Decatur Democrat, Volume 39, Number 18, Decatur, Adams County, 19 July 1895 — Page 7

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CHAPTER X.—(Continued.) ."I hare been thinking, my dear Mrs. fßuthven,” said Marsden, as he pulled in ’ the ponies to make them walk quietly up <a long hill, “I have been thinking that • porrington would not make a bad trustee for you. He is really an excellent fellow, and not at all a bad man of business, though a bovine air hangs round him still.'* “He might not like the trouble, and I |un really in no hurry." — y • “But it is quite necessary that you bhould have another trustee. I begin to feel the responsibility rather too much for me. I should prefer a colleague, because—Oh, for several reasons.” “Does he wish this matter to be settled before he offers himself to me?” thought Mrs. Ruthven, looking into the dark-bluo eyes admiringly fixed npon her; and smiling responsively, she said: “If you think well, pray ask Lord Dorrington.” : “It would come better from yourself. You know my brother-in-law is one of your many devoted admirers. He will be flattered by the request." “As I shall be if he accepts." “Which of course he will. I often wished I were a better man of business, for your sake. I am, or have been, too great a lover of pleasure. I suppose I must turn to gravity and ambition some day.” “Were I a man, I should certainly be ambitious. I should not like to be second to any one.” I “What an awful vista of toil and trouI ble you conjure up; still, you make me I ashamed of myself. If I had some one ■ near to inspire me, I might do something. ■ I begin to think I have drifted about long ■enough." ■ “Is it coming?” thought Mrs. Ruthven ■for the twentieth time, as she twisted the ■tassel of her parasol round its handle in Kainful anxiety. ■ “Will you drive with me to-morrow?” Kesumed Marsden earnestly. “I want you trust yourself to me for a longer expeBffition than usual; to a charming village Kbout ten or twelve miles off. Let us Start early and have luncheon at a primilittle hostelry called ‘the Three Pig{Bans.’ We’ll let the ponies rest, and be |Hkck in time for afternoon tea.” this arrangement Mrs. Ruthven and, after a pause, said suddenKae if speaking out of her thoughts: BB'Do you remember that evening, six Ban ago, when we were all in the veranRK of my father’s bungalow, and my hus||Hnd brought you in, and said, ‘This will a cousin of yours to-morrow?’ ” HV'Yes, I do—well. What a lucky beggar ■thought poor Charlie!" |B“And do you remember my father showMig my ruby and diamond necklace and Barrings, and saying it would puzzle any ■eweler in London or Paris to show the ■ke?” B“I do, indeed. They were superb.” B “He little thought,” she said, with a Hysterical laugh, “that I should bring Biem to Christian, law-abiding, well-or-England, only to be robbed of them. Bh! Mr. Marsden, there is little to choose the idolatrous East and the truthIH'lling, spiritually minded West.” ■ ‘‘Too true! So I have always thought, ■ut, dear Mrs. Ruthven, if you know how |Bdnful the very mention of thoso unforjewels is to me, I am sure you avoid the subject. If you had not ■it them on with the gracious intention ■ doing honor to my ball, they would be Mw safely reposing in your jewel case.” ■“Perhaps so, though I am inclined to' ■>ng that so ingenious and daring a thief ■>uld have got at them anywhere.’-’ ■ ‘He might. Now try and adopt my phi■>ophy, ‘let the dead past bury its dead,’ ■Hd enjoy the living present. I think we ■ill have a fine day to-morrow, and, for |B- part, I look forward to our little expe■Bion with the keenest pleasure.” RBdrs. Ruthven smiled graciously, and ||By talked and laughed gayly for the rei|iHinder of their drive. morrow rose bright and clear, but H 9 projected excursion never came off. from his lawyer arrived in forenoon for Marsden, and when he to have been entertaining Mrs. at a tete-a-tete luncheon he was away to London. ■Blarsden’s summons was peremptory. afeJ could only send a message of fare■l to Mrs. Ruthven, who usually breakin her own room, and assure his . W r that he should return the first mo-’-".