must be con
tent with the moors or the North
Devon coast."
*'I should Just keep her at home, and
send her down by the sea every morn
ing—sea-air Is always bracing," ob
serves Ruby, with a feeble hope that
her advice may be taken.
"Mudmouth Is the reverse of brac
ing,” corrects her companion decided
ly; "besides. It Is not only the air—the
children want a complete change.”
"Of course you know best,” admit!
Ruby, with a reluctant and despondent
sigh; "but 1 always think that chil
dren are happier at home than any
where else.”
"That depends." remarks Robert
Chatnpley vaguely, and with a sharp
sigh.
“Oh, yes, of course!” agrees Ruby
eagerly; then after a moment she con
tinues slowly, "However trustworthy
servants may bo, they dan’t under
stand everything.”
“Do you mean that the children are
in any way neglected?" he asks
quickly.
"Oh dear, no!" laughs Ruby, with
a playful head-shake. “I am sure their
nurse Is most attentive from all ac
count*—but you ought not, for In
stance, to allow her to choose their
clothes. Of course she has no Idea
how to dress them —bow should she,
poor woman!”
"They seei* very sensibly clothed to
me," answers Rolwsrt Ohampley, but
in rather a dubious tone—In fact a
tone open to conviction. "As long as
they are warm and comfortable, the
cut Isn’t of much Importance."
“Rut, my dear Mr. Chatnpley, how
can poor Meg be comfortable In a dress
that allows of no free play of the
limbs? Children ought never to hr
hampered by their clothing.”
"Is Meg hampered?"
"Almost tortured, I should think, In
her last drees. As for Bob, he ought
to be dressed sailor fashion now."
“Dear me—what am I to do?" asks
Robert Champley, half-mocking, half
In earnest.
"I tell you what." savs Ruby sudden
ly—“I will make clothes for each of
them as a pattern. Now please don't
protest—It will only be like the fun
pf dressing dolls to me."
Of course Mr. Champley does pro
test, but, aa usual, he protests in vain;
and when he takes his departure from
the Wilderness that evening he finds
himself weighed down by one more
obligation to Ruby Wllden. As for
Ruby, she Is In great spirits—the only
thing which troubles her In the matter
Is her total incapacity cither to cut out
or to make the clothes In question, see
ing that in reality she knows far less
how children should be dressed than
the nurse whose tastes she has been
criticising.
(To be Continued.)
A TORPEDO BOAT TRACEDY
A Null llluutrutlon of llie UuiiKer of
Thlu Ncrrlm.
The Union squadron Investing
Charleston during the civil war was
drawing closer and closer to the doom
ed place. One of the warships that lay
closest inshore was the Housatonlc,
and that vessel was selected as the
torpedo boat's victim. The Portland
Transcript tells the tragic story: The
evening of Feb. 17, 1865, closed In raw
and foggy. At 8 o’clock Capt. Corlson
gave the command and the boat drop
ped down the river. As the clocks
were striking the half hour in the city
the little craft pulled over the bar.
Noiselessly she glided through tha
water, guided by the lights on the
Housatonlc, for which she headed. So
heavy was the fog that she escaped
the notice of the sentries. At a quar
ter to nine she lay directly In front
of the Housatonlc, at a distance of five
hundred yards. She was running faster
now, and a little farther on she began
to submerge. Two hundred yards more
and she disappeared. Five minutes
later there was a dull roar, and the
water around the Housatonlc boiled
like a caldron. The noble ship gave
a mighty upward heave and then be
gan to settle. Ensign Hazleton and
four sailors who were below perished,
but fortunately for the rest of the crew
the water was shallow and they Eaved
themselves by climbing into the rig
ging. The vessel was a total loss, but
the submarine torpedo boat was no
where to be found. Two years after
the war, when the wreckage was being
removed from Charleston harbor, the
Housatorlc was raised. In her hull
there was a ghastly wound, inflicted
by tho torpedo, and In that hole was
the torpedo boat with every man on
board still at his poet, where he had
died years before. The little boat had
torn a big hole in the cruiser, through
which the water had poured In snch a
volume that the torpedo boat was
drawn Into it. And there its crew died
of suffocation, in tho grasp of the en
emy which they had destroyed.
