3
f T T. I ll I 1 I I M K I I A l-l N
the Uniteci oiaies igrts-" J ,
he One a Noted Army Nurse, the Other
Secretary Seward's Housekeeper.
X Washington letter to tho Cincinnati
.llIullih;J,J J J
.. .t-rir cove i npra sire uuw cunaircu
tho Division of Loans and Currency
1
f the Treasury Department at W ash
twn -.(v emnloves who have
it t I, ' 11 " v J IT J
,limp widelv known for their histori-
al experience in war times, and one
gntlcman who is the sou of a former
i
....
jliss Harriet P. Dame, the army nurse,
national fmp hv her four
UU " " !
ears and eight months of perilous ser
;ce With the Second New Hampshire
Merriment during the Civil war, deserves
nr hue KnAn rn.
rst dig " nun. xxwi tuiti iyvv.ii
-.fnrliir nublished in part, but no writer
.tfnmntQ to r ironic n all her turil1-
.1 'It
nT trying experiences under deadly
LX - I
re on tne uciu ui uihuc, cavva iu
,..tr,inrr plnmftnts of heaven, or over
" a
Ci1' nnd dvinrr soldiers in the
OU:nii-, " J rj
hospitals, need ever hope to be success
ful. As a matter of fact, and not
merely of sentiment, her history is
written in scars held under her minister
ing bands, in hearts to whom she by
her presence and deeds brought hope
and comfort amid the sufferings of war,
and in the memories of stricken suffering
orrjs, both blue and gray, for whom she
cared.
She was once taken prisoner at the
second battle of Bull Run and detained
a week about Stonewall Jackson's head
quarters, in a tent specially provided for
her occupancy; but when the general
found on investigation that she was not
a spy, as suspected, he had her released
and permitted her to go undisturbed.
She was sent on highly important and
responsible missions at various times by
the governor of New Hampshire and by
other officials and organizations, each
time returning with thoroughly reliable
and practical reports, and often doing
efficient work in securing needed re
forms in the hospital and transportation
arrangements.
For a number of years since the war
her soldier friends had boen urging her
at different times to secure a pension for
her services, but she modestly maintained
that she wanted the soldiers pensioned
rirst, and that she could take care of
herself.
This remarkable woman had served
these four years and eight months amid
all the carnage and suffering of war for
the pittance of $6 per month allowed
army nurses. By a special act of Con
gress, secured bv her friends, she was
given a pension of $25 a month, begin
nine; on July 3, 1884. She allowed the
pension to run for considerable time,
then taking the amount due her and
adding to the same from her modest
earnings in the government service si
built, at her own expense, a house to be
used a3 the future headquarters of the
Second New Hampshire soldiers in their
reunions at the Weirs, L ike Winnep
saukee, H. This cost her $1000,
and ex-Gov. Smith, governor of Xcw
Hampshire at the close of the war, fur
nished the house. At the close of the
war the state legislature of New Hamp
shire presented her with some highly
appreciative resolutions, engrossed on
parchment, in recognition of her ser
vices, and also presented her with a sum
of money.
J
She is now seventy-two years old, and
is a well-preserved woman for her age.
She wears a plain black dress, has well
formed, expressive features, dark eye9
and hair only partially turned to gray.
Her nose and forehead are sharply and
yet becomingly outlined. She is en
gaged as a money counter at $900 per
year.
Miss Margaret Coleman, in the same
division, was the housekeeper for the
Seward family in Washington at the
time of the assassination of Lincoln and
the attempt on Secretary Seward's life.
The screams of Miss Fannie Seward,
who was in the room with her invalid
father when he was murderously attacked
by Payne, brought Miss Coleman to the
rescue, and when Payne heard her com
ing he left Mr. Seward, who in the
struggle had fallen out of bed and was
found by Miss Coleman between ,the bed
and the wall, with his head still under
the clothes, and smothering in his own
blood. Payne had lost his hat and
paused a moment to look in vain for
what was afterwards to be a silent but
unimpeachable witness against him, then
rushed for the door, and, meeting Miss
Coleman threw himself against her,
hurling her against the door as it stood
open and dislocating her shoulder-blade.
