Pike County Democrat, Volume 27, Number 44, Petersburg, Pike County, 12 March 1897 — Page 3

flu fikr fountg JJrmotrat IL MeC. ITOON, Editor and Proprietor. Petersburg, • - Indiana. AN EXPENSIVE EEL POT. 'Vk« ^arer Oflee of a Great Ooreranient Gunboat. One of the most startling possibilities of the new ships of the United States navy was shown by the recent accident to the battleship Texas at the nary yard in New York, when the connections of a sea-cock gave way, and the engine rooms and some other compartments of the ship were! flooded with water from the East river. When the water came pouring j through the hole in the ship's bottom j the engineer in charge of the starboard j engine-room, which felt the first force ; of the rush, closed the doors leading to j the port engine-room and then made a j hurried exit to the deck. The water, i coming in through an aperture more j than 13 inches in diameter, spouted up j like a small geyser until the ship had j gone down as far as the mud under her ! keel would permit, and then the flow j was only sufficient to make up for the j leakage from the engine room to the j other compartments. The discipline on the ship was perfect, and, although all the electric lights were put out, owing to the flooding ol the lighting apparatus, there was nc -disorder. It was not until after the lights had been restored through connections with the System on board the battleship Indiana, which was lying near the Texas, and the pumps had begun bailing the ship, that the fact wai made clear that Uncle Sam’s cruisers could be put to other uses besides the killing of people and the destruction of property. The engine room was full of wriggling, squirming, twisting eels, to say nothing of large numbers of small fish, which had been sucked in by the rush- . itfg water. As an eel trap, in short, the Texas w as a complete success. While the pumps were at work the surface of the water was continually stirred by the strangers who had invaded the prjecinets devoted to the machinery, and the flapping and jumping of the fish. With the smooth, sinuous, j gliding motion of the eels, made a pic- j ture under the glare of the electric lamps which those who saw it will not coon forget. After the water had been lowered in the engine-room so that the crank-shaft •nd crank-pits were visible, the disturbance became; greater, as. although the pump exhausiting the water had a suction aperture,almost as large as the hole through which the eels had made their way into the ship, a large number of them escaped the drought, and were left stranded in the mud which had settled in the pits. These were counted on as a basis for a fish dinner for “Jacky,” and although j there were not enough left to make a meal for the 400 and odd men on board, j It was evident that, as one of the men put it: “There is no need for us to starve, for all we have to do is to open the seacock, take the bonnet off the ^flange, and the engine room will catch all the fish needed.”—Youth’s Companion. THE SLIDING POLE. Bandy tiolns Down, lint Stnlra (mo Gains I p, Firemen use the sliding poles in the engine houses w hen descending from the dormitory floors to the street floor about their ordinary affairs, just as ! they do w hen hustling dow n for a fire. It is the quickest and easiest way to go, and naturally they go that way j always. To a man not a fireman, however, and so unaccustomed to it, the commonplace use of the sliding pole seems at first strange, lie has seen it usually, perhaps only, from below; and the use of it is associated in his mind v ith the sound of the gong, the pounding of the horses’ hoofs, the snapping .

Vt liai ij uuu tuv uua vu preparation. 1*o see" the firemen come dropping down the sliding poles into this scene of Activity seems all right. It seems like a part of the general scheme. Hut ijf one who has been accustomed only to seeing them come down the poles in this way should hap- * pen at a time of quiet in the house to be on an upper floor, and instead of seeing firemen shoot into view should see one suddenly and silently disappear! that sight probably would at first be surprising to him. ^ At first it seems strange to see any suan, firemen ojr not, slide down a pole to start for his dinner, for instance, but that is what the fireman does, and it is just the same if he is going below for any duty in the house, Re goes down the pole habitually, because that is the simplest nnd easiest way to gu. But he doesn't go back that way; easy as it is to slide down the pole, it would be mighty hard work to shin up 1t. When the fireman goes up, then, like everrbody else, he climbs the stair*. —X. Y. Sun. I The Sods Water Baslaess. Fifty millions of dollars are annually invested in this country in soda* making apparatus, and the soda water trust is capitalized at $13,000,1)00. The late John Manners, of New York, originated in 1$32 the idea of manufacturing gas with which to charge v ater. The names of those two benefactors of mankind—the man who firs* stirred together a little common baking soda and tartaric acid in water, suid the other, probably a woman, who was struck with the idea of dropping home ice cream into her glass of soda water—have not been preserved.—Chicago Record. ICtchty-Onc Below Boro. The lowest temperature ever recorded eras on December 30, 1S71, and was experienced by Prof. Gorochon. He was at Werchojansk, Siberia, and the temperature was 81 degrees below Chicago Record.

