MAGGIE.
Tom from
Diary.
s Soldier'
June -28, 1983.
was a loll ia
the strife. The bat
tle had waged all
day, and the weary
weunded lay
down with the dead
and dying to snatch
a moment's repose,
if haply threy
might.
One gets used to
almost every thing
In war savoring of
hardship, and reck
lessness, I was go
ing to say, though
that may not be the
best term to use.
Bat, for some reason, I found my Berre
last night, and could not sleep.
The pamm my temples, the parched con
dition of my throat, and the Incessant
saoaalBg ef a comrade near me, together
with the memory ef an incident oz tae
morning, made me sick with a nervous
siread. For once in my life I felt that I was
a coward.
The moon was just peeping through the
trees, and I went over to the wounded man
to see what I could do for him.
Water! water!" he murmured, as Ibent
slowa to apeak to him.
"Yes," I said; "I will get you some."
And I started for the river, a half-mile
'back.
I had thought it impossible to make the
trip for myself alone ; but to know that an--other
depended on my efforts lent me
.strength of will and limb.
I stooped and filled his canteen with the
ool waters of the Chickabominy, took a
draught myselferad started to return.
Twas then the incident of the morning
flashed before me again with a vividness
that startled me.
Again I saw Teddy McKelvie, a mere lad,
ataggering toward me, his boyish face
-white as death. And again I seemed to
any: "What is it, Teddy; wounded!"
Then, too, came his answer: "No; but
OPveapresintimint awaraia'ofdyin. Oi
don't eare so much for myself, sor; it's mc
pore old mother!" and he seemed stricken
to the heart at the taougnt.
Th"a I had said, soothingly: "You are
offering from nervousness, Ted; perhaps
wasn't a presentiment after alL You
javen't looked well since the peninsular
tampaiga started."
"All that may be, sor," he had made re
ply; "but Oi'me to be kilt-to-day. 0111 ntver
nee the blissid mother-face agin !"
And then I remembered that Captain
eton had "pooh-poohed" and called him a
chicken-hearted fellow."'
McKelvie'slip quivered into silence, and
he turned away, tears dimming his pleasant,
;risheyes.
Then I rebuked Acton by saying: "Cap
tain, yon should not have spoken to a mere
boy like that, especially on the day pf
battle."
And the Captain, instead of becoming
angry, as I half expected him to, looked
bard at Teddy's retreating figure, and
called out after him: "Here, McKelvie, I
didn't mean to speak harshly or to censure.
Ibrgive me, Ted; I may die myself to
jday. Who knows!"
McKelvie came back and wrung the
ICayain's hand in silence.
"You've no idea how bad you're hurt
sometimes, sor, till the healin's applied,"
aid Ted to me afterwards. Then he handed
-aneapaekagoandadded: "Plaze send it to
mepore old mother if I don't see you agin.
Oi fixed it up after the presintimint an' its
. all ready for toe mailin'. The warnin' is
just as sure as if the banshee had wailed
over me, an' Oi'me goin' to-day!"
In a few minutes after we fell Into line,
and all through the heated day of strife and
-death I had not seen him again. But in
the midst of battle I could see bis white,
-pained face, and fancy I beard the cry of
. the dreaded banshee.
No wonder, then, that the morning's inci
dent still came back with force.
Ah! what was that! Could it be possible
that that was a moan from some suffering
soldier! No, my inner consciousness told
me it was not; and the wild half moan,
half shriek, chilled my fevered pulses un
til I began to feel cowardly, soldier though
I was.
Stumblingalong, however, over logs and
dead bodies alike, I reached the wounded
man who was waiting for me and calling
till for water.
Lifting his head I gave him a cooling
drink, and was rewarded by a fervent
"God bless you" as I laid him down again
and placed the canteen where be could easily
.getit.
Again that strange sound came tomy ears.
"Some one's been calling like that foi
ralte awhile over there," said the comrade
at my side, as he raised himself up partially
"WATKBl WATER!" BC aTUKMUaEO.
and painfully, pointing toward a clompol
bushes a little to the right and a few rods
away.
I went to-the spot indicated and began
searching by moonlight for Teddy McKel
-vie. I was certain of it before I bad gone
halfway round the bushes.
Presently I came to the foot of a shattered
tree and the soft moonlight fell over twoup
turned faces I never shall forget.
