Published by Roanoke Publishing Co.
"FOR GOD, FOR COUNTRY AND FOR TRUTH."
W. FLKTCHER AUSBOIT, EDITOR.
C. V. W. AUSBOIT, BUSINESS MANAGER.
VOL.111.
PLYMOUTH, N. C, FRIDAY, APRIL 8, 1892.
NO. 47.
CONSECRATION.
Though Pate my ow,Tname had decfeel
Imperishable, , high enrolled,
The human heart is one indeed.
-My own heart's throbbing life hath told;
v T u " ueart oeats rree ana bold;
J o thee, O-sorrowing world, I'll live,
. Jfk tb,laurel-leaf and gold I
aH isthxao I have to give!
ThoughJPjove with measuraieM rich mee J
ot &iht and warmth my life enfold,
CouTj l forget thy bitter need.
y world, whose unbiased lips are cold
Poor world, like unkinged Lear of old,
Ca.n Love thy shameful state retrieve,
Thysdaufchter's heart shall nourhfc with
hold! '
AD, all is thine I have to give!
OraceE.Channing.in Youth's Companion
tt LEGAL MORTGAGE.
ST. MAr.I B. SLEIGHT. .
O douht the
place is yours by
good rights, ain't
it, Jason?"
The woman
that asked this
question, though
P a s t Ber rirl-
-sSTbood, was stilt
young, and there
jvw hen Jason
rSands, in the in
jif atuation of
youth, had
thought her nret-
tj; but her mouth to day had a shrewish
. fcoak, and there was a vindictive soap in
fcer small black eyes. Her, hair was
twisted so tightly . that the wind was
powerless to ruffle it, and in her starched
calico gown and gingham apron there
-was a grim tidiness unrelieved by collar
or ribbon. She had been to the garden,
Kind she held in her hand a stalk of rhu
bard, from which she was pulling in a
" preoccupied way the silk red peel.
"Oh, I've got a sort -of a lien on it,
but that ain't ownin' it,", Eaid the man,
without looking up. He was raking the
front yard.
"You hoi', the mortgage, d&i't you?"
said the woman, biting off a bit of the
rhubarb
j 'S'pose,rT do?" .
"Why, the int'res' ain't b'en paid for
' three Tears'. You know that thout my
tellin' you." . .
. "Well?" said tbe man, indifferently,
r "WelU" repeated W wife; sharply,
"howlong you goin'to let it run on so?"
. 1 .Jason stopped raking, and looked at
ner, uneasily. "You- don't mean. Mi-
randy, that you want me to foreclose on
my own father and mother?"
"Why not? Business is business, re
lation or no relation: an' if you did that.
the place'd bo ours to do as we please
? . ,
WHO. ' ; , r,
I am t so sure about that. It's down
in black an' white that, whether the
int'res is paid or not, father's al'ays to
have a, home here. Uncle Richard use'
to hoi the mortgage; an' when he died.
some five or six years ago, father got me
to taKe it, so s it wouldn t go out o' the
family; but 'tain't ever be'n changed."
i ; "Then 'twas made out 'for he married
agin?" said Miranda.
"Well, what o that?"
"Nuthin'i only in that case she ain't
, counted in. An sh ain't your mother,
' any way." ; -.
( "ones the only mother I ever knew
anything about,' Mirandy. She's be'n a
mother to me ever since I was three year
ol' a right-down good one, too; an' as
for her not bein' counted in, she's jus' as
much rigtt here a if she was; .'cause
after father gpjt hurt in the brickkiln,
there was , a good many years that he
wasn't able to do much, an all that time
ehe kep' the inures' paid up out of her
own pocket. Uncle Kichard tol' me so. "
. Miranda, who' 'had stood nervously
nibbling the rhubarb stalk, made haste
to change her 'tactics. "Ob, of course,
Jason, I'd al'ays : expect you to be good
to her. But you know yourself 'tain't
very pleasant bavin . two heads to a
house; an' so -long as Mother Sands
thinks she owns it all, I dasn't say a
word-even if everything goes to rack an'
' ruin. Besides', "she's" gittin' too ol' to
have the care." .. .. , v . r
Jason listened .with a. sort of helpless
patience. He-.--was - an : easy-tempered
man, ready to yield almost any point for
the sake of peace,, and his wife was well ;
aware of his weakness. It was to please
her that he bad sold his farm; and
though at the time he fully intended to
buy another, before he could decide on
one Bne : naa persuaaea mm to take a
place that had been offeredliim by a city
. friend as drummer in a wholesale grocery
store. : It was a business that seemed to
her much more "genteel" than farming.
