Decatur Democrat, Volume 39, Number 39, Decatur, Adams County, 13 December 1895 — Page 8

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CHAPTER XII. Only the other day leading the calm and peaceful life of the coinent, pacing Its shady walks with Lucie, caressed by the sweet, placid Superior, petted by the Sisters, the days had glided by with so easy and gentle a flow. There had been thoughts of Paul Lowther, happy and fluttering thoughts, such as will disturb a maiden’s breast when she has always at her side a dearest companion and friend, ready to make suggestions and king the praises of a brother who is a perfect hero in her eyes. Then, too, there was the unsatisfied longing to see the loving mother, whose letters came so regularly across the sea, full of eager inquiry respecting her child’s health and happiness, full of delight, too, at tho progress made. And then like a thunderbolt had come the change, event succeeding event with bewildering rapidity, till Aube found herself half-stunned by her position at the house which stood upon the ruins of the cottage where she was bom. - Again and again she had asked herself if it was a dream, but the reality was there before her, and.she strove hard to hide the disgust she felt at her surroundings and the people by whom the place was besieged. During the first day or two her surprises were constant, and she awakened rapidly to the fact that while her mother’s home was nothing more than a cabaret and store whose customers were almost without exception the blacks of the neighborhood, this mother, who idolized her, was treated by the people in their rough way as if she were their queen. A word, even a look, was sufficient, and she was obeyed on the instant, while in their most boisterous moments Nousie’s presence silenced them at once. Aube heard Madame Saiiitone call her mother Madame Dulau, but there the name did not seem to be recognized, for the Madame had been softened into Mahme, generally made into two syllables, and her old fantastic same of Venus —Venousie, as her husband had loved to call his beautiful wife —had, for years past, become Nousie, almost from the day when, recovering from the prostration consequent upon the assassination of her fiagband, who had in his dying moment trvShged himself upon his enemy, she had found herself the owner of some land and a pile of ashes to mark the spot where her happy home had stood, i This was after a long, long illness passed in a rough shelter in the forest at ’ the back, where Cherubine had dragged half-burnt boards, and cut leaves and bushes to help form a lean-to hut. Here tifeHjlack-giri had passed her time nurs-ang-the-sick and delirious woman, and playing with and tending the pretty child she worshiped. It was a long, slow recovery, Nousie’s doctor being an old black woman, a priestess of the Voudoux, whose herb jdecoctions allayed the fever, so that she struggled back to life. 6 ' For months Cherubine tended her, and though the black people scattered here and there brought her fruit, and occasionally a chicken or a few eggs, it was her girlish nurse who was the mainstay of her existence, keeping her and the xffiild by the sale of the fruit and the [flowers she collected daily and carried Into town. i It was Cherubine, too, who from these small beginnings, gradually originated jthe business which had sprung up. It ’was the work of many years', but first one addition was made, then another,, all of 'them suggestions from the keen, clever (girl, till, face to face as she was with 'poverty, Nousie had at last roused herself for her child’s sake to actual participation in the girl’s work, the old pleasant life of a colonist’s-lady had rapidly dropped away, and rapt in her love for her child, whom she had quietly sent to _ , (France, she had toiled on and on till she had arrived at the pitch she occupied at ■Aube’s return, r This was literally that of queen among ,the half-civilized people; and Aube’s first inkling of the fact was the morning after iher arrivarwhen after —with heavy heart —trying to partake of the breakfast pressled upon her by Cherubine, and suffering keenly from the feelings she strove hard to keep down, she was quit? startled by the buzz of voices outside the verandaed ■house, and she shrank from the shaded window trembling, and tried to occupy herself by looking about the njom, which had evidently been prepared for her with loving care. To her surprise she found endless tokens of refined taste, relics they were of Nousie’s recollections of her past life. For she had taken Cherubine into her counsel and regardless of the cost, had the rough ordinary furniture which had contented her during years of solid toil, replaced by the best Port au Prince could pupply. There was a piano, too, perfectly new, with the slightly rusted key in the lock, and a pile of new music in a canterbury by the side. It struck Aube as being strangely incongruous, to the surroundings of the place; but everything was so, even her presence there, and as she stood beside the instrument, her brow wrinkled, and she shrank from trying to gaze into the future —a future which was full of blank despair. " As she stood there the bustle and noise outside increased, a shrill woman’s voice struck up a weird, strange song, whose peculiarity struck Aube at once, and made her turn her face towards the window just as the strain was repeated in chorus and was accompanied by the’wiry j " chords of a native guitar and the thrumming of some kind of drum. Then the one voice sang another strain, so weird and strange that Aube felt thrilled by the tones. It was not beautiful, but, like the air of some old country ballads, possessed those elements which appeal to every nature and never pall. C The chorus was rising again, accompanied now by the stamping of foot and . . - ■ >.

