Decatur Democrat, Volume 38, Number 11, Decatur, Adams County, 1 June 1894 — Page 10

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ImMvv A J7>v W ’ v wlj/ *t* j z vSt/X from him he heard a very unsatlsfac'Vwcffl J AkWu iW’*’« \ tory account of the marriage. It was jjv atwl f P/-Jr I \ this that had induced him to break t.’c'JHli tMWwwSR’Cw I through his resolution and call in Park • \ I Lane. He wanted to see for himself •‘Mil' - 'itMii vk. •' I happy. He saw little, however, to en.Sjfflp JHI /'lkWk Z lighten him on this point. He found tt V> //II / p / the girl he had so fondly loved transTk Pff I . R« .-M'’ formed into a perfect woman of the rjM // JII . IL >»» world; and he could draw no inference JI IK f || u 1 from her careless gayety of manner H kh isr! I except that James Wyatt had said more / HI j I than was justified by the circumstances » Itfl/ I °f t h° ca e - IV 11 1 I Instead of returning to Da venant for Pl /ml 1 J ‘ the autumn months, Mr. Sinclair /! Jlhnl wl chose this year to go to Germany, an / / ft fl I fl/ Bn I avfranrHJnonv aanwifiAn /-*# 4 nnHnailrtn

* CHATTER Vlll—Continued. He left the house when Constance went out for her daily drive in the park, and strolled in the same direction, caring very little where he went upon this particular afternoon. The Lady’s Mlle was thronged with carriages, and there was a block at the oorner when Gilbert took his place listlessly among the loungers who were lolling over the rails. He nodded to the men he knew, and answered briefly enough to some friendly inquiries about his luck in Yorkshire. “The filly ran well enough,” he said, “but I doubt if she’s got stay enough for the Chester. ” “Oh, of course you want to keep her dark, Sinclair. I heard she was a filer, though.” Mr. Sinclair did not pursue the conversation. The carriages moved on for a few paces, at the instigation of a pompous mounted policeman, and then stopped again, leaving a quite little brougham exactly in front of Gilbert Sinclair. The occupant of the brougham was Mrs. Walsingham. The stoppage brought her so close to Gilbert that it was impossible to avoid some kind of greeting. The widow’s handsome face paled as she recognized ►Gilbert. It was the first time they had met since that unpleasant interview in Half-Moon street. The opportunitv was very gratifying to Mrs. [Walsingham. She had most ardently desired to see how Gilbert supported his new position, to see for herself how ;far Mr. Wyatt’s account of him might be credited. She put on the propitiatory manner of a woman who has forgiven all past wrongs. | “Why do you never come to see me?” she asked. I “I scarcely thought you would care ’to receive me, after what you said ’when we last met,’he replied, rather [embarrassed by her eaw way of treat.incr tha situation. x —J —* — •too angry to accept thajj proof of your •regard as I. should have done. I have grown wiser with the passage of time, and, believe me, I am still your friend.” There was a softness in her tone which flattered and touched Gilbert Sinclair. It contrasted so sharply with the cool contempt he had of late suffered at the hands of his wife. He re►membered how this woman had loved 'him; and he asked himself what good he had gained by his marriage with ■Constance Olanyarde, except the empty | triumph of an alliance with a family of 'superior rank to his own, and the vain delight of marrying an acknowledged 'beauty. Before Mrs. Walsingham's brougham had moved on, he had promised to .look in upon her that evening, and at (10 o'clock he was seated in the familiar drawing-room, telling her his domestic (wrongs, and freely confessing that his marriage had been a failure. Little [by little she beguiled him into telling 'her these things, and played her part [of adviser and consoler with exquisite .tact, not once allowing him to perceive ■ the pleasure his confession afforded her. He spoke of his child without ithe faintest expression of affection, and .laughed bitterly as he described his wife’s devotion to her infant. “I thought as a woman of fashion she iwould have given herself very little trouble about the baby,” he said, “but ’she continues to find time for maternal [rapture in spite of her Incessant visitling. I have told her that she is killting herself, and the doctors tell her pretty much the same; but she will have her own way." | “She would suffer frightfully if the child were to die, ” said Mrs. Walsingnam. “Suffer! Yes, I was thinking of that this afternoon when she was engaged in her baby worship. She would take my death coolly enough, I have no doubt; but I believe the loss of that child would kill her. ’ Long after Gilbert Sinclair had left her that night Clara Walsingham sat brooding over all that he had told her upon the subject of his domestic life. “And so he has found out what it is to have a wife who does not care for him,” she said to herself. “He has gratified his fancy for a lovely face, and is paying a heavy price for his conquest