Decatur Democrat, Volume 39, Number 47, Decatur, Adams County, 7 February 1896 — Page 7

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CHAPTER XXlll.—(Continued.) A wild and piercing scream reached the'rti at that moment, echoed by Cherubine, who raised her head and let it fall heavily again, striking the table before her as if her brow were of wood. Paul staggered as the wail rose again . from outside, recovered himself and followed Bart who had dashed through the door, and following his footsteps he staggered into the white draped room which Nousie had prepared with such loving care for the advent of her child. •Paul clutched at the door as he grasped the acene in the shadedLroom. Nousie on her knees frantically clasping the white form of her child extended on the bed, her face buried in her white bosom, while all around over the pillow and coverlet the poor girl’s long black hair lay tossed. \She had evidently been seized by some terribly agonizing pain in whose Hutches ’rte had writhed and tossed, for her bared Xms lay apart, and her head and shoul\s were half over the side of the bed, , ( .'n Nousie knelt. Bart was on the j side rapidly making his exnmihaI \ at the end of which he went round ■ whispered to the stricken mother, '.rose obediently, and like one in a < helped him to compose the crampu distorted limbs, before, with a -..wring gesture, he signed to Paul to pproach. .' Paul reeled like a drunken man, and stared wildly at his friend, then at the beautiful face upon the pillow, from I which the distortion of pain had passed, leaving it already calm and peaceful as if ■he slept. I “Bart— no, no, not that —not that? . Whispered Paul at last, hoarsely. ’ “God help you, old fellow!” whispered 1 Bart with a deprecating gesture, “I can * do nothing. It is too late.” ’ “What?” cried Paul, fiercely. “And is I .his your boasted knowledge. Helpless, 5 miserable pretender! Aube, Aube, my i darling!— gone—gone. God help me, what thalli do?” l v He flung himself on his knees by the f bedside, and passionately kissed the soft, cold lips again and again, heedless of everything, as by all the terms of endear- \ ment he could command, he called upon i her to come back to him, for he could ' not live alone, till his passionately uttered ■ words grew faint and husky, and he j turned round fiercely, for a hand was /laid upon his head. i He laughed bitterly, then, as he gazed us in Nousie’s wild face. \ "Well,” he cried, “you have killed her. Are you happy now? You fetched her Uway from all who loved her, and for this.” “But I loved her, too,” groaned Nousie, i "nay darling, whom I could have died to mm Have some pity on me,” she wailed, as she held up her clasped hands to , her accuser. “Yes, I loved her, too.” Paul uttered a low hoarse cry and clasped the suffering woman in his arms. I "Yes,” he said. l ‘l am mad. Ido not ■ Name you—her mother —for you loved her, too." At that moment in regular dirge-like mourning cadence came the wailing chorus of the blacks, sending a thrill through Bart, as he bent over Aube once more, touching her hands which he felt it a sacrilege to lay upon the fast chilling form, and ending by taking those of the mother and his friend, leading them to either Side of the couch, and joining them so that they lay theirs upon the halfclosed eyes once so full of sadness and loving tenderness, to close them in the 'darkness until the coming light. . And once more the low moaning wail irose from without for the death of Nou- >. trie's child. » ... CHAPTER XXIV. *1 dare not tell him," muttered Bart a /few hours after, as he walked up and down th© room, Aube’s little nest; for jPaul had sternly refused to leave the chamber, and was with his head bowed down in his hands, just as he had been led there ten 4 derly by Nousie, for only to her would he S' eld when it was whispered to him that > must go. I “I dare not tell him,” said Bart again j<!so himself, “but if ever poor girl was poisohed that was her death. I must get him away from here, for the tragedy is at an end.” ! “Poor lad!” he mused. “The knot has been cut indeed. But in What away! 'Whose cursed hand gave her that? May it rot from the owner’s limbs.” ' i He started, for there was a ghastly face looking up at him—a countenance that in its distortion he hardly knew. • “Paul, old fellow," he said, gently, “had we not better go ?” "Bart!” came in a hoarse, fierce whisl per, "they must have poisoned her.” "j “What? Oh, who would have had the heart to do that?" T "Poisoned Jher,” continued Paul, “and 'you know it, but you will not tell me. Who could have done this where all * seemed to love her? Oh, it is too hard to bear." — — — - “You may be wrong in this,” said Bart, : quietly, feeling startled, though at the i I way in which his friend had seemed to' /read his thoughts. “No, I am not wrong. She was poi- ■ zoned. I feel - it. This cursed land. Some one must have been envious and hated her.” “That we shall never know. But, Paul, old fellow, we can dp no good here. Come away now. Let us go back.” Paul shook his head sadly. “No,” he said. “You forget. We are in this strange land where one lives to- ■ day and is forgotten to-morrow. Not yet, Bart. I am going to see them lay my darling, my Sweet, innocent darling, in her bridal bed. I’m not jealous, old fellow—not jealous of .him. Death’s own. To-night— to-night ?” “Ah, yes," said Bart, sadly. “I had al- ■ most forgotten where we are. It will be to-night.” “• r “Ye«; her mother whispered it to mo M she brought me from the' room. We