-■it he could. With this glimmer of ||||Be she was forced to be content. |||Bf finds anything more interesting IliiHimusing in or near London we shall |flßno more of him for many a day. I ||||Kv what Clifford is,” said Lady Dor■ton to her husband. ‘‘l begin to sus- ■ be does not intend to marry Mrs. ■iven, or matters would not drag as ■hen he is a bit of a blackguard, jHjßvybo is your brother; every one beis paying his addresses to her; I Sgsßot see how they could think otherand he is bound’to give her her op- ; ®#9>nsense, Lord Dorrington; my broth■Mnn worse than other men; tried by there are few who, at one j||Bor another, do, not deserve the very appellation you are pleased to conStill, I wish he had more Band taste; Mrs. Ruthven is a very ißKig woman in my opinion.” SIIK in mine,'too; why, it is extraordito find money and fascination I Tho man who gets Mrs. 1 will be a lucky beggar—a deuced ' ■ Beggar.” I. Dorrington! I believe you are I ’of giving me a cup of ‘cold polI trying your own luck in that I cried his wife, laughing. “How--1; Bill I care for is to see her safely I to my brother.” 1 it would be a capital thing for ■ am not so sure how it would an- ■ >cr. Marsden would never be W ■ut to any woman.” ■l judge him severely; at any rate, is a woman of the world, B to men who are not B she has too much sense to be £ JKutlx jealoua.” . ... A

“Don’t be too sure; I fancy she is about as far gone after your brother as a woman can be. I saw that long ago, and I am a tolerably shrewd observer.” - ’‘You dear old thing! you are not blinder than your neighbors, certainly; I shall write every day to Clifford till I make him return.” “Well, you can try.” The evening of the day on which Lord ayd Lady Dorrington held this conversation Mrs. L’Estrange and Nora had settled themselves, one to her needlework, the other to a new book. The day had been wet and stormy, in spite of which they had been obliged to go through a long afternoon of shopping, chiefly commissions for friends at Oldbridge, and both were glad to rest. Mrs. L’Estrange had recovered from Se fit of depression which had exercised ora’s imagination a week before, and had, Indeed, been more quietly cheerful than was her wont, since she had had a letter with a foreign stamp, which Nora shrewdly suspected was from Winton. She was a little dreamy that evening, and found it difficult to fix her mind on what she was reading. “I suppose we shall have rain and fogs, now that the fine weather has broken up. I really think* I should prefer country to town, in rain and storm," she said, laying down her book. “I feel quite tired out." “Yes," returned Mrs. L’Estrange, when she had counted some stitches, “but then there are fewer resources than in town. Here one can turn into a picture gallery, and find summer or autumnal sunshine for a shilling; besides ” “Mr. Marsden,” announced the ex-but-ler, in his best style. “I thought you were at Chedworth!” “Oh! I am so glad to see you!" were the exclamations which greeted him. “Obliged to come up to town on business,” was his vague explanation.. “Arrived yesterday. Have been torn to pieces by lawyers all day, and am come to lay my mangled remains at your feet.” He drew a chair to the cozy fireside as he spoke. “And do you go back to-morrow?” asked Nora, who was roused and pleased by his sudden appearance. “To-morrow? Nor to-morrow, nor tomorrow!” cried Marsden. “It is dull at Chedworth, desperately dull. The hunting no great things, the shooting no better; but the house is crammed with bucolic chums of that excellent fellow Dorrington, and, in short, here I am, and here I shall stay.” “Lady Dorrington will be very vexed. I had a letter from her yesterday, saying how much better everything went since you had joined them.” “I am glad she knew my value.” , “And how Is Mrs. Ruthven?” returned Nora. “Oh! quite well and blooming. She is fast recovering her misfortunes.” “Captain Shirley was here on Sunday,” remarked Mrs. L’Estrange, “and was saying he had never seen her look so ill and depressed since he had known her.” “Shirley? How did that fellow come to call upon you?” asked Marsden. “I don’t know why it is, but I can’t stand Shirley,” he added thoughtfully. “And Winton, where is he?” ’ “In Florence?” -. . “Florence? He is not the sort of man I should Imagine would like Florence.” “I don’t think he does,” said Nora. “He went there to see some Indian friends so far on their way.” “I did not think he would have been so ready to leave London just now,” and ho gave an expressive glance to Mrs. L’Es- ‘ trange which she did not see, but