And lam to leave all my hopes of revenge to James Wyatt, and am to reward his services by marrying him. No, no, Mr. Wyatt; it was all very well to promise that in the day of my despair. I see my way to something better than that now. The loss of her child would kill her, would it? And her death would bring Gilbert back to me, I think. His loveless marriage has taught him the value of a woman’s affection.” CHAPTER IX. thb bboimning or sobbow. Sir Cyprian did not again call at the house in Park Lane. He had heard of Constance Clanyarde's'm&rriage during his African travels, and had come back to England resolved to avoid her as far as it was possible for him to do so. Tima and absence had done little to lessen bls love, but he resigned himself to her marriage with another as an inevitable fact, only regretting she had married a man of whom he had by no means an exalted opinion. James Wyatt was one of the first persons he visited on his arrival in London, and

extraordinary sacrifice of inclination, one might suppose, as his chief delight was to be found at English race meetings. and in the supervision of his stable at Newmarket. Mrs. Sinclair's doctor had recommended change of some kind as a cure , for a certain lowness of tone and gene- , ral derangement of the nervous sys- . tem under which his patient labored. ■ The medical man suggested Harrowgate or Buxton, or some Welsh waterarinking place; but when Gilbert proposed Schoenesthal in the Black Forest, he ca ight at the idea. “Nothing would be better for Mrs. Sinclair and the baby," he said, “and you’ll be near Baden-Baden if you want gayety. ’ “I don’t care for brass bands and a lot of people,” answered Gilbert; “I can shoot capercailzies. I shall get on well enough for a month or so. ” Constance had no objection to offer to this plan. She cared very little where her life was spent, so long as she had her child with her. A charming villa had been found half hidden among pine trees, and here Mr. Sinclair established his wife, with a mixed household of English ana foreign servants. She was very glad to be so completely withdrawn from the obligations of society, and to be able to devote herself almost entirely to the little girl, who was, of course, a paragon of infantine grace and intelligence in the eyes of mother and nurse. The nurse was a young woman belonging to the village near Marshbrook, one of the pupils of the Sunday school, whom Constance bad known from childhood. The nurse-maid who shared her duties in London had not been brought to Schoenesthal, but in her place Mrs. Sinclair engaged a French girl, with sharp dark eyes and a very intelligent manner.. Martha Briggs, the nurse, was rather more renowned for honesty and good temper than for intellectual qualifications, and she seemed unusually slow and stolid in comparison with the vivacious French girl. This girl had come to Baden with a Parisian family, and had been dismissed with . .-------K; » of the little church she had attended during her residence at Baden, who was delighted with her artless fervor and unvarying piety. Poor Martha Briggs was rather inclined to be jealous of this .new rival in her mistress’ favor, and derived considerable comfort from the fact that the baby did not take to Melanie. If the baby preferred her English nurse to Melanie, the little French girl, for her part, seemed passionately devoted to the baby. She was always eager to carry the child when the two nurses were out together, and resented Martha’s determination to deprive her of this pleasure. One day when the two were disputing together upon this subject, Martha nawling at the French girl under the peculiar idea that she would make herself understood if she only talked loud enough, Melanie repeating her few words of broken English with many emphatic shrugs and frowns and nods, a lady stopped to listen to them and admire the baby. She spoke in French to Melanie, and did not address Martha at all, much to the young person’s imdignation. She asked Melanie to whom the child oelonged, and. how long she had been with it, and whether she was accustomed to nursing children, adding, with a smile, that she looked rather too lady-like for a nurse-maid. Melanie was quite subdued by this compliment. She told the lady that this was the first time she had been nurse-maid. She had been lady’s-maid in her last situation, and had preferred the place very much to her present position. She told this strange lady nothing about that rapturous affection for the baby which she was in the habit of expressing in Mrs. Sinclair’s presence. She only told her how uncomfortable she had been made by the English nurse’s jealousy. “I am staying at the Hotel du Roi 2 ” said the lady, after talking to Melanie for some little time, “and should like to see you if you can find time to call upon me some evening. I might be able to be of some- use to you in finding a new situation when your present mistress leaves the neighborhood." Melanie