Pike County Democrat, Volume 28, Number 38, Petersburg, Pike County, 28 January 1898 — Page 3

Rite fike ® otmttj fjrtnoerat ML MsC. STOOPS, Editor ud Proprietor. Petersburg. • - Indiana. THE ORCHESTRA. Who would have thought the wind which growl* and groans Around our doors held such exquisite tones As are evoked from It by horn and lute. By clear-voiced clarinet and magic flute? Tet these by skillful lips and practiced hands Are ready to obey the mind^s commands. And charm the multitudes with chords as • clear As those of gold harps in Heaven's atmosphere, Where music charms eternal countless hours With all Us marvels and unfathomed powers. Then there are viols with annointed strings Which mock the fluttering soft of angel wings. „ Or laugh like children and as swiftly moan, For Joy or sorrow swift to find a tone. To touch the heart, to glad the listening ear, -» While hidden voices sweet seem hovering near. All these united make a magic choir. To gladden, madden or inspire, As echo sprites Invisible prolong The changing moods Interpreted in song. The leader’s wand a scepter at whose touch Are tamed all sounds which frolic overmuch, Are coaxed the modest murmurs to rejoice. While countless thoughts thus vitalised find voice. Together proving what true song may teach. How It may argue, move, persuade or preach! Trove’s gentlest logic, martial ardor, peace, The rush of armies or harsh toll’s surcease. And every noble impulse fringed or fraught With vibfant music by some master wrought. Hall, modern magic, which from quivering strings Earth’s voices and far spirit voices brings. And, blending them in pictured sounds most fair, Creates such grand designs from frescoed i air. I,ong may each Instrument In sor.g rejoice, j _ And give each rhythmic thought a soul and I. EDGAR JONES. mooing a j of Amanda. I —— » NT J. A. FLYNN. •■T I jTHY. I'd rather marry her myYY self," said I. Nothing,' in I truth, was further from my thoughts. Amanda’s mother regarded me curi- | ously. “Of course,” suid she, “if that were the case, it would make a differ- ! ■cuce.” & “What?” I stared at the woman in j blank amazement. “You have done so much for Amanda ! since her poor father’s death that she S would naturally—” “Ix>ok upou me in the light of a fa- 1 ther?" It was time to stop this non- j sense, I thought. “I'm sure she does nothing of the kind; she looks upon you more as a j playmate; she is certainly fond of you; j so if you really mean—” “But 1 don’t!” I cried, hastily. Why, j the idea was absurd. Just w hen I was in the middle of my book on the “Cere- | bral Convolutions, too." “Then,” said her mother, closing her j bard, thin mouth with a snap. “ Amanda will marry Mr. Plutus. There is no one ’ but you who has any right to a voice j in the matter.” f

‘There is Amancla.” 1 suggested. “Amanda! She is far too young to decide. I am the judge for her.” "And for yourself." The woman wanted Amanda out of the house to have a better chance of catching a successor to Tom—poor old Tom! “You have no right to insult me,” she - replied, furiously, “because'you have helped us—1 admit very generously— but I always thought it was from your • ■fondness for Amanda.” The woman is incapable of understanding an unselfish motive. “And for your husband, my oldest and best friend,” I said, sternly. “I do not forget so easily.” “I will hear no more!” she cried, white with °rage. “Amanda shall do as I bid her. and marry Mr.Tlutus.” “I shall do my best to stop her.” “She shall ndj see you.” I knew she •would try to be as good as her word, and my heart went out in a great pity for poor littl^ Amanda, who was so like her father, and* had been a pet of mine ever since she was a' child. “If I w eren’t too old—-”I said, half to ivsalt. “Nonsetwe. Why, you’re no older than I.” She is 43. “Too much buried in my books, and in a bachelor's recreations—“ “Marriage would soon alter that.” There was something alluring in the thought of Amanda's fresh young fajee at mv breakfast table. IIow she would alter the place