TH3 SDBVIYAL BY PAUL 8HOUP. Jim threw another log on the campfire, and the blazing circle of light grew to its old dimensions. We could see the stars dodging back and forth behind the tops of the pines, and the lone coyote who had a monopoly of noises down the gulch was indulging us with a temporary rest. The Patriarch occupied the seat of honor, a camp-stool, and the rest of us were ranged on a tree-trunk. The Patriarch looked at me. “I’ll do you the favor,” he said, “of filling my pipe with your tobakky. Speakin’ of sea-yarns, that story of Jim’s about the icebergs that hunted in pairs, beepin' a keen lookout to squeeze a ship caught without a breeze, while the polar bears sat by and laughed, was tol’bly good; nud the one you told about the Thing that coukl stand on its h£ad on the floor of the ocean and flap the face of heaven with its tail, was purty Yair, yes, purty fair. But they war just yarns, plain yarns, neatly unraveled. And that makes me think of what old Absalom Biggs used to say: ’Always tell the truth, my lad, if you’re a master smart hand at it.’ “Absalom had a distant relative—he lived in Nantucket, and his brother was anchored in Jama iky—who bought and sold everything, from queer shells to queer money. His brother was a smart man. nigli as smart as Absalom hiniscV. and he might have lived to be q great doc if they had given him plenty of rope. As it was, he wara leetle toohighrtrung to make a success of life. It’s queer how the furriners acquire alT of our improvements', even the art of lynch in.’ “Absalom was master and sole proprietor of the good old tradin’ brig, Keep Mum. They war two of akind, Absalom qnd the brig. Absalom wore a suit, of homespun that hung on him like n sail wrapped around a wind-mill, and the brig was all right if she was only as black as she was painted, for she needed sprucin’ tip badly; but they war both .hard to beat in their deceptive lines. I reckon. The. Keep Mum was one of the best of her kind that ever faded out qf sight of a revenue cutter, and Absalom was entitled to a patent right on lots of the tricks of his trade. He was a quiet kind of man. though he had a good command of language, resultin' from htfrd study of circus-post-ers when he was a fad, and the Keep Mum sailed so stilly that the wind couldn’t whistle through her riggin’ even. “Now, Absalom was a temperance man from principle and interest, though he wasn’t particularly religious ami worshiped nothin,’ so far as I know, except suvin’s banks. ‘Never taste the intoxicatin’ cup, young man.* he used to say; ‘you might miss a chance to make a dollar.* But just the seme, after his brother came aboard at the end of my first trip to Kingston, bringin’ with him a mysterious air (kind of strongly scented), Absalom loath'd The Keep Mum up with rum. And such rum! In barrels, with rusted hoops and cobwebs dingin’ round ’em, they hoisted it on board. The pirates that hid it a century before stored nothin’ weak, and every year added to iUjtffctrength. Our second mate, who win a man of much liquid experience ashore as well as at sea, took a cargo of :>ne cup. It was just three days before he could navigate, and—would you believe it!—for two weeks after that whenever he dreamed of that rum at night he’d wake up in the mornin’ tipsy. “Absalom was a man who glanced over newspaper* from curiosity and read trade journals for profit. 801 knew somethin’ extremely uncommon was up when he spent a whole forenoon porin’ over a newspaper, with his elbows on the table and his fingers clutched in his hair: and when I heard his chuckle, I was interested. Absalom Biggs never wasted a chuckle. I heard him spy. ns he went out of the cabin: ‘They’re strong in the body, but weak in the head.*

i uin i jjjv up uu told a story of an awful tribe of canny bate who resided on the west coast of Afriky. It seemed they war a tribe of rog'lar bunkosteerers, fpr all the missionaries who went there war invariably taken in. Then the queen of England sent dcywn a gunboat, ond the captain of the gunboat sent a man with n white flag and a proclamation in violent language to these cannibals. Ttvrt there was some misunderstandin’ r>l>out the matter, for the oonnybalsate both the gallant tar and the proclamation. It hurt the captain’s feelin’s very notch, so he landed mdst of his force nnd went after the heathen. Alas! he didn’t know ’em. I d is re mem her all of the affectin' linea the poet larryate wrote about ’em. but the centerpiece of the work run somethin’ like this: *• They war an awful hungry lot And havin' nothin' much to do. Invaygled the tars—the sun was hot— Into a nice, seolooded spot. Then ate that gallant crew.' “Her majesty missed a reception on account of that, aud the foreign secretary missed two first-class races. Then a cruiser went down there