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The latest traveller's yarn is of a tree-
ih the northeastern part of New Guinea
•which is said to Consist almost wholly of
amorphous carbon and to possess the
properties of an electric battery to such
pm extent that when its discoverer
ouched it he was knocked to the
ground.
Sir Andrew Clarke, the celebrated
English physician, declares that one-half
the population of London is permanently
ill. He defines health as “that state in
which the body is not conscious y present
to us, the state in which work is easy and
duty not over great a trial, the state in
which it is a joy to sec, to think, to feel
and to be.”
Massachusetts has expended $90,000
in the last twenty years in trying to
stock her ponds and rivers with fish. In
the rivers the effort proves a complete
failure, and so far as trade results are
concerned the reports arc discouraging.
Ponds, leased and protected by sporting
clubs, have been successfully stocked,
and that is about all.
The New York Graphic thus furthers a
new cause: “If you know anything
definite and positive about ghosts, gob
lins, spooks or things uncanny, the
American society for psychial research of
Boston lias established a special com
mittee on apparitions and haunted houses
that will be pleased to hear from you
and collate the evidence in the case. At
the request of the committee we state
that the secretary’s address is Morton
Prince, M. D., Boston, Mass.”
The fruit production of California is
something wonderful. Curing 1885 she
produced in raisins over 9,000,500
pounds, or nearly three times as much as
in 1884. She also sent to market last
year 1,500,000 poinds of prunes, 1,823,-
000 pounds of apples, 1,900,000 pounds
of peaches, 1,139,000 pounds of plums,
050,000 pounds apricots, 2,250,000
pounds of honey T , 1,250,000 pounds of
walnuts, and 1,050,000 pounds almonds.
The last report of the statistician of
the United States department of agricul
ture states that the American ilmift-hor.se
of the future, by the introduction of
famous European breeds, is to be a
heavier and stronger animal than hereto
fore. Sheop husbandry is in deeper de
pression than any other animal industry
of the country, the last annual decrease
in number being about 2,000,000. With
all stock except sheop the number has
increased, but the aggregate valuation
this year of farm animals is less than that
of last year by something over $100,000,-
000.
In the new British House of Commons
there are 75 members who own more than
3000 acres of laud each, with a rental
value of more than $15,000 a year. Out
of the above number there are two who
own 100,000 acres, and three others more
than 50,000 acres, and the possessions of
seventeen of them exceed 10,000 acres
each. As regards rentals, Sir John
Ramsden is at the head with near a mil
lion of dollars per annum, followed by
Sir John St. Aubyn with near $500,000.
Four other rentals exceed $150,000. The
rentals of twenty-eight members range
from $50,000 to $150,000.
Mr. B. L. Baker, our consul general at
Buenos Ayres, has recently reported to
the state department the discovery of
gold in Patagonia. According to the
report of the commission appointed by
the Argentine Republic to examine these
deposits, they are of a superior class, and
“there is abundance both of gold and
platinum.” Mr. Baker says the ore is
believed to be richer than that of Cali
fornia or Australia. Not the least inter
esting fact about this discovery is that
the new gold fields are easily accessible.
The deposits are said to extend from
Cape Virgin, on the northern shore of
.the Straits of Magellan, through which
many vessels pass every year, northward
along the Atlantic coast for forty or fifty
miles.
Professor Lesley, estimating the amount
of coal in the Pittsburg region at about
thirty billion of tons—a practically inex
haustible amount—holds, concerning oil
and gas, however, very different views,
lie says, upon deliberate study: “I take
the opportunity to express my opinion in
the strongest terms that the amazing ex
hibition of oil and gas which has char
acterized the last twenty years, and will
probably characterize the next ten c,r
twenty years, is nevertheless, not only
geologically but historically, a temporary
and vanishing phenomenon—one which
voting men will live to see come to its
natural end. And this opinion I do not
entertain in any loose or unreasonable
form; it is the result of both an active
and a thoughtful acquaintance with the
subject.”
It is estimated by insurance companies
that in the United States last year dwell
ing Ileuses were burned at the rate of
one every hour, with an average loss of
$1396. Barns and stables, fifty per week.
Country stores, three per day, with a loss
of $110,000 per week. Ten hotels bum
weekly, with a loss per year of $1,000,-
000. Every other day a lumber yard
goes up in smoke, each representing
$20,000. Forty-four cotton factories,
the loss in each case being $28,000; forty-
three woolen mills nt $25,000 each and
forty-two chemical works at $27,000 each
•were destroyed by fire last year. Forty-
two boot and shoe factories were con
sumed, the loss being $17,000 each.
Th lapped up by the flames at
tli^^^HBr' e P tr month; average loss
■ about half as many court
troyed, the cost of each
Life Pictures. .