Rigfd in death lay "our Teddy!" One
arm was cone and from a ghastly wound in
bis head the blood had flowed until his gold
en curls were matted together.
His face, not marred by battle, still bore
that look of intense anguish which bad
bauntcd me all day.
Verily! Teddy was right, and I doubted
ot that it was the banshee's mournful cry
skat we beard.
Two faces! Yes; the other, white and
alm in the soft light, was that of Captain
Acton.
They bad fallen aide by side and the
aptain's band lay caressingly on the boy's
shoulder
And the Captais swords of the morning
samotoaie again with painful distmotire-
llmBTmf
iMaammr j and
ness: "1 may die to-day myself, wb
knows!" Kneeling by McXeMes aide I took a curl
from among its blood stained fellows, said a
pssyer for "the pore old mother." and went
back to the wounded oamwsas.
He took my band and asked faintly:
"Found them, did yen!"
"Yes," I answered; they are resting
"As I shall shortly be," be said, quietly,
seeding to catch my meaning at once.
"But It Isn't any difference in my case.
Fve no loved ones to leave that tan you
understand me, comrade, none who caret"
"Yes," I answered, and I sat down and
smoothed the damp hair back from his cold
brow.
"I loved her, comrade," be continued,
"OIsowelL Bnt she threw me over for
a richer fellow; and I Joined the army and
came South, to die in the woods on the
Chkkahominy."
A shiver passed over his frame and bis
trembling band sought mine.
"But I love her still I dont mind telling
you, comrade and with my last breath I'll
whisper: God bless her;' for she loved
me once; yes, once."
His voiceaousded like a faint sob, andhis
fingers Telexed. I bent low to catch the
next word.
"She won't care; but then God bless
Maggie; God-btess-M-"
I lay down beside my dead companion.
The pain, the nervousness, the sleepless
ness had. fled, and I sank into peaceful
slumber, to dream of borne and loved ones,
I BX1U. CTVKB FORGET.
among those that never would waken to
the clash of arms, nor answer at roll-call
until the great day.
I sent the package together with the
golden curl, soft and silky as a baby's, to
the bereaved mother.
And I wrote to her of the faithfulness of
her soldier boy, and said "he died bravely
and aleeps In an honored grave."
But when I bent over the pale, pain
drawn face by the half -emptied canteen I
felt the hot tears trickle down my sun
bronzed face.
"None who would carer'
Poor fellow I In bis pocket, side by side
with altestament, was the picture of a beau
tiful girl doubtless Maggie and we buried
it with him.
There is nothing perhaps more calculated
to bring out all the reckless daring of a
man than a battle; but there certainly is
nothing which brings all bis sympathetic
humanity to the surface quicker than the
scenes on the field after it is all over.
But, it is nine o'clock. The firing has be
gun again on the right. Lee and Jackson
are bearing down upon us, our division Is
needed to support the extreme right, and
away we go; but net alL There'll be fewer
ofs at roll-call to-morrow; but such is
war. bUxna. L. Cnocxxa,
A War atesnlateeei
"That is a funny-looking old man," said s
conductor on a Feaasyhraniaaveuue street
car in Washington one rainy morning re
cently, as a gentleman stepped off of the
platform and raised his umbrella. "I could
remember that square face, aharp eyes,
heavy spectacles, and especially those
bowed-out legs, among a thousand passen
gers. He ain't dressed much, bat be looks
like a somebody, sure.
"No wonder yen notice him," said a pas
senger, astouUsleek,xk;hly-dressed gentle
man who stood on the platform smoktags
cigar. "I remember him very welL He
was Colonel of my regiment We went
from Newburgb, N. Y., and Joined the
Army of the Potomac. I was slender then
and he was stout
"We were ia many battles, and, although
he wore shoulder-straps and I carried a
musket, be got closer to the enemy than
did. He was a leader. Bullets were afraid
to touch him for fear of being flattened.
They took me fast enough, though. I got
-seven of them. He was In more battles
than I was, and he was always in the front
of his regiment; but never was touched.
Anybody would remember that man if they
once knew him,"
"Who Is he!" Inquired the conductor.
