Pike County Democrat, Volume 28, Number 43, Petersburg, Pike County, 4 March 1898 — Page 3

THE TRULY GREAT. Hot only In the Immortal rolls of Fame, Where Genius shines, or Chance has won a place. Are found the noble souls that praise should claim. „ For oft. of some. Oblivion hides each trace. fyies*** is the man who Uvea for others* rood. Whose glory1 is In doing deeds of love. Who lends a helping hand where'er he should. And by his deeds his manhood tries to prove. Slessed is the man who dries another's Who* brings a lamp to light another’s Who saves one soul from death and misery • . . „ Shall shine a hero in the Judgment aay. There is a glory in a noble deed That to the doer's soul gives peace dl* Th' Samaritan that helps the man at , Within his soul feels Heav’n's true glory shine. •There is some task on earth for each The^humble and the great are both God’s care. Each noble deed we do He well does And'foiT’the good rewards He doth prepare. Who bears for God with patience Life s hard cross ■ . . , Treads ,up the golden stairs that lead above: And so your moments shall not go to loss. , Tou weak and sick; who long your love to prove. They feel true blessings best who sufTer most, Heav’n’s brightest crown is for the suffrer’s brow; To gain a place amidst Christ's glorious host Is better than on earth great joys to know. Hope is the morning star of ev’ry life: It's glorious light, by God to men. was giv'n To lead us safely thro’ this life's hard strife. And teach our weary feet the road to Heaven. •■Charles Stewart Booth, in N. O. TiroeslMmocrat.

O YOU set,” said Mrs. Lane, in the ^ course of a chat with a neighbor who had dropped in, ‘‘how it is with us. John is a pood, steady man and saves, every cent, but there’s'been sickness in ' the family, and besides our own we have John’s mother to care for. making ^ quite a large family—6ix in all—and 1 tell you when the end of the year comes •there isn’t much left to pay on the mortgage. Three of the five years are gone already, and all we have done so far is to keep up the interest. Of course, John’s mother had to have a home when father died and she had nothing left when all their expensed were paid, nnd that makes one more, and so it .goes.** She ceased, with a doleful sigh, and the neighbor cast uneasy glances toward a quiet figure in a further corner of the room knitting, her eyes fixed on some object outsid-* the window; she Was "John’s mother.” ’ > “Oh. she’s deaf as n post. We talk before her just as if she had no gftrs. She’s a good woman enough, nimther is; doti’t ‘mean to make any trouble; I just mentioned her as making one more in the family, that’s all." As the caller rose to go, the old lady laid her knitting down and came forward: “I am coming over tayour house this afternoon to stay to tea with you. Mrs. Miles," she said, beamingly. She had known Mrs. Miles longer than she • tad known her only son John’s wife. "That is good. I’ll have some of that soft gingerbread you like' so well; come early," was the hearty response. Then the caller took her leave. "I’m thinking that Mrs. John Lane Is a little mistaken about Grandma Lane’s deafness." she said, as the gate •Clicked behind her. She’s deaf. 1 know, but not so deaf as she thinks; and 1 gu»-->. that she knows a good many things they think she don’t knoW, and I’ll warrant she gets her feelings hurt b great many times." "Mother. 1 should think you would get tired kuittiqg so much, don’t you •want to hold the baby a spell? He’s waked up cross and it’s most dinner 'time." .Mrs. Lane. Jr., shrieked this request ,«t her mother-in-law, and plumped the * fat baby down into the old lady’s lap .anticipating her ready acquiesence; so the knitting work, which was a mitten knit double, in a firm, old-fashioned way bv carrying two threads (of contrasting colors), instead of one, was cheerfully laid aside, and baby John took its place. Words could not tell how grandma loved that h*bf Her beloved knitting was always cheerfully put aside that he might be attended to. Nevertheless, when dinner trma out ^ of the way. and baby was laid down in his cradle, fast asleep again. Grandma - JLane put on her bonnet and shawl with Joyful alacrity, and started to make her afternoon visit at Mrs. Miles*. It was only a short distance, and ten minutes, even at grandma's slow gait, brought her to the end of her walk. "Here I am, you see." she said, dropping wearily into the big chair which was cordially set out for her. "I don’t walk enough to know how. hardly, and • little tires me." “Breathe a minute and get rested: ’then give jn* your things, grandma," •Mid Mrs. Miles. "Got a lot more mit

