PREPARING FOR THE FUTUIfc’S.
“When I'm a man ” said little Tom,
“And bU and tall and strong,
I’m iroin* to keop a dra< store, and
Drink soda all day Ion ’’
“And I," said little Polly Ann,
“I’ll tell you what X II do:
I’ll come and make you awful rich
J3y buyin i things of you
“I’ll buy tcethbrusho* and quinine,
And squill* and things like that:
And posta.e stamps, and catnip tea.
For my old pussy cat.
“And maybe I will buy so much
You’ll fcet so rich, you see,
That you will have enough some day
To come and marry me.”
—Harper’s.
THE MERCHflNT’S~CRIME.
BY HORATIO AI.GER, JR.
CHAPTER X—Continued.
“Well, your wish is likely to bo
gratified,” said his guardian.
“Do you mean to let me- visit it,
then?” asked the boy, looking up
with eager and animated inquiry.
“Yes; I havo observed that your
father’s death has naturally weighed
upon your mind, and depressed your
spirits. If you should go back to
school now, you would not be in a
fitting frame of mind to resume your
studies. I think a little change and
variation will do you good. For this
reason I intend to let you go on a
journey, not only to Niagara, but
still farther west.”
“You are very kind, Mr. Morton.”
said Robert; “but,” ho added with
momentary hesitation, “would it bo
quite right for me to go on a pleas
ure excursion so soon after the death
of my poor father?”
“Your fathor would, I am sure, ap
prove it,” said his guardian. “Be
cause your mind is diverted by pleas
ant scenery, it will not follow that
you have forgotten your father.”
“No, I shaft never forget him as
long as 1 live.”
“So you see there is no objection
on that score.”
“Are you going with mo, Mr. Mor
ton?” asked Robert, suddenly.
“No, lam unable to leave my bus
iness for so long.”
“Am I going alone?”
“No; you are too young for that.
1 have a friend,” Mr. Morton was
about to say; but after a pause he
said, “acquaintance, who is to start
at once on a trip to the West, and I
shali place you under his charge.”
“Who is it, sir?”
“A young man named Cromwell.”
“How soon are we to start?”
“Probably in a day or two. You
can look over your wardrobe and see
if you need any new clothes, and can
get them before you leave New
York.”
“Yes, sir.”
Piobert left his guardian’s presence
in better spirits than he had entered.
The prospect of a journey was very
agreeable, for he had all a boy’s love
of new scenes, and it added to his
pleasure, though he hardly admitted
it to himself, that his guardian was
not about to accompany him. Ho
hardly knew why it was, bat, al
though he had been told that Mr.
Morton was his father’s intimate
friend, and had no reason to doubt
the truth of this statement, lie found
it impossible to like him. Shortly
after Robert left the presence of his
guardian. James Cromwell was once
more ushered into it. He was no
longer the thread-bare clork, but
had provided himself with a new suit
of clothes, which looked, indeed, bet
ter than his former array; but no
clothing. however costly, could
change the appearance of his mean
and insignificant features, and give
him the air of a gentleman.
••I have waited upon you early,
Mr. Morton,” he said.
“.Not too early, answered the
merchant. “Indeed, I may say that
I am anxious to complete our ar
rangements and put the boy under
your care as soon as possible. The
lact is, that with my business cares
the additional burden of a ward is
not welcome. If it had not been the
son of my intimate friend, I might
have declined the trust; but under
the circumstances I did not think I
.ought to do so.”
“Does ho know that he is going
with me?” inquired Cromwell.
“I have just had an interview
with him. Ho has been at a board
ing school on the Hudson river, and
he supposed he was going back.
When I told him I had another plan
for him he was at first disappointed. ”
“Did you tell him what that plan
was?”
“Not precisely. I showed him
some views of Niagara falls, and
asked him if he would like to visit
the cataract. He said that he would.
I then said that previous to his going
back to school I intended to let him
have a little journey—visiting the
falls and going as far as Indiana. He
was pleased with this prospect.”
“Does he know he is going with
me?”
*•1 mentioned that I had asked an
acquaintance of mine to take charge
of him. 1 shall introduce you as
that acquaintance.”
‘•You intend, then. Mr. Morton*
that we shall take Niagara falls on
the way?” said James Cromwell.
