Pike County Democrat, Volume 29, Number 6, Petersburg, Pike County, 17 June 1898 — Page 7

A SONG FOR THE FLEET. A son* fortkera one and all. The sister-ships of the Maine. They have sailed at a nation’s battle-call To save a land from a tyrant’s thrall That has stranded lone in vain! The coming days shall speak The praise of our valiant tars! “No fear they will wanting prove or weak. “When proudly flutters from every peak The glorious stripes and stars! Then a cheer for the flag unfurled On the dawn of that Sabbath day When the shot that the gallant Dewey hurled Crushed the hopes of the Spanish world In the far Manila bay! And a cheer for the valorous ones Who are girt for the gory fight Whero the tropic tide-race swirls and runs Under the frown of the Morro*s guns— And God be with the right! —Clinton Scollard. In Leslie’s Weekly. >1 I Tl I ONLY TWO OWLS. > •y ALLAN FORMAN. IT WAS. on the platform of a little water tank railway station in the west that I first made the acquaintance of the doctor and the judge. The train had bee crossiug a hot, dusty prairie mil the morning, its monotonous level only broken by the mounds of the prairie dogs' villages; here at the station it was quite as bare and uninteresting. The water tank was the only structure that looked as if it had been built to stay ; the station was h rickety shanty, and the half dozen houses which formed the “town” were “dugouts” which did not appear much more like human habitations than the dogs' burrows which dotted the prairie in the distance. The engine stopped under the great iron tank, and I sprang to the platform to stretch my legs. From the little gfdnp of station loungers a sura 11 boy detached himself and .came toward me. Be had on a pair of trousers miles too large for him, and carried a small starch box under bis arm; aside from the layers of soil with which his face and hands were incrusted the trousers and a fragment of a calico •ahirt were his only attire. “Say, roister,” he began, in the nasal whine of the professional beggar, “Mother’s sick an’ the baby's a-dyin’, and we ain't got no money to buy no med'eine, an* father’s dead an*—” “Oh, go away,” t exclaimed; for I could see, not only by the boy’s manner, but by the grins of the station loungers that he was a juvenile confidence operator. “S’trew. ( honest. “ s'trew, mister,” pursued the young rascal, unabashed; “an* I've got ter sell my two pet owls;” and here he began to snivel and held out the box. “Have von got two owls in that box?” I asked. \ “Yes, air,” he answered, brightening up, for he saw his victim was biting. “Don’t open it now or they will git away,” he added. “They’s two fine owls, an* slch pets!” “How much do you want for them?” I Asked.

“Twenty-five cents,” was the unexpected and hasty answer. It seemed that his elaborate tale of woe should have beejjpworth at least a dollar, ami on the impulse of the moment I produced a quarter. He clutched at it and dashed off across the prairie amidst the guffaws of the station loungers. V “So he*s took you in,” remarked the Pullman conductor who had come up at the moment, “lie's a young imp, he is; his father is one of the section hands, but his moih*<%Miiiodhrti -ou pie of years ago, and he's run wild sence. What did he say was in the box? Last trip he sold one of my passengers a prairie dog in a box, same way. Oh. it was thar all right, only 1 reckon it must have been dead a week or so by its smell.” “He said that there are a pair of prairie owls iu the box,” I replied rather stiffly, for I was net tied at having made a fool of myself. “Mebbe thar is,” said the conductor. “ 'Bout a week ago he sold a passenger a Rocky mountain bat; and when he opened the box he found half a brick— brick-bat. y* know?” and the conductor walked off chuckling. 1 debated in my own mind whether or nos to fling the box out on the prairie; but my curiosity was too strong, besides I could feel something moving inside; so I took it into the car, an*, closing the door of my stateroom. 1 prepared to investigate my purchase. I cautiously slid the cover and almost dropped the box, for 1 was greeted by a whirring sound that, to my excited fancy, seemed like the warning of a rattlesnake; a glance reassured me the boy had told the truth, he had sold me two owls, but such looking objects! They were not more than three days -old, and there was not one feather to the pair; they were covered with scanty down, powdered white by the starch which still remained in the box. They atood erect, close together, as if .ashamed of their nakedness, yet glaring at me indignantly and defiantly with -their big, round eyes. I began to ponder what 1 should do with them. I -could not turn them loose, 1 did not know how to keep them, they were so .young they would probably die, and they hadn't feathers enough to stuff. My meditations were brought to a close by my raether. who entered the stateroom and asked what I had there. “A pair of owls,” I replied, sheepishly. Then I told her the story of how I had been victimised. Hot ware n few motherly words of advice about the 'dentiwbilitv of not baring “» pig in n

