Decatur Democrat, Volume 39, Number 3, Decatur, Adams County, 5 April 1895 — Page 7

■ S«mJt ' 11 1 12 '4P /4K«/' mLvXLi ' *l vj OH I. A glowing S' morning was pouring its goijArough the open window of a nnpm or study, in the eastern wirpieturesque old house standing j up a hillside in one of the Midi* A background of beech trees! its mellow red brick wails, ans lay a wide, undulating plain, Bred, and bounded by distant dW*A pleasanteJould scarce be found, though Bre was old-fash-ioned, the curtßrpet faded. The bay window terrace, below which were plShnds, and in its recess stood a ead with dainty china and dell —the remains of the breakfast- tse of hot-house flowers, from dory into which a glass door a< The sole occ 1 a gentleman, a sUght, elegant tan of thirty or upward, with y dark hair and small mustach unmistakable air of distinction. A pile of let eside him, while he had pushed s plate to make room for a booihe was studying apparently witierest. Presently he Is eyes—“eyes of most unholy bit looked upon the goodly landscaj lay before him. But his risioij/wtly directed to some far distant and after a moment’s thought! up a pencil and began to scribbUtions on the back of a letter. “Yes,” he mt “if it can be carried out, I sha ree man.” Then opening the lei hich he had been scrawling, he 1 era page or two covered with si writing, and read slowly: “I shall do n< >ut a second trustee until after tivities," ran the paragraph he*. peted. “Besides, every one is a\wis season. Need I say I have perfidence in you ?” He folded it put it under an elastic band, w.d some other letters together, ring the envelope into minute fra threw them into the waste-paper beside him. As he did set indistinct sound from an adjoiJm— the door into which stood oj ght his ear. He paused and list The faint rustling drew nearer, ai leant voice began to sing in a k as if the singer thought in song istener seemed to recognize the the voice. His face brightenet ilf rose from his seat, but resun | if he wished to hear more. T: moment a lady walked through »rway and stopped opposite to him. A young lady nd slight, though round and grace was simply dressed in a maize-iprint and a pretty muslin and la® tied with brown ribbons, a sasM same marked her shapely waist, gauntlets hid her hands, one of teld a large garden hat adorned w‘ouple of pale-pink chrysanthemum! face it had shaded was fair and frd lighted by a couple of large da; eyes—eyes, lashes, eyebrows, all daipared to the lightbrown hair thud in a small fringe over her brow, as gathered neatly back into a larf. She gazed forint in frank amazement at the gen, who rose to greet her—then a qiright smile curved her red-lipped, mouth, and made a little coquettisfrogative dimple in one cheek, as sH: “Why, how—dd you come, squire? We all fancied ere in Scotland.” “Well, you s(i not,” he returned, advancing tqwi with an outstretched hand, in whi placed hers. “And what are you ddshould like to know, invading m/'pn >n this burglarious fashion?” I “You know vill I always come to the library for.fcks I may want, and ‘by your leaveV You’re such an absentee you ouj to be surprised if thieves did bre ugh and steal.” “No, I am niie least surprised," with emphasis. “Well, I waste, when I found the library window ” resumed the young lady, “but I it Mrs. Storer was having a thor cleaning, so walked in, and, imagine was in the room, I ” “Unearthed aster! I shall accept your coming asjd omen.” His hafltisome, though mint worn, face was aglow with pleias he spoke, but her eyes were attrjto the pile of letters and the open bind she did not notice him. “I arrived qJexpectedly last night, to the great dißf my few faithful retainers,” he wh. “Do you know, I have been planjflbat things?—things that will rejoin ma belle Leonore/! “Pray, don’t me my long name,” she exclaimed, a pretty impatient nod. “It alwaxdnds me of that horrid raven tappit the chamber door. What are youit things?” “Dorrington (Isabel are coming to stay with me, fi|e Harveys, Algy Balfour, Mrs. Rutland a lot more, and I am going to * big ball to the nov blllty, gentry, Ben the cads, of the surrounding coß’ “No, dtally ?”fevld<t delight, “you are quite chKrathr thinking of such a thing.” T “I am glad jßstimate of me coincides with thatfclety in general.” “How awfulneited you are, squire, but I am glad ftaorrington is coming, and I shall be Th ted to dance at your ball. Now I t |o. , How late you are! The breast things still on. the table?” the book as she walked to the flow, “What are your studies? Gheu&? Who are you going to poison? ad not think you were scientific.” “Nor am I; Il only a student of human apnlt you want a book? Let us find onJU I Will carry it home «+*• l

