Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 19, Number 30, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 December 1897 — Page 2

THE WELCOME HOME. When twilight bells are ringing sweet And evening echoes greet me, Mjr happy heart seems singing sweet Of some one who will meet me. Of blue eyes ’neath a golden crown; Dear eyes that watch and wait, ’And little footsteps pattering down The pathway to the gate. {Though sad the toil in barren soil. Though fortune has not found me, 9 know that night will bring me light And twine two arms around me. !And let the day be gold or gray. What thought so sweet ns this, It drifts and dreams my darling's way, Who keeps for me a kiss. Oh, love of life, and strength in strife; Oh, joy to sorrow given, O, dear child eyes that make life's skies, And earth as sweet as heaven, 9 still can bear with grief and c-are, And face the storms to be, If love, the comforter, will share, The crust, the crumbs with me. —Baltimore American.

A SENSE OF HUMOR.

■—n IVE me,” said I, W "before everything W a sense of humor.” “To hi m that hath ?” inquired Ks Arabella. “Well,” said I, modestly, “I hope I | J have. But I would T desire even more.” I I She smiled. “You ■4 } may smile, young 4/ lady.” “I’m not smiling.” sK* “Look in theglass.” “I don't want to grow vain.”

“Then look.’’ “Evidently there is some joke In your remark, if I could see it. But you know I have no sense of humor.” “Then you should cultivate it. It is a remedy for half the ills of life, and when you are my age you will realize It.” “When I am my grandmother!” I am 33 and she is 20. “You wouldn’t make that remark if you had any sense of humor,” I retorted, crjistily. “But I haven’t, and I don’t see that I should be any better if I had.” “I admit it is difficult to imagine any Improvement in you.” “Is that humor or sarcasm?" “Oh, well! Humor is—er—well, it's—er——” “Ignorance of itself?” Arabella has plenty of humor, you know. “Humor is a kindly appreciation of ifoibles and incongruities. And ” “I don’t appreciate the kindness. How can you feel kind to people when you're making fun of them yourself?” “I don’t see any difficulty. Why, I •ad an example this morning.” I laughed at the thought. “I've half a mind to tell you.” “Oh, do!” Arabella is as curious as a —woman. “It was rather confidential, you see.” 1 knew that would excite her interest. “But you might trust me.” You may have noticed that the more attractive -k womanJfi,. the more she emphasizes itbe first person singular. Arabella almost puts it in capitals. ; “In strict confidence?” i “Yes—of course.” ' “Well, a nice young fellow, whom Vou know, came to me this morning, knd ” ' “Who was it?” | “That isn’t material.” • “Oh, but it is, though! Yerv material.” “But, my dear Arabella!” “If you will not trust me we are on distant terms.” I’ve known her since •lie was in short frocks. $ “It really isn't relevant to the point •f humor.” “I don’t care anything about the point of humor.” “Ob, well, if you don't want me to Jtell you ” j “But I do. There's a good—Tom.” ; “It was Ted Xaughton.” i “Oh, how interesting. I like Ted awSully, don't you?” “Yes—oh, yes, certainly. I do, but I idon’t see why Arabella should.” “Now, tell n?e.’ She clasped her {hands round her knees and cocked her [pretty head expectantly on one side. “Well,” said I, laughing, “poor Ted 3b in love.” “With whom?” “I didn't ask.” “18 that your sense of humor?” She looked at me as if I had made a plum podding without the plums. _ “I don’t see that it matters.” “Not matter! You don’t care who it !■!” “Why should I so long as he’s satisfied?” “Well!” Words seemed to fall her, (Which is rare with Arabella. “Anyhow, she seemed to be the usual There never was anyone like fter, according to tie love-lorn Ted. •be was beautiful, amiable, accomplished, gentle, saintly—in shprt, perfect They all are in these cases, you •now.” “So they should be-pto the lover.” “Of course they should.” Why, it's Just what I think of Arabella. “Where is the humor?” “I’m coming to it. Toor Ted, it seems, is very diffident in the face of •uch wondrous charms. He is burning to avow his passion to the young lady, but he doesn't know how to proceed. So he came to ask my advice.” “What do you know about it?” Arabella sat bolt upright, and put the question like a sword thrust. “Nothing—except a vague general idea. But be evidently thought I did.” I bad a little experience, but, of course, I wasn't going to tell her. “DM you give him the benefit of your vague general Idea?”