courteeied, and replied that she would make a point of waiting upon the lady, and the two nurses moved on with their little charge. Martha asked Melanie what the foreign lady had been saying, and the French girl replied carelessly that she had only been praising the baby. “And well she may, ’ answered Miss Briggs, rather snappishly, “for she's the sweetest child that ever lived: but, for my own part, I don't like foreigners, or any of their nasty, deceitful ways." V This rather invidious remark was lost upon Mlle. Duport, who only understood a few words of English, and who cared very little for her fellowservant’s opinion upon any subject. In spite of Gilbert Sinclair's protestation of indifference to the attractions of brass bands and crowded assemblies, he contrived to spend the greater part of his time at Baden, where the Goddess of Chance was still worshiped in the brilliant Kursaal, while his wife was left to drink her fill of forest beauty and that distant glory of inaccessible hills which the sun dyed rosy red in the quiet even-tide. In these tranquil days, while her husband was waiting the turn of Fortune's wheel in the golden salon, or

> yawning over “Gallgnanl" in the read Ing-room. Constance’s life came far nearer happiness than she had ever dared to hope it would oome, after her perjury at God’s altar two years ago. Many a time, while she was leading here butterfly life in the flower-garden of fashion, making dissipation stand for pleasure, she had told herself, in some gloomy hour of reaction, that no good ever could come of her marriage; that there was a curse upon it, a rignt- ' eous God's anathema against falsehood, r And then her baby had come, and she “ had shed her first happy tears over the x sweet small face, the blue eyes looking 1 up at her full of vague wonder, and she '* had thanked Heaven for this new ; bliss, and believed her sin forgiven. After that time Gilbert had changed ' for the worse, and there had been & many a polite passage at arms between ° husband and wife, and these encoun- £ tors, however .courteously performed, ® are apt to leave ugly soars. s But now, far away from all her frivolous acquaintance, free from the allr engrossing duties of a fine lady’s existr ence, she put all evil thoughts out of 1 her mind, Gilbert among them, and > 1 abandoned herself wholly to the de- * light of the pine forest and baby. She was very gracious to Gilbert when he 9 chose to spend an hour or two at home or to drive with her in the pretty lit- ' tie pony carriage in which she male 5 most of her explorations; but she made no complaint, she expressed no curios- ‘ Ity as to the manner in which he - amused himself or the company he ' kept at Baden-Baden, and though that " center of gayety was only four, miles ’ off, she never expressed a wish to share ' in its amusements. Gilbert was not an agreeable oom- ' panion at this time. That deep and [ suppressed resentment against his ’ wife, like rancorous lago's did “gnaw him inward,” and although > his old passionate love still Tfemartnea,' it was curiously interwOven with i hatred. Once when husband and wife were seated opposite each other, in the September twilight after one of their rare tete-a-tete dinners, Constance looked up suddenly and caught Gilbert's brooding eyes fixed on her face with an expression which made her shiver. “If you look at me like that, Gilbert," she said, with a nervous laugh, “I shall be afraid to drink this glass of Marcobrunner you've just poured out for me. There might be poison in it. I hope I’ve done nothing to de erve such an angry look. Othello must have looked something like that, I should think, when he asked Desdemona for the strawberry-spotted handkerchief.” “Why did you marry me, Constance?” asked Sinclair, ignoring his wife's speech. There was something almost piteous in this question, wrung from a man who loved honestly, according to his lights, and whose love was turned to rancor by the knowledge that it had won no return. “What a question after two years o f married life! Why did I marry you? Because you wished me to marry you; and because I believed you would make me a good husband, Gilbert; and because I had firmly resolved to make muio -auAiuua uu i.c I on good terms with her husband. She would have taken much trouble, made some sacrifice of her womanly pride, to win him back to that amiable state of mind she remembered in their honeymoon. “I’ve promised to meet Wyatt at the Kursaal this evening,” said Sinclair, looking at his watch as he rose from the table, and without the slightest notice of his wife's reply. “Is Mr. Wyatt at Baden?” “Yes; he has come over for a little amusement at the table—deuced lucky, dog—always contrives to leave off a winner. One of these cool-headed fellows who know the turn of the tide. You’ve no objection to his being there, I suppose?" “I wish you and he were not such fast friends, Gilbert. Mr. Wyatt is no favorite of mine.” |TO BE CONTINUED. i STENOGRAPHER’S