ume of Pope. I had a dispute last night with Mr. Winton about a passage in the ‘Rape of the Lock,’ and I want to prove myself right.” “Ah!” a long-drawn “ah.” “Is he here? Wall, find your book, and I will escort you back.’! x He gathered up his papers, thrust them into a bureau, which he locked, and rang for his valet. His visitor returned to the library, a large somber apartment pervaded with a faint delightful odor of Russia leather, and from one of the well-filled shelves selected a book. Then putting on her hat, she passed through the glass door by which she had entered, and stood gazing at tho wide landscape visible from the terrace. “All this seems tame enough after continental scenery,” said the squire, joining her. ' o “It has a great charm for me, There is a sense of life, and freedom, and cheerfulness in English landscape that you scarcely ever find elsewhere.” She descended the steps to the graveled path beneath as she spoke, her companion following, and coming up beside her. “You have preserved a large amount of patriotism in spite of your long sojourn abroad." “I have; yet I love Germany, too. I was very happy there.” “Were you ever unhappy?” he asked, with a slightly contemptuous uplifting of his brows. “Well, no, Ido not think I ever was. I have been very, very sorry for the trouble of my friends, but not on my own account.” So talking, they walked across the pleasure grounds, and through a gate which admitted them to a wide, park-like stretch of pasture, bordered at one side by a strip of woodland into which the path led. Soon the ground began to slope steeply down to a shallow valley, at the bottom of which ran a small rapid river, chafing and murmuring among big, black, wet stdnes, and leaping gayly over an abrupt rocky barrier, some few hundred yards above, where they struck upon the stream. A narrow, ivy*grown bridge spanned the fall, turning toward which they came in sight of a low, irregular house, or rather cottage, on the opposite side. “How thoroughly English this looks," said the squire. “It is Arcadian; but you will be awfully bored after awhile, and the sight of your abode reminds me I have not asked for Mrs. L’Estrnnge.” “She is quite well, and will be very pleased to see you.” “And I shall be only too glad to trouble you with my presence; but not this morning. I have a pile of letters to answer, and an appalling amount of arrangements to make. In short, I ought not to have come so far afield with you.” “You are a voluntary truant,” she returned, pausing on the bridge. “That I acknowledge. Now I have seen you to the edge of your own territory, I will say good-by. If I come and beg a cup of coffee about eight or nine this evening, I suppose I shall not be barred out?" “If the door is locked we will let you In through the window.” He bowed, and raising his soft felt hat with easy grace, stood looking after her as she walked away with a smooth, light step down the path which led toward the cottage. Clifford Marsden, the squire of Evesieigh, was one of the fortunate individuals sometimes described as having been “born with a silver spoon in his mouth.” He had succeeded his father while still a schoolboy; the savings of his minority enabled him to start clear of all incumbrances when he came of age, and the sixteen or seventeen years which had since elapsed had been diligently occupied by him in creating freqh ones. He had lived with boundless extravagance and self-indulgence. He had done everything, seen everything, exhausted everything possible for a gentleman whose character was still fair, whose popularity was undiminished. Bankers and city men knew that his lands were heavily mortgaged; but society, as yet, only admired his magnificence, without doubting his solvency. Evcsleigh hnd seen little of its master of late years, but in his boyish days, and for some time after attaining his majority, Marsden hunted and shot in due sear son at Evesleigh. His near neighbor and relative was Colonel L’Estrange of Brookdale, the cottage just described. The beauty of the site had probably induced the builder of Evesleigh House to place,/hat edifice on the verge of the estate, for the stream above mentioned was its boundary on this side. The farm and residence of Brookdale had been purchased by the squire’s great-grandfather, who settled it on his only