A glow At morn: \ (
The rose half tempted Into blooming t
Bright bop® just born
That ere the eve, mu»t shed
Their petals, though we never deem t’fiem
dead.
A warmth at nooif.
Full-souled and odorous; and life all fair
As summer moon,
When stars lace beams as rare
As laughter which hath not behind some-care.
A rest at eve:
The ardor and the heat of day.
Hope can doceive
No longer; life no more f
Can weave romances from a poet’s lore.
A hush at night:
We fold our wings as birds that seek the nest.
Earth is bedight
With rose no more. The zest
Of life sinks with the sunlight in the west.
It is no dream,
No castle-buibing time, that we call life
To catch the gleam
Of heaven in the strife,
Our toil must tend to reach the bettor life.
There is much room
For gratitude, much room for tenderwa.
In all the gloom
Of sorrow, much to bless,
If wo will labor more, and murmur less.
Let us not turn -
To seek in clouds our happiness, but try
Each day to Jcam
That near homo blessings lie.
Those die to live who first have lived to die.
—Harriet Kendall, in the Quiver.
A COUNTRY COUSIN.
“Yes, I remember licr very well,” said
.Miss Nemourville. 1 ‘A black-eyed romp,
chasing the wild bosses all over the fan*,
and pitching hay up on the mow, exactly
as if she were a boy. Our third cousin,
wasn't she—or fourth, or some such far
away kin? But what of her?”
“What of her?” snarled old Colonel
Nemourville. “Why, just this. Her
folks are dead. And one of the officious
Meadow Hill ejergymen has written to
us, asking us to- adopt her. Just as if
wc hadn’t enough to trouble us, with
three daughters on hand already, and no
earthly chance, that I can see, of their
getting married” (thi3 last envenomed
phrase accompanied 1 , by a gloomy contrac
tion of the speaker's shaggy brows),
“without assuming the charge of all crea
tion into the bargain! Adopt her, in
deed ! Why, what -claim has she on us,
I’d like to know? The impudence of
some people?”.
“We could n’t possibly think of such a
tiling!” said Mrs. Nemourville,. an elder
ly lady, with a good deal of powder sift
ed skillfully over her features,- and a lace
cap patterned after the latest .French
models. “Our income scarcely meets
our expenses as things are at present. I
do wonder at the assurance of those peo
ple out there!”
The Nemourville family had always
kindly remembered their relationship to
Sirs. Yassall when the vertical sunbeams
of July and August made city life a bur
den to them, and their purse-strings,
straightened by the ceaseless attempt to
keep up a style far above their means,
refused to admit of a trip to Newport,
Saratoga or tlie White Mountains. »
Mrs. Yassall had welcomed them with
the sweet graclousness of that hospitality
which comes from the heart. Lassie, the
“black-eyed roivp,” had shown Blanche,
Vera and Editha Nemourville the nooks
where the clearest springs bubbled out,
and the dells where feathery sprays of
maiden-hair could be gathered by the
double handful, and no pains were spared
to make tilings pleasant for the city cou
sins during their somewhat prolonged
visits.
But all this conveniently effaced itself
from their memory now.
Adopt Lassie Vassell? Make them
selves responsible for her board, and
clothes, and lodging? Good heavens!
What were people thinking of?
So Colonel Nemourville wrote back a
polite dccliuation, fairly glittering with
its icy conventionalities.
Lassie Vassal, sitting in her deep-black
robes, heard the good clergyman’s wife
read it twice over bofore she fairly com
prehended its meaning.
“Don’t they want me to go to them?”
she asked, lifting the heavy, black-fring
ed lids that were weighted down with
tears.
“I’m afraid they don’t, dear,” said the
clergyman’s wife.
Lassie drew a deep sigh.
“Then I must try to find some way of
earning my own living,” said she. “You
have all been so good to rqe, but it must
come to an end sooner or later. Dear
Mrs. Hall, won’t you go and see that lady
wlio wanted a nursery governess to travel
with her little children to Scotland? I
always liked children, and they fortu
nately don’t require many accomplish
ments. I dread crossing the ocean a
little, but I must try to leave off being a
, coward.”
So tlie Ncmourvilles heard nothing
further of Lassie Vassell.
But the girl herself did not forget all
this.
“They might have been a little kind
to me,” she kept repeating to herself.
“They might have been a little kind to
me!”
The Nemourvilles meanwhile bravely
kept up, although against wind and tide,
the struggle for a satisfactory matrimonial
settlement for Blanche, Vera and Editha.
They gave five-o’clock teas, purple
dinners and pink lunches; they sent out
cards for soirees; went to all the charity-
balls, kirmesses and chance-parties to
which they could obtain an entree. Thiy
smiled, and simpered, and danced, and
promenaded with Spartan endurance;
and still they remained the Misses Ne
mourville.