Two Way* of Putting It.
•‘I notice, Miranda," remarked Mr.
Neggschoice, "that your first husband's
clothea do not flt me.” "No. Cyrus,”
coincided Mrs. Neggschoice, with a lit
tle sigh. “You don’t them.”—Chicago
Tribune.
Why does a man usually have to
shuffle off this mortal coil before be
cuts much of a figure In historyT
TALMAGE’S SERMON
"ENEMIES OVERTHROWN” LAST
SUNDAY'S SUBJECT.
"I.et l>o<i ArlMt, I.et III* KnrmlM lie
Hc*U*r*(i"—lluok of Fiulma, {:tiH|»ter
livlll., \>r*a 1—The Struggle* of
Human Kihlrnrr,
A procession was formed to carry
the ark, or sacred box, which, though
only three feet nine Inches In length
anil four feet three Inches In height and
depth, was the symbol of God’s pres
ence. As the leaders of the procession
lifted this ornamented and brllliart box
by two golden poles run through four
golden rings, and started for Mount
Zion, all the people chanted the battle
hymn of my text, "Let God arise, let
his enemies be scattered."
The Cameronians of Scotland, out
raged by James I„ who forced upon
them religious forms that were of
fensive, and by the terrible persecution
of Drummond, Dalzlel and Turner, and
by the oppressive laws of Charles I.
and Charles II., were driven to pro
claim war against tyrants, and went
forth to fight for religious liberty; and
the mountain heather became red with
carnage, and at Dothwell Bridge and
Alrd’s Moss and Drumelog the battle
hymn and the battle shout of those
glorious old Scotchmen was the text
1 have chosen: "!,et God arise, let his
enemies be scattered."
What a whirlwind of power was Oli
ver Cromwell, and how with his sol
diers, named the "Ironsides," he went
from victory to victory! Opposing
enemies melted as he looked at them.
He dismissed parliament as easily as
a schoolmaster a school. He pointed
his finger at Berkeley Castle, and It
was taken. He ordered Sir Ralph Hop
ton, the general, to dismount, and he
dismounted. See Cromwell marching
on with his army, and hear the battle
cry of the "Ironsides,” loud as a storm
and solemn as a death-knell, standards
reding before It, and cavalry horses
going back on their haunches, and
armies flying at Marston Moor, at
Wlnceby Field, at Nasehy, at Bridge
water and Dartmouth—"Let God arise,
let his enemies be scattered!”
So you see my text Is not like a
complimentary and tasseled sword
that you sometimes see hung up in a
parlor, a sword that was never in bat
tle, and only to be used on general
training day, hut more like some weap
on carefully hung up in your home,
telling lta story of battles, for my text
hangs in the Scripture armory, telling
of the holy wars of three thousand
yearn in which it has been carried, btit
still as keen and mighty as when Da
vid flrBt unsheathed it. It seems to
me that in the church of God. and In
all styles of reformatory work, what
we most need now is a battle-cry. We
raise our little standard, and put on
It the name of some man who only a
few years ago began to live and in a
few years will cease to live. We go in
to contest against the armies of iniqui
ty, depending too much on human
agencies. We use for a battle-cry the
name of some brave Christian reform
er, but after a while (bat reformer dies,
or gets old, or loses his courage, and
then we take another battle-cry, and
this time perhaps we put the name of
some one who betrays the cause and
sells out to the enemy. What we want
for a battle-cry Is the name of some
leader who will never betray us, and
will never surrender, and will never
All respect have I for brave men an<1
women, but If we are to get the victory
all along the line we mint take the
hint of the Gideonttes. who wiped out
tbs Bedouin Arabs, commonly called
Mldlanltes. These Gldeonltes had a
glorious leader In Gideon, hut whnt was
the battle-cry with which they flung
their enemies into the worst defeat In
to which any army was ever tumbled?