know each other now it is too late.” Paul’s words were correct, for just at sundown, amid wailing and tears, Aube’s flower-covered bier was borne by half a dozen of the neighboring blacks, the white, statuesque figure, with its marble face upon the waning sunshine, to the burying ground, where a shallow grave was waiting, a priest standing close by. Paul followed, hand in hand with Nousie, and as they reached the grave he raised his eyes, which looked to his friend as if they blazed, for they had suddenly encountered those of Saintone, standing there with his mother. But Paul’s anger died out directly, for he could see the man’s face w’orking with the hysterical passion of his Southern nature, and as he stepped forward to take a last farewell of her who lay there he utterly broke down, and Paul gave a sigh of relief as Saintone was led away. "It was not he,” thought Paul. "He loved her, too. It was not he.” Then, as in a dream, he listened to the priest, and stood there, stunned, till the last sad rites were nt an end, and it seemed to him as he saw the earth cover her from sight that his own life was at an end as well. The wails of the blacks rang in his ears, and the sun sank, the darkness was coming on fast as Bart whispered to him: “Come.” In a dreamy way still, as if he would wake from it all soon, he was about to follow, but a cold hand touched his, and a piteous voice said to him in almost a whisper: “Don't leave me yet, dear. I am so lonely now.” Bart drew back and gave up his idea of taking Paul back to their place as he saw him gravely bend over Nousie, draw her arm through his, and, followed by a group of weeping people, lead her to her home, the young doctor coming almost last. CHAPTER XXV. Paul Lowther looked so wild and strained that his friend trembled for the result. There was something in the bereaved lover’s eyes which told of a despair beyond words to portray; and longing for this terrible day to end, Bart endeavored to keep near his old companion, trying to find something to say to him from time to time, but owning to himself after any such effort that he had far better have left the sufferer to his silent grief. It was strange how the great sorrow had brought Nousie and Paul together. The cabaret had soon grown deserted, for the blacks had stolen one by one away, till all was dark and silent without, while within hardly a word was spoken, and Paul sat holding Nousie’s hand in his, their figures dimly visible to Bart, as they sat close by the open window, at which, only a few hours before, Aube had stood tending the flowers tie people around loved to bring for her acceptance. From time to time a groan or a sigh would come from the outer room, where Cherubine was alone with her grief, unheeded by all there, till, growing startled by the woman’s evident suffering, Bart softly rose and crept out into the large, dark, deserted saloon, to where the black servant half lay, apparently mad with grief and agony. He said a few words to her and tried to induce her to converse with him, but it was in vain, and feeling that nothing but time would avail aught, he turned away with a sigh, and was going back to Aube’s little room when he caught sight of a misty looking figure passing out of the door into the veranda. “Paul!” he said to himself, "Jtoing without me.” His suspicions were aroused, and he followed him quickly to stand in the veranda trying to penetrate the darkness, and make out whether Paul had gone down the road toward the town. He was not kept In suspense many moments for, all at once, a piercing shriek rang out as if from behind bim, and simultaneously there wasja flash of light and the report of a pistol. Bart rushed to the spot ndt half-a-dozen yards away and just opposite one of the end windows of the long common room. “I was afraid of that,” muttered Bart, as he rushed on, hearing the sharp click .of the pistol as it was being cocked, and springing upon the indistinctly seen figure before him, he wrenched the pistol away. “You madman!” he cried, furiously. “Is this my friend —the brother of that poor girl who is waiting in all love and trust for his return?” “For my return!” said Paul, quietly; “why should I return? Why have you taken that away?” “Because you are not fit to be trusted with it. Herel be a man and come end see what is wrong;” for a series of agonizing screams came from within the house, each more piercing than that which had made Paul Lowther start as he drew the trigger to end his weary life. Weak as a child now in his despair, he yielded to the firm gpp upon his arm, and suffered himself to be led quickly into the long room, where a light now gleamed, and as they entered it lit up the pallid, startled face of Nousie, who was hurrying toward the end. There was no need to ask what was wrong, for there, just as she had'fallen from her seat, lay Cherubine, writhing and groveling on the-floor, still uttering shrieks which rang through the place and sent a shudder through Paul. “Good heavens!” panted Bart. “What have you done? Your bullet must have struck the poor creature.” “No; no,” cried Paul, excitedly, and die clung now to his companion; “She shrieked as I fired, and my shot was aimed the other way.” Nousie had gone down on her knees speaking wildly to her old servant and friend, and she looked up appealingly at the two young men for help. “Isn’t there trouble enough, man,” whispered Bart, as the shrieks continued; "are you no better than this poor hysterical savage?”