But when the waves of society were
rippled by rumors of tlj o advent of a live
English baronet, Blan che, Vera and
Editha began to hope an ew.
Miss Clitchctt, one of their particular
friends, had been introduced to Sir Reve
Kennett nt a Delaionico ball, and she had
promised to ask the Nen lourvillc girls to
a charade party 3 there the English bar
onet was to be pri -sent.
Miss Ncmourvili'e ordered a new dress
of white brocade. Vera ordered Madam
Petherique to make over her cherry satin
with flounces of blac tk Escurial lace and
a train a full quart er of a yard long.
Editha, who enacted' the juvenile role,
ripped her one whitov muslin to pieces
and remade it, with p; jffs and pleatings
of Spanish blonde and occasional knots
of the palest blue ribbon.
But they were doomed to the saddest
disappointment. They went to the party.
So did Sir Reve Kennett. But somehow
they could not get near thejeigning star.
“I’ll never forgive Corneliu Clitchett!”
said Miss Nemourville,, as _pale as her
own brocade. “She hasn’t taken any
more notice of us than if we were those,
big china jars in the corner!”
“She meant a delibefate ins tilt!” gass
ed Vera.
But they were wrong. It uvas only
that poor Cornelia Clitchett had entirely
forgotten all about them-in the. rush and
crush and excitement of the evening.
1 ‘How handsome lie is!’’ said. Editha.
“Oh, oh, why can't we get an introduc
tion? Look, look! he’s comimrthis way.
Who is that lady on his am—the tall
lady in white, with the magpificent eyes
and the necklace of pearls?”
“Don’t you know?” said Mrs. De Sain-
tin. “It’s Lady Kenneth”
“Lady Kennett?”
“His wife,” explained Mrs. DeSaintin,
graciously. “He is here <ei his wedding
tour. Lady Kennett is charming. They
are to give a ball at tlie Windsor Hotel,
in return for the hospitalities they have
received here.”
“Oh!” said the three Misses Nemour
ville, in concert.
“Haven’t you been introduced?” asked
Mrs. De Saintin. “No? Pray allow me
the pleasure!”
And presently Sir Reve and Lady Ken
nett were bowing their acknowledgment
of the profuse courtesies 6f the Misses
Nemourville.
If the English guests had been crown
ed monarchs, these damsels could not
have been more obsequious. —-
Sir Reve was tall and strikingly hand
some. Lady Kennett had fine eyes and
a graceful figure, but was not otherwise
remarkable.
“Nemourville!” she repeated. “Did
you say Nemourville?”
“A pretty name, isn’t it?” said Mrs.
De Saintin.
“But it is not new to me,” said Lady
Kennett, smiling. “I have met these
ladies before.”
“I’m sure, your ladyship, I don’t know
how that could be,” said Blanche, quite
fluttered with the idea of addressing a
lady of title.
“Oh, I declare, your ladyship!” gig
gled Vera.
“Your ladyship is making fun of us,"
scud artless Editha.
“Oh, but lam quite certain of it!”
said Lady Kennett, in her slow, graceful
way. “You,” to the cider, “are Blanche,
aren’t you? And you are Vera? And
this is Editha? Now, am I not right? Is
it possible that you have forgotten me?”
The three Misses Nemourville would
not for the world have suspected an En
glish baronet’s lady of inaccuracy.
But they certainly viewed her with re
spectful incredulity and amazement.
“I am Lassie,’’said she—“Lassie Vas-
sall, who used to pick blackberries and
gather autumn leaves with you. I am
jour cousin three times removed!”
The three Misses Nemourville were
straightway lifted from comparative in
significance to the top wave of populari
ty. As three elderly spinsters, they hacl,
I een rather drugs in the market than
otherwise. But as Lady Kennett’s cou
sins, the dawn of a new social existence
was brightening over them.
“You darling!” cried Blanche, when
she came to lunch at the Windsor Hotel,
the next day, with Sir Reve and Lady
Kennett. “Now you must tell me, how
did it all happen?”
“I don’t know, I am sure,” said Las
sie, timidly. “I went to Scotland as a
nurse: y-goveruess with a lady who was a
friend of good Mrs. Hall’s; and at Loch
Lomond we met Sir Rove, and—and—”
“And I can tell the rest,” said Sir
Reve, laughingly, taking up the dropped
chain of Lassie’s words. “Aud Sir Reve
fell in love with you, and he would give
you no peace at all until you married him
—eh, little girl?”
And as Lassie smiled shyly up at him,
Blanche Nemourville could not but ac
knowledge to herself that this third cou
sin of hers had wonderful dark ej T es.