tens, I cee. Mr. MQes said that the man was anxious for some more the last time he was in town, so they will go like hot cakes.” ‘‘There’s ten pair in there, and I wish yon’d tell Mr. Miles to get two pounds of yarn and the rest in money, and then you keep it down here, and FU get it a little at a time, so they won’t notice it. John and Jane wouldn’t think I ought to do so much knitting if they knew," she added, with a queer little smile. That was one of Grandma Lane’s gala days. They came about once in two weeks in the pleasant weather; when the snow was on the ground the times between her visits was often a month, and sometimes longer. Then the closely packed bag which was supposed by Jane to hold only the knitting work upon which she was engaged, held sometimes 40 pairs of mittens of various sizes. These, as we have seen, Mr. Miles carried to the town, several miles away, and disposed of them, for her, receiving a price per pair, and always an order for more. yCrandma Lane’s bright, firmly-knit mittens were al way sin demand by a certain class of people who had by agreeable experience come to value them at their true worth. These customers of ber’s had been known to say that one pair of Grandma Lane's mittens would outwear three of those ordinarily for sale at the stores in town, and though the price was pretty high it was not three times as high. So it will be seen that expense as well as quality was on grandma’s side. “I declare.” said she, as she pinned her shawl and made ready for her walk home, “I’ve eaten so much gingerbread and drank so much tea that I don’t know’s I shall ever get home.” “Oh,yes you will," laughed Mrs. Miles. “Now come again, grandma, do, before the snow gets so deep you cau’t get here.” “Yes, I’ll try to, and say, Jennie, tell Mr. Miles to put all but enough to get the yarn in—well, just where he did the other, you know.” “All right, I will.”

And then the old lady began her short journey, and when it was ended put her knitting: work bag away with her bonnet and shawl, and spent the evening in loving submission to the wants and wiles of her three grandchildren. This routine had been closely followed for all the three years of her life in her son's home—knit, knit, knit, tend baby and make an occasional visit at their next neighbor's—and. looking back over the time, she could not say that it had been unhappily passed. “For,” she was wont to say to Jennie Miles, “the children are the best little things, and Jane—well, there's a good deal worse women than Jane.” Time passed till three more years had been added to the three Grandma Lane had spent in her son's home when we were first introduced to her. Baby John was no longer called baby, because a yellow-haired little girl held that position and he was wearing pants.’ In the faces of John and Jane Lane many care lines could be traced, which, when we first knew them, were not so plainly defined. Indeed, the change in grandma herself was faf less noticeable. She still sat at her Endless knitting and retimes hummed the tune of an old song as an accompaniment* She seemed so light hearted and care free at times that Jane felt aggravated, feeling at the same time her own burden press so heavily. “For mercy's sake,” she snapped one day as grandma sat singing “Blackeyed Susan" and clicking her knitting needles swiftly at the same time, “I \\ ish I could sing and be so gay as you, mother; here’s Jchn’and me all broke up over this mortgage business and you sieging and knitting just as happy as can be." Jane, shouted this out al the top of her clear voice, and grandma stopped singing and knitting instantly. “Anything new, Jane?" she inquired, gently. “Has anything been done about the mortgage lately?'* “Nothing, only; it is to be foreclosed next week and the place sold from under usi that's all," returned Jaue, bitterly. Grandma looked sober enough now. “How much is it, Jane?” she asked, quietly, wincing at the sharp reply in Jane’s highest key. “Five hundred dollars! You know we’ve only been able to keep up the intere>f, with all our extra expenses.” Jane meant the new babies and such matters by the “extra expenses." but somehow grandma took it otherwise and sighed as she heart! the words. After that she sang no more, but put away her knitting aud helped about the dinner and the children, and looked as sober as even Jane could wish. But after dkinershe put on berthings and took her knitting work bag and started for Jenny Miles’ house. “Jenny, it’s come,” she said, as she sa*nk into her accustomed seat. “What Fve been expecting for six years. You know John’s place was mortgaged for $500, its full value; or to tell it another way, old Solomon Shaw let John have $500 to buy his house and lot with, and look a mortgage on the property for security. “Well, the terms of the mortgage expired a year ago. but John begged off and *o Solomon Shaw let things lie, to give him one more chance; but now he want* his money, so Jane told me today.” “Yes.” returned Mrs. Mile*. “Mr. Miles heard something about it; but. grandma, I don’t think I would worry myself sick, if I were you. Something will turn up." . “Oh. I ain’t worrying.” answered grandma, "only I don’t know which to do. exactly.” “Which of what, grandma?” “Whether I had better take up the mortgage in my own name and own the place myself, or—do it the other way.” “Ah—-ha—I see. Well, now. Grandma Lane, just let me put a flea in your ear. Fix it so that you own the place yourself. You’ve got money enough; my husband and I ware looking ai jour