“Oh, yes, poor beggar! Indeed, I put it Into concrete form for him. It waa very funny.” ' “ “You are so humorous, you see.” Somehow Arabella seemed a bit cross. “Please go on.” “We went through quite a little rehearsal. I assure you. They were to begin with the weather, of course. Ha, ha!” “Very humorous, certainly.” “Then he was to make some remarks about the weather, not mattering where she was. Of course, she would blush and look down.” Arabella laughed. “I don’t suppose she would.” “She ought to. according to the laws of the game. Then he was to take hold of her hand and ask if she would make life all fair weather for him—and so on.” _ ' " “And, then?” “Oh! he’d be able to go on from there. He's not a fool, you know, really. He’s (i very fine fellow, as a matter of fact.” “Did he do it?” “I expect so. Anyhow, he came back beaming like a sunflower, and threw up his hat when he saw me at the window; so I concluded they’d settled it.” I chuckled. “So that is humor!” Arabella strolled over to the window, and her lips quivered as if I had hurt her. “Why, whatever is the matter, Bell?” “I call it mean—horrid—cruel,” she cried, stamping her little foot angrily, “to make game of a man when lie’s in love. 1 don't see that it’s a subject for humor at all.”

“But, my dear Bell—!” “Miss Murison, if you please.” And we had always been such chums! “I think that if humor is making ridicule of the most sacred thing in life, one is better without it,” she continuued. • “But I do not ridicule it, Bell. Tliere was an element of humor in the case, all the same.” Arabella twisted her handkerchief round her fingers. Did she think that I had no serious affection for her, I wondered? Perhaps I had better tell her. . “Let me tell you something serious, Bell,” I said, going close up to her. But she suddenly interrupted. “You do not know her name?” “No. But if you want to know I’ll ” “I know,” She turned upon me-with her eyes flashing. “And I know that she is a very proud and happy girl.” Good heavens! “So perhaps we had better close the subject,” she said. I felt as if the room was going round me. I had made a pet of her from the time she was 10, and I thought that she and all the family understood that I was only waiting for my promotion this year. But she must never know now, or she would be so grieved for me—for a very kind-hearted little soul is pretty Arabella. “Well, my dear,” said I, slowly, “I didn't think it was you, I confess. But Ted’s a good fellow—almost good enough for you, even—and I congratulate you.” I spoke so unsteadily that she must almost have noticed it, so I tried to laugh it off. “W T hen you were, a little girl, you know, you promised t 6 be my sweetheart, so I feel a bit jealous"—l felt nearly mad, to tell the truth. “Perhaps the best amends I can make is to ask you to choose your own present. A piano—or a necklace and bracelets—or anything you like.” Well, well—dear me! I couldn’t pretend cheerfulness much longer. I must be off. “God bless you, little Bell!” said I. “He's a lucky fellow.” And I made for the door.

Just as I was taking my hat she rushed down the stairs in her most reckless fashion, and ran right into me, so that I had to catch hold of her. “I believe I have a sense of humor,” she said breathlessly. “It was young Sis he proposed to —not me. Hadn’t you better go and offer her the piano?” It was Ted and Sis who caught us ten minutes later, and my arm was round Arabella’s waist.—Black and White.

She Didn’t Want Much.

When Andrew D. White, now United States ambassador at Beilin, was our minister to Germany, nearly twenty yeai*s ago, be received some queer letters from Americans, asking for his influence in their behalf in court circles, says the Youthful Companion. Terliaps the funniest of all was a very mandatory epistle from an old lfidy living in the West, who inclosed in her letter four patches of white muslin, each some six inches square. “We are going to give a fair in our church,” “she wrote, “ahd I am making an autograph quilt. I want you to get me the autographs of the Emperor, the Empress, the Crown Prince and Bismarck, and tell them to be very careful not to write too near the edge of the squares, as a seam has to be allowed for putting them together.”

Not Exactly the Words.