"He a Colonel, a veteran, who went
West after the war to grow up with the
country. He grew up, too. He grew to he
taller than high corn on the prairies. He
was elected to Congress, and then be was
sent to the United States Senate. That is
ex-Senator VaaWyck,of Nebraska, He's
a good man, too, I know."
MiasHstt
MissTabithaHatton, who was the first
lady ever admitted to the bar as a legal
practitioner in North Carolina, was an aunt
of Frank Hatton, of Iowa and elsewhere.
It ia said that she left a large part of her es
tate toher "beloved nephew, Frank," upon
condition that he "will take aadprovide for
as long as they shall live (and give decent
burial at death) five pet cats, viz : Mouser,
Tabby, Felicia, Amber and Boxy." The ex-Postmaster-General.has
never given to his
tory what disposition be finally made of
those purrers confided to bis care. When
his biography la written, it will not be com
plete without the history of the kittens
which came to him together with the co
lossal fortune which lies at the root and
foundation of bis tremendous business suc
cesses. A- Complhaeat to General Sickle.
It is not generally known, but it Is a fact,
that the Spanish Government once upon a
time bestowed upon General Daniel E.
Sickles the decoration of Chevalier of the
-order of Isabella la Catholics. He is, there
fore, a Baronet and fully entitled to the title
of "Sir." But, come to think of it, he was
entitled to that title merely as plain Dan
Sickles, of New York. He wears a rosette
of the Legion of Honor of France la his
buttonhole. But the empty leg ef his
trousers shows that he is also a member '
the order of the Lejrlon of Honor of Amer
ica, for he was in the thickest of the fight at
Gettysburg. He needs no foreign decora
tions to elevate him in the estimation ef the
American people. .
His friends ssy that Charlie Brown is go
tag crazy over music. He imagines himself
the coming tenor, sad already signs his
name "Karl Browni." He is csneMsreiln
J jay but not a BrewnjL
mm
AuawvJVaVsftwlflmm'AaV V 'TaLlfr ! IWaw'a.
iriw Mmf aHafHflr jft4Cr Sat i ImMJut
1 .ffl tJW If iSjB- TJmaknJSsTM I mGBB
''uwXSSkx
"aE "'m b?
THE NATION'S CUJRSE.
Or.
Talmaga on the EtUs of In.
tamperanoa.
The Rein mad Death Caasee By Strong
Uriah It Leaae to Lees of Good Same,
SeV-Heeaect and CKJaeate
Wreck.
In a recent set man at Helena, Mont,
Rev. T. DeWitt Talma; discouned on
"Drunkenness the Nation's Cnrse." His
text was: Whoslow all these?" 2 Kings,
t x. iu in eloquent speaker said:
I see a long row of baskets coming up
toward the palace of. King Jehu. I am
aomewaat inquisitive to find out what is
in the baskets. I Icok ia and find the gory
, heads of seven princes. As the bat-kats
' arrive at the gate of the palace tbe beads
are thrown into two heaps, one on either
side oz tbe gate. Ia themorning tbe King
comes oat and he looks upon the bleeding,
gnasnyneads or tbe massacred princes.
Looking on either side the gate he eried
out, with a ringing emphasis: "Who slew
all these?"
Wo have, my friends, lived to see a
more fearful massacre. There is no use
of my taking your time ia trying to give
statistics about the devastation and rain
and death which strong drink bas wrought
in this country. Statistic do not seem to
mean any thing. We are so hardened under
these statistics that the fact that fi'tythou
sand more men ara slain, or fifty thousand
less men are slain, seems to make no posi
tive impression on the public mind. Suf
fice it to say that intemperance has stain
an innumerable company of princes tbe
children of God's roval fatnilv: and at
tbe gate of every neighborhood there are
, two heaps of tbe slain; and at the door of
tbe household there are two heaps of tbe
slain; and at the door of the legislative
hall there are two, heaps of the slain; and
at the door of tbe nniverslty there are two
heaps of the slain; and at the gate of this
Nation there are two beaps of the slain.