It was "The sword of the Lord and of
Gideon.” Put God first, whoever you
put second. If the army of the Ameri
can revolution is to free America, it
must be "The aword of the Lord and
of Washington." If the Germans wnnt
to win the day at Sedan, It must be
"The sword of the Lord nnd Von Molt
ke.” Waterloo was won for the Eng
lish, because not only the armed men
at the front, but the worshipers In the
cathedrals at the rear, were crying
"The sword of the Lord and Welling
ton."
The Methodlsta have gone In triumph
acroes nation after nation with the
cry, "The sword of the Lord and of
Wesley." The Presbyterians have
gone from victory to victory with the
cry, "The sword of the Lord and John
Knox.” The Baptists have conquered
millions after millions for Christ with
the cry, “The sword of the Lord and
of Judison." The American Episcopa
lians have won their mighty way with
the cry, "The sword of the Lord and of
Bishop MTlvalne.” The victory Is 10
those who put God first. But as we
want a battle-cry suited to all sects
of religionists, and to alt lands, I
nominate as the battle-cry of Christen
dom In the approaching Armageddon
the words of my text, sounded before
the ark as It was carried to Mount
Zion: “Let God arise, let his enemies
be scattered.”
As far as our finite mind can Judge,
It seems about time for God to rise.
Does It not seem to you that the abom
inations of this earth have gone far
enough? Was there ever a time when
sin was so defiant? Were there ever
before so many fists lifted toward God
telling him to come on If he dare?
Look at the blasphemy abroad! What
towering profanity! Would It be pos
sible for any one to calculate the num
ber of times that the name of the Al
mighty God and of Jesus Christ are
|very day taken Irreverently on the
lips? Profane swearing Is as much for
bidden by the law as theft, or arson,
•r murder, yet who executes ft? Pro
fanity U worse than theft, or arson, or
murder, for these crimes are attacks
on humanity—that la an attack on God.
Thin country Is pre-eminent for blas
phemy. A man traveling In Russia
was supposed to be a clergyman. "Why
do you take me to be a clergyman?"
said the man. "Oh,” said the Russian,
"all other Americana swear.” The
crime Is multiplying in Intensity. God
very often 3hnws what he thinks of It,
but for the most part the fatality is
hushed up. Among the Adirondack! I
met the funeral procession of a man
who two days before had fallen under
a flash cl lightning, while boasting
after a Sunday of work In the Holds,
that he had cheated God out of one
day, anyhow, and the man who worked
with him on the same Sabbath is still
living, but a helpless Invalid, under the
same flash.
• • •
I indict this evil as the reglcl- •*, the
fratricide, the patricide, the matricide,
the uxoricide of the century. Yet un
der what Innocent and delusive and
mirthful numes alcoholism deceives the
people! It Ih a "cordial.” It Is “bit
ters.” It Is au "eye-opener.” It Is
an “appetiser.” It is a "digester.” It
is an "lnvlgorator." It Is a "settler."
It Is a "night rap.” Why don't they
put on the right labels—"Essence of
Perdition,” “Conscience Btupefler,”
“Five Drachms of Heart-ache,” "Tears
of Orphanage," “Blood of Souls,"
"Scabs of an Eternal Leprosy,” "Ven
om of the Worm that. Never Dies?”
Only once In a while is there unythlng
In the title of liquors to even hint
their atrocity, us In the case of "sour
mash.” That I see advertised all
over. It Is an honest name, and any
one can understand It. “Sour mash!”
That is, it makes a man's disposition
sour, and his arsodatlons sour and his
prospect sour; and then It is good to
mash bis body, and mash his soul, and
mash his business, and mash his fam
ily. "Sour mash!” One honest name
at last for an intoxicant! But through
lying labels of many of the apothe
caries' shops, good people, who are
only a little under lone in health, and
wanting Borne Invigoration, have un
wittingly got on their tongue the fangs
of this cobra, that stings to death so
large a ratio of the human race.
