Decatur Democrat, Volume 38, Number 35, Decatur, Adams County, 16 November 1894 — Page 6

CHAPTER IV—Continued. For the first time in her life she had been solicitious to look her very best. Her limpid eyes had gazed with deep and anxious interest into the old mirror on the wall, for many a year passed ignobly by, as unworthy even a passing glance: for once without a murmur she had submitted the tangled masses of her locks, Samson-like, to any fate that awaited them: and for once - tell it not again, oh, gentle reader!—for once had the little brown, mobt hands been not only passed in and out o' the hot water in the basin, but had actually, laboriously, and thoroughly been cleansed to her finger-tips. One of these was now offered to Bellenden with all the grace of a little hostess. — Lfftlii/rv" 11 fining pp.”she/whisperdid not think you not know whether you had Jseen in time or not.” “I was only’ just in time.” “Were you really? Should you have been too late in another minute?” “Yes. I think so.” “Only fancy!” said Jerry, with large i eyes. “And—and-supposing you had ; been, you would never have come?” “No', indeed.” “Only fancy! What would you have done?” “Stopped where I was.” ‘•Only fancy! And never come up at all?” ' “No, never,” said Bellendcn, as solemnly as she. Then there was a pause, on her part of satisfaction and relief, on his pf wonder wnat was to come next. He was conspicious of being both flattered and amused by Jerry. “Did you tell Cecil about me?” was her next. And he fancied that even there, in that vast saloon, with space on every side, her voice sank. “I told him that wc had met.” “Did you say—how?” “No, Jerry, I did not say—how.” “Nor—nor where?” “No—nor—nor where.” “You are laughing at me. but you do not know Cecil- If he had heard all about—about it, you know—to-day, you know—l mean your startling me.and—” - “And your crying.” “And your mistaking mo—” ’ “And your snubbing me.” “And—and all—”' “And-and all,” assented Bellenden ■ —“our making up the quarrel, and becoming the best of friends, and fishing together, and walking home together, and conspiring together to make this very Cecil do the thing we both wished —it he had known of ail this, now tell me what would Cecil have said to it?” I “I don’t know; but’—and there was a I flash from a pair of unmistakably in- ’ telligent know this, I Would rather not tell him.” Bellenden nodded, “v\e won't tell him.” “But I told granny, of course.” “Oh, of course. But how is it,” continued the speaker, “how is it that Master Cecil commands such an amountj of respect from his little cousin? Let I xae into the secret, Jerry, won’t you?” , “Oh, i don’t know. I don’t know that | there is anything. Granny makes a fuss about Cecil. And he is very nice, ! you know. And h s sisters think such a great, big. immense deal of him. / They think there never was such a Cecil before. He is their only brother, i Perhaps that’s it. Sisters always do think that of brothers, don’t they?” | “I wish I had a sister to think that of me!” “Have you not one —not just a little one?” She was quite disappointed. f “Not an&Cif IcoMd Hot have boys, I’d as soon only have granny.” “You do not care much for your Raymond cousins, then?” “Oh, yes. But they always do give themselves such airs to me: and they talkFfench, and gabble about’their governesses and music mistresses, and all that nonesense. They are well enough. But they can’t ride,” eagerly. “They think they can; and there is such a fuss about their horses and their saddles and their riding habits: but once they are on, they go jogging up and down, not a bit close to the horse; and Ethel is in such a fright if her pony does but shy ever so little, that she is in misery half the time; and they think they have done wonders if they canter for half a mile at a time. I don’t care for such riding as that!” Jerry wound up with superlative scorn. “You like .‘forty minutes on the grass without a check’ —eh?” “I like as much as ever I can j get—that’s what I like. And to go— ' go—go like the wind. lam never tired. " Ethel has to rest when she comes in, to lie down on a backboard, and not go out two days running.” “• ' “And what do they say to your style of performance?” “Oh, I don’t know. Jim—that's the I groom says he wonld like to come and : .be my groom here. And I shall have ! him, too —some day. He says he would like to take me to ride in the Row in | London: and we’d show ’em how to do I it. That was what Jim said,” rather conscious of running on too fast. “I am only repeating what he said, you know.” From which it will appear that Jerry was an artless little woman after all,: with a very native and transparent vanity, easily satisfied. “Capt. Bellenden,” she began again presently. “How do you know I am a captain?” j