the regular beat of hands, when thesdoor was flung open, and Cherubine rushed in, to literally fling herself at Aube’s feet, seize her hands and hold them to her cheeks, before kissing them with wild, hysterical delight, her eyes flashing, her teeth glistening, and her bosom heaving with delight “Oh, you beautiful, you beautiful!” she whispered hoarsely. "Kiss poor Cherub once more, like you did when a tiny little girl.” Aube bent down ed pressed her ruddy lips on the broad",i brack brow, with the result that as she knelt there Cherubine flung her arms about the girl’s waist and burst into a fit of hysterical sobbing. She checked it directly and showed her teeth. “It’s because she’s so glad. Everybody glad Mahme Nousie’s beautiful babe come back. Hark! how they sing and shout!” “Is that because I have come?” whispered Aube, who felt startled. “Yes, and the flowers and the fruit” Cherubine was checked at that moment by the coming of Nousie, looking proud, flushed and excited. Her heavy, inert ways seemed to have departed as she crossed the room to Aube, and took her hand, to hold it in both of hers for a few moments before kissing it tenderly. “My dearest,” she whispered; and Aube felt that in their eyes sixteen years of the past were as nothing—that she was still that idolized child. “That letter,” she whispered to herself, and she looked gently at her mother, through the medium of its words, and leaned forward and kissed her. “My beautiful one!” she whispered fondly, as she pressed her child to her breast. Then drawing herself up proudly —“They are all collecting from miles away. The news has gone round that you have come back, and they are asking to see you.” “These people?” cried Aube excitedly—“to see me?” “Don’t be afraid, little, onfe,” said Nousie, fondly. “It is to seKmy darling. Aube, dearest, they ai>k W people. Come.” Once more trembling, aflid as if.in a dream, Aube resigned herself to her position, and, passing her arm round her, Nousie led her proudly from the room—the tall, slight figure, draped in white, ' beside the heavy-looking woman in her garish attire—out through the veranda to where in the broad sunshine stood the crowd of. blacks, at that moment in full s' chorus of the wild, weird song. As the white figure was led out the chorus stopped as if at the a conductor’s wand; there was a pause of some moments, during which Nousie drew herself up, looking proudly round, and once more her heavy features were illumined by animation, and she displayed something of the beauty of the young wife of old. Then there burst forth a wild cry of delight, the crowd rushed forward, and through the mist of giddy excitement Aube saw that every one bore flowers of gorgeous colors and rough baskets of tropic fruit which they were pressing on her; but at that moment her gaze was riveted by the fierce dark eyes of a tall mulatto girl behind whom stood a herculean black with curiously knotted hair. Aube did not flinch, but she was fascicinated by the lurid eyes of the great black; and as she turned slightly aside it was to meet the half envious, half mocking gaze of the handsome mulatto girl, who held out to her a wreath of creamy, strongly-scented flowers. “From Genie,” she said aloud, “for Mahme Nousie’s girl.” There had been silence while the mulatto, "who seemed in authority there, spoke. Then there was a shout of delight. Aube's lips moved as she tried to express her thanks, and she took the wreath to raise it to her lips. But her hands stopped half way, and a slight shiver as of cold passed through her, while her eyes remained fixed, fascinated now by those of the giver of the wreath. ' CHAPTER XUI. “You have not been to zee her?” “No; I promised you I would not; but I am going to break my word if something is not done at once.” “Don’t be foolish, boy? I told you to leave it to sie. She has only been home a week.” “A week. Long enough for me to lose my chance.” “There, you must confess that it is a chance, Etienne?” <, “Chance? Yes. There, don’t strike me when I am down. I have told you I loved her, and as soon as you have won that concession you do nothing.” “Indeed!” said Madame Saintone. “Do you hear this, ’Toinette?” “Yes, I hear,” said the girl, contemptuously. “You people have gone mad about the wretched girl.” “Wretched girl!” cried Saintone, angrily. “You talk like that, who are favoring the advances of the greatest idiot in Port au Prince.” “There, there,” said Madame Saintone, “no quarreling, children; and you, Etienne, be at rest. I have waited so long because I thought it wisdom. To-day, for your sake, I am going to call at that wretched place? Poor child! She will have had time to realize her surroundings, and be ready to jump at my offer.” “Your offer?” said Saintone. “Yes, my dear. I propose to bring her away from her miserable home at once.” Saintone kissed her eagerly. “Don’t be too sure that I shall succeed. I never knew the rights of the matter, but there was a great quarrel between that poor girl’s father and yours, Etienno, and Nousie has never treated me cor- • dially. i “Oh, but-that’s a matter of years ago.” “Yes, and she will of course’ be dazzled ■ by the proposal that Aube should come ■ and stay with us. There, at I have Mid ■*. * * L. '