daughter. This lady had married a penpiless soldier of good family. Colonel L’Estrange was her grandson. He had married in India, and soon after his return home, his delloate wife died somewhat suddenly, leaving him a baby girl of about five years old. The colonel, a grave, taciturn man, old for his years, and unsociable in habits, lived on in his humble home, finding consolation in sport, and looked up to the young Squire of Evesleigh as a mighty hunter, an unerring shot. When Leonora, or Nora L’Estrange, who was a pet and plaything with her cousin, had reached her tenth year, her father suddenly discovered she was too old to be left entirely with her nurse. Os a boarding school he would not hear, and, in short, the only solution to the difficulty which found favor in his eyes, was immediate marriage With ft pretty, pale, timid girl, the orphan daughter of a former friend, whom he found in a dependent position, as companion to a rich old maidefi lady, in the neighboring cathedral town of Oldbihjge. The new Mrs. L’Estrange was barely twelve years older than her step-daughter, and tho Oldbridge gossips prophesied that the young lady would be too much for her father’s wife. I But, by some mysterious influence of sympathy or mutual comprehension, they drew to each other. Indeed, the old nurse I difl not hesitate to say that her young lady was regularly bewitched, and, for her partt was free to confess that it seemed

horrid unnatural for a child to be so tak. en up with her step-mother. However, Colonel L’Estrange having bejn ordered to some German bath for euro of rheumatism, brought on by standing knee-deep in the river, fishing, removed his family, now increased by another daughter, beyond the reach of Oldb ridge goftlp, and, for reasons beat known to himself, let Brookdale for several years. He was already half forgotten when the local papers announced bis death at Dresden. Ids widow continued to reside abroad till the term for which Brookdale bad lean let expired, and had only returned, ■with her awn and her step-daughter, in the preceding spring. The ladies of Brookdale had finished their midday meal, which was luncheon to their neighbors nnd dinner to themselves, teaching a depressed looking Dachshund, Little Beatrice, Nora's half-sister, was with out-turned toes, to beg, when a n«At pnrlor maid opened the door and said: “If you please, ma’am, Mr. Winton Is in the drawing room.” Mrs. L’Estrange rose from her seat as if to join him, but Nora cried: “We had better ask him in here. He hns been shooting, I suppose, and yon may be sure he is hungry.” “I will go and fetch him!” exclaimed Bea, jumping up and letting the biscuit with which she had been bribing the Dachs fall on the carpet as she rushed away. She was a delicate little creature of seven or eight, with big, dark eyes, and fair hair, an idle, clever, willful monkey, with whom her mother strove in vain to be strict, and who imposed a good deal on her step-sister. “Bea is quite excited,” said Miss L’Es-, trange, laughing, and before the mother could reply the child returned, leading by the hand a tall, large-framed man of perhaps six and thirty or more, tanned by exposure to the sun and wind a deeper red brown than was becoming, with thick, short sandy hair, and light, gray, stern eyes. He wore a shooting jacket and knickerbockers. “I feel I am an intruder,” he said, shaking hands with Mrs. L’Estrange and then with Nora. “I did not intend to be so early. I heard you were in town this morning, and calculated on clearing your luncheon hour, but the birds are very wild, or I was less keen than usual, and got over the ground quicker." “We will forgive you,” returned Mrs. L’Estrange, with a friendly smile, “and I dare say, if you have not already lunched, you begin to feel the need of something to eat.” “Thanks, no, I had some sandwiches aa hour ago." “Still, a biscuit and a glass of sherry," suggested Nora, insinuatingly. “Are not to bo despised,” replied Winton, drawing a chair to the table, while one fair hostess poured out his wine and another brought the biscuit tin. “May I have some of the pretty brown feathers from those birds you left in the hall, for my doll’s hat.?” asked Bea. “I dare say your mamma will give them to you; I brought the birds for her. Were you in Oldbridge, too, Miss L’Estrange?” he continued, looking up quickly, as she offered him the biscuits. “No, I have spent an idle, unprofitable morning, dreaming over the letters I was pretending to write.” “Dreaming! I thought you were far