Further on he passed Miss Fannie in
his hot haste and made his escape.
Miss Coleman was with the Seward
family eight years, and witnessed tha
rapid decline of both Mrs. Seward and
Miss Fannie, who never survived the
shock of that terrible night of the 14th
of April, 1865. Mrs. Seward died in
June, and Miss Fannie in the fall follow
ing the awful scenes of assassination in
their home. Miss Coleman tells the
story as vividly as though it had been
witnessed scarcely an hour ago. She is
now fifty-seven years of age, and serves
as a messenger at $660 a year. She
has been in the division twelve years.
Temptations of a Broker's Life.
From the start the boy entering f
broker's office will be intrusted with
large sums of money to carry to the bank
or to customers. He may be in an office
where bank bills and shining gold are
within his reach all the time; and he
will be so completely absorbed in the
subject of stocks, bonds and money, that
it will be somewhat strange if he does
not soon begin to look at the getting of
money as the most important business of
life. And when he is a little older and
becomes clerk or cashier, he will be ex
posed to the temptation to increase his
ncome by stock gambling "speculat
ing, as it is called on his own account
Such ventures are, of course, very
hazardous, and on all accounts should be
shunned. A broker requires great
strength of character to resist the tempta-
tion to get wealthy by false methods;
and a boy should think long and well
before he adopts tbe calling.
For the broker's business is at best
unstaple. The work is done quickly in
the midst of srreat excitement and at
"high pressure," as we say . As money
comes quickly and easily to the broker,
it is not so highly prized, as if it were
earned by the toil which produces a
visible result and it usually soes as
quickly as it comes. Brokers, of course,
defend their own occupation. They
will tell you that theirservices as agents
in securing stocks and bonds are need
ed; but they do not deny that stock
brokerage would cease to be a profitable
business, except to a very few firms, if
people were to stop specu
lating in securities. Of course there are
many men in tms business wno nave
risen to wealth and to eminence as finan
ciers who would scorn to do a mean
or dishonorable act. All honor to such
men, because they must often have been
sorely tempted to do wrong. St,
. 1
Nicholas.
"The Qneen's ripe."
In the centre of the tobacco ware
houses at tho London docks there is an
immense kiln, which is kept continually
burning, day and night, and goes by the
name of the queen's tobacco pipe. The
English government has a different way
of treating confiscated articles than that
in use ia this country, one of them being
to utilize them as fuel for what is termed
the queen's smoking. Whenever mer
chandise is seized for nonpayment of
duty, or because it is considered under
the law as in a damaged or unsalable
condition, it is taken to this great kiln
and burned there, the owners having no
remedy. The only utilization that is
made of these seizures is from the sale
of the ashes from the furnace, which, to
the amount of a great many tons a month,
are sold by auction to chemical works,
and to farmers and others to be used in
enriching the soil. There is a similar
but smaller queen's tobacco pipe in the
government tobacco warehouses at Liver
pool, these two forming the points of
destruction, for all confiscated merchan
dise in the United Kingdom. Com
mercial Gazette.
A Man Who Lives iu a Tree.
Mr. Hey wood, better known as "tht
man who lives in a tree," has built a
new house a few feet north of the old
one in Washington. As there were no
tall trees growing where he wanted his
house, he has put it on a scaffold fifty
feet high. A bridge connects it with the
old house. Mr. Heywood's idiosyncrasy
is a strong one, and he gives good rea
sons to support it. Those who think he
s queer in the upper region are mis
taken. He is a matter of fact man, with
excellent record as a clerk in tho interior
Department. He is a shrewd speculator
in real estate. His house in the tree
attracted attention to the beautiful
near by, and he sold them to good
vantage. Mr. Heywood has but
arm, but his lungs are good. He
lots
says
consumption can be cured by living in
trees as he does, where nothing but pure
air can be breathed. New York Sun.
The Snail's Pace.