tutd solved my doubts. “You were very foolish to buy them, but now you have them you must take care of them. Go and get them some* thing to eat.” $ “What do owls eat?” I queried, doubtfully. “Mice and small birds.” I suggested that the opportunities for catching mice and small birds in a Pullman car, were, to say the least, limited. “A little piece of raw meat, cut very line, would do,” she replied, ignoring my flippant remark and busying herself in brushing the starch from the youngs Biers’ fur. I hunted up the cook of the dining car and secured from him a bit of raw beefsteak, for which I was obliged to “tip” him a quarter! and I may remark that it cost me a quarter every time those birds ate until we reached New York; and their appetites were something enormous. When I returned my mother had the two snugly cuddled on her lap, under her hands, and she fed them on the raw meat until they stood up with crops distended like a couple of pouter pigeons. Their aspect of complacent, self-conscious dignity was so irresistibly funny that we named them Doctor and Judge at once. The remainder of the railway trip was uneventful, except that Doctor and Judge grew amazingly and sprouted feathers, so that by the time we arrived in New York they were almost fullfledged. L. They learned to snap their bills together when they were hungry, which was a signal for my mother to send me off on a foraging expedition. They were very intelligent, and in less than a week learned their names; they would turn their big eyes up inquiringly when my mother spoke to them. In time they grew very fond of me, and apparently recognized me as their master; but, during all their lives, and I kept them for over two years, their affection and confidence vw^Ven to my mother; i if anything alarmed them, which was not often, for they were plucky little J creatures, they would fly to her for pro- j tection, and they delighted to snuggle down in her lap, under her hands, making a queer, purring noise like a couple of contented kittens. When I reached home I got a cage for them which they never liked, so 11 allowed them to roam about my room [ at their own sweet will. They soon foupd congenial quarters in a couple of empty pigeon holes in my desk, where j they would sit by the hour while I was j writing; but the moment I lay down my j pen or pencil they would dart out like j a couple of young pirates, pounce upon I

iv «tiu uia^ iv uovr imu me uuic« whirring' in triumph; they would play hide-and-seek with each other in the dark corners of the room, under the furniture, and sometimes, as a special treat, I used to close all the doors and let a live mouse loose on the floor. The owls yould rise and float, like a bit of thistle-down, just over the mouse, then drop suddenly on it, fixing their strong little claws in its back; they did not torment their victim like a cat. but tore its head off at once and proceeded to make a meal of it. I regret to be obliged to record the fact that, notwithstanding the very evident affection which existed between the two upon all other occasions, they relapsed into savagery when feeding; and the one who was fortunate enough to secure the mouse scolded the other until the unfortunate rodent was snugly tucked away where it could not be got at. I generally tried to have two live mice for them at a time, and all our neighbors and the near-by grocery stores were laid under contribution to meet the demand. One cufious feature of their manner of eating mice was s never-failing source of amusement; they had a habit of bolting thewhead and forequarters first, and then swallowing the rest without tearing it into bits, with the result that they would stand with their little paunches swelled out to an enormous size, and the mouse's tail sticking out of the corner of their mouths, for all the world like a fat old man who has finished his dinner and was enjoying his after-dinner cigar. Their flight was absolutely noiseless: they seemed to float rather than fly; but they were ver^r swift on the wing for short distances, as many a sparrow discovered to its cost. When I went to the country for the summer I took them with me. and used to carry them in my pockets when I went out for walks. The English sparrows were becoming very plentiful about our place and were driving away the more desirable song birds. With the active cooperation of Doctor and Judge I declared war upon the impudent foreigners, and when I came upon a party of the little feathered ragamuffins I would set my two plainsmen free. They would float down among the sparrows, and seldom failed to catch a couple. Sometimes in the excitement of the chase, if one of them failed to catch a sparrow, he would start off after the nearest song bird; bat a sharp call never failed to bring him back, obediently, to my shoulder. It was in this matter of obedience