BILLS. They Are Hard to Collect—How to Get a Remedy. These are bitter days for stenographers. There is just as much work now as ever before, but collections - are slow and uncertain. One of them told me the other day that he had been doing 81,200 worth of work for every S4OO he had received during the last year. A movement is now on foot to raise a fund to send a competent lawyer before the Supreme Court and argue against the celebrated Bonynge decision. This is the man who sent in a bill of $12,00) to Tweed's lawyers for his work on the Tweed case, together with the transcripts of testimony ordered. The lawyers refused to pay it on the ground that they were simply acting as the agents of their clients, and were not personally responible for the bill. The general term sustained this decision, when Bonynge brought suit, and the case was lost every time it was appealed. Now stenographers are compelled to wait until their lawyers collect their fees from clients, and if there are no collections the stenographer’s bill is held over. The only remedy is to get a written contract from the lawyer himself to be personally responsible for the bill; but few court stenographers care to risk loss of friends and patronage by insisting on this precaution. Os course, great law firms in this city and elsewhere pay their stenographers promptly as they would pay any other employe, and do not ask them to share their risks in business. But the great; majqrlty of small firmsand individuals in bad times take advantage of the law and stenographers have to suffer. —New York Press. Our Scandinavian Contingent. No country contributes so many immigrants to the United Stated in proportion to population as Norway. It is chiefly the rural Norse that come to America, aud the immigrants are for the most part under b 0 years of age. The Norse are good farmers and thrifty citizens. They, as well as their neighbors, the Sweaes, have a strong dflsire to make homes for themselves and to have land and the conveniences of life. They frequently return to. visit their native country, but they become perma nent citizens of the United States. Most of those who oome are of marked peasant type.

' TALMAGE’S SERMON. ■ A FORCEFUL DISCOURSE ON THE [ BURDENS OF LIFE. 1 i » , Me Give# Comfort to the Weery Heavily Laden—Burden, of the Heart and of the Body—Mvln< Troubles and Dead—Subject Was “Heavy Weights.” > , i.—— I Sermon In Nan Franolsoo. Dr. Talmage while in San Francisco before embarking for Honolulu on his round the world tour, preached to a large and deeply interested audience on the subject of “Heavy Weights,” the text being taken from Psalms lv, 22, “Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain thee.” David was here taking his own medicine. If anybody had on him heavy weights, David had them, and yet, out of his own experience he advises you and me as the best way of getting rid of burdens. This is a world of burden bearing. During the past few days tidings came from across the sea of a mighty and good man fallen. A man full of the Holy Ghost was he, his name the synonym for all that is good, and kind, and gracious, and benefleient. Word comes to us of a scourge sweeping off hundreds and thousands of people, and there is a burden of sorrow. Sorrow on the sea and sorrow on the land. Coming into the house of prayer there may be no sign of sadness or sorrow, but where is the man who has not a conflict? Where is the soul that has not a struggle? And there is not a day ot all the year when my text is not gloriously appropriate, and there is "Beyer an audience assembled on the plafietwhere the text is not gloriously appropriate, “Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain thee.’ v In the far East wells of water are so infrequent that when a man owns a well De has a property of very great value, and sometimes battles nav* been fought for the possession of one well ot water, but there is one well that every man owns, a deep well, a perennial well, a well of tears. If a man has not a burden on this shoulder, he has a burden on the other shoulder. A Practical Religion. The day I left home to look after myself and for myself in the wagon my father sat driving, and he said that day something which has kept with me all my life: “De Witt, it is always safe to trust God. I have many a time come to a crisis of difficulty. You may know that, having been sick for fifteen years, it was no easy thing for me to support a family, but always God came to the rescue. I remember the time, ” he said, “when I didn’t know what to do, and I saw a man on horseback riding up the farm lane, and he announced to me that I had been nominated for the most lucrative office in all the gift of the people of the county, and to that office I was elected, and God in that way met all my wants, and I tell you it is always safe to trust Him.” anS'hTs - wife ‘ finally came to severe want. He told me that in the morning at prayers he said: “OLord, Thou knowest