Meanwhile he had accepted his mother's
invitation to bring his family home for
a visit. "Jus' Jill I can get time to look
up a house,"' be said.
But Miranda had always coveted the
pretty cottage, and before they had
been in it a ' week she had de
termined. to get possession of it.
Jason had never told ; her of the
mortgage. V Knowing that the place
would eventually belong to him, be had
not been troubled by the fact that tae
interest was not always promptly
paid ; neither did he want the bid folks
trqubled, and it vexed him that Mir.inda
had chanced to find the papers. But her
reasoning in regard to the housekeeping
seemed very plausable. His mother was
past seventy, it was time she had a rest,
and she could hare it as Veil as noU if
she would only consent to let "Mirandy"
take charge of things for a while.
"I wish you'd ppeak to her 'bout it,"
said Miranda. "She'd be a good deal
more likely to do it if you perposed it
'an if I did."
, Jason did not covet the task, but he
knew the penalty of refusing.
"She's in the kitchen," Miranda re
marked, with another nibble at the
rhubarb stalk.
"No hurry about it," grumbled Jason.
But presently, with an air of forced sur
render, he laid , down his rake aud went
into the house. lie found his mother
making bread..,, . ,
; "You see, mother, you'ro gettin'
kinder along in years," he argued, "an'
you'd ought to let somebody else do the
heft of the work. Why don't you let
Mirandy, long as she's here? She's a
firs'-rate housekeeper, au' she'd rutber
do it 'an not." 4
The little old lady lifted her head
with a troubled look. "Why, I shouldn't
know what to do with myself, Jason, if I
hadn't something to keep me busy. I've
al'ays be'n the' to it," you know. But,"
she added,' drawing in her lip, and
slowly patting the loaf she was knead
ing, "if Mirandy wants to take a turn at
it for a while, she can. I won't hiuder
her." '
The daughter-in-law accepted ' this
concession with secret triumph, aact she
so soon managed to get entire control of
the kitchen that the deposed housewife,
missing the homely cares that for so
many years had occupied, her hands and
thoughts, would have been in a sad
strait had it not been for tbe children.
"I loves gramma," said little Delia
one day, as she mounted her grandmoth
er's knee, i r
"Me do,, too," chimed the baby,
clambering up beside her sister.
"Makes me think, flesba," said her
husband, a . sudden mist dimming his
glasses, "of the times you use' to sit
holdin' Jany an' Ruth."
Hesba's eyes also grew misty, for there
were two little graves in the far corner
of the garden ; but the prattling children
on her lap left her no time for reminis
cence. '
' "Do put 'em down, an' let 'em 'muse
'emselvss. You coddle 'em too much,"
fretted Miranda.
"Oh, I like to have 'em 'round me,"
said IIe3ba. ,
But Miranda frowned. "They're git
tia' 'mos' as bad as Jason," she com
plained to herself. "They think there's
nobody like that ol' woman."
Jason's new business often took; him
from home for weeks at a time, and it
was while he was off on one of these
expeditions that Miranda improved the
opportunity to carry out a long cher
ished project.
"Seems to me, gran'ma," ehe began,
warily, having ioinea her mother-in-law
in the sitting room, armed with her
knitting work, "you re lookin kinder
peaked. If I's you, I'd take a little
trip somewheres. Jason says you've got
a brother livin' oer in Connecticut. 1
should think it 'd be nice for you to go
an visit him. Why don't you, now?"
"Well, I don' know. I never was
much of a ' ban to go visitin," said
Hesba, as unsuspicious as a baby . "And
though I don't doubt brother William
'd be glad to see us; he's got such a
family of his own, I should feel as if
we's iinposin on him."