too practical to dream. What were you dreaming about?” “The coming ball; the glories of Mrs. Ruthven and her jewels.” “Who is going to give a ball?” in a surprised tone. “Clifford Marsden.” “Why, he is, God knows where!” “He is at Evesleigh. Come into the drawing room, an’d.J will tell yo» all about it.” Here Miss Bea was carried off by her German governess, not without loud remonstrances and reproaches addressed to Winton, who was always on the side of authority. (To be continued.) Soldiers Poor Cooks. In those Crimean days our soldiers had no knowledge of cooking, being in this respect far behind the French and Turks. But even had our men beeu perfect cooks, they would have had but llttfe opportunity of exercising their skill. Camp kettles were Issued at Kalamfta Bay when the troops landed, in the proportion of one to five men. Now, the kettle would cook fresh but not salt meat for five men, as more water is required to extract the, brine from salt meat than the kettle could hold, and, moreover, this number, five, represented nothing then, nor does it now, in our regimental systems. Most of the kettles had been dropped at the Alma, or In the subsequent march, and the soldiers were reduced for all cooking purposes to the mess tin which each man carried on his back. These were Inadequate. The lid, perhaps. was most prized, for when the body is wet and cold there is a craving for a hot drink, and it took less time and fuol to roast the green coffee berries in the lid than to boil the salt meat in the body of the tin. It had not occurred to any one in the department then responsible for our commissariat that to make a mug of coffee out of green berries, roasting and grinding apparatus was essential, and till January, when some roasted coffee was landed, our men might be daily seen pounding, with stones or round shot the berries in a fragment of exploded shell.—Sir Evelyn Wood, In the Fortnightly Review. . Brains Versus Capital. There still lives in Philadelphia, at the age of 70 years, Frank O. Deschamps, the Inventor of artificial legs. It was over fifty years ago when Mr. Deschamps, then an was asked by his master to see what he could do for a foppish Frenchman who had lost a leg. At that time only wooden pegs were known, and the Frenchman was disatisfled with this by no means elegant substitutes In two days young Deschamps had finished a complete model of an artlflclalleg, with every movement of the natural limb duplicated. His master had It patented, and it yields him a fortune. Deschamps was paid 50 dents for his Invention. Better one bite at forty of Truth’s bitter rind than the hot wine that gushed from the vintage at twenty.— Lowell. f _ ’

TALMAGE’S SERMON. THEPREACHER DRAWS ALESSON FROM THE ARK. Gift of Salvation Through‘Christ—A Bure Defense in Time of Trouble— Loadstone of a God-Fearing Life— The Door Swinge Both Ways, On the Gospel Ship. Although his oratory is at all. times magnetic and eloquent, there is one theme with which, whenever he makes it the groundwork of his sermon. Dr. Talmage never fails to communicate to bis auditors the enthusiasm he himself feels. That theme is the gospel invitation, and when, Sunday afternoon, he took for his subject “The Gospel Ship" the great audience that crowded the New York Academy was in full sympathy. The text selected was Genesis vi., 18, "Thou sbalt come into the ark, thou and thy sons and thy wife and thy sons’ wives with thee.” In this day of the steamships Lucania nnd Majestic nnd the Paris I will show you a ship that in some respects eclipsed them all and which sailed out, an ocean underneath and another ocean falling upon it. Infidel scientists ask us to believe that in the formation of the earth there have been a half dozen deluges, and yet they are not willing to believe the Bible story of one deluge. In what way the catastrophe caiqe we know not—whether by the stroke of a comet, or by flashes of lightning, changing the air into water, or by a stroke of the hand of God, like the stroke of the ax between the horns of the ox, the earth staggered. To meet the catastrophe God ordered a great ship built. It was to be without prow, for it was to sail to no shore. It was to be without helm, for no human hand should guide it. It was a vast structure, probably as large as two or three modern steamers. It was the Great Eastern of olden time. The ship is done. The door is open. The lizards crawl in. The cattle walk in. The grasshoppers hop in. The birds fly in. The invitation goes forth to Noah, “Come