that they showed the only difference in their dispositions. When recalled from the chase Judge would turn at once, circle about me and settle contentedly on my shoulder, but Doctor was more minded to have his own way. He would float off after a song bird like a bit of down on the breeae: when he heard me call he would flap back to me as heavily as an old crow, and would further display his vexation by snapping his bill dose to my ear. While it was evident that the strong sunlight annoyed them they seemed to see quite as well in the daytime*as at night and, naturally, all their hunting was done in the daylight, though I fried to select cloudy or overcast days for their excursions. They never seemed to have a desire to get away and. indeed. I fancy it would have been difficult to have made them go very ter from some member of the family. They would sit m the branch of a tree not far from

*t,a lruLCl mr erl4fin rr rfijMfl ■Mwgiii i&uuijf smiuynioait woc*f they made' themselves comfortable on my mother*! lap. In the city they delighted in sitting, for hours at a time, on the window sill watching the people passing in the street and conversing with each other in low, chirping monosyllables. They had a dove-like fondness for caressing each other and sat close side by side, motionless except as from time to time they would turn their heads and rub their bills together. One evening I was romping with the doctor and he was wrestling with my Anger, a play in which he took an especial joy. We were in the midst of our frolic when he lost his balance. I heard a slight snap and he fell over on his side; he picked himself up again and tried to continue his sport, but I saw that his right leg hung limp and helpless. I quickly examined him and discovered that> it was broken just above the knee. Though I handled him as gently as I knew how, he squealed with pain, and made a bee line for his haven of refuge, my mother’s lap. Wa bandaged up the leg as best we could; but it was of no use, and after four days of suffering he died. During his illness the conduct of Judge was almost human, The evening of the accident he discovered that, for some reason he could not comprehend, Doctor was absorbing the attention of tbe family; he protested violently, flew on my mother’s lap half a dozen times, only to be driven off, and finally, in a fit of rage and jealousy, he retreated under the sofa end sulked., The next morning, however, he discovered that there was something really wrong with hls.companion, and his anxiety knew’ no bounds. Our aim was to keep Doctor as quiet as possible, but Judge seemed to believe, in that treatment that some well-meaning people deem so efficacious—he wanted to do something “to take up the patient’s mind;” he triri) to lure the poor Doctor into games of hide-and-seek and excursions to the window sill. When feeding'time came he absolutely refused to eat until Doctor had been fed, which was an entirely new development, as in the past they had both been greedy over their meals. When Doctor finally succumbed. Judge was frantic; his grief and loneliness were most pathetic; he would run about the room for hours, peering behind pieces of furniture and under sofas and chairs and continually keeping up that whirring chirp with which they used to call each other. He could not seem to get it out of his head that the Doctor was hiding from him, and his search was heart-rending. He refused ail food, though I tempted him with every dainty I could think of—live mice, fresh meat, a small bird and a nest full of baby mice failed to attract him, and he grew emaciated with surprising rapidity. He would look at the £ood, then start off on his fruitless search, whirring piteously the while. After hunting under all the chairs and sofas he would go out into the middle of the room, stretch out his little neek and whir, so pleadingly, so caressingly, with exactly the same note that they used when rubbing their bills together on the windowsill, that I have seen grown-up members of my family furtively wiping their eyes. He grew very weak, and only seemed contented on civ mother’s lap. One evening he was lying cuddled up under her hand, apparently asleep. “Poor Judge,” I said, “he will never get over the loss of Doctor.” The familiar name aroused the little fellow; he staggered to his feet, looked about with 'great round eyes, which were al ready glazing in death,-summoned all his strength and gave one last whirring call and fell back dead. Pets die. and our most intimate human friends covertly sneer at our grief. For our own part we generally resolve never to keep another pet. But it was a long time before our family forgot our little prairie owls; it is some, comfort for me to feel, that being taken so young and never having known freedom they were as happy with me as they could have been, exposed to the dangers and privations of their wild life. They certainly gave me a warmer sympathy with the whole animal kingdom.—N. Y. Independent.