he interrupted. “I only told you my name was Bellenden. ” “Well, Isaw it on your portmanteau,” owned the little girl truthfully; but although she stuck to the truth, he saw her bite her lip, and was sorry he had j asked the question. “Oh, that was it! And what were you going to say? You were going to say something.” “I was going to say—oh, I dare say I ought not to say it.” “Oh yes, I’m supe you ought to say it.” “It was only-?— *’ “Only what?” “Only ” “Well, what?” “About sisters,” said Jerry, as if she had said about ghosts, or some such contraband articles. “Sisters eh? Well, but what about sisters?” Ho could not imagine anything very terrible to be said about sisters. “It was just—whether—you would like-to have any?” I “I should like it very much,” said he i Pl “Wouid you? Would you really?” with eagerness. “Really and truly.” “And—and-about how old?” demanded his little companion, with in- , creased anxiety; “about how old?” j “Let me see,” said he, pretending to i reflect. “Let me see Well, I think,' perhaps about fifteen. Yes, I think about fifteen.” “Fifteen? That’s my age! Did you know? No, of course you did not. But fifteen.” banks, and make friends with hMtffWUy strangers, and have enchanted castles all ready to invite them up to, and long, yellow, curls for them to pull when they come,” and he was in the act of pulling the yellow curls before I him, when the door opened, and Cecil i Raymond entered. CHAPTER V. “CAN YOU TELL THE MEANING OF FLOWERS?” ‘He gave me a rose, K And he said. “Can you real The alphabe; dowy-e ed Flora Invented (So daintily tinted, and charmingly scented) To write over valley and mead?” ’ It was just as well that Cecil did not see. He was a grave young man, with somewhat pompous notions on most sub ects, and in particular very exact views with regard to propriety and decorum'; Although he was found of his own sisters, he net er romped with them, nor made funbvith them, nor giggled with them behind backs. His jests, whft he made any, were solemn affairs, to be duly appreciated and recorded —but they llvere no freemasonry. with him. And, in consequence, however kind, and attentive, and considerate the elder brother and cousin might be, he was in their hehrts, perhaps. more respected than beloved, and wild little Jerry drew away, as by instinct, from Bellenden's touch when the door opened. For herself, she was not in the least offended: it needed a good deal to put Jerry on her dignity as she had been put that afternoon: bjtjabe felt intuitively that Cecil would have looked askance upon the little byeplay. Accordingly she now. stepped up to him with the best imitation of her grandmother’s reception manner which she could assume, and, moreover, with her small round face so demurely made up, that he must have been a rogue indeed who would have ventured to associate it with pulling of curls, or the like. Bellenden’s gay words were ringing ■ in her ears nevertheless, and she was fain to have some more of them, and to get away from young Raymond as soon i as she could: although, upto the pres- ; ent time, the annual visit of her cousin had been something to be looked forI ward to, and counted upon, and he himself had been quite the personage iof the hour. Now, and all at once, he was cast from his pedestal. He was no longer the first; and, from being the i first he had not even descended to a secondary place, but was*hurled to the depths, a nobody, an incumbus: all that the little lady by , fess than of making an impression upon a susceptible, childish heart. Jerry thought he looked beautiful sitting there, his handsome profile distinctly cut against the sky outside, and his fine easy figure half in, half out of the open casement, as his chin rested on his arm outside. She did hot know how, but she felt—for she was a perceptive little creature—that there was a difference even between the suit of modest black worn alike by Cecil and by this stranger. Ce. il was particular to a degree about his clothes; but, somehow, the tout ensemble of the other was just missed by him, and Jerry knew it. Poor little innocent thing! her heart gave its first throb of a new and unknown nature as she ’ watched that shaply-outlined, stronglymade, graceful form sitting so quietly therein the twilight All in a moment, as we have said, Cecil became a burden intolerable. "Well, Jerry, and what have you { been about lately?” began he, as unI conscious as a babe, and in the usual comprehensive style wherewith relations and intimates are fond of accosting each other after absence. “Riding much—eh? How’s the Flying Dutchman? Or have you got a I new pony'by this time?” “Macalister is looking out for one. He says it will be best to wait for the Falkirk Trvst,” replied Jerry, hoping ■ that the subject was now disposed of. : “The Falkirk Tryst? Oh, 1 rememj ber. A sort of market- eh?” and Cecil settled down upon it comfortably in I spite ,of her concluding tone. “And so you are to get on.e, then?” “Macalhster says the best bred animals are to be had there.” “The ‘best bred animals!’ That smacks of the stable. Miss Jerry—doesn’t it, eh?” “He said bo,” said Jerry, coloring more deeply than was her wont, and not disposed to pooh-pooh the correc-