When I look upon the desolation, I am al
most frantic with the scene, while I cry
out: "Who slew all these?" I can answer
that question in half a minute. The min
isters of Christ who have given no warn
ing, tbe courts of law that have offered
the licensure, the women who give strong
drink on New Year's day, the fathers and
mothers who have mm on the sideboard,
the hundreds of thousands of Christian
men and women in the land who are stolid
in their indifference on this subject they
siew an mete I
I propose ia this discourse to tell you
what I think are the sorrows and the doom
of the drunkard, so that yon to whom I
speak may not come to tho torment
' Some one says: "You hsd better let
those subjects alone." Why, my brethren,
we would be glad to let them alone if they
would let us alone, tut when I have in my
pocket now four requests saying "Pray
for my husband, pray for my son, pray
for my brother, pray for my friend, who
is the captive of strong drink," I reply,
ws are ready to let the qnestioa alone
when it is willing to let us alone, bntwhen
it stands blocking up the way to Heaven
and keeping multitudes away from Christ
and Heaven I dare not bo silent, lest the
Lord require their blood at my hands.
I think tbe subject has been kept back
very much by th merriment people make
over those slain by strong drink. I used
to be very merry over these things, hav
ing a keen sense of tbe ludicrous. There
was something very grotesque in the rait
of a drunkard. It is not so now, for I saw
in one of the streets of Philadelphia a
sight that changed the whole subject to
ma There was a yonng man being led
home. He was very much intoxicated
he was raving with intoxication. Two
young men were leading him along. The
boys hooted in tho street, men laughed,
women sneered; bnt I happened to be
very near tbe door where he went in it
was the door of his father's house. I saw
him go ap stairs. I beard him shouting,
hooting and blaspheming. He bad lost
bis hat and tbe merriment Increased with
the mob until he came ap to the door, and,
aa the door was opened, his mother came
out. When I heard her cry, that took all
the comedy away from the scene. Since
that time when I see n man walking
through the street reeling tbe comedy is
an gone ana it is a tragedy of tears and
groans and heart-breaks. Never make
anv fun around me about the grotesque
ness of a drunkard. Alas for his heme !
The first suffering of tile drunkard is in
the loss of his good name. God has so
arranged it that no man ever loses his
good name except through bis own act
All the hatred of men and all the assaults
of devils can not destroy a man's name.
If he really maintains his integrity. If a
man is industrious and pure and Christian
God look after him. Although he may
be bombarded for twenty or thirty years
his integrity is never lost and bis good
name is never sacrificed. No force on
earth or in hell can capture such a Gibral
tar. But when it is said of such a man.
'He drinks." and it can be proved, then
what employer wants him for workman?
What store wants him for a clerk? What
church wants him for a member? Who
will trust h'm? What dying man would
appoint him bis executor? He may have
been forty years in building up bis "repu
tationit goes down. Letters of recom
mendation, the backing up of business
firms, a brilliant ancestry can not save
him. The world shies off. Why? It
is whispered all through the commu
nity, "He drinks; he drinks." That
blasts him. When a man loses his reputa
tion for sobriety he might as well be at
the bottom of the sea. There are men
here who have their good name as their
only capital. Yon are now achieving
your own livelihood, under God, by your
own right arm. Now look out that there
is no doubt of your sobriety. Do not cre
ate any suspicion by going ia and out of
immoral places, or by any oJorofyour
breath, or by any glare of your eye, or by
any unnatural flush of your cheek. You
can not afford to do it for your good
name is your only capita!, and when that
Is blasted with the reputation of takiag
strong rfrink, all is gone.
Another loss which the inebriate suffers
is that of self-respect Just as soon as a
man wakes up and finds that he Is the
captive of strong drink he feels demeaned.
I do not care how careless he acts. He
may soy: "I don't care;" he does care.
He can not look a pure man In the eye,
unless it is with positive force of resolu
tion. Three-fourths of bis nature is de
stroyed; hb self-respect gone; he says
things he would not otherwise say; be
does things he would not otherwise da
When a man is nine-tenths gene with
strong drink the first thing be wants to
do is to persuade you that he can stop any
time be wants to. He can not. The Phil
istines bsve bound him hand and foot
and shorn his locks, put out bis eyes and
are making him grind in the mill of 'a
great horror. He can net stop. I will
prove it He knows that his coarse is
bringing disgrace and ruin upon hinusU.