Paul looked at him hopelessly, and then his eyes fell upon the writhing woman. "Let mo come, Madame Dulau," said Bart, quickly, after carefully placing the pistol in his own pocket. "Have you evot seen her like this before?" “No, no," said Nousie, this new trouble rousing her from her despondent state. .“What shall I get you—water—brandy?” "Wait a moment, let’s see. Hysterical fit, I suppose,” said Bart, trying with all a doctor’s calmness to examine the woman’s eyes. “I don’t know. Here, Paul, man,” he continued, as the poor creature writhed and shrieked horribly, “hold thnt hand for me. Kneel down. That’s right. Bestir yourself, or we shall have some fresh catastrophe.” “It 1h not hysteria. She has been drinking herself mad to drown her sorrow, I suppose. What would it be, madamarrack?” “Oh, no, no,” cried Nousie. "She would not touch anything of the kind.” “In an ordinary way—no, madam; but now—pah! you can smell her breath.' Hold her firmly, Paul, man, or she will half kill herself.” “Cherubine, speak to me,” cried Nousie. The answer was a wild shriek of agony, and the poor wretch heaved herself up, so that it required all the strength of the two men during the terrible paroxysm to hold her down. “It is spirit!" muttered Bart to Paul. “A woman not used to it/ Ah!” he cried, suddenly, “what's this she has got clenched in her hand?" He dragged open the fingers which were contracted round a small glass phial, started up, held it to the light, and smelt it v “Poison,” he said quickly, “without a doubt. Here, Madame Dulau, help me.” He gave her his instructions; the simplest of remedies was given, and the agonized cries and struggles at last grew less terrible, and by degrees ceased, the woman lying utterly prostrate, apparently too weak even to breathe. She was sensible, though, and her eyes opened from time to time, to gaze imploringly at her mistress, who knelt by her holding her hand. “Will she live?” said Nousie, at last. Bart was silent, for he was in doubt, the pulse was so feeble and intermittent. “Don’t - let her die, too,” cried Nousie, piteously. “She nursed my darling when a babe. Cherubine, my old friend, don’t leave me now.” The woman uttered a low cry of agony, and feebly clutched at her mistress’ hand, to lift it to her breast. “She loved you too,” whispered Nousie, “and you loved her. She could not bear it, sir," she continued. “It was to die, and be with my darling who has gone.” "No!” thundered Paul, whose whole manner had changed since the discovery of the little phial, and who had been struggling with the horrible suspicion which had come like a flash to his darkened brain, and then brightened till all seemed clear as day. “No, it was from remorse. Wretch! it was you who poisoned Aube.” “Hush, man; she's dying, I’m afraid. Don’t charge her with that.” “It is true!” cried Paul, fiercely. “Cherubine!” shrieked Nousie; and she bent over the wretched woman’s paindrawn face. “Yes,” said the woman, in a strange, hoarse whisper, “1 gave it to her—my darling babe —I loved so, and took it, and I am going to die.” “You, Cherubine!" cried Nousie. “No, no; you could not kill our child.” “Yes,” she whispered, “I gave it to her. I was obliged; they made me.” “What? Ah!” cried Nousie, her eyes starting with horror. “Papaloi—Mamanloi—told me— the serpent’s will—obliged—obliged ” “Genie —gave you that?” cried Nousie, with frantic energy. “Yes—Genie—Jacaine—they made me— I’ll tell you—gave it to our darling.” “You killed my child,” said Nousie, in a voice that sounded unnaturally calm. "No; not to kill, Genie said; to do her good—save her—Ah-h-h!” She shrieked aloud in her agony once more, but Bart’s simple remedy her relief, and she lay still again, her voiqe sounding weaker and more hoarse as she spoke again, and now in a curious drowsy way. “It was Genie, missus,” she whispered as she gazed up piteously, “said it would do her good—save her; but it was poison; rt killed her, and I said it should kill me, too.” , (To be continued.) Freight by Trolley Cars. A move hasbeen made in Newark, N. J., which Is significant in view’ of the present changing condition of general freight service. A bread bakery which runs out fifty delivery wagons daily to points within fourteen miles of the city finds that it can do much of its freight delivery in a simpler and better and cheaper way. Eighteen of Its wagons are sent to Jersey City in the morning, loaded with hot bread, which is delivered to the locked boxes in front of the grocery stores before the stores are open. To save a drive of from fourteen to twenty miles a day for each of these wagons, the