tion, but rather to offer an excuse. “Macalister said so. I only repeat what he said, that you might know.” “I see,” replied her cousin kindly, for he had not meant to vex. "And this Falkirk Tryst—lot me see—when does it come off?” “In October," said Jerry shortly. What could the Falkirk Tryst or anything about it matter to Cecil, that Ko should worry her about it just then? She made a restive movement to escape, but in vain. “Well, the Dutchman has carried you gallantly lot( many a day,” pur.-ued her tormentor, heavily conversational, “so you will have to be compassionate towards/haito now. What are you goins to'co iqith him? Is he to be the ponyl or for the moor? Or will you sell him?” Here Mrs. Campbell entered, and made her way to Captain Bellenden’s side. “What is to become of him?" pursued Cecil. (“How tiresome! Now he will begin talking to grandmamma, and I sha'n't have another word from him. What a shame!” muttered the child to herself, little accustomed to be thwarted, even in a trifle. “How Cecil does prose How provoking and stupid he is'.”) “What is to be ome of him?” demanded Ceoil, for the thirl time. But he never knew, for dinner was announced at the moment, and Jerry was storming inwardly with baffled indignation and righteous wrath. (•‘There, now. I knew how it would be. I knew that if grandmamma was standing away there with him when dinner was announced, she would tell him to take her in. though I know she ought to have had Cecil. She ought to have had Cecil, of course. She should have left Capt. Bellenden for me, and then he would have come up to me, and offered me his arm—oh. de lightful.”) pever taken anybody's arm f;reat event happening " W MUI W/WU litherto she had teen glad enough to avoid the formal late dinner when her gran Imother had had guests at Inchmarew. She had either made her appearance with the dessert, or had more commonly chosen to run about till bedtime, and then have some supper brought up to her old nursery, by these means escaping l oth the company and the evening frock. She had, however, on the present occasion carefully intimated her intention of dining late in future, and Mrs. Campbell, in common with the rust of the household, had been too glad to see in the change the dawn of advancing womanhood to make ’ any sort of demur. So much arranged, one soul-absorb ; ing anxiety had occupied the little girl's min 1. and that was in reference to her being handei to the dining-room by Eellendcn. ' 'The more she had thought about it, the more eager and anxious sho had ; become, as was Jerry's way whenever any desire once took possession of her i little excitable breast. To take his arm! To step grandly along before everybody like a real ; grown-up young lady—how enchanting! She did not stop to remember that it had never struck her as enchanting, but rather in a reveree light hitherto. It would, at any late, be simply heavenly now. And of course it was her right tc lead the way, and do honor to the stranger guest in her own castle. Granny had often told her that, she ought to prepare to take her place, as mistress and head of all, ere long -sc perhaps, indeed most certainly, granny would think this a good opportunity for her to begin. It would also instruct Capt. Bellenden in her position and her rights, and make his blunder of the afternoon all the more astonishing and ridiculous to his recollection. He might perform his part of the ceremony with a twinkle in his eye, and Jerry would not have freed hi’m from a sly reminiscence as he and she ma,rched’ through the long gallery together, but, carry it off as he might, he could not fail to feel a little fool sh, and migtit be trusted to be as discreet as herself before spectators. All of this had been carefully thought cut during the putting on of the white frock and roe-colored sash, and there had been just enough uncertainty j about the desired program being car I ried out to make Cecil’s detention doubly irksome and ill-timed—since the fact of her teing beside him and she nad always done before, with her principal guest; but it was Cecß’s doing in Jerry’s eyes; and, as the naughty little girl had (never yet learned to control or conceal her feelings, a very sulky and unresponsive companion the poor fellow had, and one who would have gladly given the arm she held a good hard pinch, instead of delicately touching it with the tips of her fingers, as she jtnew she had ought to do. [TO BE CONTINUED.] Sarcasm. „ Baron Haussman was a fellow-pupil with Hector Berlioz at the Paris Conservatory, then under the direction of Cherubini. Berlioz was an unruly gemu-, and wrote music when he should have been studying counterpoint. Consequently he was not in favor with his teachers, and especially with the precise and “classical” Cherubini. One examination day, as Haussman relates in his “Meinolres,” Cherubini was running over a piece which Berlioz had' submitted, when he came upon a complete rest of two measures. “What is that?” he asked, in hie u ual ill-natured tone. “Mr. Director,” said the pupil, “] wished to produce an effect which J thought could best be produced by silence” “Ah, you thought it would produce a good effect upon the audience if yov suppressed two measures?” “Yes, s r.” “Very good. Suppress the rest; the effect will be better still.” Mrs. Figg—Tommy, have you beet at the sugar bowl again? TommyMaw, the sugar question is entirely too delicate to be approached in such a sudden mannar.-Philadelphia In I <plrer.