bank book last night. To think that you’re earned $500 in six years knitting mittens!” Grandma smiled serenely and continued in deep thought. These words of Jsale’s—“extra expenses”—and a good many others which her supposed entire deafness had placed it in her power to overhear, turned the balance at length. This, added to the advice of Mrs. Miles. ‘Til do as you say," she said, by and by. “It may make hard feelings, but I’ll risk it. I really think I would lik« it better so, and I’ve earned it, any way.” “I should think you had earned it!” “Now, Jennie, do you think I can ge\ Mr. Miles to tend to this business fot me? Maybe he will not want to get mixed up in it.” “He don’t care. He’s in it op to hit eyes already, yon know; he might as well see you through. But say, Grandma Lane, I don’t believe he guessed what you were at any more than I did." Grandma smiled her deep little smile “Maybe not,” she said. It was hard work for grandma to keep her secret during the next six jdays when John went around with his hot* est face clouded with sorrow, and Jan* was ill-natured to even the baby, and everything seemed wrong. But she insisted that nothing should be done til *the very day which had been set forth* foreclosure. “Who did you say bought it, John?*1 inquired Jane. “I didn’t understand,” replied John j | moodily. “I didn’t think to notice; | Miles did the business for her—some woman, I think. I was thinking about where to go when we leave this; that was of more importance to me than to know who is to live here." “{lere comes mother from Mr. Miles’, looking as happy as if we owned the roof we are under and all w%s right. I do think your mother is the most "heartless woman, John—” “Oh, don’t, Jane; let the poor old woman be happy if she can; it can’t change matters, can it?” Grandma Lane came briskly up the path and entered the kitchen, where her son and his wife sat glowering over the fire, each with a child in arms and the two oldest trying to understand the situation.

fcne laid ner cool nana on ner son s hot forehead and smiled down into his face. “Forgive me, John,” she said, gently. “For what, mother?” he asked, in surprise. ® "For letting you worry longer tha*n was necessary, John,” she replied. ; "I do not understand youf mother,” he said, slowly, wonderingly. “John, what do you mean?” she cried, “don’t you know that this place is mine, and that it will in course of time be yours? I bought it to-day amd paid for it. You are welcome, and more than welcome, here, if I may only stay on with you.” John and Jane looked at the old lady m astonishment, mixed with alarm. Had the general trouble driven her crazy? “How did you get the money, mother?" John said at length, just to humor her conceit and soothe her. as he had always heard that it was best to do in dealing with crazy people. “Knitting mittens," she replied, quietly. and now John and Jane felt certain that her mind was gone. But just here Mrs. Miles stepped in and made matters as clear as day within a short space of time. Grandma tells Mrs. Miles in confidence that life is not the same it was before her Investment in real estate. Not that she was mot happy before; but now she is happier because independent, not of honest John, but of— Jane. , One thing more—Jane has learned that her mother-in-law is not so very deaf, after all.—Good Housekeepirg. EASTERN SHORE DARKIES.