thou and all thy house jnto the ark." Just one human family embark on the strange voyage, and I hear the door slnm shut. A great storm sweeps along the hills and bends the cedars until all the branches snap in the gale. There is a moan in the wind like unto the moan of a dying world. The blackness of the heavens is shattered by the flare of the lightnings that look down into the waters and throw a ghastliness on the face of the mountains. How strange it looks! How suffocating the air seems! The big drops of rain begin to plash upon the upturned faces of those who are watching the tempest. Crash go the rocks in convulsion! Boom go the bursting heavens! The inhabitants of the earth, instead of flying to housetop and mountain top, as men have fancied, sit down in dumb, white horror to die, for when God grinds mountains to pieces and lets the ocean slip its cable there is no place for men to fly to. See the ark pitch and tumble in the surf, while from its windows the passengers look out upon the shipwreck of a race and the carcasses of a dead world. Woe to the mountains! Woe to the sea. A Storm Coming, lam no alarmist. When, on the 20th of September, after the wind has for three days been blowing from the northeast, you prophesy that the equinoctial storm is coming, you simply state a fact not to be disputed. Neither am I an alarmist when I say that a storm is coming compared with which Noah’s deluge was but an April shower, and that it is wisest and safest for you and me to get safely housed for eternity. The invitation that went forth to Noah sounds in our ears, “Come thou and all thy house into the ark.” Well, how did Noah and his family come into the ark? Did they climb in at the window, or come down the roof? No. They went through the door. And just so, if we get into the ark of God’s merey, it will be through Christ, the ddor. The entrance to the ark of old must have been a very large entrance. We know that it was from the fact that there were monster animals in the earlier ages, and in order to get them into the ark two and two, according to the Bible statement, the door must have been very wide and very high. So the door into the merey of God is a large door. We go in. not two nnd two, but by hundreds, and by thousands and by millions. Yea, all the nations of the earth may go in 1u,000,000 abreast. Christ the Door. The door of the ancient ark was in the side. So now it is through th,' side of Christ —the pierced side, the wide open side, the heart side —that we enter. Aha, the Roman soldier, thrusting Jiis spear into the Savior’s side, expectw only to let the blood out, but he opened the way to let all the world in. Oh, what a broad Gospel to preach! If a-man is about to give an entertainment, he issues 200 or 300 invitations carefully put up and directed to the particular persons whom he wishes to entertain. But God, our Father, maks a banquet, and goes but to the front door of heaven, and stretches out his hands over land and sea, an l with a voice that penetrates the Hindoo jungle, and the Greenland ice castle, and Brazilian grove, and English factory, and American home cries out, “Come, for all things arc- now ready!” It is a wide door. The old cross has been taken apart, and its two pieces are stood up for the doorposts so far apart that all the world, cnnjjMae in. Kings scatter treasures on days oA great rejoicing. So Christ, ovr King, comes and .scatters the jewels of heaven. Rowland Hill said that he hoped to get into heaven through the crevices of the floor. But he was not obliged thus to go in. After having prqpched the g>spel in Surrey chapel, going up toward heaven, the gatekeeper cried, “Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates, and let this man come in!” The dying thief went in. Richard Baxter and Robert Newton went in. Europe, Asia, Africa, North and South America may yet go through this wide door without crowding. Ho, every one — all conditions, all ranks, all people! Luther said that this truth was worth carrying on one’s knees from Rome to Jerusalem, but I think it worth carrying all around the globe and all around the hear ens—that “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son; that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” Whosoever will, let him come through the large door. Archimedes wanted a fulcrum on which to placaJbis lever, and then he said that he could move the world. Calvary is the fulcrum, and the cross of Christ is the lever, and by that power all nation* shall yet be lifted.