and disarrange everything! No, no; it would never do, “I could never make the child happy,” 1 sighed. “Nonsense! she's devoted to you.” “Not in—in that way." I believe I blushed. “You'd soon make her.” I wondered if I should. “You really mean it?” I couldn’t let old Tom’s daughter be married to that bounder, Flutus. It would delay matters, anyhow, if she became engaged to me. Meanwhile, I might find some one else for her. “Why not?” she asked, coolly. I shall never understand how that awful woman could have such a daughter as Amanda. “Very well; I will apeak to Amanda about it," I *a»d. slowly. “But there must be no drawing back on your part.” “Would you like a stamped agreement?” she asked, scornfully. I had a sudden inspiration—l»eing a of quick thought, “1 should like to

have your consent in writing. To be candid, I do not truatyou," “Very well." She sat down to her escritoire. “What shall I write?" “I consent to the marriage of my daughter to Mr. Frank Austen," I dictated. She wrote it accordingly and signed it with a flourish. My name is the same as my nephew’s. I'll have him up to town, and if he doesn’t fall in love with Amanda he’s a fool. That was my idea. “Well, now I’ll talk to Amanda,” I said, feeling rather uncomfortable. And I did. Amanda is 18, and stands five feet two. Amanda has golden brown hair that will get loose and tumble about her cheeks and forehead. Amanda has big dark eyes, and long eyelashes, and cherry-ripe lips, and the dearest little dimples in the world. Amanda has soft white hands—she generally gives me both—and tiny feet whose rush I could recognize blindfold. She came in quietly to-day, and there were daxk marks under her eyes. “Oh, Cousin Frank!" she cried— cousin is my brevet rank—“you won’t let her make me—marry—that horrible man! ’’ “No,” said I, “Mandy, my dear. I won’t.” Then ! kissed her. If only I were sure that she wouldn’t disarrange my study! “You kind old Frank!” She took hold of my arm aud squeezfcd it. “Rut your mother insists upcn your getting engaged to some one, my dear.” I said, ruefully; “somebody who is fairly well off. Are you in love with anybody, Mandy ? Tell me, there’s a good little girl.” She opened her eyes wide, and looked at me honestly. “Oh. no. Cousin Frank! Only—only—I think perhaps I should like to be—some day.” “But there isn’t anyone yet? Truly?” “Truly. No one at all.” “Not that you care for a little?” “Not ever such a little—in that way.” She gave my arm a squeeze?o indicate that there were other ways—ways cousinly. “Well, look here, Mandy,” I said, sheepishly; “your mother insists that you shall be engaged to some one; and I can only find one person.” “Not Mr. Plutus? I won’t!!” she cried, vehemently. “No, no! Not anyone who will annpy you, dear, or whom you dislike.” “Whoever—" She looked up at me quickly, and half let go my arm. “Just till you find some one you like,” I apologized, turning as red as a poppy. She held on to my arm again, and looked down on the ground. Then she laughed*, “How very funny!” “Would you mind, Mandy?” “No—o.’* She laughed again. “I think it would be rather—fun, You j would have to take me out,a lot, wouldn’t I you? To pretend properly—’’ “Ye—es. Oh. yes, of course!” Whatever would become of the “Cerebral Convolutions?” “But wouldn’t it be rather a bother to you?” “Not more,than to you.” “Oh, it wouldn’t be any bother to me!” she cried, excitedly. “We’d go to the Tower, and the stores, and the Crystal palace, and the Zoo, and the exhibition—and have tea in the gardens—and the opera, and—Good heavens! She saw my face fall. “I only meant to some of them,” she explained, “You always do take me to the Academy and one or two places, don’t you?” “I shall like to take you to some, my dear,” I assured her. “I always enjoy myself when 1 do. But you know I am finishing my book just now.” “Oh, yes! I won’t worry yqu, Cousin Frank. And—and—1 could help you with it, couldn’t 1?” I almost groaned aloud. Amanda on Cerebral Convolutions! Tm afraid it's rather too dry for that.’’