"Might as well impose on bim as on
folks that's no relation to you." And
Miranda's needles clicked viciously.
Hesba.. looked at her in wonder.
"What do you mean, Mirandy. I didn't
know's I was imposin' on anybody." -.
"I don' know what else ycu can call
it," said Miranda, with merciless delibtra
tion. 't'You know well enough that' the
int'res' on the mortgage 'ain't be'n paid
for years, an' Jason could turn you out
to-morrer if he wanted to."
"Turn us out V repeated Hesba. "Oh
no, Mirandy, . he couldn't do that, 'cause
father's to have a home here as long as
he lives; lie's got that down in writin'l"
"Yea; but you an' father's two dif
ferent persons. Your name ain't put
down on the paper, an' I's on'y say in'
what we could do if we wanted to. But
I'm expectin' comp'ny from the city next
week, 'twould obleege me coneid'rable if
you'd jus' go ovej to your brother's an'
stay a. spell, 'cause while you's away
father could. sleep on the cot in the hall
bedroom."'-
"Go an'" leave father! Is that what
you mean," Mirandy?" ";
"It.waa pitnul to see how wnite and
tremulous she grew.5
"Why, you wouldn t want to take him
with you when your brother's got such
a family already? What'd be the use?"
said Miranda. She was very willing to
have the old man stay; she dependil on
him to bring all the wood and water.
Hesba tjmed to the window to catch
her breath. Outside, gray clouds were
lowering, and spiteful gusts were .sending
little coveys of brown leaves scurrying
through the air. But Hesba saw only
the tall gaunt figure in the potato patch,
and throwing a shawl over her head she
hurried out. The old man dropped his
hoe and went to meet her.
"If you go, Hesba, I go too, you can
depend on that," h said hotly, when she
had told, her trouble.
But after talking it over, they decided
that unless Miranda herself brought up
the subject they would ' not mention it
again. Perhapa before the week was
out Jason would be home. And bv-and-by
Miranda, "who had taken Hesba's
place at the window, saw them coming
up from the potato patch hand in hand,
the oln man walking very erect, his hoe
across his shoulder, and the little -old
wife clinging to him like a child.
"I s'pose they think they've got it all
settled," muttered the woman; "but,
we'll see."
Two days later a letter came to Hesba
from her brother.
"She'a ben a wrltin1 to him," blurted
the old man, clinching his fist.
Hesba took no notice of the remark.
"He says," she began, following the
lines slowly with her dim eyes, "that
he'd like vory much to have a visit from
me, aa' he hopes I'll come right away,
'fore cold weather sets in. But he's
'fraid I'll have to put up with sleepin'
with one o' the children, they're so short
o' room."
'Then o' course that puts an end to
father's goin," said Miranda, coming in
noiselessly from the kitchen, the door
having been lett ajar. I
"An' to her goin', too, I guess," an
swered the old man.
"Oh, you shouldn't say that, father,"
said Miranda. "It '11 be & real nico lit
tle trip for her, and do her lots o' good."
:: The old man scowled, and : thumped
the floor with his cane. "She ain't go
in to stir a step, sot with my consent,"
he cried, angrily.
'Sh-sh, father," whisper his wife.
"Don't let's have any words about it."
Miranda put her apron to bet 'eyes.
"I'm Bure I don't want to have no
words," she whimpered.
Hesba stood up with her hand on her
husband's shoulder. "We won't say
anything more, Mirandy. I'll go to
William's as Boon as I can get my things
ready, an' stay till your company's
gone."
Miranda walked out of the room with
out answering. She had , gained the
day, and there was nothing more to be
said, but she still held her apron to her
eyes. ' '
The old people bad seldom been sepa
rated even for a day, and during the
time that intervened they would sit,
hand in hand, by the hour, trying for
lornly to find some way of escape from
Miranda's plan.
. "It's no use,' father," sighed Hesba.
"She's made up her mind to have me
go, an' to go 'fore Jason comes home,
an' she won't res' till she gets me out o'
the house." .
"Well, she'll repent it," said the old
man, shaking his head.
"Don't, father," entreated his wife.