A snail's pace need not be used any
longer as a term, more or less indefinite.
By an interesting experiment at the
Polytechnic the other day it was ascer
tained exactly and reduced to figures
which may now be quoted by persons
who favor the use of exact terms. A
half dozen of the moliusks were per
mitted to crawl between two points ten
feet apart and the average pace was
ascertained. From this it was easy
enough to calculate that one snail can
crawl a mile in just fourteen days.
Terre Haute Express.
Business Enterprise,
The train was approaching Troy.
"Are you going to eat your dinner at
the railroad restaurant?" he asked of a
passenger.
"Yes," was the reply.
"Just slip that card in your pocket,"
he whispered; "I'm an undertaker.
New York Sun.
An Author's Greatest Difficulty.
Young Author (to editor) "Getting a
publisher, I have heard, is the most diffi
cult thin in authorship."
Editor "I don't think so."
Author "Ab, you encourage
What, then, is the most difficult?"
Eiitor "Getting readers."
me.
REV. DR. TALMAGE.
THE
BROOKLYN DIVINE'S SUN
DAY SERMON.
'The Heavens Opened.
Text: 1 Behold I see the heavens opened,
and the Son of man standing on the
right hand of God. Then they cried out
with a loud voice and stopped their
ears, and ran upon Run with one accord,
and cast him out of the city, and stoned
Him; and the witnesses laid down their
clothes at a young man's feet, whose name
was Saul. And they stoned Stephen, calling
ujjon God, and saying, Lord Jesus, receive
my spirit. And he kneeled down, and cried
with a loud voice, Lord, lay not this sin to
their charge. And when he had said this,
he fell asleep." Acts vii., 56-tiO.
Stephen had been preaching a rousing ser
mon, and the people could not stand it. They
rasolved to do as men sometimes would like to
do in this day, if they dared, with some plain
preacher of righteousness kill him. The
only way to silence this man was to
knock the breath out of him. So they rushed
Stephen out of the gates of the city, and with
curse, and whoop, and bellow they brought
him to the cliff, as was the custom when they
wanted to take away life by stoning. Having
brought him to the edge of the cliff they
pushed him off. After he had fallen they
came and looked down, and seeing that he
was not yet dead, they began to drop stones
upon him, stone after stone, stone after stone.
Amid this rain of missiles Stephen clambers
up on his knees and folds his hands, while
the blood drips from his temples to his cheeks,
from his cheeks to his garments, from his gar
ments to the ground ; and then, looking ip,
he makas two prayers one for himself and
one for his murderers. "Lord Jesus, receive
my spirit;" that was for himself. ''Lord, lay
not this sin to their charge;" that was for his
assailants. Then, from pain and loss of blood,
he swooned away and fell asleep.
I want to show you to-day five pictures.
Stephen gazing into heaven. Stephen look
ing at Christ. Stephen stoned. Stephen in
his dying prayer. Stephen asleep.
First, look at Stephen gazing mto heaven.
Before you take a leap you want to know
where you are going to land. Before you
climb a ladder you want to know to what
point the ladder reaches. And it was right
that Stephen within a few moments of
heaven, should be gazing into it. We would
all do well to be found in the same posture.
There is enough in heaven to keep us gazing.
A man of large wealth may have statuary in
the hall, and paintings in the sitting-room,
and works of art in all parts of the house, but
he has the chief pictures in the art gallery,
and there, hour after hour, you walk with
catalogue and glass and ever increasing ad
miration. Weil, heaven is the gallery where
trod has gathered the chief treasures of His
realm. The whole universe is His palace. In this
lower room where we stop there are many
adornments; tessellated floor of amethyst
and blossom, and on the winding cloud-stairs
are stretched out canvas on which commingle
azure, and purple, and s ffron, and gold.
But heaven is the gallery in which the chief
glories are gathered. There are the brightest
robes. There are the richest crowns. There
are the highest exhilarations. John says of
it; AThe kings of the earth shall
bring their honor and glory into it."