Irish orators frequently discount their own rhetoric through an imperfect appreciation of word values. A Home Ruler was haranguing on English terrorism, and after drawing a picture of babies speared on the points of bayonets, etc., he concluded: “If that's your civilization you may keep it. I call it most improper.” This recalls the story of the Westerner who, having been absent from home for a day, returned to find his bouse and family swept away by a cyclone. Looking around him in amazement he exelaimejJ, “Well, I call this redic'lous!” The poor fellow" had used what he considered the strongest word in his vocabulary.

Eating Contest.

An eating contest is to be held at Paint Lick, Ky., between two men, one of whom has a record of thirty-two hard-boiled eggs and a dozen onions. It Is pleasant to see this sort of friendly rivalry succeeding the toll gate war in the Blue Grass State.

SPIRITUAL POWER.

SAMSON’S FALL THE SUBJECT OF DR. TALMAGE’S SERMON. Physical and Moral Giants Should Use Their Power in Doing Good-Mis-guided Strength May Work Great Evil—Christ Our Champion. Our Washington Pulpit. Taking the exciting story of Samson's fall as a suggestion, Dr. Talmage in this discourse shows how giants in body and mind or soul ought to be consecrated to good and great purposes. His text is Judges xiv., 1, “And Samson went down to Timnath.” There are two sides to the character of Samson. The one phase of his life, if followed into the particulars, would administer to the grotesque and mirthful. But there is a phase of his character fraught with lessons of solemn and eternal import. To these graver lessons we devote our sermon. This giant no doubt in early life gave evidences of what he was to be. It is almost always so. There were two Napoleons—the boy Napoleon and the man Napoleon—but both alike; two Howards—the boy Howard and the man Howard — but both alike; two Samsons —the boy Samson and the man Samson —but both alike. This giant was no doubt the hero of the playground, and nothing could stand before his exhibitions of youthful prowess. At 18 years of age he was betrothed to the daughter of a Philistine. Going down toward Timnath a lion came upon him, and, although this young giant was weaponless, he seized the monster by the long mane and shook him as a hungry hound shakes a March hare and made his bones crack, and left him by the wayside bleeding under the smiting of his fist and the grinding heft of his heel. There he stands, looming up above other men, a mountain of flesh, his arms biinheed with "muscle that can lift the gate of a city, taking an attitude defiant of everything. His hair had never been cut, and it rolled down in seven great plaits over his shoulders, adding to his bulk, fierceness and terror. The Philistines want to conquer him, and therefore they must find out where the secret of his strength lies. Wiles of Delilah.

There is a dissolute woman living in the valley of Sorek of the name of Delilah. They appoint her the agent in the case. The Philistines are secreted in the same building, and then Delilah goes to work and coaxes TSamson to tell what is the secret of his strength. “Well,” he says, “if you should take seven green withes, such as they fasten wild beasts with, and put them around me I should be perfectly powerless.” So she binds him with the seven green withes. Then she claps her hands and says, “They come —the Philistines!” and he walks out as though they were no impediment. She coaxes him again and says, “Now tell me the secret of this great strength,” and he replies, “If you should take some ropes that have never been used and tie me with them, I should be just like other men.” She ties him with the ropes, claps her hands and shouts, “They come —the Philistines!” He walks out as easily as he did before—not a single obstruction. She coaxes him again, and he says, “Now, if you should take these seven long plaits of hair and by this house loom weave them into a web, I could not get away.” So the house loom is rolled up, and the shuttle flies backward and forward, and the long plaits of hair are woven into a web. Then she claps her hands and says, “They come —the Philistines!” He walks out as easily as he did before, dragging a part of the -loom with him, -

But after awhile she persuaded him to. tell the truth. He says, “If you should take a razor or shears and cut off this long hair, I should be powerless and in the hands of my enemies.” Samson sleeps, and that she may not wake him up during the process of shearing help is called in. You know that the barbers of the east have such a skillful way of manipulating the head to this very day that instead of wnking up a sleeping man they will put a man wide awake sound asleep. I hear the blades of the shears grinding against each other, and I see the long locks falling off. The shears or razor accomplishes what green withes and, new ropes and house loom could not do. Suddenly she claps her hands and says, “The Philistines be upon thee, Samson!” He rouses up with a struggle, but his strength is all gone. He is in the hands of his enemies. I hear the groan of the giant as they take his eyes out, and then I see him staggering on in his blindness, feeling his way ns he goes on toward Gaza. The prison door is open, and the giant is thrust in. He sits down and puts his hand on the mill crank, which, with exhausting horizontal motion, goes day after day, week after week, month after month—work, work, work. The consternation of the world in captivity, his locks shorn, his eyes punctured, grinding corn in Gaza.