Others are ruined by the common
and all-destructive habit of treating
customers. And It Is a treat on their
coming to town, and a treat while the
bargaining progresses, and a treat
when the purchase Is made, and a
treat as he leaves town. Others, to
drown their troubles, submerge them
selves with this worse trouble. Oh,
the world Is battered nnd bruised and
blasted with this growing evil! It Is
more and more ouJtrcftgbed and forti
fied. They have millions of dollars
subscribed to marshal and advance the
alcoholic forces. They nominate and
elect and govern the vast majority of
the officeholders of this country. On
their side they have enlisted the might
iest political power of the centuries.
And behind them stand all the myr
midons of the nether world, Satanic,
Apollyonlc and Diabolic. It Is beyond
all human effort to overthrow this
bastfle of decanters or capture this
Gibraltar of rum Jugs. And while I
approve of all human agencies of re
form, I would utterly despair If we
bad nothing else. But what cheers mo
Is that our best troops are yet to come.
Our chief artillery is in reserve. Our
greatest commander has not yet fully
taken the field. If all hell Is on their
side, all heaven Is on our side. Now
Let God arlae, and let his enemlea
be scattered."
Then look at the Impurities of these
great cities. Ever and anon there are
in the newspapers exposures of social
life that make the story of Sodom
quite respectable; “for such things,'*
Christ says, “were more tolerable for
Sodom and Gomorrah" than for the
Choruzlns and Bethsaldas of greater
light. It is no unusual thing In our
cities to see men In high positions
with two or three families, or refined
ladies willing solemnly to marry the
very swine of society, if they be weal
thy. The Bible all aflame with de
nunciations against an Impure life, but
many of the American ministry utter
ing not cue point-blank word against
this Iniquity lrst some old libertine
throw up his church pew. Machinery
organized in all the cities of the Unit
ed States and Canada by which to put
yearly In the grinding-mill of this
iniquity thousands of the unsuspecting
of the country farm-houses, one pro
curess confessing In the courts that
she had supplied the Infernal market
with one hundred and fifty victims in
six months. Oh! for five hundred
newspapers in America to swing open
the door of this laznr-house of social
corruption! Exposure must come be
fore extirpation.
While the city van carries the scum
of this sin from the prison to the po
lice court morning by morning, it is
full time, If we do not want high Amer
ican life to become like that of the
court of Louis XV., to put millionaire
Lotharios and the Pompadours of your
brown-stone palaces into a van of pop
ular Indignation, and drive them out
of respectable associations. What
prospect of social purification can
there be as long as at summer water
ing places it is usual to see a young
woman of excellent rearing stand and
simper and giggle and roil up her eyes
sideways before one of those first-class
satyrB of fashionable life, and on the
ball-room floor Join him in the dance,
the maternal chaperon meanwhile
beaming from the window on the
scene? Matches are made in heaven,
they say. Not such matches; for the
brimstone indicates the opposite
region.
The evil is overshadowing all our
cities. By some these immoralities are
called peccadilloes, gallantries, eccen
tricities and are relegated to the realms
of jocularity, and few efforts are be
ing made against them. Qod bless the
"Whits Cross" movement, as it is call
ed—an organization making a mighty
assault on this evil! God forward the
tracts on this subject distributed by
the religious tract societies of the
land! God help parents in the great
work they are doing. In trying to start
their children with pure principles!
But Is this all? Then it Is only a
question of time when the last vestige
of purity and home will vanish out of
sight. Human arms, human pens, hu
man voices, human talents are not suf
ficient. I begin to look up. I listen
for artillery rumbling down the sap
phire boulevards of heaven. I watch
to see If in the morning light there be
not the flash of descending scimitars.
Oh, for God! Does It not seem time
for his appearance? Is It not time
for all lands to cry out: “Let God
arise, and let his enemies be scat
tered?"