Nora did. r Then he asked for Bea, and talked of the child in terms that delighted -the mother. •, * Nora thought Marsden had never seemed so nice and sympathetic. He was quieter and graver than usual, and she felt the relief his presence brought to the monotony of her thoughts most welcome. At length, with apologies for having kept them up so late, he bid them good night, and drove straight back to his hotel without even an attempt to find if there was any one at his club to play a game of cards or billiards with him. His spirit’s lord sat lightly on his throne. Marsden was little given to think, or trouble himself about the future, but with all his airy carelessness the last year had been one of irritating anxiety, now lie had contrived to clear himself. He could defy Mrs. Ruthven, her lynx-eyed solicitors, and her watchful led-captain Shirley. He owed her nothing. A little love making, more or less, did not count with so experienced a, coquette. He was perfectly free to shake her off if he chose, and he did choose. Good heavens! Compare her with the fresh, natural, girlish elegance of Nora L’Estrange. The arch, delicate animation of the one, the studied graces, the veiled yet perceptible passion of the other. And Nora had been undoubtedly glad to see him. How sweet the candid welcome of her eyes, how unconscious her frank, gracious pleasure. Yes, it would be his delightful lot to waken her from the slumber of childhood to the fullness of womanhood—the power of loving! Yet there was a certain strength .and individuality about his young kinswoman that warned him she wns no mere waxen doll, to be bent as he chose according to his will. She had ideas of her own —tolerably clear and defined. Thia Would but’ give piquancy* and variety to their intercourse. Heavens! how lovely those eyes of hers would be with the light of love beaming from their hazel depths. Then she would be cbntent to wait, with him, till the Evesleigh estates were free from all incumbrances before they launched into the costly, heavy style of existence suited to his position. And before the fever of anticipation let him sleep, Marsden made more good resolutions than he had ever formed in his life before. Only give him this fair, fresh, delicate darling, and he would be a new man, with hopes and aspirations higher and better than had ever before dawned upon his mind. ’ - •'♦* * * * * “I have done my best to carry out your directions,” wrote Shirley to his suzerain, Mrs. Ruthven, “and have even arrived at the distinction of being admitted to the drawing room of Miss L’Estrange at afternoon tea time. This enables mo to alJBHLXBI JUt Hvea to - —

B what yon term the 'shabby lodgings* of his relatives. I have not met him there certainly; but I can trace that he has always been there last night, and is ex?>ected this evening. Evesleigh, I find, 00, is to be let for a term of years-*-five, I think. Old Shepherd, of Calcutta —you remember the firm, desperately rich people—is looking for a country place, and it has been offered to his solicitor. It seems to me that this indicates intentions widely different from anything you anticipated, and points more to a marriage for love than one for, let us say, money and love. I have met Marsden more than once lounging In Pall Mall and Regent street as if he had nothing on earth to do, which certainly does not look like tho urgent business he asserted called him to town. However, you, no doubt, have information which may throw a totally different light on these ambiguous proceedings. I can only give you the result of my observations. Take it at what it is worth.” This letter was the last pebble on the cairn of hopes and fears, desires, doubts and silent, stinging anger, which had been gradually accumulating over the bright anticipations of a few months ago, a continued state of agitation and disappointment had strained endurance beyond the utmost, and the passionate, self-willed woman gave way under it A cold, caught during a long drive with Lord Dorrington In the east wind, obliged Mrs. Ruthven to keep her room. After a day or two of anxious attendance on the part of the local doctor, high fever set in, and it was evident that Mrs. Ruthven was dangerously ill. A great physician and a couple of trained nurses were summoned from London, all the pomp and circumstance of serious sickness