Sew Zealand Mutton. The story of a Jiew Zealand sheep designed for the London market may be very briefly told. It is taken from the run to the slaughter house, killed, dressed and transferred to the cooling room. The skip and superfluous fat are retained; after ten hours'cooling the carcass goes into the refrigerating room for 36 hours. Thence it goes to the storing room, and when it has been enveloped in its cotton “shirt** and labeled is ready for its journey over sea. The steamers which bring the meat to use through the tropics have, of course, to be fitted with refrigerating appliances, and our sheep takes its place among thousands of others, some of the boats being fitted to carry as many as 70,000 carcasses at one time. There are 68 vessels engaged in the trade, capable of transporting 6,700,000 sheep per annum. Arrived in the Thames, the barges come alongside the vessel, and the sheep is transferred to a cold storage station. Here, as has been already indicated, it may lie for weeks, or for months if necessary, so that—an important commercial advantage—there is no necessity for immediate sale on a depressed market. Finally, to part company with our sheep, it finds its way to Smithfield market or is dispatched bj rail into the provinces. Having once left the cold stores, it will not be long before it reaches the consumer's table.—Good Words. , Qacaelles mi iimamm. Found tha meat of cold game, freed from skin and gristle, in a mortar. Add a little fat pork or cooked bacon, seasoning herbs, and a little nutmeg, with some gravy if too dry. Make into tiny sausages, dip each into a beaten egg; roll in brown respites, and fry In boiling fat. Serve in pyramid form on a dish with fried parslej.—Boston Globa,

----- Rev. Dr. (Talmage Redares that Opinions Widely Differ. *• Eadoran to Show Wtet It Should ho -A riMttNl. Homely, Helpful A|mey for All Wlthlo IhlafWMO Bet. T. DeWitt Tal mage, in the follow* log sermon portrays what the church should be to its disciples. The text is: Sood thee help from the sanctuary.—Psalms n,i 11 yon should ask 50 men what the church is they would giro you 50 dif* ferent answers, (hie man would say: “It is a convention of hypocrites.” Another: “It is a place for gossip, where wolverine dispositions devour each other.” Another: “It is a place for the cultivation of superstition and cant.” Another: “It is an arsenal where theologians go to get pikes and muskets and shot.’* Another: “It is an art gallery, where men go to admire great arches, and exquisite fresco, and musical warble, and the Dantesque in gloomy imagery.” Another man would say: “It is the best place on earth except my own home.” “If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my light hand forget her cunning.” Now, whatever the church is, my text tells you what it ought to be—a great, practical, homely omnipotent help. “Send thee help from the sanctuary.” The pew ought to yield restfulness for the body. The color of the upholstery ought to yield pleasure to the eye. The entire service ought to yield strength for the toil and struggle of every-day life. The Sabbath ought to be harnessed to all the six days of the week, drawing them in the right direction. The church ought to be a magnet, visibly and mightily affecting all the homes of. the worshippers, livery jnan gets roughly jostled, gets abused, gets cut, gets insulted, gets slighted, gets exasperated. By the time the Sabbath comes he has an acvumulation of six days of annoyance, and that is a starveling church service which has not strength enough to take that accumulated annoyance and hurl it into perdition. The business man sits down in church headachey from the week’s engagements. Perhaps he wishes he had tarried at home on the lounge with the newspapers and the slippers. That man wants to be cooled off, and graciously diverted. The first wave of the religious service ought to dash clear over. the hurricane decks, and leave him dripping with the holy and glad and heavenly emotion. “Send thee help from the sanctnary.” In the first place, sanctuary help ought to come from the music. A woman dying in England persisted in singing to the last moment. The attendants tried to persuade her to stop, saying it would exhaust her and make her disease worse. She answered: “I must sing; I am only practicing for the Heavenly choir.” Music on earth is a rehearsal for music in Heaven. If you and 1 are going to take part in that orchestra, it is high time that we were stringing and thrumming our harps. They tell us that Talberg and Gottschalk never would go into a concert until they had first in private rehearsed, although they were masters of the instrument. And can it be that we expect to take part in the great oratorio of Heaven if we do not rehearse here? But I am not speaking of the next world. Sabbath song ought to set all the week to music. We want not more harmony, not more artistic expression, but more volume in our church music. The English dissenting churches far surpass our American churches in this respect. An English audience of 1,000 people will give more volume of sacred song than an American audience of 2,000 people. I do not know what the reason is. Oh, you ought to have heard them sing in Surrey chapeL I had the opportunity of preaching the anniversary —I think the ninetieth anniversary— sermon in Rowland Hill's old chapel, and when they lifted their voices in sacred song it was simply overwhelming. and then in the evening of the same day, iu Agricultural hall, many thousand voices lifted in doxolgy. It was like the voice of many waters, and like the voice of many thunderings, and like the voice of Heaven.