“I mean learn the typewriter, and copy it,” she pleaded anxiously. A man is only a fool, after all. however much he studies and learns. Do you know I suddenly bent down and kissed her, and she blushed like a carnation. “I won't let you blunt your finder tips with a typewriter,” I said, gallantly. “But you shall copy some pieces for me —till you find some nice young man; and our engagement ends.” It was best to have a dear' understanding, 1 thought. "Ye—es," said she, thoughtfully, “but —oh. Cousin Klfonk!—suppose 1 didn't find anyone else?” 4 "jl'hen, I shall have to marry you myself. It would be better than old Plutus, wouldn’t it?” “Oh, yes! But I shouldn’t like—I couldn’t bear to think that you had sacrificed yourself to me. I should be such a bother, shouldn’t I?” I looked down affectionately on the rumpled hair and inquiring eyes. “I think—I think, Mandy," I said, gently, ”1 could put up with you very well. But we have been so used to look upon one another in a different light, that it’s rather late to change. You see, dear, I have grown into a fidgety old bachelor.” "You’re not really old; and you’re never fidgety with me; and I owe you so much?” I’d merely paid tor her schooling and pocket money, and soon. I promised old Tom—poor Tom!—that I’d take care of his girl. “That’s nothing to do with it, Mandy,” I said, slowly. “You see. I’ve a lot of interests which you could never share." She shook her head doubtfully. *?And I like to rush off, when I’m not working, to men’s recreations—to play cricket, to watch foot hall, or—” “I like watching football,” she observed, eagerly. “Pm used to baring meals when I please, and going out when I like, and coming in when I like. Of course, I couldn’t do that if I had a wife. It wouldn’t be fair.” “It would be a little lonely for her,” said Amanda, wistfully. “So,” I continued, resolutely resisting an absurd impulse to kiss her again, “though I think yon the nicest little woman in the world, dear—” she smiled just like the sun coming out—“it would

be better for you to find some one younger and less crotchety.’* 8he tapped the ground rapidly with one lit- | tie foot. “Meanwhile we’re engaged, you know; and we must live up to It. Where shall I take you to-morrow?” “Oh, no! You must do a lot of your book to-morrow, and give me some copying to do—about brains, and spines, and things.” “Nonsense, child! Don’t I always take you out when I come tc town. Shall we go to the Academy?” She laughed her old childish laugh. “And lunch at a-restaurant?” she inquired, delightedly. “And go down to the Crystal palace afterwards, and have tea in the gardens, and see the variety show, and dine on the terrace like we did last year? She squeezed my arm in her old way. “Won’t it be jolly?” It was jolly. The next day I took her to the Zco, and smiled to see her laugh j at the monkeys. The day after I took I her to the exhibition and up the big i wheel, and put my arm round her be- j cause she was frightened—or pretended ! to be. I squeezed her arm in the pas- I sage, and kissed her twice for good J night. Then I began to see that it j would be bad for the “Cerebral Convolutions” if this sort of thing went on. So i I sent for Nephew Frank to come up to town at once. That light-hearted young gentleman held his sides with laughter when I explained the situation. “So Fra to court your fiancee-r-she used to be a pretty little girl—and take her off your hands for an allowance of £500 a year?” he said, wiping his eyes. | “Five hundred pounds and £300 make j £800—£400 apiece.” “Exactly!” I said, approvingly. “You always were smart at figures, Frank.” J “But, my .dear uncle, suppose she j won’t have me? Besides, I’m not sure, j but I think I’m just a little gone on j Nellie Merchant. Suppose I don’t care for your Amanda?” . ■ < ■ “She’s awfully nice, Frank; you | couldn’t help it.” I was surprised at j my doleful tone. “Then.” said he, “whyever don’t you marry her yourself?” I lit a cigar and drummed on the I fender with my slipper. “I’m too old— | too settled in my bachelor ways, Frank," j I said, regretfully. “I don’t know—I’m not sure—if it would do^” “I believe it would be the best thing j in the world for you, old man.” Frank leaned over the table earnestly. He’s an h.onest, unselfish lad, that’s why I’m j so fond of him. And I know he’d be j good to her. “Well,” I said, slowly, “I’ll be honest j with you, Frank. I’m fond of the child, j very fond indeed. If I thought that she c<mld like me—in that way—I’m hanged if I wouldn’t chance it. But she only looks upon me as an elder brother. Some day, she—I paused to blow my handkerchief—she would find out. It wouldn’t do; I’m sure it wouldn’t do.” So it was arranged that I should be busy finishing my book, and see less of Amanda. And Frank was to see her j everv day, to find out- if she would like him better than me. or if he could like her better than Nellie Marchant. This arrangement lasted for a ‘fortnight; but none of us seemed quite ourselves. Mandy grew staid and silent. I couldn’t do anything right with the book, and something seemed wrong with my liver. Even cheerful Frank grew a bit bad-tempered. At the end of the fortnight he burst in upon me in the evening! when I was busy with the “Cerebral Convolutions.” “Look here, uncle,” said he, coolly, flinging himself into an armchair, and taking one of my cigars, “you’re anA ass!” "-r"' I wiped my pen on a coattail—one of | mv baehelor habits—laid it down, and shut the inkpot. “That,” I observed, mildly, “is very strong language, Frank.”