TALMAGE’S SERMON. he finds many lessons in THE JOY OF COMING HOME. D( All Word* in tb« Language None Convey* So Many Sweet Suggestion* a* the Word Home — Joy of Chrlitlan* and Angel* Over the Convert. Again In Brooklyn. Rev. Dr. Talmage, having concluded Bia round the world tour, selected as the subject for last Sunday's discourse i through tne press, “Homo Again,’ the text chosen neing Luke xv, 2.1, "Bring hither the fatted calf and kill it.” In all ages of the world it has been . customary to celebrate .oyful events by . festivities—the singing of treaties, the proclamation of peace, the Christmas, ' the marriage. However much on other days of the year our table may j have stinted eupply, on Thanksgiving day there must be something bounteous, and all the comfortable homes of Christendom have at some time cole- ' brated joyful events by banquet mid festivity. The Joyful »ea*t. Something has happened in the old homestead greater than anything that has ever happened before. A favorite son, whom the world supposed would become a vagabond and outlaw forever, has got tired of sightseeing and has returned to his father s house. The world said ho never would come back. Now, having returned to his father's house, the father proclaims celebration. There is a calf in the paddock that has been kept up and fed to utmost capacity, so as to be ready for some occasion of „oy that might come along. Ah, there never will be a grander day on the old homestead than this day. Let thn butchers do their work and the the friends and neighbors in, ana extra supply is sent out to the table of the servants. The father ] resides at the table and says grace and thanks God that his long absent son is home again. Oh, how they missed him! How glad they are to bave him back! One brother indeed stands pouting at the back door and says: "This is a great ado aoout nothing. This bad boy should be chastened instead of greeted. Veal is too good for him!” But the father <ays: “Nothing is too good; nothing is good enough.” There sits the young man, glad at tfie hearty reception, but a shadow .of soirow flitting across his brow at the remembrance of the trouble he had seen. All ready now. Let the covers lift. Music. He was dead and he is alive again! He was lost, and he is found! Bv such bold imagery does the Bible set forth the merry-making when a soul comes home to The Redeemed Soul.