They Are Poor and Shiftless Yet ▲!« nays Happy. It is worth while to see then* drive into one of the villages, say on a Saturday, when the cquntry people are gathered to do their shopping. One will see many an old negro come in driving at a snail's pace, clad in ill-fitting garments too big or too little, of any color or no color, ragged and patched. He slouches on the seat of his tumbledown wagon as if it were too much trouble to sit erect or as if he were about to fall over into the bottom of the vehicle and go to sleep. His steed is a mule, small, bony, starved looking, wabbling in gait, a very caricature of his kind. One expects him every moment to stop and go to feeding on the grass that grows near*the gutter. The wagon rattles from afar; every bolt and screw is ioose, the wheels seem about to fall entirely off, the sideboards sway, and the seat moves from side to side, apparently at the peril of the occupant. The harness is composed largely of ropes and twine; the lines are innocnet of all accusation of being leather. One would be willing to risk his life on a venture that such a team would never get down the street to the hitching place by the pump; but the zigzag journey is safely made with no sign of anxiety on the part of the driver. And he halls his lounging comrades on the pavement with a guffaw that can be heard a mile; the voices of the ill-clad but happy group sound mellow and sweet and good natured as they chaff each other. These voices are the very expression of the happy-go-lucky, idle easy, careless life of these people, the indolent to sound all the syllables o* their words. Yet they are nappy; tc see and hear them one would think there was no to-morrow, nothing to b« done in the world, and no such thing af care upon earth.—Lippincott’s. * —Thin sheets of crude Chilian copper left in contact with water for several days have been shown by Schlagdenhauffen to give off appreciable quantities of arsenious acid and oxide of anti

HEAVENLY SHEPHERD. Dr. Tabnage Delivers a Glowing Pastoral Sermon. Plata Raiment of Humanity—The Crook la the Hands of Christ—In the Pasture Ground—The Shearing mad the New Fold.

Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage in the following sermon presents a glowing pastoral scene to the mind's eye. The text is: The Lord is my shepherd.—Psalms xxiiL, L What with post and rail fences, and onr pride in Southdown, Astrakhan and Flemish varieties of sheep, there is no ase now of the old-time shepherd. Such an one had abundance of opportunity of becoming a poet, being out of doors 12 hours the day and oft-times waking up in the night on the hills. If the stars, or the torrents, or the sun, or the flowers had anything to say, he was very apt to hear it. The Ettrick shepherd of Scotland, who afterwards took his seat in the brilliant circle of Wilson and Lockhart, got his wonderfull poetic inspiration in the ten years I in which he was watching the flocks of j Mr. Laidlaw. There is often a sweet poetry in the rugged prose of the j Scotch shepherd. One of these Scotch i shepherds lost his only son, and he ; knelt down in prayer, and was overheard to say: “Oh, Lord, it has seemed ] good in Thy province to take from me the staff of my right hand at the time when to us sand blind mortals I seemed to be most in need of it; and how I shall climb up the hill of sorrow and auld age without it, Thou mayst ken, but I dinna.” David, the shepherd boy, is watching his father’s sheep. They are pasturing on the very hills where afterward a Lamb was born of* which you have heard much: “The Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.” David, the shepherd boy, was beautiful, brave, musical and poetic. I think he often forgot the sheep in his reveries. There in the solitude he st ruck the harp string that is thrilling through all ages. David, the boy, was gathering the material for David the poet and David the man. Like Other boys, David was fond of using his knife among the saplings, and he had noticed the exuding of the juice of the tree; and when he became a man he said: “The trees of the Lord are full of sap.” David, the boy, like other boys, had been fond of hunting the birds' nests, and he had driven the old stork oil the nest to find how many eggs were under her; and when he became a man he said: “As for the 'stork, the fir trees are her house.” In his boyhood he had heard the terrific thunder storm that frightened the red deer into premature sickness; and when he became a man he said: “The voice of the Lord maketh the hinds to calve.” David, the boy, had lain upon his back looking up at the stars and examining the sky, and to his boyish imagination the sky seemed likd a piece of divine embroidery, the divine fingers working in the threads of light and the beads of stars; and he became a man and wrote: “When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers.” When he became an old man, thinking of the goodness of God, he seemed to hear the bleating of his father’s sheep across many years,, and to think of the time when he tended them on the Bethlehem hills, and he cries out in the text: “The Lord is my shepherd.” If God will help me, I will talk to you of the shepherd's plaid, the shepherd’s crook, the shepherd's dogs, the shepherd's, pasture grounds, and the l shepherd's flocks. And first: The shepherd’s plaid: It would be preposterous for a man going out to rough and besoiling work to put on splendid apparel. The potter does not work in velvet; the serving maid does not put on satin while toiling at her duties; the shepherd does not wear a splendid robe in which to go out amidst the storms, and the rocks, and the nettles; he puts on a rough apparel appropriate to hi# exposed work. The | Lord our shepherd, coming out to hunt the lost sheep, puts on no regal apparel, but the plain garment of our humanity. There was nothing pretentious about ! it. I know the old painters represent a halo around the babe Jesus; but I do not suppose that there was any more halo j»boUt that child than about the head of any other babe that was born that Christinas eve in Judea. Becoming a man, lie wore a seamless garment, The scissors and needle have done nothing to make it graceful. I take it to have been a sack with three holes in it; one for the neck and two for the arms. Although the gamblers quarreled over it, that is no evidence of its value. I have seen two rag pickers quarrel over the refuse of an ash barreL No; in the wardrobe of Heaven