“Yes; I think it will be a pleasant
arrangement for you, no doubt, if
you have never seen the falls.”
“No, 1 have never seen them.”
“And besides, it will make the
journey seem more plausible to
Robert. He need not know until you
get to your journey’s end that he is
.not coming back.”
“How shall it be communicated to
him?”
•■I think 1 will give you a letter to
Rim which you can let him read
when the proper time comes. ’
“When do you wish me to start?”
••As soon as possible—day after
to-morrow. You can be ready, can
you not?”
“I can be ready at any time. I
have very few arrangements to
make.”
“I should like to show you some
views of Niagara, which I have here,
Mr. Cromwell,” said Paul Morton.
“Will you please step to the table?”
Tho clerk left his seat, and ad
vanced to the side of the merchant’s
chair.
“There,” said Paul Morton, look
ing over the views, and selecting
one, “is a view of Goat island. You
will no doubt visit that?”
“Yes, sir; we will try and see all
that is worth seeing.”
“I think,” said Paul Morton,
slowly, “I have heard of a man—or
a boy—who was standing here one
day, and chanced to lose his footing,
and fell over the cataract. Horrible,
was it not?”
He looked significantly in the
face of his companion. James
Cromwell’s* faco grow pale, as ho
i comprehended the infernal meaning
• of this speech, and ho echoed the
; word “Horrible.”
James Cromwell did not reply to
' the merchant's speech. Not that he
was so much appalled at the wicked
ness suggested, as that his nature,
which was a timid one, shrank
with timidity from undertaking so
hazardous a crime. Paul Morton,
seeing the sudden pallor of his com
i panion, knew that his purpose had
j been accomplished, and went on to
! other matters.
“I think,” ho said, “that you will
• bo able to start on the day after to
1 morrow. I will see that Robert is
ready, and if you will come round by
nine o’clock, there will be ample,
time to take the middle train.”
“Very well,” said Cromwell. “I
will bear in mind what you say, Mr.
Morton.”
“And now, I think, Mr. Cromwell,
I shall be obliged to leave you, as ;
my business, which I have neglected
of late, requires my attention.”
James Cromwell took the hint, and
loft the house. Ho fell into a fit of
musing, as he rode down town on a i
street-ear.
“.Shall I do this thing which he
I wants of mo?” lie said to himself, '
“There would be danger in it, and
there is something ugly in tlio 1
thought of murder. Still, ten thou- !
sand dollars would set me up in life.
Resides, I should still have a hold on
Mr. Morton. Ah, it would be pleas
ant to be rich! No more miserable
drudgery, no more cringing to an
employer who cares no more for you i
than for a dog, and perhaps treats j
you r.o better! Money, money is a
blessed thing. It brings independ- j
ence; with it your can lift you head ;
erect, and walk proudly among men, j
who are always ready to dolf their !
hats to a man who is backed up by i
wealth. Yes. it is worth something :
to gain it, but then—murder!”
Here James Cromwell shuddered, !
and imprisonment, trial, conviction
and the gallows, loomed up, an ugly j
picture, before him.
_'_
CHAPTER XI.
On Goat Island.
“Robert,” said his guardian, “this !
is Mr. Cromwell, who is to take >
charge of you on the journey. Mr. ;
Cromwell, this is my ward, whom I :
hope you will lind a pleasant travel- j
ing companion.”
“How do you do?” said James :
Cromwell, holding out his hand
rather stiffly to the boy.
“I am well, thank you,” said
Robert, looking with curiosity, and
it must be confessed, disappoint
ment. at the young man who was to
bo his companion.
He had hoped that ho would be a
congenial person, with whom he
might be on terms of pleasant famili
arity; but when he looked at the
small ferret-like eyes and mean
features of James Cromwell, his j
first impressions were unfavorable. 1
Every man’s face is to a certain cx
tent indicative of his disposition and }
prevailing traits; and Robert, who
was quicker than most boys in read
ing character, concluded without de
lay, that the companion with which
his guardian had provided him would
not be to his taste. Still, he pos
sessed a great deal of natural court
esy and politeness, and he deter
mined to conceal this feeling as well
as he might, and treat Mr. Cromwell
with as much respect and politeness
as if he had liked him better.