First of all, there is the new convert's joy. It is no tame thing to become a Christian. The most tremend■>ous moment in a man's life is when he surrenders himself to God. The grandest timexm the father’s homestead is when the boy comes back. Among the great throng who in the parlors of my church professed Christ one night was a young man, who next morning rang my doorbell and said: “Sir, I cannot contain myself with the joy I feel. I Came here this morning to express it. I have found more joy in five minutes in serving God than in all the years of mv prodigality, and I came to say so.’/ You have seen perhaps a man running for his physical liberty and Hie officers of the law after him, and you saw him escape, or afterward you heard the judge had pardoned him, and how great was the glee of that rescued man! But it isfa very tame thing that compared with the junning for one’s everlasting life? tne terrors of the law after him, and Christ coming in to pardon and Oleas and rescue and save. You remember John Bunyan, in his great story, tells how the pilgrim pit his fingers in his ears and ran, crying, “Life, life, eternal life!” A poor car driver, after having had to struggle to support his family tor years, suddenly was informed that a large inheritance was his, and there was joy amounting to bewilderment,, but that is a small thing compared with the experience of one when he has put in his hands the title dead to the joys, the, raptures, the v—wtmra - -iv is a merrymaking. It is the' killing of the fatted calf. It is jubilee, i’ou know the Bible never compares it to a funeral, but always compares it to something bright. It is more apt to be compared to a banquet [than anything else. It is compared in the Bible to the water—bright, flashing water—to the morning, roseate, fire worked, mountain transfigured morning. 1 wish I could to-day take all the Bible expressions about pardon and peace and life and comfort and hope and Heaven, and twist them into one garland, and put it on the brow of the humblest child of God in all this land, and cry: “Wear it, wear it now, wear it forever, son of God, daughter of the Lord God Almighty! Oh, the joy of the new convert! Oh, the gladness of the Christian service!” St. Paul'B Testimony.

You have seen sometimes a rfian in a religious assembly get up and give his experience. Well, Paul gave his experience. He rose in the presence of two churches -the church on earth and (the church in Heaven—and he said:, “Now, this is my experience: Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; poor, yet leaking man rich; having nothing, yet possessing all things. ” If all the peoplje who read this sermon knew the joys 'of the Christian religion, they would all pass over into the kingdom of God the next moment. When Daniel Sandoman was dying of cholera, his attendant said, “Have you much pain?’” “Oh,” he replied, “since I found the Lord 1 have never had any pain except sin.” Then they said to him, “Would you like to send a, message to your friends?” “Yes, I would. Tell them that.only last night the love of Jesus came rushing into my soul like the surges of the sea, and I had to cry out: ‘Stop, Lord It is enough! Stop, Lord-enough!’” Oh, the joys of this Christian religion! Oh, it is a great religion to live by, and it is a great religion to die by. There ie only one heart throb between Sou and that religion ..this moment. ust look Into the face of vour pardoning God and surrender yourself for

time and for eternity,’and He !s yours, and Heaven is y’Ours, and all is yours. Some of you, like the young man of the text, nave gone fur astray. I know ; not the history, but jou know it-you , know it. When a young man went forth into life, the legend says, his guardian , angel went forth with him, and getting [ him into a field the guardian angel | swept a circle clear around where the young man stood. It was a circle of virtue and honor, and he must not step beyond that circle. Armed foes camo I down, but were obliged to halt at the circle. They could not pass, but one day a temptress, with diamonded hand, stretched forth and crossed that circle with the hand, and the tempted soul took it, and by that one fell grip was brought beyond the circle and died. t Some of you have stepped beyond that, circle. Would you not like this day, by the grace of God, to step back. This. 1 say to you, is your hour of salvation. There was in the closing hours of (Jueen Anno what is called the clock scone. Flat down on the pillow,in help- » less sickness, she could not move her head or moye her hand. She was waiting for thejjour when the ministers of State Ajould gather in angry contest, and worried and worn out by the coming liour, and in momentary absence of the nurse. In the power—strange power which dolirum sometimes gives one —she arose and stood in front of the clock, and stood there watching the clock, when the nurse returned. The nurse said, “Do you see anything peculiar about that clock?” She made no answer, but soon died. There is a clock scene in every history. If somo of you would rise from the bed of lethargy and come out of your delirium of sin ana look on the clock of your destiny this moment, you would see and hear something you have not seen or heard before, and every tick of the minute, and every stroke of the hour, and every swing of the pendulum would say, “Now, now, now. now!” Oh, come home to vour Father’s house! Come, itvseattereri silver and° g'<Slu''tirnTrngthe people, who sent valuable presents to his courtiers, but methinks when a soul comes back God is so glad that to I express his joy he flings out new I world’s into space, kindles up new suns and rolls among the white robed I anthems of the redeemed a greater halleluiah, while with a voice that reverberates among the mountains of frankincense and is echoed back from the everlasting gates he cries, “This, my son, was dead and is alive again!” At the opening of the exposition in New Orleans I saw a Mexican flutist, and he played the solo, and then afterward the eight or ten bands of music, accompanied by the great organ, came in. But the sound of that one flute as compared with all the orchestra was greater than all the combined joy of the universe when compared with the resounding heart of Almighty God. For ten years' a father weijt three times a day to the depot. His ?on went off In aggravating circumstances, but the father said, “Ho will come bark.” The strain was too much, and his mind parted, ajid three times a day thp father went. In the early morning he watched the train—its arrival, the stepping out of the passengers and then the departure of the train, watching the advance ot the train, watching the departure. At night there again, watching the coming, watching the going, for ten years. He was sure his son woulu come back. God has been watching ant] waiting for some of you, iffy brothers, ten years, twenty years, thirty years, forty .years, perhaps fifty years, waiting, Waiting, watching, watching, and if this morn* ing the prodigal should come home what a scene of gladness and festivity, and how the great Father’s heart would rejoice at your coming home! Yog will come, some ot you, will you not?' You will! You will!