were established in Lady Dorrington’s pleasant house, and for the time sporting meti and dancing women knew it no more. CHAPTER XI. It was some little time before the evil tidings reached Mrs. L’Estrange ana Nora, as their correspondence with Lady Dorrington Was not too frequent, and she was too much taken up,’ and too angry with him, to continue her diurnal letters to her brother. Meanwhile Nora and her step-mother went on the even tenor of their way. Mrs. L’Estrange had gone to Norwood to luncheon with an old lady, a distant cousin of her mother, who had only remembered her existence after she had made what was considered a good mar-, riage, and had more than once invited her. Mrs. L’Estrange always found it hard to say no, and, somewhat to Nora’s indignation, had consented; but went alone, as her step-daughter refused to accompany her. It was dusk when she returned, for her hostess had indulged herself in endless inquiries and fault-finding respecting their mutual relations. Mrs. L’Estrange was wearied, and longed to see Nora’s kind, bright face, to describe the peculiarities of her testy kinswoman while enjoying a cup of fresh, warm tea. Nora was sitting on a footstool by the firelight when her step-mother came in, and the little tea table was drawn near the hearth, the teapot simmering under its cozy, a plateful of thin bread and butter, temptingly delicate, beside it. “How late you are, Helen,” cried Nora, starting up and coming over to. assist in taking off her cloak. “What has kept' you so long?” Something in her tone struck Mrs. L’Estrange; it was not impatience exactly, it was a sortx>f subdued excitement. “It was not the charms of my hostess, nor the delights of my visit, I assure you,” and she proceeded to describe the bitterness of her entertainer with much quiet drollery, while Nora poured out the tea. “You don’t want the lamp yet?” she asked, after laughing at her stejp-mother’s account. “It is so nice to sit by the fire.” “It is,” said Mrs. L’Estrange, and there was a pause; then Nora said suddenly: “Helen, Clifford. Marsden called here to-day.” “Yes. He said something about coming last night.” “But, Helen! He—he—asked me to marry him! I was so amazed!” “Well, Nora, I am surprised, too, though not so amazed as you are. I have seen that he was fond of you, but I did not think he would marry without money. How did you answer him, dear?” “I scarcely know, except that I certainly did not say ‘yes.’ ” . (To be continued.) Myriad Quacks. Near Santa Monica, California, not long ago, in a little bay about six square miles in area, there were fully a quarter of a million of wild geese. The noise of the quacking and calling to one another was at times heard two miles away. At San Pedro and at the little lake In Kern County there are said to be even greater numbers of the game, because of the proximity of the wheat fields. Large numbers of the geese are slain annually during their migrations. It is no trick for a boy sportsman to get fifty or sixty of the birds in a few hours, and hundreds of the older hunters in this region have often got over two hundred geese in a day. A party of four Los Angeles sportsmen who went out for a two days’ hunt over In the Orange County marshes last week, came home with over nine hundred dead geese for the city markets. Two Bakerfleld men had a three days’ hunt lately and came home with a farm wagon loaded down with geese and ducks. In >’l the little towns along the line of the :Janta Fe railroad in this section there are a score or two of men and boys who regularly, spring and fall, turn out for _Stay’s shoot at wild geese and ducks, and the person who does not show that he has tumbled over at least twenty-five birds is accounted in poor luck, or a decided device in hunting. Many persons will ride to the outskirts of thetown, and, standing in a buggy or wagon, will satisfy themselves with a shot at the armies of flying birds at long range. Occasionally they will bring down a goose with such random shooting. All the markets and the country grocery stores now have wild geese and ducks exhibited for sale at nominal prices. The craving for Thespian distinctions appears to have taken hold on Peter Jackson, the colored fighting man. He is very keen on playing Othello, and has not only learned the part perfectly, but lias memorised toe whole of the PIW.?