And I see the procession forming, and in
the line come all t moires, and the stars spring
up into an arch for the hosts to march under.
They keep step to the sound of earthquake and
the pitch of avalanche from the mountains,
and the flag they bear is the flame of a con
suming world, and all heaven turns out with
harps and trumpets and myriad voiced ac
clammation of angelic dominion to welcome
them in, and so the kings of the earth bring
their honor and glory into it. Do you won
der that good people often stand like Stephen,
looking into heaven? We have a great
many friends there. There is not a
man in this house to-day so
isolated in life, but there is some one in
heaven with whom he once shook hands. As
a man gets older, the number of his celestial
acquaintance very rapidly multiplies. We
have not had one glimpse of them since the
night we kissed them good-bye and they went
away; but still we stand gazing at heaven.
As when some of our friends go across the
sea, we stand on the dock, or on the steam-
tug, and watch them, and after awhile the
hulk of the vessel disappears, and then there
is only a patch of sail on the sky. and soon
that is gone, and they are all out of sight,
and yet wo stand looking in the same
direction ; so when our friends go
away from us into the future world we
keep looking down through the Narrows, and
gazing and gazing as though we expected
that they would come out and stand on some
evening cloud, and give us one glimpse of
their blissful and transfigured faces. While
you long to join their companionship, and the
years and the days go with such tedium that
phey break your heart, and the vijer of pain,
and sorrow and bereavement keeps gnawing
at your vitals, you still stand, like Ste
phen, gazing into heaven. You wonder
if they have changed since you saw them last.
Ynu wonder if they would recognize your
face now, so changed has it been with trouble.
You wonder if, amid the myriad delights
they have, they care as much for you as they
used to when they gave you a helping hand
and put their shoulder under your burdens.
You wonder if they look any older; and some
time, in the evening-tide, when the house is
all quiet, you wonder if you should call them
by their first name if they would not answer;
and perhaps sometimes you do make the ex
periment, and when no one but God aid your
self are there you distinctly call their name,
and listen, and wait, and sit gazing into
heaven.
Pass on now, and see Stephen looking upon
Christ. My text says he saw the Son of Man
at the right hand of God. Just how Christ
looked in this world, just how he looks in
heaven, we cannot say. A writer in the time
rhrid-oor. HoawiW fh Saviour tw-
of Christ says, describing the Saviour's per
sonal apperance, that He had blue eyes and
light complexion, and a very graceful struct
ure; but I suppose it was all guess-work.
The painters of different ages have tried to
imagine the features of Christ, and put them
upon canvas ; but we will have to wrait until
with our own eyes we see him and with our
own ears we can hear Him. And yet there
is a way of seeing and hearing Him now.
I have to tell you that unless you
see and hear Christ on eartn, you
will never see and hear Him in 7heaven!
Look! There he is. Behold the Lamb of
God. Can you not see Him ? Then pray to
God to take the scales off your eyes. Look
that way try to look that way. His voice
comes down to you this day comes down to
the blindest, to the deafest soul, saying:
''Look unto Me, all ye ends of the earth, and
be ye saved, for I am God, and there is none
else." Proclamation of universal emancipa
tion for all slaves. Proclamation of universal
amnesty for all rebels. Ahasuerus gathered
the Babylonish nobles to his table; George I.
entertained the lords of England at a ban
quet; Napoleon III. welcomed the Czar of
Kussia and the Sultan of Turkey to his feast;
the Emperor of Germany was glad to have our
minister, George Bancroft, sit down with
him at his table; but tell me, ye who know
most of the world's history, what other king
ever asked the abandoned, and the forlorn,
and the wretched, and the outcast, to come
and sit down beside him? O, wonderful in
vitation! You can take it to-day, and
stand at the head of the darkest alley in all
this city, and say: "Come! Clothes for
your rags, salve for your sores, a throne for
your eternal reigning." A Christ that talks
like that, and acts like that, and pardons
like that do you wonder that Stephen stood
looking at Him? I hope to spend eternity
doing the same thing. I must see Him, I
must look upon that face once clouded
with my sin, but now radiant with my
pardon. I want to touch that hand that
knocked off my shackles. 1 want to hear
that voice which pronounced my deliverance.