Though he would have likel to travel
with a different person, still, the
natural scenery which lie would be
hold would be none the less attrac
tive, and would afford him some com
pensation for the absence of a con
genial companion.
James Cromwell was on his side
not without sharpness or insight. As ,
he met the boy’s gaze with the !
glance of his small ferret-like eyes,
he perceived the look of disappoint- :
meat, however carefully it was veil
ed, and with the spite of a small, j
mean mind, it inspired him with in
stant dislike for Robert. Instead of
determining to win his confidence i
and regard by kindness, he resolved j
as soon as he fairly had him in his !
power, to annoy him by petty tyr- :
anny, and so wreak vengeance upon
him for the feelings ho could not
helpi
“I have obtained tickets for you
by the middle train," proceeded the
merchant. “Hero they are," Mr.
Cromwell.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Cromwell,
taking them and putting them in his
pocket
“You will remain at Niagara two
or three days if you like," continued
Paul Morton. “I have no doubt you
will enjoy yourself. What do you
say, Robert?"
“I shall bo sure to enjoy it;" said
Robert wixh animation.
“So shall I." said Cromwell. “I
have never visited the falls.
“Well,” said the merchant, draw- j
; ing on his gloves, “I am sorry, but I
, shall be obliged to leave you. T have
considerable business awaiting me i
at my counting room. 1 have or
dered a carriage at eleven to convey |
you with your trunks to the railroal
depot. Good-bye. Robert, good-byo,
Mr. Cromwell. A pleasant journey
to you."
“Goorl-bye, sir,” said both.
“Oh, by the way, Mr. Cromwell,”
said the merchant, turning as he
reached the door, and looking sig
nificantly at Cromwell, “if you meet
with any mishap, telegraph to me at
once. ”
Again a greenish pallor overspread
the face of James Cromwell, for ho
understood the allusion, and his cow
ardly nature recoiled with fear, not
with abhorronce.
“Yes, sir,” he said, “I will re
member. ”
“Once more, good-bye, then,” and
Paul Morton closed the door behind
him.
“I hope I shall never see that boy
alive again. ” he said to himself.
• Once get him out of the way and
the money is mine. A hundred and
twenty thousand dollars will be a
great wind-fall to me. To be sure,
there will be ten thousand to pay to
Cromwell, but it will leave ousr a
hundred thousand. Egad! it would
be a capital arrangement if they
both would tumble over the falls to
gether. It would be tho best joke
of the season.”
In due time they reached the sta
tion, and entering one of the long
cars, selected their seats. They did
not sit down together, but took seats
directly in front of each other, giv
ing a window to each.
“I suppose 1 ought to say some
thing to him,” thought Robert, “but
I don’t know what to say.”
Indeed, there seemed to bo no
common ground on which they could
meet. With some persons the boy
would have been engaged in an ani
mated conversation long before this,
but be seemed to have nothing to
say to James Cromwell.
“Do you like traveling?” ho asked
at length.
“i rutty well, said Cromwell.
“I think we shall have a pleasant
journey.”
‘•Yes; I expert so.”
“Do you know when we shall reash
Niagara, Mr. Cromwell?”
“I think Mr. Morton said it would
take us about twcnty:four hours.”
“Then wo shall get there about
this time to-morrow. ”
“Fes; wo shall be all night on the
cars.”
“I am sorry for that, for we shall
lose the scenery on the way—I mean,
that wa pass through during the
night.”
Here the conversation dropped.
James Cromwell bought a paper
from a boy who came through the
cars, and began to read. Robert,
with all the eager interest of his
age, employed himself in looking out
of the window, watching the fields
and houses among which they were
wending their rapid way. It will be
unnecessary to chronicle the inci
dents of the journey, for there were
none worth mentioning. In due
time they reached Niagara, and se
cured rooms at the principal hotel
on the American side. It was after
noon, and they only went round a
little before supper. They decided
to defer the principal part of tlieir
sight seeing until the next day.
I he next day was pleasant. To
gether the two walked about, enjoy
ing views of the cataract from vari
ous points. At length Cromwell
said, “How would you like to go to
Coat island? I am told the view is
fine from there.”
“I should like it very much. Sup
pose we go,” said Robert promptly.