He loves himself. If be could stop be
woald. He knows his course Is bringing
ruin upon his family. He loves them. He
woald stop if he eeald. He caa not Per
haps be could throe months era year ago:
not now. Just ask him to stop for a
month. He caa net; he knows be can
not so he does not try. I bad a friend who
for fifteen years was going down under
this evil habit. He had large maaaa He
bad given thousands of dollars to Bible
societies and reformatory isstitntioas of
all sorts. He was very genial and very
generous and very lovable, aad whenever
he talked abont this evil habit he would
say: "I caa stop any time." Bat he
kept going on, going on, down, down,
down. His family would say: "I wish
you would stop." 'Why," he would re
ply, "I caa stop aay time I want to." Af
ter a while he had delirium tremens; he
had it twice; and yet after that he said:
"I could stop if I wanted to." He is dead
now. What killed him? Bum! Hum!
And yet among his last utterances was:
"I caa stop at any time." He did not
stop it because he could not stop it O.
there is a point In Inebriation bevond
which, if a man goes, he caa not stop!
One of these victims said to a Christian
man: "Sir, if I were told that I couldn't
get a drink until to-morrow night unless I
had all my fingers cut off I would say.
bring tbe hatchet and cut tbem off now."
I have a dear friend in Philadelphia whose
nephew came to him one day. and when
be ww exhorted abont his evil habit, said:
"Uncle, I can't give It up. If there stood
a cannon and it was loaded, and a glass
ot wine sat on tbe mouth of that cannon,
and I knew that you would fire it off just
as I came up and took the glass. I would
start for I must have it" O, it is a sad
thing for a man to wake up ia this lifoand
feel he is a captive. He says: "I could
have got rid of this once, but I can'c now.
I might have lived an honorable life and
died a Christian death; bnt there is no
hope for me now; there is no escape for
ra Dead, but not buried. I am a walk
ing corpse. I am aa apparition of what I
once was. I am a caged immortal, beat
ing against the cage until there is blood
on the wires and blood upon my soul, yet
not able to get out Destroyed, without
remedy."
I go farther and say that tbe Inebriate
suffers from the loss of bis usefulness.
Do you not recognix the fact that many
of those who are now captives of strong
drink only a little while ago were fore
most in tbe churches aad in reformatory
institutions? Do you not know that some
times they knelt in the family circle? Do
you not know that tbey prayed in pubMc
aad some of tbem carried around tbe holy
wine on sacramental days? O. yes, they
stood in the very front rank, but they
gradually foil away. And now what do
you suppose is the feeling of such a man
as that when he thinks of his dishonored
vows aad the dishonored sacrament
when he thinks of what he might have
been and of what he is now? Do such
men laugh and seem very merry? Ah,
there is, down in the depths of their soul,
a very heavy weight Do not wonder
that they sometimes see strange things
and act very roughly in the household.
You would not blame them at all if you
knew what they suffer. Do not tell such
as that there is no future punishment
Do not tell him there is no such place as
helL He knows there is. He is there now.
I go oi and say that tbe inebriate suf
fers from the loss of physical strength.
The older men in tbe congregation may
remember that some years ago Dr. Sewefl
went through this country and electrified
the people with his lectures, in which he
showed tbe effect of alcohol on the bum-in
stomach. He had sevea or eight diaerains
by which he showed the devastation of
strong drink upon tbe physical system.
There were thousands of people who
turned back from that ulcerous sketch
swearing eternal abstinence from every
thing that could intoxicate.
God only knows what the drunkard suf
fers. Pain 1m ob every nerve, and
travels every muscle, aad gnaws every
bone, and burns with every flame, and
stings with every poison, and pulls at him
with every torture. What fiends stand
by his midnight pillow! What groans
tear his ear! What horrors thrill through
his soul! Talk of the rack, talk of the in
quisition, talk of the funeral pyre, talk of
the crushing Juggernaut he feels tbem
afl at once. Have you evar been
in tbe ward of the hospital where
these inebriates are dvins. the
stench of their wounda driving bn&z their
attendants, their voice sounding through
the night? The keeper comes up and savs.
"Hush, now. be stilL Stop making all
this noise!" Bat it is effectual only for a
moment for as soon as the keeper is gone,
they begin again: "O, God! O, Godf
Help! helo! Rum! Give me rum! Help!
Take them off m! Take them off me!
Take them off me! O. God!"