we have not a mouthful of food in the house! Help me, help «s!” And he started out on the street, and a gentleman met him and said: “I have been thinking of you for a good while. You know I am a flour merchant. If you won’t be offended, I should like to send you a barrel of flour.” He cast his burden on the Lord, and the Lord sustained him. Now, that is the kind of religion we want. In the strait of Magellan, I have been told, there is a place where, whichever way a ship captain puts his ship, he finds the wind against him, and there are men who all their lives have been running in the teeth ot the wind, and which way to turn they do not know. Some of them may be in this assemblage, and I address them face to face, not perfunctorily, but as one brother talks to another brother, “Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain thee. ” Heart Barden.. There are a great many men who have business burdens. When we see man worriea and perplexed and annoyed in business life, we are apt to sav, “He ought not to have attempted to carry so much. ” Ah, that man may not be to blame at all! When a man plants a business, he does not know what will be its branches. There is many a man with keen foresight and large business faculty who has been flung into the dust by unforseen circumstances springing upon him from ambush. When to buy, when to sell, when to trust and to what amount of credit, what will be the effect of this new invention of machinery, what will be the effect of that loss of crop and a thousand other questions perplex business men until the hair is silvered and deep wrinkles are plowed in the cheek, and the stocks go up by mountains ana go down by valleys,* and they are at their wits’ ends and stagger like drunken men. There never has been a time when there have been such rivalries in business as now. It is hardware against hardware, books against books, chandlery against chandlery, imported article against imported article. A thousand stores in combat with another thousand stores. Never such advantage of light, never such variety of assortment, never so much splendor of show window, never so much adroitness of salesmen, never so much acuteness of advertising, and amid all these severities of rivalry in business how many men break down! Oh, the burden on thejshoulder! Oh, the burden on the heart! You hear that it is avarice which drives these men of business through the street, and that. is the commonly acceptea idea. I’ dp not believe a word of it. The vast multitude of these business men are toiling on for others. To educate their children, to put wing of protection over their households, to nave something left so when they pass out of this life their wives ana children will not have to go to the poorhouse-that is the way I translate this energy in the street and ■tore, the vast majority Os that energy. Grip, Gouge & Co. do not do all the business. Some of us remember that when the Central American was codling home from California it was wrecked. President Arthur’s father-

in-law was the heroic captala of that • ship and went down with most of the passengers. Some of them got off into the lifeboats, hut there was a young : man returning from California who had a bag of gold In his hand, and as the last boat shoved off from the ship that was to go down that young man shouted to a comrade in the float: 1 “Here, John, catch this gold. There ' are 83,000. Take it home to my old i mother it will make her comfortable in her last days.” Grip, Gouge & Co. do not do ah the business of the world. Ah, mv friend, do you say that God , does not care anything about your ! worldly business? J tell you God knows more about it than you do. He knows ’ all your perplexities. He knows what 1 mortgage is about to foreclose. He ' knows what not 6 you cannot pay. He , knows what unsalable goods you have on your shelves. He knows all your trials, from the day you took hold of the first yardstick down to that sale ' of the last yard of ribbon, and the God ’ who helped David to be king, and who , helped Daniel to be prime minister, , and who helped Havelock to be a soldier will help you to discharge all vour duties. He is going to see yo u 1 through. When loss comes and you i find your property going, just take this . book and put it down by your ledger and read of the eternal possession? that will come to you through our Lord Jesus Christ. And when your business partner betrays you, andyoifT friends turn against you, just take the insulting letter, put it down on the table, put your Bible beside the insulting letter and then read of the friendship of Him who “stickethcloser thana brother.” A young accountant in New York city got his accounts entangled. He knew he was honest, and yet he could not make his accounts come out right, and he toiled at them day and night until he was nearly frenzied. It seemed by those books that something had been misappropriated, and he knew before God he was honest The last day