He left the sandals of light. the girdles of beauty, the robes of power, and pat on the besoiled and tattered raiment of our humanity. Sometimes He did not even wear the seamless robe. What is that hanging about the waist of Christ? Is it a badge of authority? Is it a royal coat of arms? No, it is a towel. The disciples’ feet are filthy from the walk on, the long way, and are not fit to be put upon the sofas on which they are to recline at the meal, and so Jesus washes their feet and gathers them up in the towel to dry them. The work of saving this world was rough work, rugged work, hard work, and Jesns put on the raiment, the plain raiment, of our flesh. The storms were to beat Him, the crowds were to jostle Him, (die dust was to sprinkle Uiim, the mobs were to pursue Him. Oh! shepherd of Israel! leave at home Thy bright array. For Thee, what streams to ford! lie puts upon Him the plain raiment of our humanity; wears our woes; and while earth and Heaven and hell stand amazed at the abnegation, wrapsaround Him the Shepherd's plaid: Cold mountains and the midnight air. Witnessed the fervor of His prayer. Neat I mention the shepherd's c» oak. This was a rod with a carve at the s

end, which, when a sheep was going1 astray, was thrown over its neck; and in that way it was polled ba^k. When the sheep were not going astray, the shepherd wo old often use it as a sort of crutch, leaning on it; but when the sheep were out of the way, the crook was always busy palling them back. All we, like sheep, have gone astray, and had it not been for the shepherd’s crook, we would hare fallen long ago over the precipice. Here is a man who is making too much money. He is getting rery rain. He says: “After awhile I shall be independent of all, the world. Oh, my soul, eat, drink and be merry.” Business disaster comes to him. What is God going to do with him? Has God any grudge against him? . Oh, no. God is throwing over him the shepherd’s crook and pulling him back into better pastures. Here is a man who has always been wefL He has never had any sympathy for invalids, he calls them coughing, wheezing nuisances. After awhile sickness comes to him. He does not understand what God is going to do with him. He says: “Is the Lord angry with me?” On. no. With the shepherd’s crook he has been pulled back into better pastures. Here's a happy household circle. The parent does nbt realize the truth that these children are only loaned to him, and he forgets from what source came his domestic blessings. Sickness drops upon those children, and death swoops upon a little one. He says, “Is God angry with me?” No. His shepherd’s crook pulls him hack into better pastures. I do not know what would have become of us if it had dot been for the shepherd's crook. Oh, the mercies of our troubles! You take up apples and plums from under the shade of the trees, and the very best fruits of Christian character we find in the deep shade of trouble. When I was on the steamer coming across the ocean I got a cinder in my eye, and^several persons tried to get it out very gently, but it could not be taken out in that way. I was told that the engineer had a faculty in such cases. I went to him. He put his large, sooty hand on me. took a knife and wrapped the lid of the eye around ’ the knife. I expected to be hurt very much, but without any pain, and instantly he removed the cinder. Oh, there come times in our Christian life, when our spiritual vision is being spoiled, and all gentle appli- j ances fail. Then there comes some j giant trouble, and, back-handed, lays ; hold of us and removes that which ! would have ruined our vision forever, j I will gather all your joys together in I one regiment of ten companies, and I, will put them under Col. Joy. Then I will gather all your a... rows together in one regiment of ten companies, and put them under Col. lireakheart. Then j 1 will ask: Which of these regiments ; has gained for you the greatest spiritual victories? Certainly that under Col. lireakheart.