Had he known the sinister purpose
with which this proposition was
made, he would have recoiled from
it as from a deadly serpent, but the
boy was wholly unconscious of the
peril that menaced him, nor did he
observe the nervous agitation that
affected James Cromwell, whose tim
idity made him shrink with fear at
the risk he was about to incur.
“Then we will go,” said the young
man.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
White vs. Colored.
There was a boy who was sent out
by his father to sell some potatoes.
He carried the bag around all day
without a sale, aud, on reaching
home at night threw it down with
the surly exclamation: “Nobody
that I met asked me for potatoes.
One fellow wanted to know what I
had in the bag and I told him it was !
none of his darned business.”
There was, in the same town a col
ored gentleman who went about
bawling at the top of his voice:
“Fish! Fish! Fish! Fresh Fish!”
“Shut up that racket!” said an
angry dame at a window.
“F'ou heah me. missy?”
“Hear you? You can be heard a
mile away.”
“Dat’s what I’se hollerin’ for. Fish!
Fish! Fresh Fish!”
The colored gentleman was an ad
vertiser—and sold his goods.—Hard
ware.
Superstition.
A gentleman who had been dining
at a restaurant, and who had often
ordered a dozen oysters, counted
them one day and found but eleven.
Still another day ho counted them
with the same result. Then he said
to the waiter:
“Why do you give me only eleven
oysters when I order a dozen?”
“Oh. sir,” answered the waiter, “I
didn’t think you’d want to be settin’
thirteen at table, sir!” — Youth’s
Companion.
Definitely Settled.
Mrs. Rusher—Has Mr. Goldcoin,
with whom you have been dancing |
all the evening, at last declared hia
intentions, Mabel?
Mabel—Yes. aunt.
am so glad! And what did he
say?”
• He declared that he would never
marry. ”—Vogue.
| TABERNACLE PULPIT.
SUICIDE THE SUBJECT OF THIS
WEEK’S SERMON.
In the Olden Time, He for© tlio Dawn
of Christianity, Self Murder Was Con
sidered Honorable and a Sign of
Courage—Mora! Cowardice.
Brooklyn, N. V., Aug. 12.—Rev. Dr.
' Taimagc, who is now abroad, has
selected as the subject for to-day’s
sermon through the press, the word
".Suicide,” the text being Acls xvi : 27,
2$: "lie drew out his sword and would
have killed himself, supposing that
the prisoners had fled. But 1’aul
cried witn a loud voice, saying, Do
thyself no harm.”
Here is a would-be suicide arrested
in his deadly attempt. He was a
sheriff and according to the Roman
law a bailiff himself must suffer the
punishment due an escaped prisoner;
and if the prisoner breaking jail was
sentenced to be endungeoned for three
or four years, then the sheriff must be
endungeoned for three or four years;
and if the prisoner breaking jail was
to have suffered capital punishment,
then the sheriff must suffer capital
punishment.
The sheriff had received especial
charge to keep a sharp lookout for
I*.iul and Silas. The government had
not had confidence in holts and bars
to keep safe these two clergymen,
about whom there seemed to be some
thing strange and supernatural.
Sure enough, by miraculous power,
they are free, and the sheriff, waking
out of a sound sleep, and supposing
these ministers have run away, and
knowing that they were to die for
preaching Christ, and realizing that
lie must therefore die, rather than go
under the execution: r’s ax, on the
morrow and suffer public disgrace,
resolves to precipitate his own de
cease. Hut before the sharp, keen,
glittering dagger of the sheriff could
strike his heart, one of the unloosened
prisoners arrests the blade by the
command, ”Do thyself no harm.”
In olden time, and where Christi
anity had not interfered with it,
suicide was considered honorable and
a sign of courage. Demosthenes
poisoned himself when told that Alex
ander’s ambassador had demanded
the surrender of the Athenian orators.
Isocrates killed himself rather than
surrender to Phillip of Macedon.
Cato, rather than submit to Julius
C'iesar, took his own life, and after
three times his wounds had been
dressed tore them open and perished.
Mithridates killed himself rather than
submit to Pompey, the conqueror.
Hannibal destroyed his life by poison
from bis ring, considering life un.
bearable. After the disaster of Mos
cow, Napoleon always carried with
him a preparation of opium, and one
ni(rht bis servant heard the ex-em
neror arise, put something in a glass
nnd drink it, and soon after the groans
aroused all the attendants, and it was
only through utmost medical skill he
was resuscitated from the stupor of
[ the opiate.