“Hut for all that,”, she afterward told
Editha and Vera, “I can’t see what there
was in Lassie Vassall to attract such a
man as Sir Reve Kennett. If it had been
me, now, or either of j’ou—”
“Yes,” nodded the two other sisters,
“if it had been cither of ms! But a mere
country chit, right off the farm, without
a particle of style about her!”
And then they all three cried in chorus:
“It’s quite unaccountable!”—Helen
Forrest Qrares.
A Striking Resemblance.
Wife; “Can you tell me, my dear, why
a widower is like a young baby?”
Husband: “II— m—er—because—be
cause—”
Wife; “The first six months he cries a
great deal, the second six months he
begins to take notice, and he always ex
periences great difficulty in getting
safely through his second summer.”—Life.
Why He Is Frond*
“There is one thing in my life,” said a
veteran, “that sends the blood ^trough
my veins in proud exultation to this day,
and the thought of it never cornea to me
but what I want to step outside of myself
and pat myself on the shoulder. There
are hundreds of things in my life that I
am ashamed of, and that I would gladly
forget. There are hundreds of things
that I have done which never come to
my mind without making me wish that I
had the power to kick myself from one
end of the street to the other. But the
memory of this one thing that I did is a
compensation for all the things that I am
ashamed of.
‘ ‘In one of the squarest, fairest, fiercest
battles of the war, 500 men were thrown
forward to check for a moment the
furious charge of twenty times as many
Confederates. Of the 500 men in line at
the beginning of the charge, five 6tood at
the end by the colors. I was one of the
five, and I never think of the hail of bul
lets, of the hurricane swoop of charging
thousands that swept men to sudden
death or away before it like chaff in the
wind, but I see those five sullen, desper
ate, white-faced, stubborn men gathered
in a startled group about the torn and
blood-stained flag that had been down
and up a good many times. Dazed they
were, half-crazed they were, by the over
whelming catastrophe, but the instinct of
clinging to the flag was there.
“My comrades were better soldiers than
I. They were men whose eyes flashed,
and whose nostrils widened when conflict
became furious, and it was a delight to
me in that minute to know that in this
hour of trial my controlling impulse, my
instinctive move had been the same as
theirs, to cling to the flag. I had no
idea, then that we would live five min
utes, and yet I exulted in the thought
that when put to trial I had done my full
duty. We brought the flag out of the
fight. Four of the men are living yet,
but they have not met since the war.
They are all in humble walks of life, and
not one of them is given to self-adulation,
but to all of them that incident of battle
is a precious memory. After that, as one
of the old codgers said in his own quaint
way, ‘They were a leetle too proud ever
to do a cowardly thing again.’ ”—Chica
go Inter- Oe an.
A Clnb of Sneak Thieves.'
A New York letter to the Chicago
Herald, says: The strangest street per
sons, on the whole, are to be seen in Mott
street, where the Chinese centralize, and
where all sorts of folks go to look at
them. Chinamen are not numerous
euough iu this city, and those we have
are too widely distributed in their laun
dries all over town to constitute much of
a Chiuesc quarter. The nearest approach
to it is a block or two in which their
stores, gambling houses, opium joints
and lodgings almost exclude other occu
pancy. However, it was in the upper
story of one of these buildings, a ram
shackle old two-and-a-half-stoiy structure
over a Chinese restaurant, that the police
found and broke up a sneak thieves’ club.
The members were a dozen hard young
sters, reared in the squalor and vice of
the neighborhood, and their highest am
bition was to become robbers. But they
had a methodical president, who intend
ed that they should be instructed in the
law and ethics of their trade; so he went
to a broken-down shyster at the Tombs,
near by, and hired him for $2 to deliver
a lecture on the dangers and safeguards
of sneaktheiving. His first discourse was
on the penalties for different grades of
robbery, and especially he pointed out
the foolishness of taking big risks for
little boodle. “Don’t break into any
house,” be said “unless j’ou feel sure you
can capture a heavy swag, because that
is burglary, punishable with as much as
twenty years’ imprisonment. Don’t use
force against persons, because that consti
tutes highway robbery, with the same
penalty, no matter if you only take a
dime. But sneak into hallways, load
yourselves with coats from the rack and
scoot away, because a year in the peniten
tiary is the most you can get for merely
stealing less than $25 worth, and a jury
will usually scale a coat down to that
figure.” The enterprising thieves were
so well pleased with this lecture that
they applied to a more conscientious ex
pert for another, and he informed -the
police.
A Governor and a Baby.
On the train between Atlanta and West
Point was a poor, tired mother, whose
sick and fretful infant had well nigh ex
hausted her strength and patience. The
cries of the child, with the pleadings and
lullabies of its mother for hours, had
driven the more thoughtless and unchar
itable passengers into nervousness and
despair. The fond mother noticed the
discomfort of her fellow-passengers and
redoubled her efforts to quiet the child.