"'Tain't for us to make her repent it."
It was hot until the time came to say
good-by that the children began to com
prehend that she was going away.
"Gramma mustn't do," cried little
Delia, clinging to Hesba's skirts, and
then the baby set up a wail, and refused
to be comforted.
Hesba strained the little creatures for a
moment to her bosom. "I don't want
any harm to come to you, Mirandy," she
said, turning to her daughter-in-law,
"but I can't help fearin' that separatin
father an' me as you're doin, the Lord
may see fit to separate you from some o'
them you love."
That was her farewell word.
When Jason came home the following
week, it was an easyinatter for Miranda
to make him believe that his mother had
gone of her own free will to visit her
brother, the old man, obedient to his
wife's entreaty, keeping silent. She took
much credit to herself for having man
aged it so well. Her visiters came and
went, but she said not a word about
Hesba's coming home. Not even the old
man's pleading eyes could move her.
One morning in November, while Mi
randa was busy in the kitchen, little Nan
wandered into the yard, and amused her
self for half an hour chasing the chick ens.
The ground was covered with
slush, and that night the child was
seized with diphtheria.
For three days the lay tossing and
moaning,and almost the only words that
passed her lips wera, "Gamine! I ont
gamma.
Baby can t have gran ma. Gran ma s
gone," said Miranda. "Mummer's here
.. But she was not skilful at nursing.
Nan grew rapidly worse, still moaning
for "-ramma;" and death came with the
suddenness characteristic of the disease.
Jasou reached home the day before
the, funeral. He was almost heart
broken. "You'd ought to sent for
mother," he said at once.
"I don't know what for," Miranda
protested, in an injured voice. "The
doctor an' me did everything that could
be done, an there wouldn t be any
earthly use sendin' for her now."
A day or two later little Delia, came
and leaned against her knee as she sat
sewing. "I want my gramma," said the
child, with a long-drawn sigh. I want
ber to tell me stories."
"Delie seems to think she hoi's a mort
gage on mother," said the old man ;
"an I guess it s legaler an trie one some
other folks hoi'." v
Miranda winced, but she was too wise
to make him any answer. "Go to gran'
pa,V fche said to Delia. "He'll tell you
'bout Jack the Giant-killer."
1 "I doesn't want to hear 'bout Jack 'e
Giant-killer," said the child, perversely.
"Gramma she tolled me stories 'bout
little chillen love one anuver,
Her grandfather took ber on his knee.
"That was said for grown-up folks as
well as for little children," he remarked,
looking furtively at Miranda, "an' it
means that everybody ought to be lovin'
an' kind to each other."
" Gramma was lovin an kind," said
Delia.
Tbe old roan laid his cheek against
hers, but he drew back with a startled
fac.
. "Why, Mirandy, this child's sick!"
he exclaimed. "She's got a ragin
fever."
Miranda threw down her sewing, and
snatched the child away from him.
Celia was her idol.
"I want gramma," repeated the little
one, drowsily.
Just then Jason came in.
"Go telegraph for mother," cried
Miranda. "Tell her not to wait for
anything."
When the doctor came the next after
noon, he found his little patient nestled
in Hesba's lap, while close beside them,
his chin on his cane, and his face beam
ing like a lover's, sat the old man.
"Ah, she is better," said the doctor.
"She is getting on finely."
"We're all better," piped the old man,
blinking behind his glasses.
"We've gotour gramma back," said
the child, contentedly. -Harper 'a. Bazar.
SELECT SIFTINGS.
Arabs never eat catfish. '
Arsenic is extensively used in making
ice cream.
The pendulum was first attached to
the clock in 1658 by Huygner.
India has a priest who is drawing' a
pension and is in his 152d year.
The "heaviest" woman in Europe has
just died in Bavaria. She weighed 550
pounds.
The number of Government employes
in all department is' said to be about
150,000.
The Burmese, Karens, Hangere and
Ghans use lead and silver in bullion for
currency. '
A man in Sydney, New South Wales,
has $250,000 invested in city property,
all of which was made out of pigs.
Hundreds of fish are still alive in the
royal aquarium in St. Petersburg, Rus
sia, that were placed there more than 150
years ago.