In the time of war. you may remem- | ber, at the south and north, the ques- i tion was whether the black troops j would fight; but when they were put into the struggle on both sides they did j heroically. In the great day of eter- j nity it will be found that it was not the j white regiment of joys that gained | your greatest successes, but the black ; troops of trouble, misfortune and disaster. Where you have gained one spiritual success from your prosperity, you have gained ten spiritual successes frbm your adversity. There is no animal that struggles more violently than a sheep when ybu ! corner it and catch hold of it. Down ; in the glen I see a group of men around j a lost sheep. A plowman comes along : and seizes the sheep, and tries to pacify I it; but it is more frightened than ever, i A miller comes along, puts down his' grist, and caresses the sheep, and it seems as if it would die of fright. j After awhile some one breaks through 1 the ticket, "He says: “Let me have the poor thing.’’ He comes up and lays his arms around the sheep, and it is j immediately quiet. Who is the last : man that comes? It is the shepherd. [ Ah, my friends, be not afraid of the ’ shepherd’s crook. It is never used on you, save in mercy, to pull you back. The hard, cold icebergs of trouble will melt in the warm stream of divine j sympathy. There is one passage I think you misinterpret: “The bruised reed He will break.” Do you know that the shepherd in olden times played upon these reeds? They were very easily bruised; but when they were bruised they were never mended. The shepherd could. so easily make another one. he would snap the old one and throw iit away, and get another. The Bible says it is not so with our Shepherd. When the music is gone out of a man's soul, God does not snap him in twain and throw him away. He mends and restores. “The bruised reed He will not break.” When, in the o'erhan^itur heavens of fate. The threatening ciou.Ls of darkness dwell. Then let us humbly watch and wait; . It than be well, it shall be well. And when the storm has passed away And suashin? smiieson flood and felt. How sweet to think, how sweet to say. It has been well, it has been well, f Next I speak of the shepherd's dogs. They watch fhe straying sheep and drive them back again. Every shepherd has his dog—from the nomads of j %*he Bible times down to the Scotch ; herdsman watching his flocks on the Grampian hills. Our Shepherd employs the criticisms and persecutions of the | world as His dogs. There are those, you know, whose whole work is to watch the inconsistencies of Christians, and bark at them. If one of God’s sheep gets astray, the world howls, i With more avidity than a shepherd’s; dog ever caught a stray sheep by tne flanks or lugged it by the ears, worldlings seize the Christian astray. It ought to do us good to know tihat we are thus watched. It ought to put ns on our guard. They can not bite us, if we stay near the Shepherd. The sharp knife of worldly assault will only trim the vines until they produce better grapes. The more you pound marjoram and rosemary, the sweeter they smell. The more dogs take after you, the quicker you will ^et to the gate, i You have noticed that difTere**t flocks

of sheep have different marks open them; sometimes a red mark, some* times a blue mark, sometimes a straight»mark, and sometimes a crooked mark. The Lord, our Shepherd, has a mark fpr His sheep. It is a red mark—the mark of the cross. “Blessed are they that are persecuted for righteousness* sake, for theirs ia the kingdom of Heaven.” Furthermore, consider the shepherd’* pasture grounds. The old shepherds used to take the sheep upon the mountains in the summer, and dwell in the valleys in the winter. The sheep being out of doors perpetually, their wool was better than if they had been kept in the hot atmosphere of the sheep-cot. Wells were dug for the sheep and covered with large stones, in order that the hot weather might not spoil the water. And then the shepherd led his flock wherever he would; nobody disputed his right. So the Lord our Shepherd has a large- pasture ground. He takes us in the summer to the mountains, and in the winter to the valleys. Warm days of prosperity come, and we stand on sun-gilt Sabbaths, and on hills of transfiguration; and we are so high up we can catch a glimpse of the pinnacles of the heavenly city. Then cold wintry days of trouble come, and we go down intothe valley of sickness, want and bereavement, and we say: “Is there any sorrow like unto my sorrow?” But, blessed be God, the Lord’s sheep can find pasture anywhere. Between two rocks of trouble a, tuft of succulent promises; green pastures beside stiU waters; long sweet grass between bitter graves. You have noticed the structure of the sheeps mouth? It is so sharp that it can take up a blade of grass or clover-top from the very narrowest spot. And so God's sheep can pick up comfort where others can gather none. “The secret of the Lord is with them that fear Him. ” Rich pasture, fountain-fed pasture, for all the flock of the Good Shepherd. ° The hill of, Zion yields A thousand sacred sweets Before we reach the Heavenly fields, Or walk the golden streets.