firm has made a contract with the local electric ear company to run trolley freight cars from the bakery to a new delivery depot In Jersey City. The cars will be run at an hour of the night when they will not interfere in any way with passenger traffic. If the venture is successful the firm proposes to run cars to more distant cities. On the other hand, the traction company is now seeking to make similar contracts with the brewers of the city, who now deliver large quantities of Veer in Hudson County and New York by wagons. It is but natural that the strongest pressure should be brought against this innovation, but under its franchise the company has the right to run freight cars. Should the night trolley freight service become general it will readily be seen what an important modification of city and suburban delivery traffic will follow. Western Lakes Growing Smaller. Reports from the lake regions of Minnesota and the Dakotas announce that the lakes in that .section are not only greatly diminished in quantity, but some are disappearing entirely. This state of affairs is largely.attributable to the deficiency in rainfall for the paat ten years They Write Most Letters in English. Two-thirds of all the letters which pass through the postofflees of the world are written by and sent to people who speak English. Diamonds have been found in fifteen or twenty different localities in Calk fornia.

THE ONE RIGHT ROAD REV. DR. TALMAGE POINTS IT OUT TO LIFE’S TRAVELERS. He Shows the Road of Righteousness to Be Safe, Plain, Pleasant, Broad, Smooth, and with a Glorious Terminus at Last. / Sermon at the Capital. Rev. Dr. Talmage’s sermon in Washington last Sunday was a picture of the road that many have traveled and others are trying to get on and is no more appropriate for the capital of the nation than for all places. The text chosen was Isaiah xxxv., 8, D, 10: "And an highway shall be there, and away, and it shall be called the way of holiness. The unclean shall not. pass over it, but it shall be for those; the wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein. No lion shall be there, nor any ravenous beast shall go up thereon, it shall not be found there, but the redeemed shall walk there, and the ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads. They shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.” There are hundreds of people in this house who want to find the right road. You sometimes see a person halting at cross roads, and you can tell by his looks that he wishes to ask a question as to what direction he had better take. And I stand in your presence conscious of the fact that there are many of you here who realize that there are a thousand wrong roads, but only one right one, and I take it for granted that you have come in to ask which one it is. Here is ovie road that opens widely, but I have not much faith in it. There are a great many expensive tollgates scattered all along that way. Indeed at every rod you must pay in tears, or pay in genuflexions, or pay in flagellations. On that road, if you get. through it at all, you have to pay your own way, and since this differs so much from what I have heard in regard to the right way, I believe it is the wrong way. Here is another road. On either side of it are houses of sinful entertainment and invitations to come in and dine and rest, but from the looks of the people who stand on the piazza I am certain it is the wrong house and the wrong way. Here is another road. It is very beautiful and macadamized. The horses' hoofs clatter and ring, and they who ride over it spin along the highway, until suddenly they find that the road breaks over an embankment, and they try to halt, and they seize the bit in the mouth of the fiery steed and cry: "Ho! Ho!” But it is too late, and, crash! they go over the embankment. We shall turn and see if we cannot find a different kind of road. You have liieard of the Appian way. It was 350 miles long. It was 24 feet wide, and on either side of the road was a path for foot passengers. It was made out of rocks cut in hexagonical shape and fitted together. What a road it must have been! Made of smooth, hard rock, 350 miles long. - No wonder that in the construction of it the treasures of a whole empire were exhausted. Because of invaders, and the elements, and time —the old conqueror who tears up a road as he goes over it —there is nothing left of that structure but a ruin. But I have to tell you of a road built before the Appian way, and yet it is as good as when first constructed. Millions of souls have gone over it. Millions more will come.