The good-hearted Governor, the late Mr.
Conley, noticing this condition of affairs,
went over to where the mother was sit
ting, and in the most fatherly manner
and tone of voice asked to be permitted
to relieve her of the child for a little
while. Taking the baby in his arms, the
Governor walked backward and forth
the length of the car, “talking baby
talk,” and in various other ways sooth
ing and diverting the thoughts of the
little one for an hour or more, or until it
had quieted down and slept qnietly in
the Governor’s arms, who then handed it
over to its mother. This act was, of
course, witnessed by the passengers, and
when it was known that the kind old
gentleman who was assisting the tired
mother in quieting her baby was the Gov
ernor of Georgia, it was easy to imagine
the feelings of the party.—Augusta (,Ga.)
News, i
My Own Country.
The west wind blows, the ruffled rose
Is drooping in the vale:
The fragrant flow’rs of woodland bow’rs
Make sweet the cooling gale.
Earth’s flow’rs may bloom awhile for some,
But nevermore for me!
The sun is low, and 1 must go
Home to my own country.
Oh, sweet and fair the flowers there,
Yea, sweeter far than here:
One spring for aye; one endless day:
\ Fields never turning sere!
Oh, sweet are all the streams that roll
Along each heavenly lea!
No pain dot gloom can ever come
Into my own country.
I would not live: I could not grieve
Longer in this strange land,
Since I may tread the streets o’erspread
With gold by God’s pure hand!
Ah! then adieu, sweet friends, to you;
Would you could go with me;
To walk the streets, and taste the sweets,
Which bless my own country!
Oh, stay not long when I am gone;
Come over soon to me:
You’re welcome where the blest ones are,
Come t&'my own country!
Earth’s flow’rs may bloom awhile for some,
But never more for me!
The sun is low, and I must go
Home to my own country.
—G. W. Kettoman in the Current.
DR. TALMAGE’S SERMON.
THE GENUINE HARDSHIPS 01
THE WORKING CLASSES.
HUMOROUS.
A foot rule—Don’t wear tight shoes.
Another washout—.On the clothes line.
Desirable quarters—Twenty-five cent
pieces.
The only man who has the president’s
ear—Mr. Cleveland.
The century plant—Burial of Wash
ington’s body servant.
It is not considered necessary in society
to return a bill collector’s calls.
Money and trouble are something alike.
People will borrow rather than not have
them.
The Boston girl never says “it is rain
ing pitchforks.” She says “it is ruining
agricultural implements.”
The orator at the political meeting
may do the most talking, but it is the
men that cry “hip! hip!” who roar.
“What does boycott mean?” inquired
the teacher of a frisky youngster. The
little fellow, remembering an unfortunate
excursion to the pantry, replied: ‘ ‘A bad
licking.”
A Chicago landlord shot one of his
boarders for joking about his butter.
His interference was unnecessary. It is
said the butter was strong enough to take
its own part.
“Aud now, my dear brethren, what
shall I say more?” thundered the long-
winded minister. “Amen!” came in
sepulchral tones from the absent-minded
deacon in the back of the church.
“What’s your business?” asked the
judge of a prisoner at the bar. “Well,
s’pose you might call me a locksmith.”
“When did you work last at your trade?”
“Last night; when I heard a call for the
police I made a bolt for the door.
Little Willie refused to put on his
shoes the other morning, and when his
mother urged him to do so, he said with
an eager expression on his childish face,
“Mamma, did you not tell me that God
was everywhere?” “Yes!” “Well, if
he is everywhere, he must be in my shoe
and I don’t want to step on him.”
Wife—Leave me some money, please
I am going to make a loaf of cake, and 1
shall want a little change to buy some of
the ingredients. Husband—Half a d<
lar enough? Wife—I don’t know.^
am going to make it according to the
ceipt in the cook hook. Husbani
H’m! Well, that makes a differej
Here’s a ten-dollar bill!
There was a young lady in Hinghara
Who knew lots of songs and could sin^
But couldn’t mend hose
And wouldn’t wash clothes,
Nor help her old mother to wring ’em.
Text; “So the carpenter encouraged tm
goldsmith, and he that smootheth with the
hammer him that smote the anvil.—-Isaiah
xli, 7.
You have seen in a factory a piece ot
mechanism pass from hand to hand and from
room to room, and one mechanic smites it,
and another flattens it, and another chisels
it, and another polishes it until the work is
done, Smithery comes) in, carpentry comes
in, four or five different occupations em
ployed. Thus was that of the making of the
idols in olden time, and that is what the text
refers to. “The carpenter encouraged the
goldsmith, and he . that smeotheth
with the hammer him that smote the
anvil.” They came together and they con
sulted about their work, and they planned
for each othei’s welfare, and they were in
full sympathy. They were in a bad business,
for the making of idols is an insult to the
Lord Almighty. But I have thought that if
men engaged in bad work may cheer and help
each other, most certainly all trades, all oc
cupations that are doing honest work ought
to cheer and help each other on the way.