on business, but the captain, not bein’ onto his job, was shortly on the rocks, and when the men swam ashore, the heathen met’em with a hearty reception. And it was iwful annoyin’ after that to the people cn the English boats that went sailin’ by to see them savvidges a-sittin’on the rocks and sunoin’ themselves, dressed in British naval uniforms and sarcastic smiles. And the foreign secretary bad takcn-to his bed. So the papers saiu. *"\Ve sail for London to-morrow,* said Absalom Biggs, who was standin* in the doorway with his hands in hit pockets. All the information you ever got out of Absalom about his business was volunteered, so I saved my breath by askin’ no questions. •“We reached London, and Absalom put on his best store-suit to go up to see the foreign secretary. He put one leg of his trousers outside his boot and one Inside, ‘for I don’t know/ says he. *han

the foreign secretary wears his*]!.* You see, Absalom Biggs could carry water on both shoulders about as well as anybody. We bad to pass about 20 secretaries and assistant secretaries, and every blessed one of ’em had an objection, but Absalom outmaneuvered all of them. The foreign secretary was sittin’ in a chair as if it had been built up around him. ’What do you want?’ said he, lookin’ at bis watch. ‘Permission,’ says Absalom, ‘to catch Wally Bo Logo and his caonybals.’ ‘You have it,’ said the secretary, ‘and if you are successful, her majesty will be pleased to extend to you her grateful thanks and gracious commendation.’ ‘And what might that combination be worth?’ asked .Absalom Biggs. ‘Ten thousand pounds.’ said the secretary, shortly. When we had a note to that effect, we left. “So we sailed down the African coast with a cargo part of rum and part of water. We had no fire-arms. ‘Ammynition,’ said Absalom, ‘costs money.’ I didn’t understand his plan.- Once before a trader had tried to do business and Wally Bo Logn at the same time with rum, but that sly old chap ate the trader first and drank his rum afterwards. ‘Business before pleasure,’ remarked Wally Bo Logn. “We went inshore at night by the dark of the moon, and while, the heathen war sleepin’, we lightered that rum to land. And then at daybreak we stood off. There along the beach stood barrel after barrel of rum. And every barrel had a spigot and a bright new tin cup, chained fast, ‘for tin cups cost money,’ was what Absalom said. “The heathen came down to look at t he brig and speculate about the chances for breakfast; the tin cups caught their eye, and then, pretty soon, the rum caught them. Absalom stood on the upper deck and watched them: ‘They're strong in the body, but weak in the I head.* Then he went down below, and read his ‘Pilgrim’s Progress’and‘Guide to Wealth.* “In the afternoon, Absalom Biggs surveyed the scene again. He seemed kind of pleased. And tinally, when Wally Bo Logn got. his marine cap jammed down over his eyes and his lieutenant's sword tangled up with his legs and sat down to unmix himself, Absalom ordered out the boats. ‘Take care of all of them that i can’t take care of themselves,’ kindly j said he. By nightfall we had all the ! heathen carefully stowed below. “ ‘These are your instructions: Keep j the brig out of sight of land until further notice.’ And then Absalom went back to his ‘Guide to Wealth.’ “We sailed up and we sailed down, j We tacked this way and that, and roamed around at our own free will. One more order we had from Absalom: ‘All you need give the savvidges is plenty of water and room to play. No rum,’ he added, absent-mindedly, ‘for rum costs money.’ And then I heard him chuckle again, and say: ‘They’re strong in the body, though weak in the head.’ “Well, we went on a-sailin’. And Absalom consulted me just once more. *\Yh,at do you know about ’rithmetical retrogression?’ he asked me. 1 was young in those days—almost young enough to know everything—and, havin’ the cannybals on my niind, I answered up smartly: ‘The water is a Jeetle brackish, but the harbor is fair and there are plenty of palms. It hadn’t .any inhabitants. $he last time I-was there.’ ‘Never mind,’ he said; ‘if you take 760 and divide it in two, and then every four days cut vour Aggers down one-half, how long’ll itbe until you have only one?’ Bein’ a little weak on Aggers, I said nothing. And then he fell to cipherin’. • i “After that Absalom didn’t seem t© take any interest in our cargo. He u nally stayed in the cabin and read. Aid the Keep Mum kept sailin’ on, sou etimes towards the tropics and sometimes towards the pole. It didn’t seem to make any difference to Absalom whether her canvas from sky-sails to courses was spread to a spankin’ breeze or Aapped idly in a dead ca’m. “But Anally, one day, after he had held a deep consultation with the al