The blesain* thrilled through all the laboring Uroaf, Aad Heaves was won by Tiolense of song. Now, I am no worshipper of noise, bat I believe that if our American churches would with full heartiness of soul, and full emphasis of voice sing the songs of Zion, this part of sacred worship would have tenfold more power than it has now. Why not take this part of the sacred service and lift it where it ought to be. All the annoyanceo of life might be drowned out by that sacred song. Do you tell me that it is not fashionable to sing very loudly? Then. I say, away with the fashion. We dam back the great Mississippi of congregational singing and let. a few drops of melody trickle through the dam. 1 say. take away the dam and let the billows roar on their way to the oceanic heart of God. Whether it is fashionable to sing loudly or not. let us sing with all possible emphasis. We hear a great deal of the art of singing, of music as an entertainment, of music as a recreation. It is high time we heard something of music as a help, a practical help. In order to do this we must have only a few hymns. New tunes and new hymns every Sunday make poor congregational singing. Fifty songs are enough for 90 yeafrs. The Episcopal church prays the same prayers every Sabbath, and year after year, and century after century. For that reason they have the hearty responses. Let os take a hint from that fact, and let us sing the same songs Sabbath after Sabbath. Only in that way can we come to the full force of this exercise. Twenty thousand years will not wear out the hymns of William Cowper, Charles Wesley aad Isaac Watts. Suppose now each persoa in an audience has brought all

those annoyances of the last 365 days, and you would drown them forever. Organ and cornet are only to marshal the voice. Let the voice fall into line, and in companies, and in battalions, by storm take the obduracy and sin of the world. If you can not sing for yourself, sing for others. By trying to give others cheer you will luring good cheer to your own heart. When Londonderry, Ireland, was be* sieged many years ago the people in* side the city were famishing, and a vessel came up with provisions, but the vessel ran out on the river bank and stuck fast. The enemy went down with laughter and derision to board the vessel, when the vessel gave a broadside fire against the enemy, and by the shock was turned back into the stream, and all was well. Oh, ye who are high and dry on the rocks of melancholy, give a broadside fire of song against your spiritual enemies, and by holy rebound you will come out into the calm waters. If we want to make ourselves happy we must make others happy. Mythology tills us of Amphion, who played his lyre until the mountains were moved and the walls of Thebes arose; but religion has a mightier story to tell of how Christian song may build whole temples of eternal joy, and lift the round earth into sympathy with the skies. I tarried many nights in London, and I used to hear the bells, the small bells of the city, strike the hour of night—one, two, three, four—and among them the great St. Paul's cathedral would come in to mark the hours, making all the other sounds seem utterly insignificant, as with mighty tongue it announced the hour of the night, every stroke an overmastering boom. My friends, it was intended that all the lesser sounds of the world should be drowned out in the mighty tongue of congregational song beating against the gates of Heaven. Do you know how they mark the hours in Heaven? They have no clocks, as they have no candles, but a great pendulum of hallelujah swinging across Heaven from eternity to eternity. Let those refuse to sins Who nerer knew our God; But children of the Hesrenlj Kins . Should speak their joys abroad Again I remark that sanctuary help ought to come from the sermon. Of a thousand people in any audience, how many want sympathetic help? Do you guess IOC? Do you guess 500? You have guessed wrong. I will tell you just the proportion. Out of 1,000 people in any audience there are just 1,000 who need sympathetic help. These young people want it just as much as the old. The old people sometimes seem to think they have a monopoly of the rheumatisms, and the neuralgias, and the headaches, and the physical disorders of the world: but 1 tell yon there are no worse heartaches than are felt by some of the young people. Do