God's Ministers Rejoice. I notice also that when a prodigaF comes ho.ne there is the joy of the ministers of religion. Oh, it is a grand thing to preach this gospel! I know there has been a great deal said about the trials and hardships of the Christian ministry. I wish somebody would yprite a good, rousing book about the joys of the Christian ministry. Since I entered the profession I have seen more of the goodness of God than l will be able to celebrate in ah i'“Fi i .UTT , I feel in body, mind, and soul a transport. When I see a man who is bound hand and foot in evil habit emancipated, I rejoice over it as though it were my own emancipation. When in our communion service such throngs of young and old stood up at the altars, and in the presence of Heaven and earth and hell attested their allegiance to Jesus Christ, I felt a joy something akin to that which the apostle describes when he says: ‘Whether in the body i cannot tell, or out of the body 1' cannot tell. God knoweth.” Have not ministers a right to rejoice when a prodigal comes home? They blew the trumpet, and ought they not to be glad of the gathering of the host? They pointed to the full supply, and ought they not to rejoice when souls

pant as the hart for water brooks? They came forth saving, “All things are now ready. ” Oi ght they not to rejoice when the prodigal sits down at the banqudt? Value of a Calm Mind. Life insurance men will all tell you that ministers of religion, as a class, live longer than any other. It is confirmed by the statistics of all those who calculate upon human longevity. Why is it? There is more draft upon the nervous system than in any other profession, and their toil is most exhausting, I have seen ministers kept on miserable stipends by parsimonious congregations, who wondered at the dullness of the sermons, when the men of God were perplexed almost to death by questions of livelihood an.l had not enough nutritious food to keep any tire in their temperament. No fuel, no tire. I have sometimes seen the inside of the life of many of the American clergymen—never accepting their hospitality, because they cannot afford it —but I have seen them struggle on with salaries of SSOO and SGOO a year, the average loss than that,their struggle well depicted by the western raissioryiry who says in a letter: “Thank you lor your last remittance. Until it game we had not any meat in our house lor one year, and all last winter, although it was a severe winter, our children wore their summer clothoe.”