before, leave It to me. If I cannot eucceed you cannot.” “If that girl is to be brought here I shall certainly leave the house,” said Antoinette, hotly. “Indeed, you will not, madame,” said her mother, calmly. “No,” said Saintone, fiercely, “and I tell you this, for every unkind look or word you give Mademoiselle Dulau I’ll keep account, and visit it heavily on that fool, Deffrard.” Antoinette turned white, and a dark shadow came under her eyes, as she whispered through her closed teeth: “I’m not afraid of you, Etienne. You’re only a coward. Visit it on Jules, and I’ll kill your miserable negro girl.” "My dear children,” said Madame Saintone, plaintively, “I cannot have you quarrel. ’Toinette, such words as these are shocking.” “Then let him hold his tongue, and not threaten me, mamma. I’m not going to bow down and worship Nousie’s girl because she has money. Oh! it is too absurd!” She left the room, and Madame Saintone turned to her son. “Don’t threaten her again, my dear,” she said; “and do, pray, leave this business to me. I can manage ’Toinette.” An hour later Madame Saintone was being driven to the house at the outskirts of the town, feeling a slight shrinking as she approached the place and saw the number of blacks idling about the veranda and sleeping in the sunshine. “They will not dare to molest me,” she said to herself, proudly; but all the same she could not help recalling the various troubles consequent upon the independent position taken up by the black race. To her surprise, however, instead of being received by tho people in sullen silence and with furtive looks, there were smiles and Salutations, and one woman went so far as to offer her a few flowers. Madame Saintone received these graciously as she was stepping out of her carriage, listening the while with some surprise to the tones of a piano, a few chords upon which were being struck carelessly. But the next moment she was face to face with the difficulty of her task, Nousie having left her child to hurry out to meet what seemed to her a danger. “Ah, Madame Dulau,” said Madame Saintone, smiling, but without offering her hand, "I have called to see your charming daughter. I think I have been most patient in waiting all these days before renewing our delightful acquaint ance.” “What do you want?” said Nousie, suspiciously. “Why have you come?” She spoke in a loud tone, and was evidently suffering from great excitement. Madame Saintone smiled. “Oh, come,” she said playfully, “you must not want to keep the poor child all to yourself, Madame Dulau. You forget what friends my daughter and Aube had become. I want you to let her go for a drive and then spend a few hours with us up at Beau Rivage.' You will not say no." It was on Nousie’s lips to say no, never trouble us again, but it was beginning to dawn upon her that shyhad brought her child to a very home. She had been startled atzfne difference between them. Forgetful of self, the mother had had this one thought—her child; and it had not occurred to her that this child would return to her an accomplished lady, whose every word and act woula stand in strange contrast to her own. And now in this brief interview she had to battle with two ideas. Would she be standing in her child’s light in checking all further intercouse? On the other hand, if she allowed Aube to accept the invitation, would she be doing that which sent an agonizing pang through her, widening the gulf between her and her child ? (To be continued.) HE READ THE MESSAGE. \ But the Drug Clerk’s Translation Was Not Correct. They were standing on the corner of Seventh and Vine streets not many nights ago. One of them had just re celved a telegram, says the Cincinnati Tribune, and he was making a great effort to read it. He tried it for several minutes and then handed it to his friend with an air of disgust. The second individual gave it up afra / struggling with it a quarter of an hour. “I never saw anything to beat that,” he remarked, as he handed the message back, “and I’ve seen some pretty bad writing In my time, too.” “Well, I can’t read it, and I’d like to know what it says badly.” “Let me see? Ah, I have it. Drug clerks can read most any kind of writing. Let us go and see.” They went to the nearest pharmacy and handed the message to the prescription clerk. Before, an explanation could be made, he darted to the rear of the shop, and disappeared behind a screen. After an absence of fifteen minutes, during which both meh had grown very restless, the clerk appeared, and as he handed a bottle to one of the njen, he said: Y “Sixty cents, please.” Rather stunned for a while, the man opened the package and read on the label: “One teaspoonful, to be taken three times every hour.” When an explanation was made, the clerk set up the soda water. A Small Earth. Four leading French scientists—Villard, Cotard, Seyrlg and Tissandjer—have succeeded in making a wonderful model of the earth It is a huge sphere, forty-two feet in diameter and has painted on its outside all details of the earth’s geography. At Paris, where the pigmy world is being exhibited, an iron and glass dome has been erected over the globe. , The building is eightsided, and is well provided with elevators and Stairways, which make it an easy task ffir the visitor to examine “all parts of the world.” The globe weighs eight tons, but 1» so nicely balanced that It can easily bo rotated by a small hand-wheel. The entire surface area is five hundred and twenty-five feet, which Is sufficient to exhibit all the mountains, rivers, islands and cities, even to the principal thoroughfares of the latter. It Is a mistake to speak of acceptinjT the inevitable. People don’t accept Itj they simply get It.