The prophets and apostles, too. Pursued this road while here below. We therefore will, without dismay, Still walk in Christ, the good old way. The King’s Highway. First, this road of the text is the king’s highway. In the diligence you dash on over the Bernard pass of the Alps, mile after mile, and there is not so much as a pebble t’d jar the wheels. You go over bridges which cross chasms that make you hold your breath, under rock, along by dangerous precipices, through tunnels adrip with the meltings of the glaciers, aud perhaps for the first time learn the majesty of a road built and supported by governmental authority. Well, my Lord and King decided to build a highway from earth to heaven. It should span all the chasms of human wretchedness. It should tunnel all the mountains of earthly difficulty. It should be wide enough and strong enough to hold 50,000,000.000,000 of the human race, if so many of them should ever be born. It should be blasted out of the “Rock of Ages,” ami cemented with the blood of the cross, and be lifted amid the shouting of angels and the execration of devils. The King sent his Son to build that road : He put head and hand and heart to it, and after the road was completed waved his blistered hand over the way, crying, “It is finished!” Napoleon paid T5,0G0,000 francs for the building of the Simplon road that his cannon might go over for the devastation of Italy, but our King at a greater expense has built a road for a different purpose that the banners of heavenly dominion might come down over it. Being a king’s highway, of course it is well built. Bridges splendidly arched and abuftreSsed have given way and crushed the passengers who attempted to cross them. But Christ the King would build no such thing as that. The work done, he mounts the chariot of his love and multitudes mount with him, and he drives on and up the steep of heaven amid the plaudi/s of gazing worlds! The work 1 is done—well done —gloriously done —magnificently done. A Clean Road. Still further, this road spoken of is a clean road. Many a fine road has become miry and foul because it has not beqn properly eared for, but my text says the unclean shall not walk on this one. Room on either side to throw away your sins. Indeed, if you want to carry them along, you are not on the right road. .That bridge will break, rocks will fall, the nigTst^ will come down, leaving you at th^ 1 mercy of the mountain bandits, and at the very next turn of, the road you will perish. But if you are really on this clean road of which I have been speaking, then you will stop ever and anon to wash in the water that stands tn the basin of the eternal rock. Aye, at almost every step of the journey you will be crying out. "Great© within me n clean such aspirations aS, that, it prot'es that you have mistaken y</ir way. nnd if you Will only .look up and see the finger board above your head yoti may read upon it the words, "There is away that seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof is death.” /Without holiness no mav shall gee the Ijord. and if you have any idea that you can carry along your sms, you'ri lusts, you’ worWUusss, and yst get at the

end of the Christian race, you are so awfully mistaken that, in the name of God, I shatter the delusion. A Plain Road. Still further, the road spoken of is a plain road. “The wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein"—that is, if a man is three-fourths an idiot, he can find this road just as well as if he were a philosopher. The imbecile boy, the laughing stock of the street, and followed by a mob hooting at him, has only just to knock once at the gate of heaven, and it swings open, while there has been many * man who could lecture about pneumatics and chemistry and tell the story of Faraday's theory of electrical polarization and yet has been shut out of heaven* There has been many a man who stood in an observatory and swept the heavens with his telescope and yet has not been Able to see the morning star. Many a man has been familiar with all the higher branches of mathematics and yet could not do the simple sum, “What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?” Many a man has been a fine reader of tragedies and poems and yet could not “read his title, clear to mansions in the skies.” Many a man has botanized the continent and yet not known the Rose of Sharon, and the Lily of the Valley. But if one shall come in the right spirit, asking the way to heaven, he will find it a plain way. The pardon is plain. The peace is plain. Everything is plain. He who tries to get on the road to heaven through the New Testament teaching will get on beautifully. lie who goes through philosophical discussion will not get on at all. Christ says, “Come to me and I will take all your sins away, and I will take all your troubles away.” Now, what is the use of my discussing it any more? Is not that plain? If you wanted to go to some city, and I pointed you out a highway thoroughly laid out. would I be wise in detaining you by a geological discussion about the gravel you will puss over, or a physiological discussion about the muscles you will have to bring into play? No. After this Bible has pointed you the way to heaven, is it wise for me to detain you with any discussion