Jl VU IVJulW* VilKb UUUVIX VA «UV »» VI A, <9 done by the young? Raphael died at 37; Richelieu at 31; Gustavus Adolphus died at 38; Innocent III. came to his mightiest influence at 37. Cortez con- , quered Mexico at 30; Don John won Lepanto at 33; Grotius was attorney general at 34; and I have noticed amid all classes of men that some of the severest battles and the toughest work comes before 30. Therefore we must have our sermons and our exhortations in prayer meeting all sympathetic with the young. And so with these people further on in life. What do these doctors and lawyers and merchants and mechanics care about the abstractions of religion? What they want is help to bear the whimsicalities of patients, the browbeating of legal opponents, the unfairness of customers w ho have plen'ty of fault-find-ing for every imperfection of handiwork, but no praise for twenty excellences. What does the brain-racked, hand-blistered man care for Zwingle's ‘‘Doctrine of Original Sin,” or Augustine's' “Retractions?” You might as well go to a man who has the pleurisy and put on his side a plaster made out of Dr. Parr’s “Treatise on Medical Juri sprudence.” While all of a sermon may not be helpful alike to all, if it e a Christian sermon preached by a Christian man, there will be help for everyone somewhere. We go into an apothecary’s store. We see others being waited on; we do not complain because we do not immediately get the medicine; we know our turn will come after awhile.' And so, while all parts of a sermon may not be appropriate to our case, if we wait prayerfully, before the sermon is through we shall have the divine prescription. I say to young men who are going to preach the Gospel: We want in our sermons not more metaphysics, nor more imagination, nor more logic, nor more profundity. What we want in our sermons and Christian exhortations is more sympathy. When Father Taylor preached in the Sailors’ Bethel at Boston, the jack tars felt they had help for duties among the ratlines and forecastles. When Richard Weaver preached to the operatives In Oldham, England, all the workmen felt they had more grace for the spindles. When Dr. South preached to kings and princes and princesses, all the mighty men and women who heard him felt preparation for their high station. People will not go to church merely as a matter of duty. There will not next Sabbath be a hundred people in this city who will get up in the morning and say: “The Bible says 1 must go to church; it is my duty to go to church, therefore 1 will go to church.” The vast multitude of people who go to church, go to church because they like it, and the multitude of people who stay away from church, stay away because they do not like it. I am not speaking about the way the world ought to be; I am speaking about the way the world is. Taking things as they are, we must make the centripetal force of the church mightier than the centrifugal. We must make our churches magnets to draw the people thereunto, so that a man wilt ImI uneasy if ha does

It is 11 o'clock; It is 11:30; now they are preaching. I wonder when the folks will be homo t tell ns what was said, what has been going on.” When the impression is confirmed that onr churches, by architec ture, by musij, by sociality, and by sermon. shall be made the most attractive places on earth, then we will want twice as many churches as we have now, twice as large, and then they will not half accommodate the people. I say to the young men who are entering the ministry, we must pat on more force, more energy, and into onr religious services more vivacity, if we want the people to come. Yon look into a church court of any denomination of Christiana First, you will find the men of large common sense and earnest looks. The education of their minds, the piety of their hearts, the holiness of their lives qualifylthem for their work. Then yon will find in every church conrt of every denomination a group of men who utterly amase yon with the fact that such semi-imbecility can get any pulpits to preach in! Those are the men who give forlorn statistics . about church decadence. Frogs never croak in running water; always in stagnant. But I say to all Christian workers, to all Sunday-school teachers, to all evangelists, to all ministers at the Gospel, if we want our Sundayschools, and onr prayer meetings, and onr churches to gather the people, wo must freshen