TALMAGE’S SERMON. HE PREACHES ON WRONGS THAT CANNOT BE RIGHTED. His Opinion of “the Unpardonable Bin”—Not Possible To-day to Commit It—Bome Irrevocable Mistakes Enumerated—Blanal Gun of the Gospel. Too Late to Recall. In his sermon for last Sunday Rev. Dr. Talmage, who is still in the West on his annual summer tour, chose a subject which lias been a fruitful theme of theological disputation for centuries past—viz, “The Unpardonable Sin.” The texts selected were: “All manner of sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men, but the blasphemy against tho Holy Ghost shall not bo forgiven unto men. And whosoever speaketh a word against the Son of man, it shall be forgiven him, but whosoever speaketh against the Holy Ghost it shall not be forgiven him, neither in this world, neither in the world to come."—Matthew xii, 31, 32. “He found no place of repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears.” —Hebrews xii, 17. As sometimes you gather the whole family around the evening stand tp hear some book read, so now we gather—a great Christian family group—to study this text, and now may one and the same lamp cast its glow on all the circle! The Unpardonable Sin. You see from the first passage that I read that there is a sin against the Holy Ghost for which a man is never pardoned. Once having committed it, he is bound hand and foot for the dungeons of despair. Sermons may be preached to him, song! may be sung to him, prayers may be offered in his behalf, but all to no purpose. He is a captive for this world and a captive for the world that is to come. Do you suppose that there is any one here who has committed that sin? All sins are against the Holy Ghost, but my text speaks of one especially; It is very clear to my own mind that the sin against the Holy, Ghost was the ascribing of the works of the Spirit to the agency of the devil in the time of the apostles. Indeed the Bible distinctly tells us that. In other words, if a man had sight given to • him', or if another was raised from the dead, and some one,standing there should say: “This map got his sight by satanic power. The Holy Spirit did not do this. Beelzebub accomplished it,” or, “This man raised from the dead was raised by satanic influence,” the man who said that dropped under the curse of the text and had committed the fatal sin against the Holy Ghost Now, I do not think it is possible in this day to commit that sin. I think it was possible only iu.apostolic times. But it is a very terrible thing ever to say anything against the Holy Ghost, and it is a marked fact that our race has been marvelously kept back from that profanity. You hear a man swear by the name of the Eternal God and by the name of Jesus Christ, but you never heard a man swear by the name of the Holy Ghost. There are those here to-day who fear they are guilty of the unpardonable sin. Have you such anxiety? Then I have to tell you positively that you have not committed that sin, because the very anxiety is a result of the movement of the gracious spirit, and your anxiety is proof positive, as certainly as anything that can be ■ demonstrated in mathematics, that you have not committed the sin that I have been speaking of. I can look off upon this audience and feel that there is salvation for all. It is not like when they put out with those lifeboats from the Loch Earn for the Ville du Havre. They knew there was not room for all the passengers, but they were going to do as well As they could. But to-day we man the lifeboat of the gospel, and we cry out over the sea, “Room for all!” Oh, tjiat th® Lord Jesus Christ would, this hour,. bring you all out of the flood of sin and plant you on the deck of the glorious old gospel craft! Sins to Guard Against. But while I have said I do not think it is possible for us to commit the particular sin spoken of in the first text, I have , by reason of the second text to call your attention to the fact that there are sins which, though they may be pardoned, are in some respects irrevocable, and you can find no place for repentance, though you seek it carefully with tears. Esau had a birthright given him. In olden times it meant not only temporal htjt spiritual blessing. One day Esau took this birthright and traded it off Cor something to eat. Oh, the folly! But let us not be too severe upon him, for some of us have committed the same folly. After he had made the trade, he wanted to get it back. Just as though you to-morrow morning should take all your notes and bonds and government securities and should go into a restaurant and in a fit of recklessness and hunger throw all those securities on the counter and ask for a plate of food, making that exchange. This was the one Esau made. He sold his birthright for a mess of pottage, and he was very sorry about it afterward, but “he found no place for repentance, though ho sought it carefully with tears." There is an impression in almost every man’s mind that somewhere in rhe future there will