The Bible goes to the very last minutia. It
tells us how many dollars Solomon paid
for his horses. It tell us iu Deu
teronomy what kind of a roof we
ought to have on our house. It ap
plauds the Israelitish spinsters for their
industry and ingenuity. It gives us speci
mens of ancient needle-work, leather making,
tanning establishment, pottery, brick kiln,
city water works, ship building, and proves
itself-iu sympathy with them all. But very
few men realize the hardships outside of their
own trade or profession. Every mau's bur
den is the heaviest, aud every woman's task
is the hardest. So I find people every day
who think they have got into the wrong
trade'or occupation, and the artistays: “Oh,
if I were only a lawyer;” and the lawyer
says: “Oh, if I were only an artist.” Aud
| the banker or merchant conies home at
night, his head hot with commereiid
agitations, and he says: “Oh, if I were
only a mechanic, then I could lie down aud
sleep, a healthy mind in a healthy body.
Here I can’t sleep.” At the very time the
mechanic is saying: “Oh, if I were onlv a
merchant. I could bo beautifully appareled
every day, Rud I could give my children bril
liant opportunities, and I could move in an
other sphere.” Each man understanding the
annoyances and the hardships of his own oc
cupation aud having no full appreciation of
thore in other trades or businesses. Now, the
beauty of our religion is that it teaches us
that God is sympathy with a’l tradesmen,
with all mechanics, with all toilers, whether
with brain, or hand, or foot. I pro
pose this morning in this series of
sermons which I asp preaching and
shall continue on following Sabbath morn
ings to preach on the great labor agitation,
to speak about, the gjuulne hirdships of the
working class :s. You may not belong to
these classes, and yet you are bound as Chris-
'tian men and women to be sympathetic with
them, and you are bound as political econo
mists to come to the rescue. There was noth
ing more beautiful in the life of Lord Shaftes
bury than when, an old man, he said in the
presen e of an audience, his eyes full of tears:
“Ladies and geutlemen, as I feel old age
creeping on me and I know I must soon die,
I do not want to die, because I cannot bear to
leave this world while yet there is so mnch
misery unalleviated.”
So said that man, the master of large estates,
Lord Shaftesbury, and no wonder that when
a presentation was made to him in a public
ball a few years before his death, the work
ing classes of London shouted until they were
hoarse with enthusiasm for Lord Shaftes
bury. There is great danger that the pros-
S erous classes of America, because of some of
le bad things that have be?n said by the
false friends of labor during the last two
or three months, shall come to the con
clusion that all this agitation is a
hullabaloo about nothing. Do not
go off on that tangent. You would
not submit, nor would I submit without sol
emn and tremendous protest to some of the
oppressions which a? e being practiced uoon
the working classes of America to-day. You
may do your duty with yoitr employes, but *
here declare that the mightiest aud the large
business firm in America to-day is Gri;
Gouge, Griud & Co. Look, for instance, i
the wrongs practiced uron the Womanlv to’
ers of this country. They have made
Strike. They have not lifted their vo
Men have cried aloud for their rights,
women are dying by thousands, dying
Inches. The last labor report just .out
tains a few sentences that I '
showing what female employ*
“Poisoned hands and cam
to sue the man for fifty cen1
Another: “About four
can by hard wor]
three dollars
left from the night before, and chewing those
crumbs as they go along the streot. Why
do they not ride? The7 cannot afford the
five cents for the car. You want to know how
Latimer and Ridley looked in the fire? Look
at that woman’s fa-e,in a worse martyrdom,
dying a more agonizing death. Ask how
much she gets for making a course shirt,
and she will tell you six cents and find her own
thread? My Lord and my God, have mercy
upon the workingwomen of New York and
Brooklyn. I speak thus fully of the wrongs,
the sufferings of the female employes of
these cities because no one else speaks, or if
they do speak I have not hear4 their voi^e
for some time. Ah! we unda-fetand the suf
ferings of masculine employed better. Las';
March, in Missouri, acyMman came into
mv roon^^^H^^j^^^^yfire.
“Sam,
here fth
' hitiron."
dolsupport a family on!. It is
onty a little door open, that,to an awful scene
all over this land, north, south, east and
west. It is not a hullabaloo about nothing.
There are awful outrages being enacted, and
you are not, because of some unwise things
that have been said and done, to overlook
these things and forget these things.