T.mes have changed, and yet the
American conscience needs to be toned
up on the subject of suicide. Have
you seen a paper in the last month
that did not announce the passage out
of life by one’s own behest? De
faulters, alarmed at the idea of ex
posure, quit life precipitately. Men
losing large fortunes go out of the
world because they can not endure
earthly existence. Frustrated affec
tion, domestic infelicity, dyspeptic im
patience, auger, remorse, envy, jeal
ousy, destitution, misanthropy are
considered sufficient causes for ab
sconding from tins life by Paris g-een,
bv laudanum, by belladonna, bv
Othello’s dagger, by halter, by leap
from the abutment of a bridge, by
firearms. More cases of “felo de so”
in the last two years of the world’s 1
existence. The evil is more and more j
spreading.
A pulpit not long ago expressed i
some doubt as to whether there was
anything wrong about quitting this
life when it became disagreeable, and
there are found in respectable circles
people apologetic for the crime which
Paul in the text arrested. I shall
show you before I get through that
suicide is the worst of all crimes and
I shall lift a warning unmistakable.
But in the early part of this sermon I
wish to admit that some of the best
Christians that have ever lived have
committed self-destruction, but always
in dementia and not responsible. I
have no more doubt about their
eternal felicity than I have of the
Christian who dies in his bed in the
delirium of typhoid fever. While the
shock of the catastrophe is-very great,
I charge all those who have had Chris
tian friends under cerebral aberration
step off the boundaries of this life, to
have no doubt about their happiness.
The dear Lord took them right out of
their dazed and frenzied state into
perfect safety. How Christ feels to
ward the insane you may known from
the kind way he treated the demoniac
of Gadara and the child lunatic, and
the potency with which he hushed
the tempests either of sea or brain.
Scotland, the land prolific of intel
lectual giants, had none grander than
Hugh Stiller. Great for science and
great for God. He came of the best
Highland blood, and; he was a de
scendant of Ronald liov, a iuen emi
nent for his piety and the rare gift of
second-sight His attainments.climb
ing up as be did from the quarry and
the wall of the stonemasons, drew
forth the astonished admiration of
Buckland and Murchison, the scient
ists, and Dr. Chalmers,the theologian,
and held universities spellbound while
he told them the story of what he had !
seen of God in the old red sand stone. !
That man did more than any being j
that ever lived to show that the God j
of the hills is the God of the Bible,
and he struck his tuning fork on the
rocks of Cromarty until lie brought
geology and theology accordant iD
divine worship. His two books, en
titled "Footprints of the Creator" and
the “Testimony of the Ilocks," pro
claimed the bans of an everlasting
marriage between genuine science
and revelation. On this latter hook
he toiled day and night through love
of nature and love of (iod. until he
could not sleep, and liis brain gave
way, and he was found dead with a
revolver by bis side, the cruel instru
ment having had two bullets—one for
him and the other for the gunsmith
wno at the coroner s inquest was ex
amining it and fell dead. Have you
any doubt of the beatification of Hugh
Miller, after his hot brain had ceased
throbbing that winter night in liis
study at Portobello? Among the
mightiest of earth, among the mighti
est of heaven.
No one ever doubted the piety of
William Cowper, the author of those
three great hymns, "Oh, for a closer
walk with God," "What various hin
drances we meet,” "There is a foun
tain filled with blood.” William
Cowper, who shares with Isaac Watts
and Charles Wesley the chief honors
of Christian liymnology. In hypochon
dria he resolved to take liis own life
and rode to the river Thames, but
found a man seated on some goods
at the very point from which he ex
pected to spring, and rode back to his
home, and that night threw himself
upon his own knife, hut the blade
broke, and then he hanged himself to
the ceiling, but the rope parted. No
wonder that when God mercifully de
livered him from that awful dementia
he sat down and wrote that other
hymn just as memorable:
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
Ha plants his footstep in the sen,
And rides upon the storm.
Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
And he wi;l make it plain,
hile we make this merciful and
righteous allowance in regard to those
who were plunged into mental inco
herence, I declare that the man who
in the use of his reason, by his own
act, snaps the bond between liis body
and his soul, goes staight into per
dition. Shall I prove it? Revelation
viii: ‘’Murderers shall have their
part in the lake which burneth with
tire and brimstone.” Revelation
xv: “W ithout are dogs, and sorcerers,
and whoremongers, and murderers.”
You do not believe the New Testament?
Alien, perhaps, you believe the Ten
commandments: ‘‘Thou shalt not
kill.” Do you say all these passages
refer to the taking of the life of
others9 Then I ask you if you are
not as responsible for your own life
as for the life of others? God gave
you a special trust in your life. lie
made you the custodian of your life as
lie made you the custodian of no
other life. He gave you as weapons
with which to defend it two arms, to
strike back assailants, two eyes to
watch for invasion, and a natural love
of life which ought ever to be on the
alert. Assassination of others is a
mild crime compared with the assassi
nation of yourself, because in the lat
ter case it is treachery to an especial
trust, it is the surrender of a castle
you were especially appointed to keep,
it is treason to a natural law and it is
treason to God added to ordinary
murder.
Notwithstanding t:>e Bible is against
this evil, and the aversion which it ;
creates by the loathsome and ghastly
spectacle of those who have hurled
themselves out of life, and notwith
standing Christianity is against it,
and the arguments and the useful
lives and the illustrious deaths of its
disciples, it is a fact alarmingly patent
that suicide is on the increase.
What is the cause? 1 charge upon
.infidelity and agnosticism this whole
thing. If there be no hereafter, or if
that hereafter be blissful with- !
out reference to how we live I
aid liow we die, why not move !
back the folding doors between this
world and the next? And when our
existence here becomes troublesome, j
why not pass right over into Elysium? |
l’ut this down among yoi-r most
solemn reflections and consider it
after you go to your homes; there has j
never been a case of suicide where the
operator was not either demented and
therefore irresponsible, or an infidel, i
J challenge all the ages and I chal
lenge the whole universe. There
never lias been a case of self-destruc
tion while in full appreciation of his
immortality and of the fact that that j
immortality would be glorious or
wretched according as he accepted
Jesus Christ or reieeted him.
You say it is business trou hie, or !
you say it is electrical currents, or it j
is this, or it is that, or it is the other
thing. Why not go clear back, my
friend, and acknowledge that in. every
case it is the abdication of reason or
the teaching of infidelity which Drac
tieally says, "If you don't like this
life, get out of it, and you will land
either in annihilation, where there
are no notes to pay. no persecutions
to suffer, no gout to torment, or you
will land where- there will be every
thing glorious and nothing to pay for
it.” Infidelity always lias been apolo
getic for self-immolation. After Tom
Paine's “Age of Keason” was pub
lished and widely read there was a
marked increase of seif-slaughter.
Would God that the coroners would
be brave in rendering the right ver
dict, and when in the case of irre
sponsibility they say, "While this
man was demented he took his life,”
in the other case say, “Having read
infidel books and attended infidel
lectures, which obliterated from this
man's mind all appreciation of anv
thing like future retribution, he com
mitted self-slaughter!”
* Ah! Infidelity, stand up and take I
thy sentence! In the presence of God
and angels and men. stand up. thou
monster, thy lip blasted with blas
phemy, thy cheek scarred with lust,
thy breath foul with the corruption
of tlie ages! Stand up, Satyr, lil
thy goat, buzzard of the nations, leper
of the centuries! Stand up. thou mon
ster infidelity! Part man. part pan
ther. part reptile, part dragon, stand
up and take thy sentence! Thy hands
red with the bluo 1 in which thou hast
washed, thy feet crimson with the
human gore through which thou hast
waded, stand up and take tiiy sen
tence! Down with thee to the pit and
sup on the sobs and groans of families
thou hast blasted, and roll on the bed
of knives vvliien thou hast sharpened
for others, and let thy music be the
everlasting miserere of those whom
thou hast damned! I brand the fore
head of Infidelity with all the crimes
of self-itmnolation for the last century
on the part of those who had their
reason.