Lastly: Consider the shepherd's fold. The time of sheep-shearing was a very glad time. The neighbors gathered together, and they poured wine and danced for joy. The sheep were put in a place inclosed by a wall, where it was very easy to count them and know whether any of them had been taken by the jackals or dogs. The inclosure was called the sheep-fold. Good news I have to tell you. in that our Lord the Shepherd has a sheep-fold, and those who are gathered in it shall never be struck by the storm, shall never be touched, by the jackals of temptation and trouble. It has a high wall—so high that no troubles can get in—so high that the joys can not get out. How glad the old sheep will be to find the lambs that left them a good many years ago!/ Millions of children in iHeaven!/'Ohi what a merry Heaven it will make! Not many long-meter psalms there. They will be in the majority, and will run away with our song, carrying it up to a still higher point of ecstacy. Oh, there will be shouting! If children on earth clapped their hands and danced for joy, what will they do when, to the gladness of ehildhood on earth is added the gladness of childhood in Heaven? It is time we got over these morbid ideas of how \ye shall get out of this world. You make your religion an Undertaker planing codins and driving hearses. Your religion smells of the varnish of a funeral casket. Bather let your religion to-day come out and show you the sheep-fold that God has provided you. Ah, yon say, there is a river between this and that. I know it; but that Jordan is only for the sheep-washing, and they shall go up on the other banks snow-white. They follow the great Shepherd. They heard His voice long ago. They are safe now—one fqld and one Shepherd! Alas for those who are finally found outside the inelosnre. The night of their sin howls with jackals: they are thirsting' for their blood. The very moment ✓that a lamb may be frisking upon the hills, a bear may be looking for it from the ticket! aln June, 1815, there was a very noble party gathered in a house in St. James” square, London. The prince regent was present, and the occasion was made fascidating by music and banqueting and by jewels. While a quadrille was being formed, suddenly all the,jieople rushed to the windows. What is the matter? Henry Percy had arrived,, with the news that Waterloo ly»d been fought, and that England had won the day. The dance was abandoned; the dispersed; lords, ladies and musicians rushed into the street, and in 15 minutes from the first announcement of the good news the house was emptied of all its guests. Oh! ye who are seated at the banquet of this world, oi; whirling in its gaveties and frivolities, if you could hear the sweet strains Of the Gospel trumpet announcing'Christ's victory over sin and death and hell, you would rush forth, glad in the eternal deliverance! The Waterloo against sin haa been fought, and our Commander-in-chief hath won the day. Oh, the joys of this salvation! I do not care what metaphor,what comparison you have; bring it to me,that I may use it. Amos shall bring one simile, Isaiah another, John another. Beautiful with pardop. Beautiful with peace. Beautiful with anticipations. Or to return to the pastoral figure of my test, come oat of the poor pasturage of this world into the rich fortunes of the Good Shepherd. The shepherd of old used to play beautiful music, and sometimes the sheep would gather around^ him and listen. To day my Heavenly Shepherd calls .to you with the very music of Heaven, calling you to leave4 your sin and accept His pardon. Oh, that all this flock would hear the piping of the Good Shepherd._ 4 Influence. No influence is more effective in aiding us to reach our moral ideal than the influence of the church.—Rev. Dr. Hinckley, Unitarian, Fhiladelnhia, Pa, \