.Behold Him, little children, for it you live to
three score years and ten you will see none
so fair. Behold Him, ye aged ones, tor He
only can shine through the dimness of your
failing eyesight. Behold Him, earth. Be-
hold Him, heaven. What a moment when
all the nations of the saved shall gather
around Christ! All faces that way. All
thrones that way, gazing, gazing on Jesus.
u His worth if all the nations knew,
Sure the whole earth would love 11 im, too."
I pass on now, and look at Stephen stoned.
The world has always wanted to get rid of
good men. Their very life is an assault upon
wickedness. Out with Stephen through the
gates of the city. Down with him over tbe
precipice. Let every man come up and drop
a stone upon his head. But these men did
not so much kill Stephen as they killed them
selves. Every stone rebounded upon them.
While these murderers are transfixed by the
scorn of all good men, Stephen lives in the
admiration of all Christendom. Stephen
stoned; but Stephen alive. So all good men
must be pelted. All who will live godly in
Christ J esus must suffer pers jcntion. It is no
eulogy of a man to say that everybody likes
him. Show me any one who is " doin
ah his duty to State or Church, and 1 will
show you scores of men who
him.
utterly abhor
If all men speak well of you. it is because
you are either a laggard or ' a dolt. If a
steamer makes rapid progress through the
waves, the water will boil and foam all
around it. Brave soldiers of Jesus Christ
will hear the carbines click. When I see a
man with voice, and money, and influence
all on the right side, and some caricature
him, and some sneer at him, and some de
nounce him, and men who pretend to be act
uated by right motives conspire to cripple
him, to east him out, to destroy him, 1 say:
"Stephen stoned." When I see a man in
some great moral or religious reform battling
against grog-shops, exposing wickedness in
high places, by active means trying to purify
the Church and better the worlds es
tate, and I rind that the newspapers
anathematize him, and men. even good men,
oppose him and denounce him, because,'
though he does good, he does not do it in
their way, I say: Stephen stoned." The
world, with infinite spite, took after John
Frederick Oberlin, and Robert Moffat, and
Paul, and Stephen of the text. But vou
notice, my friends, that while they assaulted
him they did not succeed really in killing
him. You may assault a good man, but you
cannot kill him. On the day of his death.
tepnen spoKe uerore a tew people m the San
hedrim; this Sabbath morning he addresses
all Christendom. Paul the Apostle stood
on Mars Hill addressing a handful of
philosophers who knew not so much about
science as a modern school girl. To-day he
talks to all the millions of Christendom
about the wonders of justification and the
glories of resurrection. John Weslev was
I howled down by the mob to whom he preached
ana tney tlirew bricks at him, and they de
nounced him, and they jostled him and they
spat upon him, and yet to-day, in all lands, he
is admitted to be the great father of Method
ism. Booth's bullet vacated the Presidential
chair; but from that spot of coagulated blood
on the floor in the box of Ford's Theatre,
there sprang up the new life of a nation.
Stephen stoned; but Stephen alive.
Pass on now, and see Stephen in his dying
prayer. His first thought was not how the
stones hurt his head, nor what would become
of his body. His first thought was about his
spirit. '"Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." The
murderer standing on the trap-door, the black
cap being drawn over his head before the ex
ecution, may grimace about the future; but
you and I have no shame in confessing some
anxiety about where we are going to come out.
You are notall body. There is within you a soul.