Bwings Both Ways. Further, it is a door that swings both ways. I do not, know whether the door of the ancient ark was lifted or rolled on hinges, but this door of Christ opens both ways. It swings out toward all our woes. It swings in toward the raptures of heaven It swings in to let us in. It swings out to let our ministering ones corps out. All are one in Christ—Christians on earth and saints in heaven.,-. ,■ “One army of the living God, At his command we bow. Part of the host have crossed the flood, And part are crossing now.” Swing in, O blessed door, until all the earth shall go in and live; Swing out until all the heavens come forth to celebrate she victory. But, further, it is a door with fastenings. The Bible says of Noah, “The Lord shut him in.” A vessel without bulwarks or doors would not be a safe vessel to go in. When Noah and his family heard the fastening of the door of the ark, they were very glad. Unless those doofe were fastened, the first heavy surge of tfie sea would have whelmed them, and they might as well have perished outside the ark as inside the ark. “The Lord shut him in.” Oh, the perfect safety of the ark! The surf of the sea and the lightnings of the sky may be twisted into a garland of snow and fire —deep to deep, storm to storm, darkness to darkness—but once in the ark all is well. “God shut him in.” There comes upon the good man a deluge of financial trouble. He had his thousands to lend. Now he cannot borrow a dollar. He once owned a store in New York and had branch houses in Boston, Philadelphia and New Orleans. He owned four horses and employed a man to keep the dust off his coach phaeton, carriage and curricle. Now he has hard work to get shoes in which to "walk. The great deep of commercial disaster was broken up, and fore and aft and across the hurricane deck the waves struck him. “The Lord Shut Him In.” But he was safely sheltered from the storm. “The Lord shut him in.” A flood of domestic troubles fell on him. Sickness and bereavement came. The rain pelted. The winds blew. The heavens are aflame. All the gardens of earthly delight are washed away. The mountains of joy are buried 15 cubits deep. But standing by the empty crib, and in the desolated nursery, and in the doleful hall, once a-ring with merry voices, now silent forever, he cried: “The Lord gave; the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” “The Lord shut him in.” All the sins of a lifetime clamored for his overthrow. The broken vows, the dishonored Sabbaths, the outrageous’ profanities, the misdemeanors of twenty years, reached up their hands to the door of the ark to pull him out. The boundless ocean of his sin surrounded his soul, howling like a simoon, raving like an euroclydon. But, looking out of the window, he saw his sins sink like lead into the depths of the sea. The dove of heaven brought an olive branch to the ark. The wrath of the billow only pushed him toward heaven. “The Lord shut him in.” The same door fastenings that kept Noah in keep the troubles out. lam glad to know that when a man reaches heaven all earthly troubles are done with him. Here he may have had it hard to get bread for his family. There he will never hunger any more. Here he may have wept bitterly. There “the lamb that is Tu the midst of the throne will lead him to living fountains of water, and God will wipe away all tears from his eyes.” Here he mfty have hard work to get a house, blit in my Father’s house are many mansions, and rent day never comes. Here there are deathbeds and coffins and graves. There no sickness, no weary watching, no choking cough, no consuming fever, no chattering chill, no tolling bell, no grave. The sorrows of life shall come and knock at the door, but no admittance. The perplexities of life shall come and knock on the door, but 410 admittance. Safe forever! All the agony of earth in one wave dashing against the bulwarks of the ship of celestial light shall not break them down. Howl’on, ye winds, and rage, ye seas!. The Lord — “the Lord shut him in.” Fastenings Secure. Oh, what a grand old door! So wide, so easily swung both ways and with such sure fastenings. No burglar’s key can pick that lock. No swarthy arm of hell c,an shove back that bolt. 1 rejoice that I do not ask yon to come aboard a crazy craft, with leaking hulk and broken helm and unfastened door, but an ark 50 cubits wide, and 300 cubits long, and a so large that