TALMAGE’S SERMON. SERMON DELIVERED IN WASHINGTON LAST SUNDAY. Beware df the Special Allurements oft the Beaaon—Parents Should Make Home Attractive-Arm the Young Against Temptations—Rum Horrors. The Opening Winter. Last Sunday Dr. Talmage chose as the subject of his sermon “The Opening Winter.” Although the cold comes earlier or later, • according to the latitude, this sermon is sooner or later as appropriate everywhere as it is in Washington. The text selected will be found in Titus iil., 12, “I have determined there to winter.” Paul was not independent of ths seasons. He sent for his overcoat to Troas on a memorable occasion. And now in tho text he is making arrangements for the approaching cold weather and makes an appointment with Titus to meet him at Necropolis, saying, “I have determined there to wipter." Well, this is the Sth day of December and the second Sabbath of winter. We have had a few shrill, sharp blasts already, forerunners of whole regiments of storms and tempests. No one here needs to be told that we are in the opening gates of the winter. This season is not only a teat of one’s physical endurance, but in our great cities is a test of moral character. A vast number of people have by one winter of dissipation been destroy ad, and forever. Seated in our homes on some stormy night, the winds howling outside, we imagine the shipping helplessly driven on the coast, but any winter night, Jf our ears were good enough, we could hear the crash of a thousand moral shipwrecks. There are mapy people who came to the cities on the Ist of September who will be blasted by the Ist. of March. At this season of the year temptations are especially rampant. Now that the long winter evenings have come, there are many who will employ them in high pursuits, intelligent socialities, in Christian work, in the strengthening and ennobling of moral character, and this winter to many of you will be the brightest and the best of all your lives, and in anticipation I congratulate you. But to others it may not have such effect, and I charge you, my beloved, look out where you spend your winter nights. Evil Allnremtenta. In the first place, I have to remark that at this season of the year the evil allurements are especially busy. There is not very much temptation for a man to plunge in on a hot night amid blazing gaslights and to breathe the fetid air of an assemblage, but in the cold nights satan gathers a great harvest. At such times the grogshops in one night make more than in four or five nights in summer. At such times the playbills of low places of entertainment seem - especially attractive, and the acting is especially Impressive and the applause especially bewitching. Many a man who has kept right all the rest of the'year will be capsized now, and though last autumn he came from the country, and there was lus- , ter in the eye, and there were roses in the cheek and elasticity in the step, by the time the spring hour has come you will pass him in the street and say to your friends: “What’s the matter with that man? How differently he looks from What he looked last September!” Slain of one winter’s dissipation. At this time of the year there are many ments. If we rightly employ them and they are of the right kind, they enlarge our socialities, allow us to make important acquaintances, biilld up in our morals and help up in ways. I can scarcely think of anything better than good neighborhood. But there are those from which others will come risesoiled in character. There nre those who by the springtime will be broken down in health, and, though at the opening of the season their prospects were bright, at the close of the season they will be in the hands of the doctors or sleeping in the cemetery. The certificate of death will be made out, and the physician, to save the feelings of the family, call the disease by a Latin name. 'But the doctor knows, and everybody knows, they died of too many levees. Away with all these wine drinking convivialities. How dare you, the father of a family, tempt the appetites of the young people? Perhaps at the enterment, to save the feelings of the minister or some other weak temperance man, you leave the decanter in a side room, and only a few people are invited there to partake, but it is easy enough to know when you come out by the glare of youi eye and the stench of your breath that you have been serving the devil. Practice Self Control. Men simetimes excuse themselves and say after late suppers it is necessary to take some sort of stimulant to aid digestion. My plain opinion is that if you have no more self control than to stuff yourself until your digestive organs refuse their office you had better not call yourself a man, but class yourself among the beasts that perish. At this season of the year th# Young lien’s Christians Associations of the out circulars asking the pastors to speak a word on this subject, and so I sound in your ear the words of the Lord God Almighty, “Woe unto