be a chance where he can correct all his mistakes. Live as we may, if we only repent in time, God will forgive us, and then all will be as well as though we had never committed sin. My discourse shall come in collision with that theory. I shall show you, ny friends, as God will help nie, that there is such a thing as unsuccessful repentance; that there are things done wrong that always stay- wrong and for them you may seek someplace of repentance and seek it carefully, but never find it. -- • - A Misspent'Youtfi. Belonging to this class of irrevocable mistakes is the folly of a misspent youth. We mgy look back to our •■ollege'days and think how we neglected chemistry, or geology, or botany, or mathematics. Wo may be sorry about it all our days. Can. we ever get the discipline or the advantage that we would ha ve had had we attended to those duties in early life? A man wakes tip at 40 years of age and finds that his youth has been wasted, and he strives to get back his early advantages. Docs he get them back—the days of boyhood, the days in college, the days under his father’s roof? “Oh.” he says, "if I could only get those times back again, how I would improve them!” My brother, you will never get them back. They are gone, gone. You may be very sorry nbout it and God may forgive, so that you may at least reach heaven, but you will never get over some of the mishaps that have come to your soul as a result of your neglect of early duty. 'You may try to undo it t you cannot undo it. Wbar> von had a boy's

arms and a boy’s eyes and a boy’s heart I you ought to have attended to those things. A man says, at 50 years of pge, “I do wish I could get over these habits of indolence.” When did you get them? At ‘2O or 25 years of ngc. You eannot shake them off. They will hang to you to the very day of your death. If a young man through a long course of evil conduct uni dermines his physical health, nnd then repeats of it in after life, the Lord may pardon him, but that does not bring back good physical condition. I said to a minister of the gospel, one Sabbath, at the close of the service, “Where are you preaching now?”' “Oh,” he says, “I am not preaching. I am suffering from tho physical effects of early sin. I can’t preach now; I am sick.” A consecrated man he now is, and he mourns bitterly over early sins, but that does not arrest their bodily effects. The simple fact is, that men and women often take twenty years of their life to build uji influences that require -all the rest of their life to break down, Talk about a man beginning life when he is 21 years of age; talk about a woman beginning life when she is 18 years of age! Ah, no! In ninny respects that is the time they should close life. In nine cases cut of ten all the questions of eternity are decided before that. Talk about a majority of men getting their fortunes between 30 and 40! They get or lose fortunes between 10 and 20. When you tell me that a man is just beginning life, I tell you he is just closing it. The next fifty years will not be of as much importance to him as the first twenty. Parental Neglect. Now, -why do I say this? Is it for the annoyance of those who have only a baleful retrospection? You know that is not my way, I say it for the benefit of young men and women. I want them to understand that eternity is wrapped up in this hour; that the sins of youth we never get over; that you are now’fashioning the mold in which your great future is to run; that a minute, instead of being GO seconds long, is made up of everlasting ages. You see what dignity and importance this gives to the life of all young folks. Why, in the light of this subject, life is not something to be frittered away, not something to be smirked about, not something to be danced out, but something to be weighed in the balances of eternity. Oh, young man, the sin of yesterday, the sin of to-morrow, will reach over 10,000 years —aye, over the great and unending eternity. You may, after awhile, say: “I am very sorry. Now I have got to be 30 or 40 years of age, and I do wish I had never committed those sins.” What does that amount to? God may pardon you, but undo thoso things you never will, you never can. In this same category of irrevocable mistakes I put all parental neglect. We begin the education of our children too late. By the time they get to be 10 or 15 we wake up to our mistakes and try to eradicate this bad habit and change that, but it is too late. That parent who omits, in the first ten years of. the child’s life, to make an eternal impression for Christ, never makes it. The child will probably go on with all the disadvantages, which might have been avoided by parental faithfulness. Now you see what a mistake that father or mother makes who puts off to Jute life adherence to Christ. Here is a man who at 50 years of age says to you, “I must be a Christian,” and he yields his heart to God and sits in the place of prayer to-day a Christian. None of us can doubt it. He goes home