Carriages were first introduced in Eng
land in 1380 and were for a long time
used only for the conveyance of the sick
and of ladies. ;
A fall caused the heart of Mrs. Ann
Barr, of Vincennes, Ind., to shift from
the left to the right side. This is tbe
opinion of her physicians.
A young woman in Philadelphia,
Penn., is said to be able to address let
ters faster than anybody alive. She can
moisten with her tongue and affix 3000
stamps an hour. . -
Should a man in China be unfortunate
enough to save the life of another from
drowning, he is at once saddled with the
expense of supporting the survivor for
the remainder of that person's life.
'John W. , Wise, a grandson of John
Wise, a miser who lived in Kansas and
died without revealing his hoard, found
$35,000 while digging a foundation for
a house, also a will leaving him all the
property.
A Kings City (Col.) man recently,
after a severe illness, entirely forgot the
combination' of bis safe. None of his
clerks knew it, and after a long delay he
was finally obliged to send to a distance
for a man who had been formerly in his
employ to open the safe.
Det Lunn is the name applied to Heli
goland by the natives of that island. It
is a small island in the North Sea, about
thirty-six miles northwest of the mouth
of the Elbe, fifty-four degrees eleven
minutes north latitude and seven degrees
fifty-one minutes east longitude.
A local reporter on the Chico (Cal.)
Chronicle-Recoidl got into trouble by
making a wrong heading over a marriage
notice. The groom's name was Avery
and the bride was a Miss Small. The ,
heading was set up "A Very Small Wed
ding." The groom, who is a muscular
young rancher, is now looking for the
reporter, who is absent from home on a
vacation.
A blacksmith in Belfast, Me., relates
that forty years ago, when he was an
apprentice, his employer bought a super
annuated horse for fifty cents, ordered
him to shoe the animal, and sold it, with
its four new shoes, for seventy-five cents.
The appi entice was so incensed at having
his work valued at only twenty-five cents
that he took : an oath then and there
never to shoe another horse, and he never
has, although he has been in the black
smith business ever since.
The Bongo people of Africa have an
iron currency having the shape ofta spade,
with a handle and an anchor-like end to
it. This they call loggo colluti. The
largest iron coin circulating there is of
size and shape ot a large plate, being one
foot in diameter. These treasures are
piled up in the warerooms of native
merchants just as the silver or gold bars
in other lauds. For ten iron platea of
two pounds weight each the love-lorn
Bongo swain-buys his inamorata of her
papa. When he can't get ten of such
iron plates he has to be satisfied with, an
elderly beauty.
A Novel House Stove.
One of the most recent novelties is a
house stove introduced in England. Tbe
grate is swung on trunnions and . can be
reversed. After fresh coal has been
added at the top, the reversal is made,
and the green coal is thus brought to
the bottom in an easy manner, to answer
tbe purpose in question, namely, the
gases from the coal, passing upward by
means of this arrangement, through tho
red portion of the fire, previously at the
bottom, are almost consumed before
reaching the chimney. Brooklyn Citi
zen. ' '..'
The Eminent Brooklyn Divine's San
day Sermon. ,
Subject: " Religion's Refuge."
Tkxt : "A aoodly cedar, and under it
ahall dwell all fowl of every wing."Eio
kiel xvii., 23.
The cedar of Lebanon 'is a royal tree. It
stands six thousand feeet above the level of
the sea. A missionary eounted the concen
tric circles and found one tree thirty-five
hundred years old long rooted, broad
branches, all the year in luxuriant foliage.
The same branches that bens in the hurri
cane that David saw sweeping over Leb
anon, rock to-day over the bead of the
American traveler. This monarch of the
forest, with its leafy fingers, plucks the hon
ors of a thousand years and sprinkles them
upon its own uplitted brow, as though some
great halleln jah of heaven had been, planted
upon Lebanon andtt were rising up with all
Its long armed strength to take hold of the
hills whence it came. ,
Oh, what a fine piaoe for birds to nest in I
In hot days tbey come thither-the eagle,
the dove, the swallow, the sparrow and the
raven. .There is to many of as a complete
fascination in the structure and habits of
birds. They seem not more of earth than
heaven ever vacillating between the two.