First of all, there is the hardship of phys
ical exhaustion. There are athletes who
start forth in the morning at six or seven
o’clock, do their work and return at night
fall, and they are a? fresh as when they
started. There are men so constructed that
they can turn their back on the shuttle, or ou
tho rising Wall, or on the forge after a day's
work, and go whistling all the way home.
But they are the exception. I have noticed
that when the factory bell taps for six o'clock
the most of the workmen wearily put the arm
in the coat sleeve, and they go home resolved
thev will be cheery and make their homo
bright and entertain their children, and yet
they sit down and in five minutes are
sound asleep because fagged out, body,
mind and soul, aud they rise
iu the morning only half rested,
and there will be no rest for that mau's body,
no real, good rest—until he gets in that nar
row spot which is the only complete rest for
the human body. I think they call it the grave.
Oli, workingmen and women of America,
whether you hear my voice, or in some other
way the discourse shall come to you, let me
say, if toil lias frosto 1 the color from your
cheek, if the soonteneity has gone out of
your laughter, if hard work has subtracted
the spring from your step and the lustre fr m
your eye, lot me say it will all
soon l>e over. There is coming a
great holiday. Oh that home, and
no long walk to get to it. Oh. that bread
and no baswoafcing toil to ea~n it. Oh, that
deep well of rapture,and no heavy buckets to
draw up. To-morrow, above the lii.-s of the
furnaces and above the groan of the foundry,
and above the rattle of the shuttles, hear a
voice, not the voice of a taskmaster, not the
voice of a master, but the voice of an all
sympathetic Go 1. 1 wish the wearv men and
women cf America would put their heads
down on the pillow stuffed with the down
from the wings of all God's promises. There
remaineth rest for all the people of God.
How many tired peoplearo there here to-day?
A thousand? More than that. Two thou
sand tired people? More than that. Though
all of you were the children of luxurious
ease, more than t hat. There is a woman with
her head bowed. Why? Ask her. “Oh,”
she says, “It lias been' hard work for me/’
and as she bows her head, or puts her face in
her handkerchief, she says: “Oh, Lord, will
I ever get rested—will I ever get rested:’ So
tired are you, sister, mother? So very tired?
“Oh,” says someone, “all this is gone
through with: with tho invention of tho
sewing machine all tho hard work of the
needle disappeared.” No, no. Thousands
of people are dying amid sewing machines.
The needle has'killed more than the sword.
But who can take tho statistics of women
crushed under the sewing machine—being
crushed now? A Christian man passing
through the streets of New York saw a house
Of a good deal of destitution. Ho went in,
and there was a woman with a sick child,
and ho was telling her what a good woman
she ought to be, and how she ought to have
faith in God.^“Oh, sir,” she said, “I have no
God. I work from Monday morning to Sat
urday night, and I find no rest. I never hear
anvthing th at o 1. I
that the greatest hindrance a rain it all temp*
tatioa an 1 against all evil is plenty to do-
When a man commits a crime where-loa; ths
police detective go to Jin l hi n? Nit amid
tlie du'-t of factories, not a:n d the. men who
have ou their overalls, but among the people
who stand with their hanis in their pockets
in front of the saloons, or the taverns, or tho
restaurants. I saw a pool of water in the
country and I said to it: “Thou fetid
filthy, slimy thing, what doe?a’l this mean?”
“Oh,” says the pool of water, “I havest>pp3l
here, I am going to stay here.” But I s ly to
the water: -‘Did I not see you dance in tho
summer shower?” “Oh, yes,” says the wator,
“I came down from God shining lik? an aa-
f el.” I say to tho water: “Did
not see you drop like a gem
into a_ casket of gems and tumble
over tho 10 -It?” “Oh, yes. I went over cliff
and through meadow.” Dill not see ym
busy with the shuttles aud the grid; mil.s?”
“Oh, yes. I used t > work for my living, but
I have stopped, and I a n going to stay beret
I am disgusted with the shuttles and the grist
mills, I am going to stop. Accursed of God
am I and shinned of man. and I am going to
stop. ’ Thank God every day if you liava
hard work. It is tho mightiest preventive
against all *viL Sin. the oid pirate b’ar-
downfon those vessels that have sails idly
flapping in tho wind. Tho a-row of sin lias
tough work bo get through the 1 father of a
working apron. Make the anvil, make the
rising wall the f ortress in which you can hides
and from which you shall fight down the
temptations of thisl fe. Tiiauk Go! morn
ing, noou and night, Sunday aud week day,
if you have plenty to do.
Another encouraging fari; is that ♦your
children are probably to have better oppor
tunities than those brought no in luxury.
People brought up in luxury find by twelve
ye ; .rs of age they are going to be wealthy
aud there is no struggle and sometimes they
go out into dissipations and the}* are many of
them useless to society. There are business
men to-day grasping, grasping, grasping,
what for? To get enough inoijey j
to spoil tlirur children. Fifty years gather- j
ing up. The boys scattered it in five years.