And these men of God I find in dis furent parts of the land strugglinj against annoyances and exasperation _ innumerable," some of them week week entertaining agents who havo maps to sell and sumnittingthemeelvei to all styles of annoyance, and ye without complaint and cheerful o soul. How do you aceoilnt for the sac thut these life insurance men tell ui that ministers as a class live longei than any others? It is because of th< joy of their work, the joy of the har vest field, the ioy of greeting proaigali homo to their Father's house. * Rejoice in All Innocence. We are in sympathy with all inno cent hilarities. We can enjoy a heartj song, and we can be merry with tht merriest, but those of us who have ' toiled in the service are ready to testi fy that all tfliose joys are tame com pared with the satisfaction of seeing men enter the kingdom of God. The great eras of every minister are tht outpourings of the Holy Ghost, and 1 thank Goa I have seen twenty of them *Thank*God, thank God! I notice also when the prodigalcomei back all earnest Christians rejoice. Il you stood on a promontory, and thert wus a huricane at seA, and it was blow ing»toward the shore, and you saw peo pie get ashore in the lifeboats, and the very last man got on the rocks ir safety, you could notj control your joy, And it is a glad t me when the church of God sees men who are tossed on the ocean of their sins plant their feet in the rock Christ Jesus. No Lonir Prayers Needed. When prodigals come home, just heat those Christians sing! It is not a dull tone you hear at such times. Just hear those Christians pray! It is not a stereotyped supplication we have heard over and over again for twenty years, but a putting of the case in the hands of God with an importunate pleading J Men never pray at great length unless they have nothing to say, and theiri hearts are hard and cold. All tha prayers in the Bible that were anj the temple, less than eight minutes length, according to the ordinary rat of enunciation. And just hear them pray now tin the prodigals are coming home! Jui see them shake hands! No puttin forth of the four tips of the fingers in formal way, but a hearty grasp, whet the muscles of the heartseem to cline, the fingers of one hand around th other liana. And then see those Chri: tian faces, how illumined they And see that old man get up and wit| thp same voice that he sang fifty yeati ago in the old country meeting houi-i say, “Now, Lord, lettest thou tn servant depart in peace, for mine oyd have seen thy salvation.” There a man of Keith who was hurled ini prison in time of persecution, and on day ho got off his shackles, and h came and stood by the prison door, an when the jailer was opening the doe with one stroke ho struck down th man who had incarcerated him. Pas ing along the streets ot London, h wondered where his family was. H

did not dare to ask lest he excite su picionrbut, passing along a little wa from the prison, he saw a Keith tan! ard, a cup that belonged to the famil from generation to generation—ho sa' it in a window. His family, hopin that some day he would get cleai tame and lived as near as they coul to the prison house, and they set ths Keith tankard in the window, tiepin he would see it. And he came alon and saw it and knocked at the doo and went in, and the long absen family were all together again. Oh • if vou would start for the kingdom c God to-day, I think some of you woul find nearly all your families around th holy tankard of the holy communionfathers, mothers, brothers, sister around that sacred tankard whicl commemorates the love of Jesus Christ our Lord. Oh, it will be a great com munion day when ydur whole famil; aits around, rhe sacred tankard. Ont on earth, one in. Heaven. The Heavenly Festival. Once more I remark that when th< prodigal gets back the Inhabitants o Heaven keep festival. lam very cerl tain of it. If you have never seen a telegraphic chart, you have rgL-jd o ' 1 how mmy; “H’nuiil HUiiH'ifiit inion tinet, but more rapidly go the tidings from earth to Heaven, and when a prodigal returns it is announced before the throne of God, and If these souls te-day should enter the kingdom there would be some one in the Heavenly kingdom to say: "That’s mv father,” “That’s my mother,” “That’s my son,” “That’s my daughter,” “That’s my friend,” “That’s the one I used to pray for,” “That’s the one for whom I wept so many tears,” and one soul would say- “fiosanna!” and another soul would say “Halleluiah?” Pleased with the news, the ralntl below In songs their tongues employ. Bevond the skies the tidings go, And heavon is filled with joy. Nor angels can their joy contain, But kindle with new fire, The sinner lost is found, they sing. And strike the sounding lyre.

APthe banquet of Lucullus sat Cicero, the orator. At the Macedonian festival sat Phillip, the conqueror. At the Grecian ban juet sat Socrates, the philosopher, but at our Father’s table 'sit ail the returned prodigals, more than conquerors. The table is so wide its leaves reach across seas and across lands. Its guests are the redeemed ot earth and the glorified of heaven. The ring of God’s forgiveness on every hand, the robe of a Saviour’s righteousness adroop from every shoulder. The wine that glows in the cups is from the bowls of 10,000 sacraments. Let all the redeemed of earth and all the glorified of Heaven rise, ana with gleaming chalice drink to the return of a thousand prodigals. Sing, sing, sing! “Worthy is the lamb that was slain to receive blessing and riches and honor and glory and power, world withoutend!”

An Unfailing Sign. “I tell you said Mrs. Hunkles, as she let the illustrated paper drop in her lap, “our Senator is gettip’ to be bigger an’ bigger in national affairs. ” “What makes you think so?” “These here comic pictures are makin’ him uglier and uglier;”—Washington Star. As boon as it does no good, a man willing 0 taka cars of himiolt.