Physical and Moral Power. First of nil, behold in this giant of the text that physical power is not always an index of moral power. He was a huge man. The lion found it out, and the 3,000 men whom he slew found it out. l'et he was the subject of petty revenges and outgianted by low passion. I am far from throwing any discredit upon physical stamina. There are those who seem to have great admiration for delicacy and sickliness of constitution. I never could see any glory in weak nerves or sick headache. Whatever effort in our day is made to make the men.and women more robust should have the favor of every good citizen as well as of every Christian. Gymnastics may be positively religious. Good people sometimes ascribe to a wicked heart what they ought to ascribe* to a slow liver. The body and the soul are such near neighbors that they often' catch each other’s diseases. Those who never saw a sick day, and who, like Hercules, show the giant iu the cradle, have more to answer for than those who are the* subjects of lifelong infirmities. He who can lift twice as much as you enn and walk twice as far and work twice as long will have a double account to meet in the judgment. Do Something. How often is it that you do not find physical energy indicative of spiritual power! If a clear head is worth more than one dizzy with perpetual vertigo, if muscles with the play of health in them are worth more than those drawn up in chronic rheumatics, if an eye quick to catch passing objects is better than one With vision dim and uncertain, then Goa Will require of ns efficiency just in proportion to what he has given, us. PhyslcaJ energy ought to be a type o t moral

power. We ought to have as good digestion of truth as we have capacity to assimilate food. Our spiritual hearing ought to be as good as our physical hearing. Our spiritual taste ought to be as clear as our tongue. Samsons in body, wc ought to be giants in moral power. But while you find a great many men who realize that they ought to use their money aright and use their intelligence aright, how few men you find aware of the fact that they ought to use their physical organism aright! With every thump of the heart there is something saying, “Work, work!” and lest we should complain that we have no tools to work with, God gives us our hands and feet, with every knuckle, and with every joint,~'Aßs with every muscle, saying to us, “Lay hold and do something.” But how often it is that men with physical strength do not serve Christ! They are like a ship full manned and full rigged, capable of vast tonnage, able to endure all stress of weather, yet swinging idly at the docks, when these .men ought to be crossing and recrossing the great ocean of human suffering and sin with God’s supplies of mercy. How often it is that physical strength is used in doing positive damage or in luxurious ease when, with sleeves rolled up and bronzed bosom, fearless of the shafts of opposition, it ought to be laying hold with all its might and tugging away to lift up this sunken wreck of a world.

A Shameless Fact. It is a most shameless fact that much of the business of the church and of the world must be done by those comparatively invalid. Richard Baxter, by reason of his diseases, all his days sitting in the door of the tomb, yet writing more than a hundred volumes and sending out an influence for God that will endure ns long as the “Saints’ Everlasting Rest.” Edward Payson, never knowing a well day, yet. how he preached, and how he wrote, helping thousands of dying souls like himself to “swim in a sea of glory,” And Robert McCheyne, a walking skeleton, yet you know what he did in Dundee, and how he shook Scotland with zeal for God. Philip Doddridge, advised by his friends, because of his illness, not to enter the ministry, yet you know ‘what he did for the “rise and progress of religion” in the church and in the world. Wilberforce was told by his doctors that he could not live a fortnight, yet at that very time entering upon philanthropic enterprises that demanded the greatest endurance and persistence. Robert Hall, suffering excruciations, so that often in his pulpit while preaching he would stop and lie down on a sofa, then getting up again to preach about heaven, until the glories of the celestial city dropped on the multitude, doing more work perhaps than almost any well man in his day. Oh, how often it is that men with great physical endurance are not so great in moral and spiritual stature! While there are achievements for those who are bent all their days with sickness —achievements of patience, achievements of Christian endurance—l call upon men of health to-day, men of muscle, men of nerve* men of physical power, to devote themselves to the Lord. Giants in body, you ought to be giants in soul.