“Well,” said he. “I like my Jselhe ever so much better than your Amanda— that’s flat.” “Then^ said I. bringing my hand down on the table with a thump, “you’re a fool!” “Amanda.” said he, firmly, “is as dull as ditch water.” I took off my reading glasses and glared at him. “She’s the brightest little creature in the world,” I asserted, resolutely. He took a long draw at the cigar and blew smoke rings—a thing I never could manage. “Amanda,” he continued, in a matter-of-fact tone, “is dull— because she’s in love.” I let my pipe drop on the floor with a crash. “With whom?” My voice sounded strange to me. \s “Why. with you, of course. Man alive! you must be blind! You’re pretending that you don’t care for her, and breaking her poor little heart.” I looked at him in silence for u few seconds; then I got up and fetched my hat. “I’m going out,” I told him; and I went. When I arrived at their drawing-room, Amanda was sitting on the rug, with her back against the sofa> She had dropped her book on the floor, and was looking into the fire with her cheek 6n her hartd, and I could see tears in her eyes. She jumped up to meet me with an eager little laugh. “What! deserted the •Convolutions?’ ” “Hang the ‘Convolutions,’” I said. “The fact is they’re awfully uninteresting compared with you, Mandy.” “Are they? Then they must be stupid.” I put my arm round her waist and drew her close to me. “Mandy,” I said, passionately, “my dear little girl, we’ve been playing at sweethearts long enough; shall we begin in earnest?” Amanda said nothing—only laid her head down on my shoulder with a happy little sob.—Madame. The OlSercaef. Father—What, 950 for a basket of flowers? My boy,, when I was your age I did not get a)l the money I wanted to throw away! Son—Weil, daddy, possibly you were a tftfle extravagant in your tasteel— Yellow Book. e 4

TRAPS FOR THE UNWARY Rev. Dr. T&lma&e Discourses Upon the World’s Pitfalls. Cpom Every Hand The? Abound to Allurn Mankind from the btrolcht Putb —Every Ouo of Them Uu Its Sting , The following sermon was prepared by Rev. T. DeVVitt Talmage in lieu of his regular Sunday delivery. It is based on the text: I did but taste a little honey with the end of the rod that was in my hand, and lo, I must lie.—L Samuel, xir., 43. The honey bee is a most ingenious architect, a Christopher Wren among insects; geometer drawing hexagons and pentagons, a freebooter robbing fields of pollen and aroma, wondrous creature 41 God whose biography, written by Huber and Swammerdam, is an enchantment for and lover of nature. Virgil celebrated the bee in ' his label of Aristaeus; and Moses, and Samuel, and David, and Solomon, and Jeremiah, and Rzekigl, and St. John used the delicacies of bee manufacture as a Bible symbol. .* miracle dt formation is the bee; five %yes, two tongues, the outer having a sheath of protection, hairs on all sides of its tiny body to brush up the particles of flowers, its flight so straight that all the world knows of the bee line. The honeycomb is a palace such as no one but God could plan, and the honey bee construct; its cells, sometimes a store* house, and sometimes a cemetery. These winged toilers first make eight strips of wax, and by their antennae, which are to them hammer, and chisel, and square, and plumb-line, fashion them for use. Two and two these workers shape the wall. If an accident happens, they put up buttresses of extra beams to remedy the damage/ Wheu about the year 1776, au insect before unknown, in the night time attacked the bee hives all over Europe, and the men who owned them were in vain trying to plan something to keep out the invader that was the terror of the bee hives of the continent, it was found that everywhere the bees had arranged for their own protection, and built before their honey-combs an especial wait of wax with portholes through which the bees might go to and*fro, but not large enough to admit the winged combatant, called the Sphinx Atropos. Do you know that the swarming of the bees is divinely directed? The mother bee starts for a new home, and because of this the other bees of the hive gel into an excitement which raises the heat of tha hive some four degrees, and they must die unless they leave their heated apartments and follow the mother bee and alight on the branch of a tree, and cling to each other and hold on until a committee of two or three bees have explored the regiou and found thfe hollow of a tree or rock not far off from a stream of w’ater, and they here set up a new