And they shriek, and they rave, aad
they pluck out their bair by handfnls.
aad they bite their nails into the quick,
and then they groan, and they shriek,
and they blaspheme, and thev ask tbe
keepers to kill them. "Stab mo! Smother
m?! Strangle me! Take the devils off
me!" O. it is no fancy sketch. That thing
is going on in hospitals; aye, it is going
on in some of the finest residences of
every neighborhood on this continent It
went on last night while you slept and I
te'l you further that this is. going to be
the death that some of yon will die. I
know it I see it coming.
O, is there any thlnr that will so destroy
a man for this life and damn him for the
life that is to come? I hate that strong
drink. With all the concentrated energies
of my soul, I hate it Do yon tell me that
a man can be happy when he knows that
he is breaking his wife's heart and cloth
ing bis children with rags? Why, there
are on the streets of our city to-day little
children barefooted, uncombel and un
kempt; want on every patch of their
faded dress and on every wrinkle of their
prematurely o'd countenance', who would
have been in churches to-day. aad as well
clad as you are, but for tbe fact that rum
destroyed their parents and drove them
into tbe grave. O, mm! thoa foe of Go I,
thou despoller of homes, thou recruiting
officer of the pit I abhor thee!
But my subject takes a deeper tone, and
that is tbat the inebriate suffers from the
loss of the souL Tbe Bible intimates that
ia the future world, if we are unforgiven
here, our bad passions and appetites, un
restrained, will go along with us and make
our torment there. So that I suppose
when an inebriate wakes ap in this lost
world be will feel an infinite thirst claw
ing on him. Now, down in the world,
although he may have been very poor, he
could beg or he could steal five cjnts with
which to get that which would slake his
thirst for a little while; but ia eternity
where is the rum to come from? Dives
could not get one drop of water. From
what chalice of eternal fires will tbe hot
lips of tbe drunkard drain hia draught?
No one to brew it No one to mix it No
one to pour it Noonetofetohit Millions
ot worlds then for the dregs which tbe
young maa jast new slung on the saw
dasted floor of the restaurant Millions
ot worlds mow for the rind thrown eat
from the punch bowl ef aa earthly
Dives cried far water. Tbe laebrtste
cries for ram O, tbe deep, exbaastlag.
exasperating, everlasting thirst ef the
draakanl in hell! Why. if a flead came
no to the earth f or some mfernal work in
a'grog shoo aad should go back takiag ea
its whig jast one drop ef that for which
the Inebriate ia tbe lest world longs what
excitement it woald make there. Pat that
one drop from off tho fiend's wing on tbe
tip of tke tongue or tne aescroysw -ate;
let the liquid brightness jast touch
it let the drop be very small, if it only
have ia it the smack of alcoholic driak,
let that drop just touch the lest inebriate
in the lost world end he weald spring to
bis feet aad cry: That Is ram! aba! that
is rum!" aad it woald wake up the echoes
of the damned: "Give me rum ! Give me
rum! Give me rum!" In the future
world I do not believe that it wi'l be the
absence of God that will make the drunk
ard's sorrow; I do not believe that it will
be the absence of light; I do not believe
that it will be the absence of holiness; I ,
think It will be the absence or strong
drink. O! "Cook not apea the wins i
when it is red, whea it movetb itself
aright ia the cup. for at the last it biteth
like a serpent and it atlngetb like aa ad-
der."
But I want la conclasloa to say one
thing personal, for I do not like a sermon
that has ao personalities in it Perhaps
this has not had that fault already. I
want to say to those who are the victims
of strong driak that, while I declare there
was a point bevond which a man could
not stop. I want to tell yon that while a
man can not stop ia his own strength the
Lord God, by His grace, can help him to
stop at any time. Years ago I was In a
room in New York where there were
manv men who had been reclaimed from
drunkenness. I heard their testimony
and for the first time in my life there
flashed out a truth I never understood.
They said: -We were victims of strong
drink. We tried to give it ap. bat always
failed; but somehow since we gave our
hearts to Christ He baa taken care of aa"
I believe tbat the time will soon come.
whea the grace of God will show its
power here not only to save man's soal,
but his body, and reconstruct purify, ele
vate and redeem it I verily believe that
although you feel grappling at the roots
of your tongues an almost omnipotent
thirst if yon will this moment give your
heart to God He will help yea by His
grace to conquer. Try it Itisyoarlast
chance.