My friends, if ever your life through
its abrasions and its molestations
should seem to be unbearable, and
you are tempted to quit it by your
own behest do not consider yourselves
as worse than others. Christ himself
was tempted to cast himself from the
roof of the temple; but ns he re
sisted, so resist ye. Christ came to
medicine all our wounds. In your
trouble prescribe life instead of
death. People wtio have had it
worse than you will ever have it have
gone songful on their way. Uemem
ber that God keeps tlie chronology of
your life with as much precision as he
keeps tlie chronology of nations, your
death as well as your birth, your
grave as well as your cradle.
l\hy was it that at midnight, just
at midnight, tlie destroying angel
struck the blow that set tlie Israelites
free from bondage? Tlie four hun
dred and thirty years were up at 12
o’clock that night The four hundred
and thirty years were not up at
11, and 1 o'clock would have been
tardy aud too late. The four hundred
and thirty years were up at 12 o’clock,
and tlie destroying angel struck tlie
blow and Israel was free. And God
knows just tlie hour when it is time
to lead you up from earthly bondage.
l*y bis grace make not the worst of
things, but the best of them. If you
must take tlie pills do not chew them.
Your everlasting rewards will accord
with your earthly perturbations, just
as Caius gave to Agrippa a chain of
gold as heavy as had been his chain
of iron. For your asking you may
have tlie same grace that was given to
the Italian martyr, Algerius, who,
down in the darkest of dungeons,
dated his letter from “the delectable
orchard of the Leonine prison.”
And remember that this brief life
of ours is surrounded by a rim, a very
thin but very important rim, and
close up to that rim is a great eternity,
and you had better keep out of it un
til God breaks that rim and' separates
this from that To get rid of the sor
rows of earth, do not rush into greater
sorrows. To get rid of a swarm of
summer insects, leap not into a jungle
of Bengal tigers.
There is a sorrowless world, and it
is so radiant that tlie noonday sun is
only tlie lowest doorstep and the
aurora that lights up our northern
heavens, confounding astronomers as
to what it can be, is the waving of the
banners of the procession come to
take the conquerors home from church
militant to church triumphant, and
you and I have ten thousand reasons
for wanting to go there, but we will
never get there either by self-immola
tion or impeniteney. All our sins
slain by the Christ who came to do
that thing, v.e want to go in at just
the time divinely arranged, and then
tlie clang of the sepulchral gates be
hind us will he overpowered by tlie
clang of the opening of tlie solid pearl
before us. O God. whatever others
may choose, give me a Christian's life,
a Christian’s death, a Christian's
burial, a Christian’s immortality)
L’ses of the Potato.
In France the farina is largely used
or culinary purposes. The famous
gravies, sauces and soups of France are
largely indebted for their excellence to
that source, aud the bread and pastry
equally so, while a great deal of the so
called cognac, imported into England
from France, is distilled from the pota
to. Throughout Germany the same
uses are common. In Poland the man
ufacture of spirits from the potato is a
most extensive trade. “'Stettin brandy,”
well known in commerce, is largely im
ported into England, and is sent from
thence to many of our foreign posses
sions as the produce of the grape, and
is placed on many a table of England as
the same; while the fair ladies of onr
country perfume themselves with the
spirit of potato tinder the designation of
eaude Cologne. But there are other
uses which this esculent is turned to
abroad. After extracting the farina,
the pulp is manufactured into orna
mental articles, such as picture frames,
snuff boxes, and several descriptions of
toys, and the water that runs from it in
the process of manufacture is a most
valuable scourer.
For perfectly cleansing woolens, aud
such-iike articles, it is the housewife’s
panacea, and, if the washerwoman hap
pens to have chilblains, she becomes
cured by the operation.
The- last 0/ trank Holies* patters,
“August birds in Cape breton,” has
the place of honor in the August At
lantic, at the right hand of the hostess,
so to spes-k, for it follows immediately
upon the installment of Mrs Deland's
“Philip and his Wife” at the opening
of the number. In the third’ place
stands Susan < oolidge s. - The Girlhood
of an Autocrat,” the story of the fa
mous Empress Catharine of Itussia. but
the order of precedence does not fix the
relative merits of the contributions to
the magazine, for towards the end is a
significant paper, "The College Gradu
ate and Public I-ife," by Theodore
Kooseveit.
At Madrid sentries exposed to the
“death breath,” blowing from the Gu
adarama mountains, are changed every
half hour.
China's national hymn is so long that the
people tal e half a day to listen to it.