him that putteth the bottle to his neighbor’s' lips.” Rejoice that you have come to the glad winter months that remind you of the times when in your childhood you were shone on by the face of father, mother, brothers, sisters, some of them, alas! no more to meet you with a “Happy New Year,” or a “Merry Christmas.” But again and again have we seen on New Year’s day the sons of some of the best families drunk, and young men have excused themselves by the fact that the. wine cup has been offered by the ladies, and again and again it has been found out that a lady’s hand has kindled the young man’s thirst for strong drink, and long after all the attractions of the holiday have passed that same woman crouches in her rags, and her desolation, and her woe under the uplifted hand of the drunken monster to whom she had passed the fascinating cup on New Year’s day. If we want to go to ruin, let us go alone and not take others with us. Can wq not sacrifice our feelings if need be? When the good ship London went down, the captain was told that he might escape in one of the lifeboats. “No,” he replied, “I’ll go down with the passengers.” All the world applauded his heroism. And caa we not sacrifice, our tastes and our appetites for the rescue of others? Surely it Is not a very great sacrifice. Oh, mix not with the innocent beverage of the holiday the poison of adders! Mix not with ths whits sugar of ths cup (he snow

of this awful leprosy! Mar not the clatter of the cutlery of the festal occasion with the clank of a madman’s chain! Pass down the street and look into the pawnbroker’s window. Elegant watch, elegant furs, elegant flute, elegant shoes, elegant scarf, elegant books, elegant mementoes, You sometimes see people with pleased countenances looking into such a window. When I look into a pawnbroker’s window, it seems to me as if I had looked into the window of hell! To whom did that watch belong? To a drunkard. To whom did those furs belong? To a drunkard’s wife. To whom did those shoes belong? To a drunkard’s child. I take the three brazen balls at the doorway of a pawnbroker’s shop and I clank them together, sounding the knell of the drunkard's soul. A pawnbroker’s shop is only one of the eddies in the great torrent bf municipal drunkenness. “Oh,” says some one, "I don't patronize such things. I have destroyed no young man by such influences. I only take ale, and it will take a great amount of ale to intoxicate.” Yes, but I tell you there is not a drunkard in America that did not begin with ale. Three X’s—l do net know what they mean. Three X’s on the brewer’s dray, three X’s on the door o; the glnshop, three X’s on the side of the bottle. Three X’s. I asked a man. He could not tell. I asked another what is the meaning of the three X’s. He could not tell me. Then I made up my mind that the three X’s were an allegory, and that they meant thirty heartbreaks, thirty agonies, thirty broken up households, thirty prospects of a drunkard’s grave, thirty ways to perdition. Three X’s. If I were going to write a story, the first chapter I would calf “Three X’s” and the last chapter I would call “The Pawnbroker’s "Shop.” Oh, beware of your influence. Cnree of Modern Society. The winter season is especially full of temptation, because of the long evenings allowing such full swing for evil indulgences. You can scarcely expect a young man to go into his room and sit there from- 7 to 11 o’clock in the evening reading Motley’s “Dutch Republic” or John Foster’s essays. It would be a very beautiful thing for him to do, but he will not do it The most of our young men are busy in offices, in factories, in banking houses, in stores, in shops, and when evening comes they want the fresh air and they want sightseeing, and they must have it they will have it, aud they ought to have it. Most bf the men here assembled will have three or four evenings of leisure on the winter nights. After tea, the man puts on his hat and coat, and he goes out One form of allurement says, “Come in here.” Satan says: “It is best for you to go in. You ought not to be so green. By this time you ought to have seen everything.” And the temptations shall be mighty in dull times such as we have had, but which, I believe, are gone, for I hear all over the land the prophecy of great prosperity, and the railroad men and the merchants, they all tell me of the days of prosperity they think are coming, and in many departments they have already come, and they are going to come in all departments, but those dull times through which we have passed have destroyed a great many men. The question of a livelihood is with a vast multitude the great question. There.are young men who expected before this to set up their household, but they have been disappointed in the gains they have made. They cannot support themselves —how can they support others? And to the curse of modern society the theory is abroad that, a man must not maqry until he has achieved a fortune, when the twain