came. He knew if he could not that day make his accounts come out right he would go into disgrace and go into banishment from the business establishment. He went over there very early, before there was anybody in the place, and he knelt down at the desk and said: “O Lord, Thou knowest I have tried to be honest, but I cannot make these things come out right! Help me to-day—help me this morning!” The young man arose, ana hardly knowing why he did so opened a book that lay on the desk, ana there was a leaf containing a line erf figures which explained everything. In other words, he cast his burden upon the Lord, and the Lord sustained him. Young man, do you hear that? Other Orowee. Oh, yes, God has a sympathy with anybody that is in any kind of toil. He knows bow heavy is the hod of bricks that the workman carries up the ladder on the wall, He hears the pickax of the miner down in the coal shaft, He’ knows how strong the tempest strikes the sailor at masthead, He sees the factory girl among the spindles and knows how her arms ache, ne sees the sewing woman in the fourth story and ‘ Then there are a great many who have a weight of persecution and abuse upon them. Sometimes society gets a grudge against a man. All his motives are misinterpreted, and all bis good deeds are depreciated. With more virtue than some of the honored and applauded he runs only against raillery and sharp criticism. When a man begins to go down, he has not only the force of natural gravitation, but a hundred hands to help him in the precipitation. Men are persecuted for their virtues and their successes. Germanicus said he had fust as many bitter aQtagonlßts as he had adornments. The character sometimes is so lustrous that the weak eyes of envy and jealousy cannot bear to look at it. It was their integrity that put Joseph in the pit, and Daniel in the den, and Shadrach in the fire, and sent John the H v a n ? e^B t t° desolate Patmos, and Calvin to the castle of persecution, and John Huss to the stake, and Korah after Moses, and Saul after David, and Herod after Christ. Be sure if you* have anything to do for church or State and you attempt it with all your soul the lightning will strike you. The world always has had a cross between two thieves for the one who comes to eave it. High and holy enterprise has always been followed by abuse. The most sublime tragedy of self sacrifice has come to burlesque. The graceful gait of virtue is always followed by scoff and grimace and travesty. The sweetest strain of poetry ever written has come to ridiculous parody, and as long as there are virtue and righteousness in the world there will be something for iniquity to grin at. All along the line of the ages and in all lands the cry has been: “Not this man, but Barabbas. Now, Barabbas was a robber.” 11l Treatment. Now, if you have come across ill treatment, let me tell you you are in excellent company —Christ, and Luther, and Galilei, and Columbus, and John Jay, and Josiah Quincv, and thousands ot men and women, the best spirits of earth and heaven. Budge not one inch, though all hell wreak upon you its vengeance, and you be made a target tor devils to shoot at. Do you not think Christ knew all about persecution? Was he not hissed at? Was he not struck on the cheek? Was he not pursued all the cays of his life? Did they not expectorate upon him? Or, to put it in Bible angwge. “They spit upon him.” And canrm be understand what persecution is? “Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee.’’ Then there are others who carry great burdens of physical ailments. When sudden sickness has come, and fierce choleras and malignant fevers take the castles of life by storm, we appeal to God, but in these chronic ailments which wear out the strength day after day, and week after week, and year after year, how little resorting to God for solace! Then people depend upon their tonics, and their plasters, and their cordials rather tnan upon heavenly stimulants. Oh, how few people there are completely well! Some of you, by dint of perseverance and care, have kept living to this time, but how you have had to war against physical ailments! Antediluvians, without medical college and inflrmarv and apothecary

f pi, i shop, multiplied their years by hundreds, but he who has gone through ' the gantlet of disease in our time and has come to seventy years of age is a ' hero worthy of a palm. 1 EOlcleney ol Faith. The world seems to be a great hospital, and you run against rheumatisms and consumptions and scrofulas and neuralgias and scores of old ditieases baptized by new nomenclature. Oh. how heavy a burden sickness is! It takes the color out of the sky, and the sparkle out of the wave, and the sweetness out of the fruit, and the luster out of the night. When the limbs ache, when the respiration is painful, when the mouth is Dot, when the ear roars with unhealthy obstructions, how hard it is to be patient and cheerful and assiduous! “Gast thy burden upon