Not only are the affairs of this
world so a-twl*t, a-jnngle and racked,
that there seems a need of the Divine
appeurance, but there is another rea
son. Have you not noticed that In the
history of this planet God turns a leaf
about every two thousand years? God
turned a leaf, and this world was fitted
for human residence. About two thou
sand more years passed along and God
turned another leaf, and it was the
Deluge. About two thousand more
years passed on, and It was the Na
tivity. Alrqost two thousand more
years have passed, and he will probnbly
soon turn another leaf. What It shall
be I cannot say. It may be the demoli
tion of all these monstrosities of tur
pitude, and the establishment of right
eousness in all the earth. He can do
It, and he will do It. I am as con
fident as If It were already accom
plished. How easily he can do It, my
text suggests. It does not aBk God to
hurl a great thunderbolt of h's power,
but Jubi to rise from the throne on
which he sits. Only that will be nec
essary. "Let God arise!"
It will be no exertion of omnipo
tence. It will be no bending or brac
ing for a mighty lift. It will be no
sending down the sky of the white
horse cavalry of heaven or rumbling
war chariots. He will only rise. Now
he Is sitting in the majesty and pa
tience of his reign. He is from his
throne watching the mustering of all
the forces of blasphemy and drunken
ness and Impurity and fraud and Sab
bath-breaking, and when they have
done their worst, and are most surely
organized, he will bestir himself and
cay: "My enemies have denied me
long enough, and their cup of Iniquity
is full. 1 have given them all oppor
tunity for repentance. This dispen
sation of patience is ended, and the
faith of the good shall be tried no
longer." And now God begins to rise,
and what mountains give way under
his right foot I know not; but, stand
ing in the full radiance and grandeur
of his nature, he looks this way and
that, and how his enemies are scat
tered! Illasphemeis, white and dumb,
reel down to their doom; and those
who have trafficked In that which de
stroys the bodies and souls of men
and families will fly with cut foot on
the down grade of broken decanters;
and the polluters of society, that did
their bad work with large fortunes and
high social sphere, will overtake In
their descent the degraded rabble of
underground city life, ns they tumble
over tho eternal precipices; and the
world shall be lift clear and clean for
the friends of humanity and the wor
shipers of Almighty God. The last
thorn plucked off, the world will be
left a blooming rose on the bosom
of tnnt Christ who came to gardenlze
it. The earth that stood snarling with
its tigerish passion, thrusting out its
raging claws, shall lie down a lamb at
the feet of the Lamb of God, who took
away the sins of the world.
And now the best thing I can wish
for you, and the best thing I can wish
for myself, is, that we may be found
his warm aud undisguised and en
thusiastic friends in that hour when
God shall rise and his enemies shall
be scattered.
ICarth's Oldest Flower.
So great is the antiquity of the rose
that all account of its origin has been
lost. There seems every reason to
believe that the national flower of
England is the oldest of which there
is any record; to Englishmen, at least.
It seems a case of the survival of the
fittest. It is not mentioned in the Bib
lical writings earlier than the reign
of Solomon, but the allusion to it then
made is such as to indicate thut the
flower had already long been known.
In Egypt the rose Is depicted on a
number of very early monuments, be
lieved to date from 3000 to 3500 L. C.,
and in the tomb of an Egyptian prin
cess, disinterred a year ago in south
ern Egypt, several hermetically sealed
vials were found, which, when opened,
contained genuine attar of roses, so
that the modern claims for the dis
covery of this delicious perfume are
vain. Rose water, or the essence of
roses, Is mentioned by Homer lu the
"Iliad.” Both the Greeks and He
brews probably borrowed the idea of
its manufacture from the Egyptians,
and these, for aught anybody can tell,
may have had It from the Chinese. The
rose in one of those flowers which are
supposed by the people of every land
to be so well known as to neod no de
scription and hardly mention, for it Is
a singular fact that every continent
on the globe, with the solitary excep
tion of Australia, produces wild roses.
Even the frozen regions of th j north,
where the summer lasts but two or
three months, and 1s at best a season
which may be described as very lato
in the autumn, produce their wild roses
and travelers through Greenland.
Kamschatka and northern Siberia
found, in the proper season, an abun
dance of blossoms, while the crews of
whaling vessels which call at Spits
bergen usually come off shore with
bouquets of the native Spitsbergen
rose.