Behold also in the story of my text illustration of the damage that strength can do if it be misguided. It seems to me that this man spent a great deal of his time in doing evit, this Sanvson of my text. To pay a debt which he had lost by guessing of his riddle he robs and kills thirty people. He was not only gigantic in strength, but gigantic in mischief and a type of those men in all ages of .the world who, powerful in body or mind or any faculty of social position or wealth, have used their strength for iniquitous purposes.

Misguided Giants. It is not the small, weak men of the day who do the damage. These small men who go swearing and loafing about your stores and shops and banking houses assailing Ohrist and the Bible and the church. They do not do the damage. They have no influence. They are vermin that you crush with your foot. But it is the giants of the day, the misguided giants, giants in physical power, or giants in mental acumen, or giants in social position, or giants in wealtjt, who do the damage. The men with sharp pens that stab religion and throw their poison all through our literature; the men who use the power of wealth to sanction iniquity, and bribe justice, and make truth and honor bow to their golden scepter. Misguided giants. Look out for them. In the middle and latter part of the last century no doubt there were thousands of men in Paris and Edinburgh and London who hated God and blasphemed the name of the Almighty, but they did but little mischief. They were small men, insignificant men. Yet there were giants in those days. Who can calculate the soul havoc of a Rosseau, going on with a very enthusiasm of iniquity, with fiery imagination seizing upon all the impulsive natures of his day, or David Hume, who employed his life as a spider employs its summer in spinning out silken webs to trap the unwary, or Voltaire, the most learned man of his day, marshaling a great host of skeptics, and leading them out in the dark land of infidelity, or Gibbon, who showed an uncontrollable grudge against religion in his history of one of the most fascinating periods of the world’s existence—the “Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,” a book in which, with all the splendors of his genius, he magnified the errors of Christian disciples, while, with a sparseness of notice that never can be forgiven he treated of the Christian heroes of whom the world was not worthy?

Bad Influences Abroad. Oh, men of stout physical health, men of great mental stature, men of high social position," men of great power of any sort, I want you to understand your pow-*-v atid I want you to know that that power devoted to God will be a crown on earth, to you typical of a crown in heaven, but misguided, bedraggled in sin, administrative of evil, God will thunder against you with his condemnation in the day when millionaire and pauper, master and slave, king and subject, shall stand side by side in the judgment, and money bags, and judicial ermine, and royal robe shall be riven with the lightnings! Behold also how n giant may be slain! Delilah started the train of circumstances that pulled down the temple of Dagon about Samson’s ears. And tens of thousands o< giants have gone down to death and hell through the same impure fascinations. It seems to me that it is high time that pulpit and platform and printing press speak out against the impurities of modern society. Fastidiousness and prudery say: “Better not speak. You will rouse up adverse criticism. You will make worse what you want to make better. Better deal in glittering generalities. The subject la too delicate for polite ears.”

But there comes a voice from heaven overpowering the mincing sentimentalities of the day, saying, “Cry aloud, spare not, lift up thy voice like a trumpet and show my people their transgression and {he house of Jacob their sins.” A Gulf of Iniquity. You who are seated in your Christian homes, compassed by moral and religious restraints, do not realize the gulf of iniquity that bounds you on the north and the south and the east and the west. While I speak there are tens of thousands of men and women going over the awful plunge of an impure life, and while I cry to God for mercy upon their souls, I call upon you to the defense of your homes, your church and your nation. There is a banqueting hall that you have never heard desecrated. You know all about the feast of Ahasuerus, where a thousand lords sat. You know all about Belshazzar’s carousal, where the blood of the murdered king spurted into the faces of the banqueters. You mny know of the scene of riot and wassail when there was set before Esopus one dish of food that cost $400,000. But I speak now of a different banqueting hail. Its roof is fretted with fire. Its floor is tessellated with fire. Its chalices are chased with fire. Its song is a song of fire. Its walls are buttresses of fire. Solomon refers to it when he says, “Her guests nre in the depths of hell.” “ Behold also in this giant of the text and in the giant of our own century that great physical power must crumble and expire. The Samson of the text long ago went away. He fought the lion. He fought the Philistines. He could fight anything, but death was too much for him. He may have required a longer grave and a broader grave, but the tomb nevertheless was his terminus. If, then, we are to he compelled to go out of this world, where are we to go? This body and soul must soon part. What shall be the destiny of the former I know —dust to dust —but what shall be the destiny of the latter? Shall it rise into the companionshij) of the white robed, whose sins Christ has slain, or will it go down among the unbelieving, who tried to gain the world and save their souls, but were swindled out of both? Blessed be God, we have a champion! He is so styled in the Bible —a champion who has conquered death and hell, and lie is ready to fight ail our battles from the first to the last. “Who is this that cometh from Edom with dyed garments from Bozrah, mighty to save?” If we follow in the wake of that champion, death has no power and the grave no victory. The worst man trusting in him shall have his dying pangs alleviated and his future illumined.