iiituiuv, uui vvJUicwr aa uitu iuj liuuuuu. j The mornin* we went up the Thames, | Absalom's interest in our earpo came | to life. Fie lifted up the hatch, care- j less like, and after a bit, Wallv Bo j Logn’s black head appeared. Now, through livin' with and on mission- ; aries, Mr. Bo Logn could speak Eng- | lish. ‘We’re gom’ ashore,’ said Absalom. ‘To eat I' asked Wally Bo Logn. ) ‘Yes,’ replied Absalom, and Wally nod- ] ded his head. So we disguised himwith | a linen duster that fitted him rather soon, and added some other old clothes j bv way of adornment; then up went we | to the foreign secretary. Between you’n j roe, he’s a better man. to do business with than the lord high admiral, not havin’ so many titles. The first as- I sistant tp somethin’ stood in the doorway with his nose tilted skyward. ‘We’ve business with the secretary.* said j Absalom. ’And what might your business be?’ said his highness, with con- | siderable scorn. ’Eat,’ said Wally Bo j Logn, and he smiled at him with hie j mee,t-yOu-at-the-mess-room smile, and j his highness just shrank into nothin’. Then we steered fof the secretary’s of- j flee, and found him at home with, the j I same big chair around him. | ‘“What do you wont?* he said, j frownin’. And then Mr. Bo Logn and the secretary sized each other up, for they war two of a kind. | ** ‘Allow me,’ said Absalom Biggs, ‘to 1 introduce to you Mr. Wally B. Logn. | king of the Guinny Cannibals.’ “ ‘And where are the rest of the tribe?' asked the secretary, impatiently, j “Then Absalom drew himself up to his full height and made his best, best bow. ‘They’re strong in the body though weak in the bead. They’re in ! him,’ said Absalom Biggs.” Just then the waiter at the cook-house sounded his sheet-iron sapper-eail. t i d the Patriarch rose stiffly, scraping his pipe. “It’s supper-time, boys,** ha said. —San Francisco Argonaut..

TALMAGE’S SERMON. An Interesting Diaoourse on a WellWorn Subject. la the Story of the Prodigal's Return the Preacher Finds Bright Example* of the Joys and Delights of Religion. In the following sermon by Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage the gladness of the religion of Jesus is set forth. The well-worn story of the prodigal's return is used as the basis of the discourse, the text being Bring hither the fatted calf and kill it.— Luke xt., 2a In all ages of the world it has been customary to celebrate joyful events by festivity. The signing of treaties, the proclamation of peace, the inauguration of presidents, the coronation of kings, the Christmas, the marriage. However much on other days of the year our table may have stinted supply, on Thanksgiving day there must be something bounteous. And all the comfortable homes of Christendom have at some time celebrated joyful events. by banquet and festivity. Something has happened on the old homestead greater than anything that has ever happened before. A favorite son whom the world supposed would become a vagabond and outlaw forever has got tired of sight-seeing and has returned to his father’s house. The world said he never would come back. The old man always said his son would come back. He had been looking for him day after day and year after year. He knew be would come back. Now, having returned to his fathers house the father proclaims celebration. There is in the paddock a calf that has been kept up and fed to utmost capacity, so as to be ready for some occar sion'of joy that might come along. Ah! there never would be a grander day on the old homestead than this day. Let the butchers do their work, and the housekeepers bring in to the table the smoking meat. The musicians will take their places, and the gay groups will move up and down the floor. All the friends and neighbors are gathered in and an extra supply Is sent out to the table of the servants. The father presides at the table and says graces and thanks Cod that his long absent boy is home again. Oh! how they missed him, how glad they are to have him back.' One brother stands pouting at the back door and says: “This is a great ado about nothiug; this bad boy should have been chastised instead of greeted; veal is too good for him!” But the father says: “Nothing is too good, nothing is good enough.” There sits the young man, glad at the hearty reception, but a shadow of sorrow flitting across his brow at the remembrance of the trouble he had seen. All ready now. Let the covers lift. Music. He was dead and he is alive again! ne was lost and he is found? By, such bold imagery does the Bible set forth the mer-ry-making when a soul comes home to God. First of all, there is the new convert’s joy. It is no tame thing to become a Christian. The most tremendous moment in a man's life is when he surrenders himself to God. The grandest time on the fathers homestead is when the boy comes back. Among