I see it gleam from your eyes to-day, an I
see it irradiating your countenance. Some
times I am abashed before an audience,
not because I come under j our physical eye
sight, but because I realize the truth that I
stand before so many immortal spirits. The
probability is that your bo iy will at last find
a sepulture in some of the cemeteries that
surround this city. There is no doubt but
that your obsequies will be decent and re
spectful, and you will be able to pillow your
head under the maple, or the Norway spruce,
or the cypress, or the blossoming fir; but this
spirit about which Stephen prayed, what di
rection will that take: What guide will es
cort it.' What gate will open to receive,
it' What cloud will be cleft lor its pathway J
After it has got beyond the light of our sun,
will there be torches lighted for the rest of
of tlie way? Will the soul have to travel
through long deserts liefore it reaches the
goixl land: If we should lose our pathway,
will there be a castle at whose gate we may
ask the way to the city.' O, this mysterious
spirit within us? It has two wings, but it is
in a cage now. It is locked fast to keep
it : but let the door of this cage open the leat,
and that soul is off. Eagle's wing could not
catch it. When the soul leaves the body it
takes fifty worlds at a bound. And have I
no anxiety about it: Have you no anxety
about it: I do not care what you do with my
houv when mv soul is one. o;
when niv sou is one. or whetner von
believe in cremation or inhumation. 1
shall sleep just as well in wrapping
o'i sackciotli as in satin Jmed
with eagle's down. But my soul before I
leave this house this morning 1 will find out
where it is going to land. Thank Cod for the
intimation of my text, that when we die
Jesus takes us. That answei-s all questions
for me. What though there were massive
bars between here and the city of light, Jest?;
could remove them. What though there were
great Saharas of darkness. Jesus could
illume them. What though I get weary
on the way, Christ could lift me on. His
omnipotent shoulder. What though there
were chasms to cross. His hand could
transport me. Then let Stephen's prayer be
my dying litany : "Lord Jesus, receive my
spirit." It may be in that hour we shall be
too feeble to say a long prayer. It may be in
that hour we will not be able to say the
Lord's Prayer, ' for it has seven petitions.
Perhaps we may be too feeble even to say tho
infant prayer our mothers taught us, which
John Quincy Adams, seventy years of age,
said every night when he put his head upon
his pillow:
"Now I lay me clown to sleep.
1 pray the Lord my soul to keep."
We may be too feeble to employ either of
these familiar forms; but this prayer ot ie
phen short, is so concise, is . so earnest w
so comprehensive, we surely will be able to
say that: "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.
O, if that prayer is answered, how sweet it
will be to die ! This world is clever enough
to us. Perhaps j.t has treated us a great deal
better than we deserved to be treated;
but if on the dying pillow there shall
break the light of that better world, we shall
have no more regret about leaving a small,
dark, damp house lor one large, beautiful,
and capacious. That dying minister in Phil
adelphia, some years ago, beautifully depicted
it when, in the last moment, he threw up his
hands and cried out: "I move into the light!"
Pass on now and I will show one more
picture, and that is Stephen asleep. With a
pathos and simplicity peculiar to the Script
ures the text says of Stephen: "He fell
asleep." "O," you say, "what a place that
was to sleep ! A hard rock under him, stones
falling down upon him, the blood streaming,
the mob howling. What a place it was to
sleep!" And yet inv text takes that symbol
of slumber to describe his dlparture, so
sweet was it, so eontenttd was it, so
peaceful was it. Stephen had lived
a very laborious life. H s chief work
had been to care for the poor. How many
loaves of bread he distributtd, how many
bare feet he had sandaled, how many cots of
sickness and distress he blessed with minis
tries of kindness and love, I do not know;
but from the way he lived, and the way he
preached, and the way he died. I know he
was a laborious Christian. But that
is all over now. H has pressed
the cup to the last fainting lip. He
has taken the last insult fro n his enemies.
The last stone to whose crushing weight he is
susceptible has been hurled. Stephen is dead!
The disciples come They take him up. They
wash away the blood from the wounds. They
straighten out the bruised limbs. They brush
back the tangled hair from the brow, and
then they pass around to look upon the
calm countenance of him who had lived
for the poor and died for the truth. Stephen
asleep! I have seen the sea driven with the
hurricane until the tangled foam caught in the
rigging, and wave rising above wave seemed
as if about to storm the heavens, and then 1
have seen the temDest droD. and the waves
' crouch, and everything become smooth ana
j burnished as though a camping place for the
glories of heaven. So I have seen a man,
whose life has been tossed and driven, coming
down at last to an infinite calm, in which
there was the hush of heaven's iullaby. Stephen
asleep! I saw such an one. He fought all
his days against poverty and against abuse.