The lord of prosperity and luxury, he may
pass out of the gat? aud go into dissipation t
aud die. The son of tho porter at the gate
leai ns his trade, go's a good physical consti
tution, staris cut and wins great succeis.
Who is that man to-lav st an ling iu sa ne
mighty place for God anl the truth?
His mother laid him 11 ider the shadow
of a treo wlrle she spread the
hay. The mightie t men to-day, in State
and National Legislatures, are those who ate
out of iron spoons a id drank out of coarsest
eartheuwa-e, and every step in life has been
a forced march. Thank God that you have
plenty to do. It is going t > be a gre it thing
for you and a great thing for your children.
Trouble is not going to damage you if you
put your tru-t rin Gol. The clip-
E er likes a stiff breeze. Tli' sled.ge-
ummer does not hurt tne iron it pounds
into shape. Trouble is the b st lion? for
sharpening keeu razors. R iberfc Barns was
a shepherd. Pri lean swept out at Exeter
College. Gifford wai a shoemak -r. and for
the son of tho toiling man and woman there
is large moral and worldly success if he trusts
God and keeps busy.
I cheer all workingmen aLo by the fact
that they have so many more opportunities
for information than were afforded to their
predecessors. Why, Plato paid $U>00 for
one book. Countess of Aniou paid 200 sheep
for one book. Geromo ruined him-elf finan
cially by buying one copy of Origen.
But hear now the printing presses go,
the cylinders of tho Appletons. the
Harpers, the Lippincotts, the Peter
sons, the Ticknor C an l you can buy for
fifty cents more than Beniamin Franklin
knew. . Every workingman in Brooklyn has
a newspaper ora book. Passing along at ni rlit-
fall the w'orkingmau sees a book in th'window
and it is five dollars, s > exquisite is the bmd-
ing. “Oh,” ho says, “I wish I could have that
book.” Just wait for a few months an 1 you
will get all the value of that bo ok,all the read
ing of that book in pamphlets for tea cents.
Put tea boys of the comm on schools of Brook-
lam on one bench and ten of the old philoso
phers ou another bench right opposite, and
the boys could examine the old philosopher,
aud th9 old philosophers could not examine
the boys. Hero comes un an old philosopher
and he says to • a lad of seven years:
•‘What is thatff “That is a railroad.”
What-, is that?” “That is the telegraph.”
£That is .the telephone.”.
.ined to him, he says:
Silenced.
The Scotch often use humor to settle a
question which, otherwise, might give
rise to an excited argument, involving
much hair splitting logic. The follow
ing anecdote of Norman McLeod, the
eloquent preacner, illustrates this happy
use of the wit which transfixes a man as
an entomologist docs a bug. He was on
his way to church, to open a new place
of worship. As he passed slowly and 1
gravely through the crowd gathered ]
about the doors, an elderly man, withJ
the peculiar kind of a wig known in that!
district—bright, smooth, and of a red-
dish brown—accosted him.
“Doctor, if. you please, I wish to speak
to you.”
“Well, Duncan,” said the venerable
doctor, “can not you wait till after wor
ship?”
“No, doctor, I rau.st speak to you now,
for it is a matter upon my conscience.”
“Oh, since it is a matter of conscience,
tell me what it is; but be brief, Duncan,
for time passes.”
“The matter is this, doctor. Ye see
the clock yonder, sm the face of this new
church? Well, there is no clock really
there; nothing but the face # of a clock.
There is no truth in it but only . once in
the twelve hours. Now, it is in my mind
very wrong, and quite against my con
science, that there should be a lie on the
face of the house of the Lord.”
r ‘Duncan, I will consider the point.
But I am glad to see you looking so well.
You are not young now; I remember
you for many yeabs; and what a fine
head of hair you have still.”
“Eh, doctor, you are joking now; it
is long sinc^I have had any hair.”
“O Duncan! Duncan! are you going
into the house of the - Lord with a lie
upon your head?”
This, says the story, settled the ques
tion ; and the doctor heard no more of
tlie lie oa the fac£ of the dock.
worJ
of oppi __
multitude ol
commercial es.
death and dark:
of unrighteous
establishments
They know
.there be a
of the larges]
God rise; up^
ing worn;
quicker
quake too!
oppresso
wrath ai
law of fa]
pals of s
and mah
of work,
hood coi
cry like
hurled out
awful
sewing girls
Look at the
pfnr.hed fa
countenance^
merciless coi
stoop in the s!
meeting of se 1
Philadelphia
There wa
gentlemen l her
but the mightii
was made
who, uninvited,’
of the platform,
faded shawl, with
a thunderbolt of
until their
the horrors
take your st;
the morning ‘
the street
their werk.
fast, some