No wonder that 'Audubon, with his gun,
tramped through all of the American for
ests in search of new specimens. Geologists
have spent years in finding the track of a
bird's claw in the new red sandstone There
is enough of God's architecture in a snipe's
bill or a grouse's foot to confound all tbe
Universities. Musicians have, with clefs and
bars tried to catch the sound of the nirhtin.
Kale and robin . Among the first things that
a child notices is s swallow at the eaves, and
grandfather ' goes out with a handful of
crumbs to feed the snow birds.
The Bible is full of ornithological allu
sions. Tbe birds of the Bible are not dead
and stuffed, like those of the museum, but
living birds, with fluttering wings and plu
mage. "Behold the fowls of the air," says
Christ. "Though thou exalt thyself as the
eagle, and though thou set thy nest among
tbe stars, thence will I bring thee down,"
exclaims Obadiah. "Gavest Thou the goodly
wings unto the peacock f says Job. David
describes his desolation by saying, "I am
like a pelican of the wilderness; I am like
an owl of the desert; I watch and am as a
sparrow alone upon the housetop." Yea,
the stork in , the heaven knoweth her ap
pointed time; and the turtle, and the crane,
and the swallow observe tbe time of their
coming; but my people know not the judg
ment ot the Lord" so says Jeremiah.
Ezekiel in my text intimates that Christ
Is tbe cedar, and the people from all quar
ters are the birds that iodce among the
branches. "It shall be a goodly cedar, and
under it shall dwell all fowl of every wing."
As in Ezekiel's time, so now Christ is a
goodly cedar, and to Him are flying all kinds
of people young and old, rich and poor,
men high soaring as the eagle, those fierce
as the raven, and those gentle as the dove.
"All fowl of every wing."
First, the young may come. Of the eigh
teen hundred and ninety -two years that
have passed sines Christ came, about six-'
teen hundred have been wasted by the good
in misdirected efforts. Until Robert Raikes
came there was no organized effort for sav
ing the young. ' We spend all our strength
trying to bend old trees, when a little pree
ure would have been sufficient for the sap
ling. We let men go down to the very bot
tom of sin before we try to lift them up. It
is a great deal easier to keep a train on
the track than to get it on when it is on.
Tbe experienced reinsman checks the fiery ,
steed at the first jump, for when he gets in
full swing, the swift hoofs clicking fire from
the pavement and the bit between his teeth,
his momentum is irresistible.
It is said that the young must be allowed
to sow their "wild oats." I have noticed
that those who sow their wild oats seldom
try to raise any other kind of crop. There
are two opposite destinies. If you are going
to heaven, you had better take the straight
road, and not try to go to Boston by way ot
New Orleans, what is to be the history of
this multitude of young people around me
to-day t I will take you by the hand and
show you a glorious sjmrise. I .will not
whine about this thing, nor groan about it,
but come, young men aud ma 'dens, Jesus
wants you. His hand is love.Hia voice is
music, His smile is heaven. Religion will put
no handcuffs on your wrist, no hopples on
yourfeet, no brand on your forehead.
I went through the heaviest snowstorm I
have ever known to see a dying girl. Her
cheek on the pillow was white as the snow
on the casement . Her large, round eye had
not lost any of its luster. Loved ones stood
all around the bed trying to bold ber back.
Her mother could not give her up, and one
nearer to her than either father or mother
was frantic with grief. I eaid: "Fanny,
how do vou feeir "Oh f" she said, "happy,
nappy! "Mr. Talmage, tell -all the younz
folks that religion will make them happy."
; As I came out of the room, louder than all
the sobs and wailing of grief, I heard the
clear, sweet, glad voice of the dying girl,
"Good night; we shall meet again on the
other side of the river." The next Sabbath
we buried her. We brought white flowers
and laid them on the coffin. There was in
ail that crowded church but one really happy
and delighted face, and that was the face of
Fanny. Oh, I wish that now my Lord J esus
would go tbrougb this audience and take all
these flowers of youth and garland them on
I His brow. The cedar is a fit refuge for birds
!of brightest plumage and swiftest wiug.