I have looked off upon the desolation
Sitting under my ministry there are people
ia awful peril from strong drink, and.
judging from ordinary circumstances,
there is not one chance in five thou
sand that they will get clear of it 1
see men in this congregation of
whom I must make the remark that
if they do not change their course, within
ten years they will, as to their bodies, lie
down in a drunkard's grave; and as to
their souls, lie down in a drunkard's
perdition. I know tbat it is aa awfal
thing to sav, but I can not help it. Oi be
ware! You havenotyet been captured. Be
ware ! As you open the door of vour wine
closet to-d ay. may th.it decanter flash eat
upon you : Beware! Aad when yon pear
the beverage into the glass, ia the feaaa at
the top. ia white letters. let there be
spelled out to your soul, Beware!" When
the books of jodement are open, and tea
million drunkards come ap to get their
doom, I want yon to bear witaesa tbat I
to-day. in the fear of God, aad in the love
for your soul, told you with all affectiea.
and with all kindness, to beware of that
which has already exerted its influence
upon your family, blowing oat some of
its lights a premonition of the blackaeea
of darkness forever. O. if yon coa'4
only hear this mravat Intemperance,
with drunkard's bones, drumming en the
head of the wine cisk the dead mareb of
immortal soals. methinks tbe very glance
of a cap would make yon shudder and
the color of the liqnor would make yew
think of tbe blood of the soul, aad the
foam on the top of tbe cap woald remind
yon of tbe fro'h on tbe maniac's lips, aad
von woa'd eo h'-ms from this service aad
kneel dona and pray God that, rather
than yonr children should become cap
tives of this evil habit yon would like to
carry them out some bright spring day te
the cemetery, and pat tnem away to the
last sleep, until at th call of the south
wind tbe flowers wosld come up nil over
the grave sweet prophecies of tbe resar- '
rection. God has a bal m for such a wound;
but what flower ef crm'ort ever grew em
the blasted heath of adiunkard'asepnl
cher?
TAXATION IN EGYPT.
How the Sabjeets of tke KhesHveAtwKea
In Abject Poverty.
It is no wonder they remain peer..
They have been taxed for ages to such
an extent that they could barely lire.
Ismail Pasha, the last Khedive, would.
I am told, often collect taxes twice- a
year, coming down upon the farmers
for a second sum after he had de
manded the regular amount If they
were not able to supply it the tax
gatherers sold their stock at auction.
and he had a right to make such as be
pleased work for him for nothing. At
present there are about 5.000.000
acres of land under cultivation ia
Egypt, and there is an agricultural
population of more than 4.000.000.
This gives less than one and one-fifth
acres per person, and the taxes aamouat
to from $4 to $9 an acre, nnsl this is
only one form of Egyptian taxation.
Just outside of Cairo there is a Gov
ernment office, through which every
piece of produce brought into the city
for sale must pass, and every article
is taxed. The farmer who brings a
donkey load of grass to the city for
sale must pay a percentage on its
ml no hAinra hft cn.n m in with it T
is the same with a chicken or apigeon,
a. basket of vegetables, or anv thine-
that tbe farmer raises.
Then there-is
a tax upon date trees
$200,000 a year, upon
than $1,000,000, upon
slaughter houses, and
amounting to
salt of more
tobacco and
in fact upon
every tning unuer tne .Egyptian sun.
The donkey boy here pays a tax. the
storekeeper ia taxed, and there is, ia
addition to this, a general tariff of
about 8 per cent, on all imports.
There are taxes on sheep and geats,
which are paid whether the ntmi.
are sold or not. There are taxes oa
wells, taxes on fisheries, and taxes
paid fife lands which Egypt once
owned but which she gave up with
the loss of the Soudan. It is ao wonder
that the Egyptian people are poor. It
is a wonder that they exist at alL F. flertaun to start up. oL Louis Kepub
G. Carpeater, ia N. T. World, , lie, awuw
FARM AND FIRESIDE.
When fruit is scarce, see that a
good supply of rhubarb is canned for
winter use.
Pears with little flavor of their
own are greatly improved by tho ad
dition of preserved lemon peel or pre
served ginger.
When you buy a new broom, solect
j
a dozen of the smoothest and largest
snlints. Dull them out. and lay them i
awav to use in teatiwr cake when it is
baked. Demorest
It is a waste of time to attempt to
preserve ejrjjs unless they are known
to be 9trictly fresh. An er that is
over a few days old will not keep if
j packed in warm weather.