colony, aud ply their aromatic industries, and give themselves to the manufacture of the saccharine edible. But who can tell the chemistry of that mixture of sweetness, part of it the very life of the bee, and part of it the life of the fields? Plenty of this luscious product was hanging in the woods of Bethaven during the time of Saul and Jonathan. Their army was in pursuit of an enemy that by God’s command must be exterminated. The soldiery were positively forbidden to eat anything until the’ work was done. '.If they disobeyed sthey were accursed. Coming through the woods they found a place where the bees had been busy—a great honey manufactory. Honey gathered in the hollow of the trees until it overflowed upon the ground in great profusion of sweetness. All the army obeyed orddrs and touched it not save Jonathan, and he, not knowiug the military order about abstinence, dipped the end of a stick he had in his hand into the candied liquid, and, as yeliow^and tempting it glowed on the end oRiShc Stick,

he put it to his mouth auu arte- the honey. Judgment fell upon hi hi. and but for speci/.l intervention he would have been slain. In my text Jonathan announces his awful mistake: *T did but taste a little honey with the end of the rod that was in my hand. and. lo, 1 must die.” Alas, what multitudes ofi people in all ages have beeu damaged by forbidden honey, by which I mean temptation, delicious and attractive, but damaging and destructive! Corrupt literature, fascinating but deathful, comes in this category. Where one good, honest, healthful book is read now, there is a hundred made up of rhetorical trash consumed with avidity. When the boys on the cars come through with a pile of publications, look over the titles and notice that nine out of ten of the books are injurious. All the way from here to Chicago or New Orleans notice that objectionable books dominate. Taste fori pure literature is poisoned by this scum of the publishing house. Every book in which siu triumphs over .virtue, or in which a glamour is thrown over dissipation, or which leaves you at its last line - with less respect for the marriage institution and less abhorrence for the paramour, is a depression of your own moral character. The bookbindery may be attractive, and the plot dramatic and startling, and the style of writing sweet as the honey that Jonathan took up with his rod. but your best interests forbid it. your moral safety forbids it, your God forbids it, and one taste of it may lead to such results that you may have to say at the close of the experiment, or at the close of a miaimproved life: “1 did but taste a little honey with the rod that was in my hand, and lo! 1 must die.” Corrupt literature is doing more today for the disruption of domestic life • than any other cause. Eiopmeots, : marital intrigues, sly correspondence, I ficticious names given at post offi windowa cladeatine meetings in pa and at ferry gates, and in ho l j*arlors, and conjugal perjuries are among thf ruinous results. When a woman, young or ■'Id, gets her head thoroughly

staffed with the modern novjrt she is in appalling peril. But some one will say: “The heroes are aoadroitly knar* ish, and the heroines so bewitellingly untrue, and the turn of the story so ex* quisite, and all the characters so enrapturing, I can not quit them.” My brother, my sister, you can find styles of literature just as charming that will elevate, and purify, aud ennoble, and Christianize while they please. The devil does not own all tl a honey. There is a wealth of good j books coming forth from our publishing houses that leave no excuse for the choice of that which is debauching to body, mind and soul. Go to some in* telligent man or woman, and ask for a list of books that will be strengthening to your mental and moral condition. Life is so short and your time for iimprovement so abbreviated that you can not afford to fill up with husks, and cinders, and debris. In the interstices of business that young man is reading that which will prepare him to be a merchant prince, and that young woman is filling her mind with an intelligence that will yet either make her the chief attraction of a good man’s home, or give her an independence of character that will qualify her to build her own home and! maintain it in & happiness that requires no augmentation from any of our rougher sex. That young man or young woman can, by the right liter- . ary or moral improvement of the spare ten miuutes here or there every day. rise head and