the round earth without grazing the pqjtmight be bowled in. Now-JfithiNark of Christ is so grand a place’Tn whiehtto live and die and triumph, come iiyto Know well that the door tl(at/<hut\Noah in shut others out, and t|iotigh, when the pitiless storm came peltWg on their heads; they beat upon the door, saying-. “Let'me in! Let me in!" the door did not open. For 120 years they were invited. They expected to come in. but the antediluvians said: “We must cultivate these fields. We must be worth more flocks of sheen and herds of cattle. We will wait until wb get a little older. We will enjoy our old farm a little longer." ’ But meanwhile the storm was brewing. The fountains of heaven, were filling up. Tho pry was being placed the foundations of the great deep, The last yeaf' had come, the last month, the last week, the last day,, tho last hour, the last moment. In an awful dash an ocean dropped from the sky, and another rolled up from beneath, and God rolled the earth and sky into one wave of universal destruction. Outside the Ark. So men now put off" going into the ark. They say they will wait twenty years first. They will have a little longer time with their worldly associates. They will unit until they get older. They say: “You cannot expect a man of thy attainments and of my position to surrender myself just now. But before the storm comes 1 will go in. Y’es, I will. ■ I know what I am about. Trust me.” After awhile, one night about 12 o’clock? going home, he passes a scaffolding just as a gust of wind strikes it, and a plank falls. Dead, and outside the ark! Or,’riding in the park, a reckless velficle crashes into him, and his horse becomes unmanageable. and he shouts: “ Whoa! whoa!” and takes another twist in the reins, and plants his feet against the dashboard, and pulls back. But no use. It is not so much down the avenue that he flies as on the way to eternity. » Out of the wreck of the crash his bojiy is drawn, but Itjs Soul is not picked up. It fled behind a swifter courser into the great future. Dead, and outside the ark! Or some night he wakes up wjth a distress that momentarily increases until he shrieks out with pain. The douctors conje in, and they give him twenty drops, but no relief: forty drops, fifty drops, sUty drops, but do relief. No time for ■ ‘ .. ,

prayer. No time to read one of the promises. No time to get a single sin pardoned. The whole house is aroused in alarm. The children scream. The wife faints. The pulses fail. The heart stops. The soul flies. Dead, and outside the ark! I have no doubt that derision kept many people out of the ark. The world laughed to see a man go in and said: “Here is a man starting for the ark. Why, there will be no deluge. If there is one, that miserable ship will not weather it. Aha, go-, ing into the ark! Well, that is too good to keep. Here, fellows, have you heard: the news? This man is going into thq ark?” Under this artillery of scon) th® man’s good resolution perished. Fear of Derision. And so there are hundreds k#pt out by the fear of derision. The young man asks himself: “What would they say at the store to-morrow morning if I should become a Christian? When I go down to the clubhouse, they will shout: ‘Here comes that new Christian. Suppose you will not have anything to do with us now. Suppose you are praying now. Get down on your knees, and let us hear you pray. Come, now, give us a touch. Will not do it, eh? Pretty Christian you are.’” Is it not the fear of being laughed at that keeps you out of the kingdom of God? Which of these scorners will help yon at the last? When you lie down on a dying pillow of eternity will they bail you out? My friends and neighbors, come in right away. Come in through Christ, the wide door —the door thj,t swings out toward you. Come in and be saved. Come and be happy. Spirit and the Bride say, ‘Come.’ ” Room in the ark. Room in the ark. But do not come alone. The text invites you to bring your family. It says, “Thou and thy sons and thy wife.” You cannot drive them in. If Noah had tried to drive the pigeons and the doves into the ark, he would only have scattered them. Some parents are not wise about these things. They make iron rules about Sabbaths, and they force the catechism down the throat as they would hold the child's nose and force down a dose of rhubarb and calomel. Yon cannot drive your children into the ark. Y’ou can draw your children to Christ, but you cannot coerce them. The cross was lifted not to drive,, but to draw. “If Ibe lifted up, I will draw all men unto me." Be sure that you bring your husband and wife with you. How would Noah have felt if when he heard the rain pattering on the roof of the ark he knew that his wife was outside in the storm No; she went with him. And yet some of you are on the ship “outward bound” for heaven, but ypur companion is unsheltered. You remember the day when the marriage ring was set. Nothing has yet been able to breaß it. Sickness came, and the finger shrank, but the ring staid oil. The twain stood alone above a child's grave, and the dark mouth of the tomb swallowed up a thousand hopes, but the ring dropped not into the open grave. Days of poverty came, and the hand did many a hard day’s work, but the rubbing of the work against the ring only made it shine brighter. Shall that ring ever be lost? Will the iron clang of the sepulchre gate cras,h it forever? I pray God that you who have been married on earth may be together in heaven. Oh, by the quiet bliss of your earthly home, by the babe's cradle; by all the vows of that day when you started life together, I beg you to see to it that you both get into the ark. Bring Your Loved Ones. Come in and bring your wife or youi husband with you—not by fretting about religion of dindonging them about religion, but by a consistent life and by a compelling prayer that shall bring the throne of God down into your room. Go home, and take up the Bible, and read it together, and then kneel down and commend to him who has watched you all these years, and before you rise there will be a fluttering of wings over your head, angel crying to angel, “Behold. they pray!” .. But this does not include all your family. tiring the children, too. God bless dear children! What would oiir homes ’be without them? -YVe may have done 'much for them'. They have done more fo.r us. What a salve for a wounded heart there is in the soft palm of a child’s hand! Did harp or flute ever have such music as there is in a child’s “good night?” From our coarse, rough life the angels of God are often driven back. But who comes into the nursery without feeling that angels are hovering around? They wfio die in infancy go straight into glory, but yon are expecting your children to grow up in this world. Is it not a question, then, that rings through all the corridors and windings and heights and depths of your soul, what is to become of your sons, and daughters for time and for eternity? “Oh,” you say, “I mean to see that they have good manners!” Very well “I mean to dress them well, if I have myself to go shabby.” Very good. “I shall give them an education. I shall leave them a fortune.” Very well. But isothat all? Don’t you mean to take them into the ark? Don’t you know that the storm is coming and that out of Christ there is no safety, no pardon, no hope, no heaven? How to get them in? Go in yourself. If Noah had staid out, do you not suppose that his sons—Shein. Hani and Japheth —would have staid out? Your sons and daughters will be apt tq do just as you do. Reject Christ yourself, and the probability is that your children will reject him. Go homo and erect a family altar. You may break down in your prayer. But nCVer mind, God will take what you mean, whether you expr- ss it intelligibly or not. Bring all your house into the ark. Come, father! Come, mother! Come, son! Come, daiightef! Come, brother! Come, sister! Only one step, and we are in. Christ, the d(K>r, swings out to admit us, and it is not the hoarseness of a stormy blast that von hear, but the voice of a loving and patient God that addressed you, saving. “Come, thou and,all thy iioiise. into the ark." And there may the Lord shut us iu! Table of Principal Alloys. A combination of copper and zinc a taliW>B bell metal: tin and copper make . bronze metal: tin. copper and bismuth make brltannla metal; tin • Ami copper make cannon metal; copper and zinc make Dutch gold: copper, nickel and zinc, y itft sometimes a little Irop and tin, mahe German silver; tfold and copper make standard gold; gold, copper and silver make old-standard gold; tin and copper <make gun metal; coppqr and «ziuc make mosaic gold; lead and a little arsenic make sheet metal; silver and copper make standard silver; tin and lead make solder; lead and aqtlmony-make type metal; copper and arsenic make white cop- .. ’ e ..