ought to start at the foot of the hill and together climb to the top. Unattractive Home*. Then the winter has especial temptations in the fact that many homes are peculiarly unattractive at this season. In the summer months the young man can sit out on the steps, or he can have a bouquet in the vase on tho mantel, or, the evenings being so short, soon after gaslight he wants to retire anyhow. But there are many parents who do not understand how to make the long winter evenings attractive to their children. It is amazing to me that so many old people do not understand young people. To hear some of these parents talk you would thinlAthey had never themselves been young and had been born with spectacles on. Oh, it is dolorous for young people to sit in the house from 7 to 11 o’clock at night and to hear parents groan about their ailments and the nothingness of this world. The nothingness of this Wbrld? How dare you talk such blasphemy? It took God six days to make this world, and he has allowed 6,000 years to hang upon his holy heart, and this world has shone on you and blessed you and caressed you for these fifty or seventy •ears, and yet you dare talk about the nothingness of this world! Why, it is a magnificent world. Ido not believe in the whole universe there is a world equal to it except it be heaven. You cannot expect your children to stay in the house these long winter evenings to hear you denounce this stnr lighted, sun warmed, shower baptized, flower strewn, angel watched, God inhabited planet. Oh, make your home bright! Bring in the violin or the picture. It does not require a great salary, or a big house, or -chased silver, or gorgeous upholstery to make a happy home. All that is wanted is a father’s heart, a mother’s heart, in sympathy with young folks. I have known a man with S7OO salary, and he had no other income, but he had a home so happy and bright that, though the sons have gone out and won large fortunes and the daughters have gone out into splendid spheres and become princesses of society, they can never think of that early home without tears of emotion. It was to them the vestibule of heaven, and all tlibir mansions now, And all their palaces now, cannot make them forget that early place. Make your homes happy. You go around your house growling about your rheumatisms and acting the lugubrious, and your sons will go into the world and plunge into dissipation. They will have their own rheumatisms after awhile. Do not forestall their misfortunes. You were young once, and ybu had your bright and joyous times. Now let the young folks have a good time. I stood in front of a house and I said to the owner of the house, “This is a splendid tree.” He said in a whining tone, “Yes, but it will fade.” I walked round his garden and said, “This, is a glorious garden you have.” “Yes,” he said, “but it will perish.” Then he said to my little child, whom I was leading along, “Come and kiss me.” The child protested and turned away. He said, “Oh, the perversity of human nature!” Who would want to kiss him? I was. not surprised to find out that his only son had become a vagabond. You may groan people out of decency, but you can never groan them into it, and I declare in presence of these men and women es common sense that it

is * moat Important thing for yon to make your home* bright if you want your soM and daughters to turn out well. Arm Against Tamptatibn. Alas, that old people so much misunderstand young folks! There was a great SundayA&chool anniversary, and there were /thousands of children present. Indeed all the Sunday schools of ths town were in the building, and it was very uproarious and full of disturbance, and the presiding officer on the occasion came forward and in a very loud tone shouted, “Silence!” and the more noise the presiding officer made the more noise the children made; Some one else rose on the platform and came forward and with more stentorian voice shouted “Silence!” and the uproar rose to greater height, and it did seem ns if there would bp almost A. riot and the police have to be called in when old Dr. Beaman, his hair white as the driven snow, said, “Let me try my hand.” So he came forward with a slow step to the front of the platform, and when the children saw the venerable man and the white hair they thought they would hush up that instant and hear what the old man had to say. He said: “Boys, I want to make a bargain with you. If you will be still now while I speak, when you get to be as old as I am I will be as still as a mouse.” There was not another whisper that afternoon. He was as much a boy as any of them. Oh, in these approaching holidays let us turn back our natures to what they were years ago and be boys again and girls again and make all our homes happy. God will hold you responsible for the influence you now exert, and it will be very bright and very pleasant if some winter night when we ore sleeping under the blankets of snow oqr children shall ride along in