up. The simple faot is, the people are tired of the humdrum of religionists. Religions hn mdrum is the worst of all humdrum. You say over and over again: l“Come to Jesus,” until the phrase means absolutely nothing. Why do yon not tell them a story which will make them come to Jesus in five minutes? Yon say that all Sunday-school teachers, and all evangelists, and all ministers, must bring their 'illustrations from the Bible. Christ did not when He preached. The most of the Bible was written before Christ’s time, , bob where did He get His illustrations? He drew them from the lilies, from the ravens, from salt, from a candle, from a bushel, from long-faced hypocrites, t from gnats, from moths, from large gates and small jutes, from a camel, from the needle's eye, from yeast in the dough of dough bread, from a mustard seed, from a fishing net, from debtors and creditors. That is the reason multitudes followed ^Christ. His illustrations were so easy end so understandable. Therefore, my brother Christian worker, if you and I find two illustrations for a religious subject, and the one is a Bible illustration and the other ia outside the Bible, He will take the latter because I want to be like my-Master. Looking across to a hill, Christ saw the City of Jerusalem. Talking to the people about the Jeonspicuity of Christian example, He said: "‘The world is looksng at yon; be carefnl. ▲ city that ia set on a hill can not be hid.” WhileHe was speaking of the divine eard of God’s children a bird flew past. He said: “Behold the ravens.” Then, looking down into the valley, all covered at that season with flowers, he said: “Consider the lilies.” Oh, my brother Christian workers, what is the use of our going away off in some obscure part of history, or on the other side the earth, to get an illustration, when the earth, and the heavens are full of illustrations. Why should we go away off to get an illustration of the vicarious suffering of Jesus Christ, when as near us as Bloomfield, N. J.» two little children were walking on the rail track, and a train warn coming; bat they were on a bridge of trestle work, and the little girl took her brother and let him down through the trestlework as gently as she could toward the water, very carefully and lovingly and cautiously, so that he might not be hart in the fall, and might be picked up by those who were standing near by. While doing that the train struck her, and hardly enough of her body was left to gather into a funeral casket. What was that? Vicarious suffering. Like Christ. Pang for others. Woe for others Suffering for others. Death for others. What is the use of our going away off to find an illustration in past age, when during the great forest fires in Michigan, a mail-carrier on horseback, ridding on, pursued by those flames whieh had swept over a hundred miles,.,saw an old man by the roadside, dismounted, helped the old man on the horse, saying: “Now whip up and get away.” The old man got away, bat the mailcarrier perished. Just like Christ dismounting from the glories of Heaven to put us on the way of deliverance, then 'falling, back into the flames of sacrifice for others. Pang for others. Woes for others. Death for others. Vicarious suffering. Oh, 1 join hands with you in that uplifted splendor. *

When the shore is voa »t last. Who will count he hi lows past? In Fieybourg, Sv. itzei land there in the trunk of n tree *00 years old. That tree was planted to cor xmemorate an event. About ten miles from the city the Swiss conquered the Burgundians, and a young wanted tqta ice the tidinga to the city. He took a tree branch and ran with such speed the ten miles, that when he reached the city waving the tree branch he had only strength to cry “Victory!* and dropped dead. The tr > e branch that he carried was planted, and it grew to be a great tree 90 feet in circumference, and the remains ci it are there to this day. My hearer whim you have fo tght your last battle with sin and death and hell, and they have been routed iti the conflict, it will be a joy worthy oi celebration. You will njHo the city ar i cry: “Victory!* and drop at the fee of the great* King. Then the palm bt inch of the earthly race will be plant d to become the oatbranching tree of e erlaating rejoicing. When shall thsmsgres Thy Hsar m-ballt wall*, Aadpaarty pm behold. Thy bulwarks with salTatioo m AaA scsew of shialay goU?