and he says: “Here at 50 years of age I have given my heart to the Savior. -Now I must establish a family altar.” What? Where are your children now? One in Boston; another in Cincinnati; another in New Orleans, and you, .ny brother, at your fiftieth year going to establish your family altar? Very well; better late than never, but alas, alas, that you did not do it twenty-five years ago! When I was in Chamouni, Switzerland, I saw in the Window of one of the shops a picture that impressed my mind very much. It was a picture of an accident that occurred on the side of one of the Swiss mountains. A company of travelers, with guides, went up some very steep places—places which but few travelers attempted to go up. They were, as all .travelers are there, fastened together with cords at the waist, so that if one slipped, the rope would hold him—the rope fastened to the others. Passing along the most dangerous point, one of the guides slipped, and they all started down the precipice, but after awhile one more muscular than the rest struck his heels into the ice and stopped, but the rope broke and down, hundreds and thousands of feet, the rest went. And so I see whole families bound together by ties of affection and in many cases walking on slippery places of worldliness and sin The father knows it, and the mother knows it, and they are bound all together. After awhile they begin to slide down steeper and steeper, nnd the father becomes alarmed, and he stops, planting his feet on the “Rock of Ages.” He stops, but the rope breaks, and those who were once tied fast-to him by moral and spiritual influences go over the precipice. Oh, there is such a thing as coming to Christ soon enough to save ourselves, but not soon enough save others! How many*parents wake up in the latter port of life to find out the mistake! The parent says, “I have been too lenient,” or “I have been too severe in the discipline of my children. If I had the little ones around me again, how different I would do!” You will never have them around again. The work is done, the bent to the character is given, the eternity is decided. I say this to young parents —those who are 25 or 30 or 35 years of age—have the family altar tonight.. How do you suppose that father felt as he leaned over the couch of his dying child and the expiring son said to him: “Father, you have been very good to me. You have given me a tine education, and you have placed me in a fine social position; you have done everything for me in a worldly sense; but, father, you never told me how to die. Now I am dying and I am afraid.” Cannot Be Recalled. In this category of irrevocable mistakes I place, also, the unkinduess done the departed. When I was a boy, my mother used to to me sometimes, “De Witt, you will be sorry for that when I am gone.” And I remember just how she looked, sitting there, with cap and spectacles, and the old Bible in her lap, and she never said a truer thing than that, for I have often been sorry since. While we have our friends with us, we sa,y unguarded things that wound the feelings of those to whom we ought to give nothing but kindness, Perhaps the parent, without inquiring into the matter, boxes the child’s ears. The little due, who has fallen la th* street comes in covered with

I dust, and, as though the first disastei were not enough, she whips it. After awhile the child is taken, or ths parent is taken, or the companion is taken, and those who are left any, “Oh, if wa could only get back those unkind words, those unkind deeds; if we could only recall them!” But you cannot get them back. You might bow down over the grave of that loved one and cry : nd cry and cry—the white lips would make no answer. The stars shall be plucked out of their sockets, but these influences shall not be torn away. The world tholl die, but there are some wrongs immortal. The moral of which is, take care of your friends while you have them. Spare the scolding;f»e economical of the satire; shut up in a dark cave, from which they shall never swarm forth, all the words that have a sting in them. Y’ou will wish you had some day—very soon you will—perhaps to-morrow. Oh, yes. While with a firm hand you administer parental discipline, also administer it very gently, lest some day there be a little slab in the cemetery, and on it chiseled “slur Willie” or “Our Charlie,” and though you bow down prone in the grave and seek a place of repentance and seek it carefully with tears you cannot find it. There is another sin that I place in the class of irrevocable mistakes, and that is lost opportunities of getting good. I never come to a Saturday night but I can see during that week that I have missed opportunities of getting good. I never come to my birthday but I can see that I have wasted many chances of getting better. I never go home on Sabbath from the discussion of a religious theme without feeling that I might have done it in a more successful way. How is it with you? If you take a certain