the merry party, and hushing a moment into solemnity look off and say, “There sleep the best father and mother that ever made a happy new year.” Arm yourself against these temptations of December, January and February. Temptations will come to you in the form of an angel of light. I know that the poets represent satan as horned and hoofed. If I were a poet and I were going to picture satan, I would represent him as a human being,, with manners polished to the last perfection, hair falling in graceful ringlets, eyes a little bloodshot, but floating in bewitching languor, hand soft and diamonded, foot exquisitely shaped, voice mellow as a flute, breath perfumed as though nothing had ever touched the lips but balm of a thousand flowers, conversation facile, carefully toned and Frenchy. But I would have the heart incased with the scales of a monster, and have it stuffed with all pride and beastliness of desire and hypocrisy and death, and then I would have it touched with the rod of disenchantment until the eyes became the cold orbs of the adder, and. to the lip should come the foam of raging intoxication, and to the foot the spring of the panther, and to the soft hand the change that would make it the clammy hand of the wasted skeleton, and then I would suddenly have the heart break out in unquenchable flames, and the affected lisp of the tongue become the hiss of the worm that never dies. But until disenchanted, ringleted and diamonded and flute voiced, and conversation facile, carefully toned and Frenchy. Engage in High Pureuite. Oh, what a beautiful thing it is to see a young man standing up amid these temptations of city life Incorrupt while hundreds are falling. I will tell your history. You will move in respectable circles all your days, and some day a friend ✓ of your father will meet you and say: ( “Good mornipg. Glad to see you. You seem to be prospering. You look like your father for all the world. I thought' you would turn out well when I used to 1 hold you on my knee. If you ever want any help or any advice, come to me. As, long as I remember your father I’ll re-, member you. Good morning.” That! will be the history of hundreds of these young men. How do I know it? I know! it by the way you start. But here’s aj young man who takes the opposite route. Voices of sin charm him away. He reads; bad books, mingles in bad society. Thoi glow has gone from his cheek, and thq sparkle from his eye, and the purity from his soul. Down he goes, little by little, The people who saw him when he camq to town while yet hovered over his head the blessing of a pure mother’s prayer, and there was on his lips the dew of a pure sister’s kiss, now as they see him pass cry, “What an awful wreck!” Cheek bruised in grogshop, figjit. Eye with dissipation. Lip swollen with Indulgences. Be careful what you say tej him; for a trifle he would tatae your Hfej Lower down, lower down, until, out, cast of God and man, he lies in the asyj lum, a blotch of loathsomeness and pain! One moment he calls for God, and theq he calls for rum. He prays; he curses; he laughs as a fiend laughs, then bites hi* nails into the quick, then puts his hand through the hair hanging around his head like the mane of a wild beast, then shiv, era until the cot shakes with unutterably terror, then with his fists fights back the devils or clutches for serpents thai seem "to wind around him their awful* folds, then asks for water which is in; stantly consumed on his cracked lipsj Some morning the surgeon going hit rounds will find him dead. Db not try ta comb out or brush-back the matted lock* Straighten out the limbs, wrap them iq a sheet, put him in a box and let twq men carry him down to the wagon at thy door. With a piece of chalk write on tog ’ of the box the name of the destroyer and the destroyed. Who is it? It is you,Oman, if, yielding to the temptations of a dissij pated life, you go out and perish. Then is away that seemeth bright and fail and beautiful to a man, but the end thereof is death. Employ these long nights of December, January and Feb* ruary in high pursuits, in intelligent so, cialities, in innocent amusement*, iq Christian not waste this wini ter, for soon you will have seen your las| snow shower and have gone up into thy companionship bf him whose raiment iy white as snow, whiter than any fuller on earth could whiten it. For all Christian hearts the winter nights of earth will enq in the June morning of heaven. The riven of life frt>m under the throne nevey freezes over. The foliage of life’s fain tree is never frost-bitten. The festivities, the hilarities, the family of earthly Christmas times will give way to larger reunion and brighter lights andj sweeter garlands and mightier joy in thg great holiday of heaven. The pifference. Johnnie—What’s the difference be-, tween a visit and a visitation? Ptt—A visit, my son, is when we go to see your grandmother on your mother’* side. 4 "Yes.” “A Visitation Is when Om comes to see ijgr" ( t • ■