Things to Consider. In the light of this subject I want to call your attention to a fact which may not have been rightly considered by five men in all the world, and that is the fact that we must be brought into judgment for the employment of our physical organism. Shoulder, brain, hand, foot—we must answer in judgment for the use we have made of them. Hnve they been used for the elevation of society or for its depression? In proportion as our arm is strong and our step elastic will our accoupt at last be intensified. Thousands of sermons are preached to invalids, I preach this morning to stout men and healthful womed We must give to God an account for the right use of this physical organism. These invalids have comparatively little to account for perhaps. They could not lift twenty pounds. They could not walk half a mile without sitting down to rest. In preparation of this subject I have said to myself, How shall I account to God in judgment for the use of a body which never knew one moment of real sickness? Rising up in judgment, standing beside men and women who had only little physical energy, and yet consumed that energy in a conflagration of religious enthusiasm, how will we feel abashed! Oh, men of the strong arm and the stout heart, what use are you mnking of your physical forces? Will you be able to stand the tost of that day when we must answer for the use of every talent, whether it were a physical energy, or a mental acumen, or n spiritual power? The day approaches and I see one who in this world was an invalid, and as she stands before the throne of God to answer she says: “I was sick all my days. I had but very little strength, but I did as well as I could in being kind to those who were more sick and more suffering.” And Christ will say, “Well done, faithful servant.”

A Prophetic Dream. And then a little child will stand before the throne, and she will say: “On earth I had a curvature of the spine and I was very weak and I was very sick, but I used to gather flowers out of the wildwood and bring them to my sick mother, and she was comforted when she saw the sweet flowers out of the wildwood. I didn’t do much, but I did something.” And Christ shall say, as he takes her up in his arms and kisses her, “Well done, well done, faithful servant;, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.” What, then, will be said to us —we to whom the Lord gnve physical strength and continuous health? I said to an old Scotch minister, who was one of the best friends I ever had, “Doctor, did you ever know Robert Pollok, the Scotch poet who wrote ‘The Course of Time?’ ” “Oh, yes,” he replied, “I knew him well, I was his classmate.” And then the doctor went on to tell me how that the writing of “The Course of Time” exhausted the health of Robert Pollok, and he expired. It seems as if no man could hnve such a glimpse of the day for which other days were made as Robert Pollok had and long survive that glimpse. In the description of that day he says, among other things: Begin the woe, ye woods, and tell it to the doleful winds, And doleful winds wail to the howling hills, And howling hills mourn to the dismal vales, And dismal vales sigh to the sorrowing brooks, And sorrowing brooks weep to the weeping stream, And weeping stream awake the groaning deep. Ye heavens, great nrchwny of the universe, put sackcloth on, And, ocean, robe thyself in garb of widowhood And gather all thy waves into a groan and utter it Long, loud, deep, piercing, dolorous, immense. The occasion asks it —nature dies, and angels come to lay her in her grave. What Robert Pollok saw in prophetic dream you and I will see in positive reality—the judgment, the judgment! Copyright, 1887.

SNOBBISHNESS.