They traduced his name. They rattled at the
door knob while he was dying, with duns for
debts he could not pay ; yet the peace of God
brooded over his pillow, and while the world
faded, heaven dawned, and the deepening
twilight of earth's night was only the opening
twilight of heaven's mora. Not a sigh. Not
a tear. Not a struggle. Hush! Stephen
asleep!
I have not the faculty to tell the weather.
I can never tell by the setting sun whether
there will be a drought or not. I cannot tell
by the blowing of the wind whether it will
be fair weather or foul weather on the mor
row. But I can prophesy, and I will
prophesy what weather it will be when
you, the Christian, come to die. You may
have it very rough now. It may be
this week one annoyance, the next another
annoyance. It may be this year one bereave
ment, the next another bereavement. Before
this year has passed you may have to beg for
bread, or ask for a scuttle of coal, or a pair of
shoes; but spread your death couch amid the
leaves of the forest, or make it out of the
straw of a paupers hut, the wolf in the jun
gle howling close by, or inexorable creditors
jerking the pillow from under your dying
head Christ will come in and darkriess
will go out. And though there may
be no hand to close your eyes,
and no breast on which to rest your dying
head, and no candle to lift the night, the
odors of God's hanging garden will regale
your soul, and at your bedside will halt the
chariots of the king. No more rents to pay ;
no more agony because flour has gone up ; no
more struggle with the world, the flesh, and
the devil;" but peace long, deep, everlasting
peace. Stephen asleep !
" AsleeiHn Jesus, blessed sleep,
From which none ever wake to weep;
A calm and undisturbed repose,
Uninjured by the last of foes.
" Asleep in Jesu6, far from thee
Thy kindred and their graves may be;
But there is still a blessed sleep,
From which none ever wake to weep."
You have seen enough for one morning. No
one can successfully examine more than five
pictures in a day. Therefore we stop, hav
ing seen this cluster of Divine Raphaels
Stephen gazing into heaven; Stephen looking
at Christ; Stephen stoned; Stephen in his
dying prayer; Stephen aslegp.
Life In Stockholm.
A correspondent of the Boston Tran
script says in a letter from the Swedish
capital: Stockholm is a wild and giddy
town, unfit for theological students and
newspaper correspondents. P; has cafes
enough to give one apiece to every in
habitant, and each cafe has its own
brass band ; consequently the effect upon
a Sunday is as it one had dropped into
a circus unawares. One of the prettiest
of the pleasure resorts, and right in the
heart of the city too, is the Strom Par
terre, a neatly kept little peninsula,
which juts out into the green waters of
the city Saltsjon, and affords a beautiful
view of the city. Here I heard an or
chestra which was unique in its way. It
numbered some seventy performers, all
of whom were small boys. It was inter
esting to see three feet of humanity try
ing to play six feet of bass riddle, and to
find the big drum towering high above
its performer. But they make
good music and would make the fortune
of any manager who should bring
them to America. I will not give your
readers an inventory of all the cafjs
that I passed (some of which I did not
pass) the first day of my stay in Stock
holm. Suffice it to say that at last I
found myself in the Djurgarten at Has
selbackrs. This dreadful name is not
Swedish for a lock-iiD." It is the nleas
ure park par excellence of Stockholm.
Seated in the open air, with a beautiful
view spread out oi every side, the Stock
holmer can listen to excellent music and
drink his beer or coffee at the same
time. I only wish that any words of
mine could impress the geniality, the
respectability, the sobriety of the picture
upon the American public. Here are
entire families sitting contentedly in the
pure fresh air, taking recreation in a
manner which all can afford and which
will brighten up the entire week of labor.
They have attended to their
religious
duties in tt e morning; the atternoon is
given to this absolute rest. There is, of
course, no trace of intoxication, and
none of the hurry and excitement of an
Ameiican excursion. Stockholm is ab
solutely encircled by beautiful suburbs.