'See, they fly 1 they fly I "All fowl of every
.wing."
Again, I remark that the old may come.
You say, "Suppose a man has to go on
crutches; suppose he is blind; suppose he is
deaf; suppose that nine-tenths or his life bas
been wasted." Then I answer: Come with
crutches. Come, old men, blind and deaf,
come to Jesus. If you would sweep your
hand around before your blind eves, the first
thing you wonld touch would be the cross.
It is hard for an aged man or woman to have
grown old without religion. There taste is
gone. The peach and the grape have lost
their flavor. They say that somehow fruit
does not taste as it used to. Their bearing
gets defective, and they miss a great deal
that is said in their presence, -
Their friends have all gone and everybody
seems so strange. The world seems to go
away from them and they are left all alone.
They bein to feel in the way when you
come into tbe room where they are, and they
move their chair nervously and say, "I hope
I am not in the way." Alas! that father and
mother should ever be in the way. When
you were sick and they sat up all night rock
in? you, singing to you, administering to
you, did they think that you were irr the
way? Are you tired of. the old peopie? Do
you soap them up quick and sharp? You
wilt be cursed to the bone for your ingrati
tude and uokiodness! '
Oh, how many dear old folks Jesus has
put to sleep! How sweetly He has closed
their eyes! How gently folded their arms I
How He has put His hand on their silent
hearts and said: "Rest now, tired pilgrim.
It is all over. The tear will never 6tart
again. Hush! hush!" So He gives His be
loved sleep. I think the moat beautiful ob
ject ou earth is an old Christian the hair
I white, not with the frosts of winter, but th
blossoms of the tree of life. I never feel
sorry for a Christian old man. Why feel
sorry for those upon whom the glories of
tbe eternal world are about to burst? They
are going to the goodly cedar. Though
I f . 1 . . " J .L - 11
iceir wings are uoavjr wita gv, uruu tnau
renew their strength like the ea?le. and ttev
hall make their nest in the cedar. "Ail
fowl of every wing." -
Again, tbe very bad, the outrageously
sinful, may come. Men talk of the grace of
God as though it were so many yards long
and so many yards deep. People point to
the dying thief as an encouragement to the
sinner. Mow much better it would be to
point to our own cas3 aud say, "If God saved
us He can save anybody." There may bo
those hers who never bad one earnest word
said to them about their souls. . Consider
me as putting my hand on your shoulder
1 lw,,. i mnnf mtra ftvl hna HaaTI CTfwi
to you. xeni ask, "How do . you know,
that? He bas. been .very hard nn me." .
"Where did you come from?" "Home."
"Then you have a home. Have you ever
thanked God for your home? Have you ?
children?' '.'Yesr "Have you ever thanked
God for your children? Who keeps them
safe? Were you ever sickr" "Yes." " W ho-,
made you well? Have you been feed every
day? Who feeds you? Put your band on
your pulse. Who makes it throb?, . listen. .
to the respiration of your lungs. TTho helps
yod to breathe? Have you a Bible in the
IU1U 11WHii.J , .u .v.". vjv, v -
nouse, spreading ueiui e wo mnu.
Who gave you that Bible?"
Oh, it has been a story of goodness and
mercy all the way through . You have been
one of God's pet children. Who fondled you
and caressed you and lov ed you? And when .
you went astray and wanted to come back,
did He ever refuse? I know of a father who,
after his son came back the fourth time,
said, "No; I forgave you three times, but I
wiU never forgive you again." And the
son went off and died. Bat God takes back
His children the thousandth time as cheer
fully as the first. As easily as with my '
handkerchief I strike the dust off a book,
God will wipe out all your sins.
Again, all the dying will find their nit in
this goodly cedar. It is cruel to destroy a
bird's nest, but death does not hesitate to
destroy one. There was a beautiful nest in
the next street. Lovingly the parents
brooded over it. There were two or thrne
little robins in the nest. The scarlet fever
thrust its bands into the nest, and tbe birds .,
are gone. Only those are safe who have ...
their nests in the goodly cedar. They have
over them "the feathers of the Almighty."