the great throng who in the parlors of our ehureh professed Christ one night was a young man who next morning rang my door bell and said: “Sir, I cab not contain myself with the joy I feel; I came here this morning to express it; I have found more joy in five minutes in serviug God than in all the years of my prodigality, and I came to say so.” You have seen, herhaps, a man running for his temporal liberty and the officers of the law after him, and you saw him escape, or you afterward hear the judge had pardoned him, and how great was the glee of that rescued man; but it is a very tame thing that, compared with the running for one’s everlasting life, the terrors of the law after him. and Christ coming in to pardon and bless and rescue and save. You remember John Bunyan is his great story tells how the pilgrim put

ilia uu^vio uu toia, oiiu x uu, tug . ‘‘Life, life, eternal life!” A poor car driver some time ago,, after years having had to struggle to support his family, suddenly was informed that a large inheritance was his, and there was a joy amounting to bewilderment; but that is a small thing compared with the experience of one when he has put in his hands the title-deed to the joys, the raptures,, the splendors of Heaven, and he can truly say: ‘‘Its mansions afe mine, its temples are mine, its songs are mine, its God is mine!” Oh, it is no tame thing to become a Christian. It is a merry-making. It is the killing of the fatted calf. It is a jubilee. You know the Bible never compares it to a funeral, but always compares it to something delightful. It is more apt to be compared to a banquet than anything else. It is compared in the Bible to water, bright, flashing water, to the morning, roseate, fireworked. mountain transfigured morning. 1 wish I could to-day take all the Bible expressions about pardon, and peace, and life, and twist them into one garland and put it on the brow of the humblest child of God in this assemblage, and cry: “Wear it, wear it now, wear it forever; son of God, daughter of the Lord God Almighty.” Oh. the joy of the new convert. Oh, the gladness of the Christian service. You have seen sometimes a man in a religious assembly get up and give his experience. Well, Paul gave his experience. He arose in the presence of the churches, the church on earth and the church in Heaven, and he said: “Now this is my experience; sorrowful yet always rejoicing—poor, yet making many rich — having nothing, yet possessing all things.” If the people of this house knew the joys of the Christian religion they would all pass over into the kingdom of God the next moment. When Daniel Sandeman was dying of cholera, his attendant said: “Have you much pain?” “Oh,” he replied, “since I

found the Lord I hs*e never had any pain except sin.” Then they said to him: “Would yon like to send a message to your friends?” “Yes, I would; teH them that only last night the love of Jesus came rushing into my soul like the surges of the sea, and I had to cry out: ‘Stop, Lord, it is enough; stop, Lord, enough P” Oh, the joys of this Christian religion. Just pass over from those tame joys in which you are indulging, joys of this world, into the raptures of the Gospel. The world can not satisfy you; you have found that out. Alexander longing for other words to conquer, and yet drowned in his own bottle; Byron whipped by disquietudes around the world; Voltaire oursing his own soul while all the streets of Paris were applauding him; Henry VIII. consuming with hatred against poor Thomas a Becket—all illustrations of the fact that this world can not make a man happy. The very man who poisoned the pommel of the saddle on which Queen Elizabeth rode shouted in the street, “God save the Queen P’ One moment the world applauds, and the next moment the world anathematizes. Oh, come over into this greater joy, this sublime solace, this magnificent beatitude. The night after the battle of | Shiloh, , and there were thousands of | wounded on the field, one Christian soldier lying there a-dying under the starlight, began to sing: There is a land of pure delight. And when he came to the next line there were scores of voices singing: Where saints immortal reign. The song was caught up all through the fields among the’wounded until it was said there were at least 10,000 wounded men uniting their voices as they came to the verse: There everlasting spring abides And never-withering flowers; *Tis but a narrow stream divides This heavenly land from ours. Oh, it is a great religion to live by, and a great religion to die by. There is only one heart-throb between you and that religion. Just look into the face of your pardoning God and surrender yourself for time and eternity, and He is yours, and Heaven is yours, and all is yours. Some of you, like the young man of the text, have gone far astray. 