The approach to most of these is by
water, and little steam launches carry
passengers in every direction
A Cobra Acts as Nurse.
The cobra is not generally credited
with kindly feelings toward humanity;
on the contrary, it has the reputation of
being almost the equal of the hamadryad
in misanthropy. Perhaps, however, it
frames the same charge against man, on
the ground that whenever it crosses his
path he invariably seeks its life. From
an interesting incident which occurred
lately at Pudupet, in the Madras Presi
dency, it appears that there are some
cobras, at all events, who experience a
yearning for more friendly relations with
the human race. An English lady, re
turning to her house after the evening's
drive, was horrified on entering the nur
sery to see a huge cobra, with expanded
hood, rearing itself over her sleeping in
fant. The reptile did not attempt, however,
to harm the baby, but contented itself
with softly hissing as it moved its head
slowly to and fro. Clearly it must have
watched the nurse wrhen putting the
child to sleep, and sought in its humble
way to execute a lullaby with the proper
accompaniaments. On an alarm being
raised the serpent made off in haste, but
without taking even a nibble at the little
one. Perhaps it was just as lucky that
the latter did not awake; a baby in full
cry has been known before now to pro
voke even human beings wrath.
"The Saloon Has No Rights."
The time has not come when a just and
wholesome law will be permitted to remain
as a dead letter; but the time is fast ap
proaching when the insolence and lawless
ness of the saloon will be effectually sup
pressed. A sentiment in that direction i?
rapidly developing, and nothing has done
more to quicken it than the saloon itself. Its
disregard for law, its arrogance, its lobbying
in legislative halls, and dictating to conven
tions and caucuses have done more than all
else to create a sentiment against it that will
control it or suppress it altogether. It shpuld
consider tnat it has no claim on the public at
all. It is ho part of legitimate industry ; it
has no place in commercial prosperity. It
exists in opposition to all principles of indus
trial and commercial interests. The people
have the highest right recognizable to sup
press it entirely the right of self protection.
For the saloon to talk of its rights is foolish.
It has none. It exists only by sufferance, and
there is nothing on which it can bass a claim
for protection. It is an industry that weak
ens everything it touches, one that adds noth
ing to individual or national prosperity, but
is a heavy burden upon both. The revenue
it yields is too insignificant, compared to th
tax it makes necessary, to speak of. Chicago
Current.
House-Keepers,
GREETING.
) v (
I am Offering all Kinds of
Household Furniture
AT BEE SOCK PRICES.
Chamber Suits of Ten
Pieces at from $ 1 8 00
to $100,00.
I also keep a choice selection of piece
Furniture, such as
bureaus, Mirrors,
Bed Steads, Paintings,
Safes and Buffets, C hromos,
Lounges, Oleographs,
Tables, Book J helves,
Marble Top Tables, Hat l acks,
Eoquet Tables, Brackets,
Wash Stands, Picture Frames,
Hanging Lamps, Photo Frames,
Stand Lamps, Toilet Sets.
Wood and Bottom Pine Chairs,
Wood and Bottom Oak Chairs,
Perferated Bottom Oak Chairs,
Cane Eottom Stool Chairs
Cane l ottom Pockers,
Ladies' and Gentlemen's Peed and
Pattan Pockers.
Also a Large Assortment of
Clocks, guaranteed good
TIME KEEPERS,
Baby Carriages of the Most Improved
and Stylish Make.
I also am Agent for the
LIGHT RUNNING,
NOISELESS DOMESTIC
SEWING MACHINE,
Best in the World, which
I sell for Cash or on
the Instalment
Plan
EASY TERMS.
Every Machine Warrantefl.
But why dwell on the
subjectwhen proof
is so easy.
call m III
I respectfully solicit tbe
Patronage of the Citizens of
Hyde, Beaufort and
Martin Counties
-):::o:::(-
Respectfully
J.A. BURGESS
Main Street,
Washington, N. G.