about the nature of the human will, or whether the atonement is limited or unlimited? There is the road —go on it. It is a plain way. “This is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptation that Christ Jesus canie into the world to save sinners.” And that is you and that is me. Any little child here can understand this as well as I can. : “Unless you become as a little child you cannot see the kingdom of God.” If you are saved, it will not be as a philosopher; it will be as a little child. “Os such is the kingdom of heaven.” Unless you get the spirit of little children you will never come out at their glorious destiny. A Safe Road. Still further, this road to heaven is a safe road. Sometimes the traveler in those ancient highways would think himself perfectly secure, not knowing there was a lion by the way, burying bis head deep between his paws, and then, when the right moment came, under the fearful spring the man’s life was gone, and there was a mauled carcass by the roadside. But, says my text. “No lion shall be there.” I wish I could make you feel your entire security.. I tell you plainly that one minute after a man has become a child of God he is as safe as though he had been 10,000 years in heaven. He mdy slip, he may slide, he may stumble, but he cannot be destroyed; kept by the power of God, through faith, unto complete salvation. everlastingly safe. The severest trial to which you can subject a Christian man is to kill him. and that is glory. In other words, the worst thing that can happen a child of God is heaven. The body is only the old slippers that he throws aside just before putting on the sandals of light. His soul, you cannot hurt it. No fires can consume it; no floods can drown it: no devils can capture it. Firm and unmoved are they Who rest their souls on God; Fixed as the ground where David stood, Or where the ark abode. His soul is safe. His reputation is safe. Everything is safe. “But,” you say„ “suppose his store burns up?” Why, then it will be only a change of investments from earthly to heavenly securities. “But,” you say, “suppose his name goes down under the hoof of seorn and contempt?” The name will be so much brighter in glory. “Suppose his physical.health fails?” God will pwj into him the floods of everlasting health, and it will not make any difference. Earthly subtraction is heavenly addition. The tears of earth are the crystals of heaven. As they take rags and tatters and put them through the paper mill, and they come out beautiful white sheets of paper, so often the rags of earthly destitution, under the cylinders of deathj come out a white scroll upon which shall be written eternal emancipation. There was one passage of Scripture the force of which I neVer understood until one day at Chaniounix. witH Mont Blanc on one side and Montanvert on the other, I opened my Bible aud read, “As the mountains are around about Jerusalem, so the Lord is around about them that feiir him.” The surroundings were an omnipotent commentary. ? Though troubles assail and dangers affright, » Though friends should all fail and foes all unite. Yet one thing secures us, whatever betide, The Scripture assures us the Lord will provide. • t 4 A Pleasant Road. Still further, the road spoken of is a pleasant road. God gives a bond of indemnity against all evil to every man that treads it. "All things work together for ®>od to those who love God.” No weapon formed against them can prosper. That is the bond, signed, sealed and delivered by the president of the whole universe. What is the use of your fretting. O child oi God. about food? “Behold the fowls of the air, for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns. Yet your Heavenlj’ Father feedeth them.” And will he take care of the Sparrow, will he take care of the raven, will he take Care of the hawk and let you die? What is the use of your fretting about clothes? “Consider the lilies of the field. Shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?" What is the use of worrying for fear something will happen to ytyur home? "He blesseth the habitation.of. the just." What is the use of your fretting lest you will lie overcome of temptations? “God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tvmpted above that ye are able, but will with Jhe temptation also make away to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.” Oh. this, King’s highway! Trees of life on either side, bending over until their branches interlock and drop midway their fruit and shade. Houses of entertainment on either side the road for poor pil-