1 know not the history, j but you you know it, you know it,' j When a young man went forth into j life, the legend says, his guardian an- ! gel went forth with him, and getting him into a field, the guardian angel kept a circle clear around where the young man stood. It was a circle of virtue and honor, and he must not step beyond that circle. Armed foes came down, but were obliged to halt at the circle. They could not pass. But one day a temptress, with diamonded hand, stretched j forth and crossed that circle with the hand, and the tempted soul took it, and ] by that one fell grip was brought beyond the circle and died. Some of you have stepped beyond that circle. Would you not like this day, by the grace of God, to step back? This, I say to you, is your hour of salvation. There was in the closing hours of Queen Anne what is called the clock scene. Flat down on the pillow in helpless sickness, she could not move her head or move her hand. She was waiting for the hour when the ministers of state should gather in angry contest, and worried and worn out by the | coming hour, and in momentaiy absence of the nurse, in the j power, the strange power which delirium sometimes gives one, i she arose and stood in front of the clock, and stood there watching the j clock when the nurse returned. The ! nurse said: “Do you see anything pe- ; culiar about that clock?” She made no answer, but soon died. There is a clock j scene in every history. If some of you I would rise from the bed of lethargy and come out from your delirium of sin and look on the clock of your destiny this moment,'you would see and hear something you have not seen or heard before, and every tick of the minute, and every stroke of the hour, and every swing of the pendulum, would say, “Now, now, now, now!” Oh, come home to your Fathers house. Come h^me. oh, prodigal, from the wilderness. Come home, come home!

But I notice that when the prodigal came there was the .father's joy. He did" not greet him with any formal “How do you do?” He did not come out and say: “You are unfit to enter; go wash in the trough by the well, and then you can come in; we hare had enough trouble with you.” Ah, no! When the proprietor of that estate pro claimed festival, it was an outburst of a father s love and a father's joy. God is your father. I have not much sympathy . with the description of God I sometimes hear, as though He were a Turkish sultan, hard and unsympathetic, and listening not to the cry of his subjects. A man told me he saw in one of the eastern lands a king riding along, and two men were in alterear tion, and one charged the other with having eaten his rice, and the king said: “Then slay the man, and by postmortem examination find whether he has eaten the rice.” And he was slain. Ah! the cruelty of a scene like that. Our God is not a sultan, not a despot, but a Father—kind, loving, forgiving, and He makes all Heaven ring again when a prodigal comes back. “1 have no pleasure,” He says, “in the death of him that dieth.” All may be saved. If a man does not get to Heaven, it is because he will not go there. No difference the color, no difference the hisrtory, no difference the antecedents, no difference the surroundings, no difference the sin. When the white horses of Christ’s victory are brought out to celebrate the eternal triumph you may ride one of them, and as God is greater than all, His joy is greater, and when a soul comes back there is in His heart the surging of an infinite ocean of gladness; and to express that gladness it takes all the rivers of pleasure, all the thrones of pomp and all the ages of eternity. It is a joy deeper than all depth and higher than all height* and wider than all width, and vaster than all immensity. It overtops, it undergirds, it outweighs all the united splendor and joy of the universe, and who can tell

what God’s joy Is? You remembes* reading the stray of a king, who ooj some great day of festivity scattered! silver and gold among the people, who sent valuable presents to his courtiers; but me thinks, when a soul comes back,' God is so glad that to express His joy He flings out new worlds into space, and kindles up new suns, and rolls among the white-robed anthems of the redeemed a greater hs&elujah, while with a voice that re venerates among the mountains of frankincense and is echoed back from the everlasting gates He cries: “This, my Son, was dead, and He is alive again!” 