the Lord.” Does your head ache? His wore a thorn. Do your feet hurt? His were crushed of the spikes. Is your side painful? His was struck by the spear. Do you feel like giving way under the burden? His weakness gave way under the cross. While you are in every possible way to try to restore your physical vigor, you are to remember that more soothing than any anodyne, more vitalizing than any stimulant and more strengthening than any tonic is the prescription of the text, “Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He will sustain thee.” We hear a great deal of talk now about faith cure, and some people say, it cannot be done and it is a failure. Ido know that the chief advance Os the church is to be in that direction.' Marvelous things oome to me day by day which make me think that if the age of miracles is past it is because the faith ot miracles is past. A prominent merchant of New York 'said to a member of my family, “My mother wants her case mentioned to Mr. Talmage.” This was the case. He said: “My mother had a dreadful abscess, from which she had suffered untold agonies, and all surgery had been exhausted upon her, and worse and worse she grew until we called in a few Christian friends and proceeded to pray about it. We commended her case to God, and the abscess began Immediately to be cured. She is entirely well now and without knife and without any, surgery. ” So that case has come to me, and there are a score of other cases coming to our ears from all parts of the earth. Oh, ye who are sioki go to Christ! Oh, ye who are worn out with agonies of body. “Cast thy burden upon the Lora, and He shall sustain thee.” The Barden of Bereevement. Another burden some have to carry is the burden of bereavement. Ah, these are the troubles that wear us out! If we lose our property, by additional industry perhaps we may bring back the estranged' fortune; if we lose our good name, perhaps by reformation of morals we may Achieve again reputation for Integrity, but who will bring back ths dear departed? Alas, me, for these empty cradles and these trunks of childish toys that will never be used again! Alas, me, lor the emotv chair and thq silence ip what eyes sunken with grief, what hands trembling with bereavement, what instruments of music shut now because there are no fingers to aon them! Is there no relief for. souls? Aye, let that soul ride into the harbor of my text: The eool that on Jeeue hat learned to rapow I will not, I will not desert to ite foe*. That soul, though all hell shall endeavor to ■hake. 11l never, no never, no never forsake. Now the grave is brighter than the ancient tomb where the lights were perpetually kept burning. The scarred feet Os him who was “the ’•esurreotion and the life” are on the broken grave hillock, while the voices of angels ring down the sky at the coronation of another soul come home to glory. Burden of Sin. Then there are many who carry the burden of sin. Ah, we all carry it until in the appointed way that burden is lifted. We need no Bible to prove that tfee whole race is ruined. What a spectacle it would be if we could’ tear off the mask of human defilement or beat a drum that would bring up, the whole army of the world’s transgressions—the deception, the fraud, and the rapine, and the murder, and' the crime of all centuries! Aye, if 1 could sound the trumpet ot resurrection in the soul of the best men in thi? audience, and all the dead sins of the past should come up, we could not en-. dure the sight. Sin, grim, and dire, has put its clutch upon the immortal, soul, and that clutch will never relax unless it be under the heel of Him who came to destroy the works of the devil. Oh, to have a mountain of sin on the soul! Is there no way to have the burden moved? Oh, yes, “Cast thy burden upon the Lord.” The sinless one came to take the consequences of our sin. And I know he is in earnest. How do 1 know? By the streaming temples and the streaming hands as he says: “Come unto me, all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Why will prodigals live on swines’ husks when the robe, and the ring, and the father’s welcome are ready? Why go wandering over the great Sahara desert of your sin when you are invited to the gardens of God, the trees of life, and the fountains of living water? Why be houseless and homeless forever when you may become the sons and daughters of the Lord God Almighty ? .Tig It is the privilege of every Christian to have a mountain-moving faith, and yet how many grow faint at the sight of a mole htlh Teacher of Political EconomyMention an infant Industry. Lively Young Student—Sitting still and sucking one’s thumb. The man whose religion never gets beyond singing and praying and going to church, is not driving the devil back a single inch. ... If a mother has lots of time, the public never discovers that her little girl's hair is naturally straight. If there were less platitudes in Sulpite there would be fewer snom »pewa - .n-'i-i dto