number of bushels of wheat and scatter them over a certain number of . acres of land, you expect a harvest in proportion to the amount of seed scattered. And I ask you now, Have the sheaves of moral and spiritual harvest corresponded with the advantages given? How has it been with you? You may make resolutions for the future, but past opportunities are gone. In the long procession of future years all those past moments will march, but the archangel’s trumpet thaf wakes the dead will not wake up for you one of those privileges. Esau has sold his birthright, and there is not wealth enough in the treasure houses of heaven to buy it back again. What does that mean? It means that if you are going to get any advantage out of this Sabbath day, you will have to get it before the hand wheels around on the clock to 12 to-night. It means that every moment of our life has two wings, and that it does not fly, like a hawk, in circles, but in a straight line from eternity to eternity. It means that though other chariots may break down, or drag heavily, this one never drops the brake and never ceases t > run. It means that while at Other feasts the cup may be passed to us and we may reject it, and yet after awhile take it, the cupbearers to this feast never give us but one chance at the chalice, and, rejecting that, we shall “find no place for repentance, though we seek it carefully with tears.” Lost Opportunities. There is one more class of sins that I put in this category of irrevocable sins and that is lost opportunities of usefulness. Your business partner is a proud man. In ordinary circumstances, say to him, “Believe in Christ,” and he will say, “You mind your business and I’ll mind mine.” But there has been affliction in the household. His heart is tender. He is looking around for sympathy and solace. Now is your time. Speak, speak, or forever hold your peqce. There is a time in farm Irfe when you plant the corn and when you sow the seed. Let that go by. and the farmer will wring his hands while other husbandmen are gathering in the sheaves. You are in a religious meeting, and there is an opportunity for you to speak a word for Christ. 'You say, “I must do it.” Your cheek flushes with embarrassment. You rise half way, but you cower before men whose breath is in their nostrils, and you sag back, and the opportunity is gone and all eternity will feel the effect of your silence. Try to get back that opportunity! You cannot find it. You might as well try to find the fleece that Gideon watched, or take in your hand the dew that came down on the locks of the Bethlehem shepherds, or to find the plume of the first robin that went across paradise. It is gone; it is gone forever. When an opportunity for personal repentance or of doing good passes away, you may hunt for it; you cannot find it. You may fish for it; it will not take the hook. You may dig for it; you cannot bring it up. Remember that there are Avrongs and sins that can never be corrected; that our privileges fly not in circles, but in a straight line; that the lightnings have not as swift feet as our privileges when they are gone, and let an opportunity of salvation go by us an inch, the one hundredth part of an inch, the thousandth part of an inch, the millionth part of an inch, and not man can overtake it. Fire winged seraphim cannot come up with it. The eternal God himself cannot catch it. I stand before those who have a gloriour birthright. Esau's was not so rich as yours. Sell it once, and you sell it forever. I remember the story of the lad on the Arctic some years ago—the lad Stewart Holland A vessel crashed into the Arctic in the time of a fog, and it wsls found that the ship must go down. Some of the passengers off in the lifeboats; some got off on rafts, but 300 went to the bottom. During all those hours of- - Stewart Holland stood at the signal gun, and it sounded across the sea, boom, boom! The helmsman forsook his place, the engineer was gone and some fainted and some prayed and some blasphemed, and the powder was goner and they-could no more set off the signal gun. The lad broke in the magazine and ' brought out more powder and again the gun boomed over the sea. Oh, my friends, tossed on the rough seas of life, some have taken the warning, have gone off in the lifeboat and they are safe, but others are not making any attempts to escape. So I stand at this signal gun of the gospel, sounding the alarm, Beware! beware! “Now is the accepted time; now is the day of salvation.” Hear it that your soul may live! A Necktie to Wash. Aluminum neckties have been introduced into Germany. They are really made of the cosmopolitan metal, and fxosted or otherwise ornamented in various shapes, imitating the ordinary silk or satin article. They are fastened to the collar button or by a band around the neck, and are particularly recom- > mended for summer wear, since they can be easily cleaned when soiled, while they are not perceptibly heavier than cotton, cambric or ailk.