1 notice also, that when a prodigal comes home there is the joy of the ministers of religion. >Oh, it is a grand thing to preach this GospeL I know there has been a great deal said about* the trials and the hardships of tha Christian ministry. I wish somebody would write a good, rousing book about the joys of the Christian ministry. Since I entered the profession, I have seen more of the goodness of God than I will be able to celebrate in all eternity. I know some boast about their equilibrium, and they do not rise into enthusiasm, and they do not break down with emotion; but I confess to you plainly that when I see a man coming to God and giving up his sin I fed in body, mind and soul a transport. When 1 see a man bound hand and foot in evil habit emancipated, I rejoioo over it as though it were my own emancipation. Once more I remark, that when the prodigal gets back the inhabitants of Heaven keep festal. I am very certain of it. If you have never seen a telegraph chart you have no idea, how many cities are connected together, and how many lands. Nearly all the neighborhoods of the earth seem reticulated, and news flies from city to city, and from continent to continent But more rapidly go the tidings from earth to Heaven, and when a prodigal returns it’ is announced before the throne of God. And if these souls now present should enter the Kindom there would be some one in the Heavenly Kingdom to say: “That’s may father.” “That’s my mother,” “That’s my son,” “That’s the one X used to pray for.” “That's the one for whom I wept so many tears,” and one soul would say: “Hosanna!” and another soul woul say: “Hallelujah!” Pleased with the news, the saints below In songs.their tongues employ; Beyond t huskies the tidings go, And Heaven is Oiled kith joy. Nor angels can their Joy contain. But kindle with new Ore; The afcmer lost is found, they sing. And strike the sounding lyre. Look, look! There is Christ. Cuyp painted Him for earthly galleries, and. Correggio and Tintoretto and Benjamin West and Do re painted Him for earthly galleries, bnt all those pictures am eclipsed by this masterpiece of Heaven. Christ! Christ! There is Paul, the hero of the Sanhedrim, and of Agrippa’s court room, anck of Mars Hill, and of Nero’s infamy, shaking his chained fist in. the face of teeth-ehattering royalty. Here is Joshua, the fighter of Bethoron and Gibeon, the man that postponed sundown. And here is Vashti, the profligacy of the Persian court, unable to remove her veil of modesty or rend it, or lift it. All along the corridors of this picture gallery I find other great heroes and heroines— David with his harp, and Miriam with the cymbals, and Zachariah with the scroll and St. John with the seven vials, and the resurrection angel with the trumpet. On, further in the corridors, see the faces of our loved ones, the cough gone from the throat, the wanness gone from the cheek, the weariness gone from the limbs, the languor gone from the eye. Let us go up and greet them. Let ns go up and embrace them. Let us go up and live with them. We will! we will! From this hilltop I catch a glimpse of those hilltops where all sorrow and sighing shall be done away. Oh, that God would make ttultaworld to us a reality. Faith in that world helped

U1U kJL • JLJUi^ nucu UC OWAA* uiv casket of his dead son whose arm had been torn off in the threshing machine* death ensuing, and Dr. Tyng, with infinite composure, preached the funeral sermon of his own beloved son. Faith in that world helped Martin. Luther without one tear to put- away in death his favorite child. Faith in that world helped the dying woman to see on the sky the letter “W,” and they asked her what she supposed that letter “W” on the sky meant. “Oh,” she said, “don’t you know? ‘W’ stands for ‘Welcome.’” Oh, Heaven, swing open thy gates. Oh, Heaven, roll upon us some of the sunshine anthems. Oh, Heaven, flash upon us the vision of thy luster. On old writer tells us of a ship coming from India to France. The crew was made up of French sailors who had been long from home, and as the ship came along the coast of France the men skipped the deck with glee, and they pointed to the spires of the churches where they once worshipped and to the hills where they bad played in boyhood. But when the ship came into port, and these sailors saw father and mother and wife and loved ones on the wharf, they sprang ashore and rushed up the banks into the city, and tee captain had to get I another crew to bring the ship to her ! moorings. So Heaven will after awhile come so fully in sight we can ! see its towers, its mansions, its hills, | aiwi as we go into port and our loved ! ones shall call from that shining shore and speak our names we will spring to the beach, leaving 'this old ship of a world to be managed by another crew, our rough voyaging of the, seas ended forever. ? . Art. It is a very superficial judgment which deddea that, because a production \fi artistic, therefore it is to ba considered worthy and valuable. A creation of art must be decent and moral before it ean be considered other* than worthless.—Rev. S. BU RohUn» Universal 1st, Boston, Masa