Always keep one horse, for the
women to drive, says the New England
Farmer, and get them to do as many
errands as possible good for tho
errands and good for tho women.
A little soda stirred in tomatoes
that have a sharp or acid taste will
cauae the roniovai 0f it Also stirred
. . , .nberries. etc. while
" cooking, less sugar will be required to
sweeten.
I The way to prevent soft shell ojjgs
is to feed food rieh in lima. The grains
are deficient iu that minora!. If you
feed too much grain you give too much
starch, and soon tho hens will be over
fat Tliey can not lay unless provided
with material for ejrsrs. Fat is useless
on a laying: hen. Her business is to
convert tho proper materials meat,
milk and clover into ejrjjs.
Tbe farmer who does not know the
taste of cream, has got to learn that it
is far more to be prized than honey ia
the honey comb. So don't put all the
cream in the churn, to be made into
butter to be packed away, to be sold
next winter when it has. in all proba
bility, become "just a littlo strong;
but enjoy tho delicious flavor of it now
while it is in its prime. Rural New
Yorker.
Raspberry Blanc Mansror Stew
fresh raspberries, strain off the juice,
and sweeten to taste. When it boils
stir in corn-starch, wet with cold
water in tne proportion of two heaping
tablespoon fuls to one pint of juico; stir
until cooked, and pour into a wet
mold. Serve with sugar and cream.
A little currant juice combined with
the raspberry is fine, and either straw
berries or cherries may be used a the
same way. Christian Union.
ABOUT FALL FEEDING.
The Proper Way of Plawlag end
paring- the Sol! for the Operation.
When any considerable acreage is to
be seeded in the fall the plowing-and
preparation of the laud are important
items of work both for the men and
teams. Usually the sooner the work
is done after harvest the better, as
the hot dry weather we generally have
increases the work the longer it is de
layed. In addition to lessening the
labor of plowing, the weeds and stub
I stub
lavmm f
ble, if turned under early, will hav
better opportunity to rot. and
time can be had for the preparatic
the seed-bed.
At the outset see that the harness
properly fitted to the horses' shoulders.
so that galled shoulders will be
avoided. This- is important as it is
much easier to keep the shoulders well
than to cure after they once get
sore. Wash the shoulders at noon aad
at night; this, with keeping the collars
clean, is next in importance to having
the har.ess well fitted. Take tbe
harness off at noon so that the horses
can get alP the benefit possible out of
their noon rest
Have two shares- with each plow,
and keep them sharp; this will not only
lessen the work oa the team, but better
work can bo- done. If only plowing
is to be done, take pains to plow deep
and thoroughly; turn under all the
weeds and trash as thoroughly as-possible.
They will rot more quickly.
1 ana oe more out ot tne way when har
rowing and preparing the lanth for
I needing.
The shape of the plow, as well aatho
way it is handled, has much to do-with
the way the ground is plowed. In
breaking stubble, as well as with sod.
it is necessary to turn the surface as
completely under as possible. If. there
is much trash, a good rolling cotilter.
and. sometimes, a good chain will be of
considerable help.
The size of the lands and the way it
should be plowed depend upon the
kind of soil and the way it laysw Low
flat land, that will need more or less
drainage and especially if it is not
under-drained so tbat surface drainage
must be depended upon should, as a
rule, be plowed in reasonably small
r lands and tbe furrows run out clear to
such points as will drain off surface
, water as rapidly as possible. Rolling
land should be plowed so that the hard
rains will not wash the land. The best
plan of determining this is to look over
the ground carefully and determine in
advance which is the best course to
.ln WJ there ia less chance
""""& - ". xi ue water is.
allowed U stand on either wheat or
grass, or if the furrows are not prop
erly run out, considerable damage may
be done to either the crop or the land.
Whea it caa be dose without too
much interference with the work, it
will be best to keep the harrowing
close ap to the plowing. Better and
more thorough work can be done in
this way than letting it lay and then
narrowing all at once.
If the soil is very dry and hard the
roller and drag can often A used to
advantage, doing better work than
with the harrow. Sufficient worl
should ' done after plowing to bring1
tne son tna a good tilth and to keen
down th green growth that is nearly