Oh, to have those soft, war or, eternal wings
stretched over us 1 Let the storms beat and
the branches of the cedar toss on the wind -no
danger. When a storm comes, you can
see the birds flying to the woods. Kre the
storm of death comes down, let ns fly to tbe
goodly cedar. ....
made up. There come men who once were
hard and cruel and desperate in wickedness,
yet now, soft and changed by grace, they
come into glory, "All fowl of every wing."
And here they come, the children who were
reared'Jn loving home circles flocking tbrougb
the gates of life, "All fowl of every wing."
These are white and came from northern
homes; these were black and ascended from
southern plantations ; these were copper
colored and went up from Indian reserva,
"tions "All fowl of every wing." So God
gathers them up. it is astonishing now
easy it is for a good soul to enter heaven.
A prominent businessman in Philadelphia
went home one afternoon, lay down on the
Innnra unti iniri . "It in time for me to irn.
He was very aged. His daughter said to
him, "Are you sick?" He said: "No; but it
is time for me to go. Have John put it in :
two of the morning papers, that my friends
may know that I am gone. Good-by;" and ,'
as quick as that God had taken him.
It is easy to go when the time comes. .
There are no ropes thrown out to pull us
ashore; there are no ladders let down to pull ,
us up. Christ comes and takes us by the"
hand and says. "You have had enough of
this mnM lln hitrhAr " Do vou hnrt a lilv
when you pluck it? Is there any rudeness
when Jesus touches the cheek, and the red ,
rose ot health whitens Into the lily of im-
moral purity and gladness?
When autumn comes and the giant of the
woods smites his anvil and the leafy sparks
fly on the autumnal gale, then there will be
thousands of birds gathering in the tree at
the corner of the field, just before departing
to warmer climes, and they will call ana
sing until the branches drop with the
melody. There Is a better clime for us, and
by and by we shall migrate. We gather in
the branches of the goodlv cedar, in prep-,
aration for departure. You heard our .
Voices in the opening song; you will hear
them in the closing eong voices good, voices ,
bad, voices happy, distressful "All fowl of
every wing. OJ suu uy buou ire nuuo. .
If all this audience is saved, as I hope they
will be, I see them entering into life. Soma .
have had it hard; some have had if easy. ;
Some were brilliant; some were dull. Some f
were rocked by pious parentage; others have
had their infantile cheeks scalded with the
tears of woe. Some crawled, as it were, into
the kingdom on ttieir hands and knees,' and
some see tried to enter in chariots of flaming
fire. Those fell from s ship's mast; these .
were crushed in a mining disaster. They
are God's singing birds now. No gun of.
huntsman shall shoot them down. They,
gather on the trees of life and fold their
wings on the branches, and far away from
frosts and winds and night they sing un
til the hills are flooded with joy, and the skies ,
drop music, and the arches of pearl send back
the echoes "All fowl of every wing."
Behold the saints, belovel of God, .
Washed are their robes la Jesas't blood.
Brigt-ter than angels, lo! tbey shine,
Through tribulation great they came:
Tbey bore tbe cross and scorned tbe shame;
Now. In the heavenly temple bleat;
With Ood they dwelt; on Htm they reat.
While everlasting angels roll ,
Eternal lovs ahall feaat their soul. " '
And aeenea ot bust, forever new
Siae In succession to their view.
i Street Here bants. '
It is a noticeable fact that street
merchants, better known as "fakirs,"
are steadily increasing in number, not
onlj in the large cities but in the
smaller towns. The terra "fakir," by
the way, with . its suggestion of'
knavery, Is a most unfortunate desig
nation for this class of men, a large
proportion of whom are reputable and
honest men, doing a perfectly legiti
mate business. : Many of them have
become identified with certai n loca
tions, and are known and respected
by all the business men in the neigh
borhootl. But it must be admitted
that a good manyof the venders are
frauds of the first water, who do only
a fake business. And this suggests
an etymological question. Why do
we call such men "fakirs," when wc
really ought to call them "fakers,"
that is men who 'fake?" The -fakir' ,
of the Orient is a religions ascetic or
begging monk.Kew York Tribune.