shoulders iin prosperity, and character, and influence above the loungers who read nothing, or read that which bedwarfs.' See all the forests of good American literature dripping with honey. Why pick up the honeycombs that hare in them the fiery bees which will sting you with an eternal poisou while you Itaste it? Oue bool: may for ypu or me decide everything for this world aud the next. It was a turning poinfwith me when in a book store in Syracuse one day I picked up a book called “The Beauties of Ruskiq.” It was only a book of extracts, but it was all pure honey, aud I was not satisfied until I had purchased all his worka at that time expensive beyond an easy capacity to own them, and with what delight l went through reading his “Seven Lamps of Architecture’’ and his “Stones of Venice” it is impossible for me to describe, except by saying that it gave me a rapture for good books and au everlasting disgust for decrepit or immoral books that will last me while my life lasts. All around the church and the world to-day there are busy hives of intelligence occupied by authors aud authoresses from whose peus drip a distillation which is the very nectar of Heaven, and why will you thrust your rod of inquisitiveness into the deathful saccharine of perdition? Stimulating liquids also come into the category of temptation delicious but deathfuj. You say: “1 can not bear the taste of intoxicating liquor, and how any man can like it is to me an amazement.” Well, then, it is no credit to you that you do not take it Do not brag about your total abstinence, because it is not from any prin- [ ciple that you reject alcoholism, but | for the reason that you reject certain styles of food—-you simply idou’t like the taste of them. But multitudes of people have a natural fondness for all kinds of intoxicants. They like it so , much that it makes them smack their lips to look at it. They are dyspeptic and they like to aid digestion; or they are annoyed by insomnia, and they take it to produce sleep; or they are troubled, aud they take it to make them oblivious; or they feel happy, and they must celebrate their hilarity. They begiu with mint julep sucked through two straws on the Long Branch piazza and end in the ditch,

taking from a jug a liquid half kerosene and half whisky. They not only like it, but it is an all-confining passion of body, mind and soul, and after awhile hare it they will, though one wineglass of it should cost the temporal and eternal destruction of themselves, and all their families, and the whole human race. They would say: “1 am sorry it is going to cost me, and my family, and all the wold’s population so very much, but here it goes to my lips, and now let it roll over my parched tongue and down my heated throat, the sweetest, the most inspiring, the most delicious draught that ever thrilled a human frame. To cure the habit before it came to its last stages, various plans were tried in olden times. This plan was recommended in the books; when a man wanted to reform he put shot or bullets into the cup or glass of strong drink—one additional shot or bullet each day, that displaced so much liquor. Bullet alter bullet added day by day, of course the liquor became less and less until the bullets would entirely fill up the gfass, and there wks no room for the liquid, and by that time it was said the inebriate would be cured. Whether anyone ever, was cured in that way Iknow not, but by long experiment it is found that the only way is to stop short ofif, and when a man does that he needs God to help him. And there have been more cases than you can count when God has so helped the man that he left ott the drink forever; and I could count a score Of them, some of them pillars in the house of God. Furthermore, the gamester’s indulgence must be put in the list of temptations delicious but destructive. You wUo have crossed the ocean many times have noticed that always one of the best rooms has, from morning until late at night, been given up to gambling practices. I heard of men who went on board with enough for a European excursion who landed without money to get their baggage up to the hotel or railroad station. To many there is a complete fascination in games of hazard or the risking of money on possibilities. It seems as natural for them to bet as to eat. In,e< the hunger for food isoften overpowered by the hunger for wagers. It is absurd for those of us who have never fmt. the fascination of the wager to apeak slightingly of the temptation.