It Has No Place in the Ordinary Economy of Life. A well-known man In London society recently affected to despise the Irish members of Parliament, and was most . contemptuous In his references to them ( in conversation. One night he met the wife of a Nationalist at a reception, and j expressed his surprise. “I nevep expected,” he said, “to see any member of your party in thin house. Tell me something that I want to know. Do the Irish members ever I wear dress coats? I have never yet seen one in evening dress.” - | “Most of them are poor men,” said the lady, with dignity; “but they are not so unfortunate as to be unable to dress properly. But It ill becomes one j who calls himself a gentleman to sneer at an Irishman’s poverty.” | That was a spirited reply, and it silenced a snob. An effort was recently ! made to raise money for a struggling j church in an English town. An enter- | tainment was planned, and the names of some of the rich and fashionable people of the town were solicited as patrons. These names appeared in the printed circulars in the same list with those of a few tradesmen and workingmen who were identified with the small parish. When the list was shown to a few of the more fashionable patrons, they shook their heads and said that it would never do. “We cannot allow our names,” they said, “to be associated even in a good cause with those of vulgar people.” The circulars were recalled, the list was revised and only the more favored names were retained. The friends of jthe mission church were very indignant, and the entertainment was not well patronized. Many working-people ceased to attend the services of the church. They resented bitterly the affront put upon some of their representative men. They asked, “Is this Christianity?” Of course it was not Christianity. It was only snobbishness. The attempt to conciliate wealth and fashion at the. expense of honest poverty was properly resented. A wealthy Londoner stumbled across an old friend iu the British Museum one day, and soon learned that the man had not prospered in life, but was a poor author whose days were spent iu study and literary drudgery. “I can’t very well ask you to call upon me,” said the well-dressed society man. “You would be uncomfortable in my house. You would not know how to get on with the men in my circle of acquaintance.” “I have more congenial company here,” said the poor author, proudly, glancing at the books on his reading-ta-ble. “I associate with great minds, and would, indeed, be lonely and depressed in an assembly of persons who pretend to a superiority they do not possess.” Of all men. he who is professedly religious should not be a snob.. Christianity recognizes humanity in every man, and gives it consideration, ami treats It with respeet. A profession of Christianity that ignores this is spurious. The best bred gentleman in the world is the one who makes the fewest people, rich or poor, uncomfortable.— Youth’s Companion.

A Business Horse.

A remarkable display of animal sagacity was given last week in Kensington by the horse driven by old Harry Pindle, an itinerant coal dealer. Harry has been a small dealer for years, and many a bucket of coal he sells to customers of twenty years’ standing. Hector, the old bay horse, has been owned by Harry for several years, and although he is old and lame, the animal serves his master well. Last week while out with a load of coal Harry was taken sick, and leaving his 6-year-old grandson on the wagon, he went into a friend’s house to rest. Now, Hector evidently got tired of waiting, for when Harry, who had become very sick, came out with his friend to be driven home, the team was gone. Late that afternoon the grandson came home with an empty wagon and explained that Hector had gone over the regular route, and that the people who had been waiting for their coal, came out and took what they wanted, and paid for it. Harry became very ill, and ""as confined to bed for over a week, but the supply of coal never stopped, as Harry’s oldest son would load the wagon before going to work and the team would be sent out in charge of the little boy. It has been proven since that old Hector never missed a customer along the route, and he is now pointed out as a remarkable horse.—Philadelphia Record.

The Age of Women.

The common objection among womankind to-letting their ages be known is not shared by the women of Japan, who actually display their age In the arrangement of their hair. Girls from nine to fifteen wear their hair Interlaced with red crape describing a halfcircle around the head the forehead being left free with a curl as each side. From fifteen to thirty, the hair is dressed very high on the forehead, and put up at the back in the shape of a fan or butterfly, with interlacing of sliver cord and a decoration of colored balls. Beyond thirty, a woman twists her hair around a shell pin, placed horizontically at the back of the head. Widows also designate themselves and whether or not they desire to marry Again.

Japanese Girls as Nurses.

Two Japanese girls, Hisa Nagano and Natru Sankaki, are at present serving as trained nurses In Chicago. They Intend to study medicine and then return to Japan to found a hospital on the same plan as those of this country.

Matrimonial Storms.

Friend—ls your honeymoon over? Nuwed—Oh, yes. We’re along in the simoon now.