grims, Tables spread with a feast of good things, and walls adorned with apples of gold in pictures at silver. I start out on this King's highway, and I find a harper, and I say, “What is your name?" Th© harper makes no response, but leaves me to guess, as with his eyes toward heaven and his hand upon the trembling strings this tune comes rippling on the air: “Thu Lord is my light and my salvation. Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my Ufa, Os whom shall Ibe afraid?” I go a little farther on the same road and meet a trumpeter of heaven, and I say, “Haven’t you got some music for a tired pilgrim?” And, wiping his lips and taking a long breath, he puts his mouth to the trumpet and pours forth this strain, “They shall hunger no more, neither shall they thirst any more, neither shall ths sunlight on them, nor any heat, for the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne ■ shall lead them to living fountains of water, and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." I go a lithic distance farther on the same road, and I meet a maiden of Israel. She has no harp, but she has cymbals. They look as if they had rusted from sea spray, and I say to th j maiden of Israel: “HAseyou no song for a tired pilgrim?” And, lik’e the clang of victors’ shields, the cymoalq. clap as Miriam begins to discourse: “Sing ye to the Lord, for he hath triumphed gloriously. The horse and the rider hath he thrown into the sea.” And then I see a white robed group. They come bounding toward me, and I say, “Who are they? The happiest, and the brightest, and the fairest in all.heaven—who are they?” And the answer comes, “These are they who came out of great tribulations and had their robes washed and made white ir the blood of the Lamb.” The Terminus. I pursue this subject only one step farther. What is Hie terminus? I do not care how fine a road you put me on, I want to know where it comes out. My text declares it, “The redeemed of the Lord come to Zion.” You know what Zion was. That was the king’s palace. It was a mountain fastness. It was impregnable. And so heaven is the fastness of the universe. No howitzer has long enough range to shell those towers. Let all the batteries of earth and hell blaze away. They cannot break in those gates. Gibraltar was taken. Sevastopol was taken, Babylon fell, but these walls of heaven shall never surrender either to human or Satanic besiegement. The Lord .God Almighty is the defense of it. Great capital of the universe! Terminus of the King’s highway! Dr. Dick said that, among other things, he thought in heaven we would study chemistry and geometry and conic sections. Southey thought that in heaven he would have- the pleasure of seeingi Chaucer and Shakspeare. Now, Dr. Dick may have his mathematics for all eternity, and Southey his Shakspeare. Give me Christ and my old friends—that is al) the heaven I want. Christ and his people that I knew on earth —that is heaven enough for me. Oh, garden of light, Whose leaves never wither, and whose fruits never fail! Oh. banquet gs God, whose sweetness never palls .the taste and whose guests are kings forever! Oh, city of light, whose walls are salvation, and whose gates are praise! Oh, palace of rest, where God is the monarch and everlasting ages the length of his reign! Oh. song louder than the surf beat of many waters, yet soft as the whisper of cherubim! 4 Oh, glorious heaven! When the last wound is healed, when the last heartbreak is ended, when the last tear of earthly sorrow is wiped away, and when the redeemed of the Lord shall come to Zion, then let all the harpers take down their harps, and all the trumpeters take down their trumpets, and all across heaven let there be chorus of morning stars, chorus of white robed victors, chorus of martyrs from under the- throne, chorus of ages, chorus of worlds, and thsre is but one song sang, name spoken, and but one throne honored—that of Jesus only.

Mother-Wit. A pretty long list might be made of men who have owed their advancement in'life tola smart answer given at the right moihent One of Napoleon’s veterans, who survived his master many years, was wont ’to recount with great glee how he had once picked up the Emperor's cocked hat at a review, when the latter, not noticing that he was a private, said carelessly. ‘Thank you. captain.” “In what regiment sire?” ipstantly asked the ready-witted soldier. Napoleon, mistake, ah-,-wered with a smile, “In my Guard, for i’ see you know how to be prompt” The newly made officer received his commission the next morning. A somewhat similar anecdote is related of Marshal Suvorbff, who, when receivipg a dispatch from the hands of a Russian sergeant who had greatly distinguished himself on the Danube, attempted to confuse the messenger by a series of whimsical questions, but found him fully equal to the occasion. “How many fish are there in the sea?" asked Suvoroff. “All that are not caught yet," was the answer. “How far is it to the moon?” “Two of your excellency’s forced* marches.” "What would you do if you saw your men giving way in battle?” “I’d tell them that there was a wagon-load of whisky just behind the enemy’s Hue. , Baffled at all points, the marshal ended with “What’s the difference between your colonel and myself?” "My colonel cannot make me a lieu.tenant, but your excellency has only tc say the word." "I say it now then,” answered Suvoroff __“aud a right good officer you’ll be.” A New and Light Metal. The. metal glucinium, hitherto a chemical rarity, is likely to eome forward as a useful material, especially in electrical work: It'is only twice as heavy as water, and is. Therefore, ev6i lighter than aluminum. It is a good ileal less extensible than iron and has an electric conductivity greater than that of copper. It is more durable than iron. At its present price. $17.83 per pound. It is one-tenth the price of platinum, weight for weight, and oneone hundred and sixtieth the price VoP ume for volume. ' Q - -