It hts slain ft multitude of inteRectumt and mor&l giants, men and women stronger than jou or I. Down under its power went glorious Olive Goldsmith, and Gibbon, the famous historian, and t" Charles Fox, the renowed statesman, and in olden times, senators of the United States, who used to be as regularly at the gamblinghouse all night as they were in the halls of legislation by day. Oh, the tragedies of the faro table! I know persons who began with a slight stake in a ladies’ parlor, and ended with the suicide’s pistol at Monte Carlo. They played with the square pieces of bone with black marks on them, not knowing that Satan was playing for their bones at the same time, and was sure to sweep all the stakes off on his side of the table. State legislatures hare again and again sanctioned the mighty evil by passing laws in defense of race tracks, and many young men hare lost all their wages at such socalled “meetings.” Every man who voted for such infamous bills has on his hands and forehead the blood of these souls. Stock gambling comes into the same catalogue. It must she very exhilarating to go into "the stock market and, depositing a small sum of money, .run. the chance of taking out a fortune. Many men are doing an honest and safe business in the stock market, and yah are an ignoramous if you do not know that it is just as legitimate to deal in etocks as it is to deal in coffee, or sugar, or flour. But nearly all the outsiders who go there on a financial excursion lost all. The .old spiders eat up the unsuspecting fliea I had & friend who put his hand on his hip pocket mid said in substance: “I have here the value of 1250,000.” His home is to-day penniless. What was the matter? Stock gambling. Of the vast majority who are victimized you hear not one word. One great stock firm goes down, and whole columns of newspapers discuss their fraud or their disaster, and we are presented with their features and their biography. Bat where one such famous firm sinkft, 80S unknown men sink with them. Th« great steamer goes down, and all the little boats are swallowed in the same engulfment. Gambling is gambling, whether in stocks or breadstuffs, or dice, or race-horse betting. Exhiliaration at the start, but a raving brain, and a shattered nervous system, and a sacrificed property, and a destroyed soul at the last. Young men, buy no lottery tickets, purchase no prize packages, bet on no baseball games or yacht racing, have no faith in luck, answer no mysterious circulars.proposing great income for small investment, drive away tbe buzzards that hover arouud our hotels trying to entrap strangers. Go out and make an honest living. Have God on your side and be a candidate for Heaven. Remember all the paths of sin are banked with flowers at the start, and there are plenty of helpful hands to fetch the gay charger to yonr door and hold the stirrup while you mount. But further on the horse plunges to the bit in a slough inextricable. The best honey is not like that which Jonathan took on the end of the rod and brought to his lips, but that which' God puts on the banqueting table of mercy, at which we are all invited to sit. I was reading of a boy among the mountains of Switzerland ascending a dangerous place with his father and the guide. The boy stopped on the edge of the cliff and said: “There is a flower, I mean to get.” “Come away from there,* said the father; “you will fall off." “No,” said he; “I must get that beautiful flower.” And the guides rushed toward him to pull him back, when, just as they heard him say, “1 almost have it,” he fell 2,000 feet. Birds of prey were seen a few days later circling through the air and lowering gradually to the place where the corpse lay. Why seek flowers qS the edge of a precipice when you can walk knee-deep amid the full blooms of the very paradise of God? When a man may sit at the -King’s banquet,

why will he go down the steps and contend for the refuse and bones of a hound’s kennel? “Sweeter than honey and honey comb,”,says David, is the truth of God. “With honey out of the rock would I have satisfied thee,” saya God to the recreant. Here is honey gathered from the blossoms of trees oi life, and with a rod made out of the wood of the cross 1 dip it up for. all your aouls. The poet Hesiod tells of ah ambrosia and a nectar, the drinking of which would make men live forever, and one sip of the honey from the Eternal Bock will give you eternal life with God., Come off the malarial levels of a sinful life. Come and live on the uplands of grace, where the vineyards sun them* selves. “Oh, taste and see that the Lord is gracious!” Be happy now and happy forever. For those who take a differ* ent course the honey will turn to galL For many things 1 have admired Percy Shelley, the great English poet, but 1 deplore the fact that it seemed a great sweetness to him to dishonor God. The poem “Queen Mab” has in it the maligning of the Diety. Shelley was impious enough to ask for Rowland Hill’s Surrey Chapel that he might denounce the Christian religion. He was in great glee against God and the truth. But his visited Italy, and one day on the Mediterranean w‘th two friends in a boat which was 24 feet long he was coming tbward shore when an hour’s squall struck the water. ’A gentleman standiug on the shore through a glass saw many boats tossed in this squall, bnt all outrode the storm except one, in which Shelly and his two friends were sailing. They never came ashore, but the bodies of two of the occupants wero washed up on the beach, one of them the poet. A funeral pyre was built on the seashore by some classic friends, and the two bodies were consumed. Poor Shelley! He would have no God while he lived, and I fear had no God when be died. “The Lord knoweth the way of the righteous, bnt the way of the ungodly shall perish.” Beware of the forbidden honey!