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TOPICS OF THE DAY. A Mr. Crawford, who is a member of the Chicago Trades ami Labor As sembly, has made complaint to that organization against tlie action of a barber shop owner in that city, whc reduced his employees’ wages 10 per cent, just before he proceeded to ex pend SB,OOO in “unnecessary display in his shop, even to the extent of im bedding 400 solid silver dollars in the tiles of the floor to add to the glitter ing show.” Mr. Crawford says he wants to see the barbers organizing for the purpose of opposing such steps. The wax plant is now grown on a large scale in Algeria, and its product is gradually finding its way into the markets of the world. The process of separating the wax is simple. The fruit, inclosed in a bag of coarse cloth, is plunged into boiling water, on whose surface the substance soon floats. The wax is of the sa ue chemical composi tion as beeswax, and is likely to be largely used in place of it. It is stated that these wax plants may be seen growing -wild in Pennsylvania and the Carolinas. In the heart of Wyoming Territory is a mountain of solid hematite iron, with 000 feet of it above ground, more than a mile wide, and over two miles in length; a bed of lignite coal big enough to warm the world for cen turies: eight lakes of solid so la, one of them over 600 acres in extent and not less than thirty feet in depth; and a petroleum basin which contains more oil than Pennsylvania and West Virginia combined, from which in places the oil is oozing in natural wells at the rate of two barrels a day. At least, so says the Butte (Montana) Zn ter-Mountaiu. Some time ago Prof. Virchow brought together the results of an in quiry into the relative proportions of the blonde-haired, dark, and mixed types among the school children of the German empire. S nee then the inquiry has been extended to Belgium, Austria, and Switzerland, an I em braces nearly eh ven mil.ion c nldren in its scope. In a lecture at the Ber lin Academy of S.ience, Prof. Vir chow now shows that more than 5( per cent, of i.he school children of cen tral Europe belong to the mixed type. The distribution of the purely blond type, which contributes something over 25 per cent., and is associated with unmixed Teutonic blood, is, rather curious. It is highest in Han over, where it forms 43 per cent, of the population, but it is very nearly as high in the extreme east Prussian and I’omeraman districts, where history and tradition locate a preponderating Slavic element, and points to the com pleteness of the gradual industrial conquest of those regions by the Teutonic race, A peculiarly ghastly experiment in furtherance of the ends of justice, has been performed in Paris. A chemist named Kel is charged with having murdered his female servant, whs mysteriously disappeared some months ago, and disposed of her body by burn ing it in a stove. He says that the stove in question is much too small to be put to such a purpose. I'o pro e that it is not so, the prosecution, hav ing had a fa -simile made of the stove, asked for and obtained an order from a Juge d’lnstruction, which was sanctioned by the Prelect of Police, for a dead body from one of the hos pitals. In p s>e .sion of this corpse, they proceeded to cut it up into pieces, and fed the stove, which they had lighted, with the fragm tils. The re sult, so far as it went, was in confir mation of the Hieory of the prosecu tion. In a surprisingly short time the whole body was consumed, ami nothing remained but a few ashes. It is ob vious, however, that the proof thus afforded of the possibility of the dis posal of a body in tne manner alleged by the prosecution, can only lie materia! if the positive links in the chain of circumstantial evidence ■ against the prisoner are all of them thoroughly strong. The Church of England. The wealth of the church of Eng- I land in worldly, not spiritual, goods is just now receiving considerable atten- i < tion, but speculation has not much upon which to base itself, for the rea son that no one knows precisely wh it Its income is, except the two Archbish- I ops, an I they, probably wisely, keep I the knowledge securely to themselves. < Some of the most valuable proper yin I England belongs to the church, which : has held it ever since it was taken away from the Homan Catholics by ' II nry the VIII. and b owl upon the newly created Bisi ops to make ‘ their fealty sure. The Archbishops of Canterbury, the primate of all Eng land, has an annual income of $75,000, in addition to Lam eth Palace, his > London or city residence. The Arch- I bishops of York, the primate of Eng- t land receives $50,000 a year, besides < two residencesand a large household of i officials. The tithesof some of the o'her < Bishops are: London,sso,ft*.'; Durham. < $35,000; Winchester $3-5,000: Ely, t $27,500: and Bath. Ln-oiti, Oxford, < Salisbury. and Worcester, S2S,*XX) i each I e B -h"p ot Salon and Man, t who .a- neitbe; cathedral or dean, gets $lO. ’ a year for doing nothing. . k.J’orw American Register. CPnjdte. VOL. XII. , The Little Laud. j ) ’ When at home alone I sit And am very tired of it. I have just to shut my eyes j To go sailing through the skies. * To go sailing far away 11 To the pleasant Land of Play; 3 I To the fairy land afar, j Where the little people are. Where the clover tops nr.- trees, | And the rain pools are t.o seas, > I And the leaves, like little ships, 1 Sail about, on tiny trips; 5 ; And above the daisy tree, , ‘ Through the grasses, , i High o’erhoad the humble bo Hums and passes. In that forest to and fro I can wander, I can go; ; Soo the spider and the lly, And the ants go marching bv Carrying parcels with their feet > ' .Down the green and grassy street. I can in the sorrel sit ’ i Where the lady’ninl aliu 1 can climb the jointed gc tss; 11 And on high ; : See the greater swallows pass In the sky , And the round sun rolling by Heeding n > such things as I. . J Through that forest I can pass Till, us in a looking glass, Humming lly and daisy tieo ' And my tiny sell I see, Painted very clear and neat I On tiie rain-pool nt my feet. ■ Should a Icirtnt come to han I Drifting near to where I stand, Straight I’ll boa d that tiny boat Hound the rain-pool sea to floit. Little thoughtful creatures sit On the grassy co tuts of it; Little things with lovely eyes See me sailing with surprise. -Some are clad in armor green (These have sure to battle been Some are pied with every hue, Black and crimson, gold and blue; Some have wings and swift are gone, But they all look kindly on. When my eyes 1 once again Open and see all things plain : High,bare walls, a great bare 11-xir; Groat big knobs on drawer and door; Grout big people perched on chairs Stitching tucks mi l mending tears, l.iu-li n hill that 1 could climb And talking nonsense all tho time— 0. dear mo, 'Hint J could be A sailor on the rain-pool sen, | A climber in tho clover tree, And just come back, a sleepy head, Late at night to go to bod. —Hobert Lotus Slcvrmon. How Greely was Found. The story of the relief expedition I sent out by the United States in search of Lieutenant Greely ami his party, ice-iminurcd in the Arctic regions, is full of interest. Particularly pathetic is this account of how a search party from the relief vessels came across the seven survivors: At last the boat arrived at the site' of the wreck-cache, and the shore was j eagerly scanned, but nothing could be ; een. Rounding the next point, the I I cutter opened out the cove beyond. There on the top of a little ridge, fifty i or sixty yards above the ice-foot, was plainly outlined the figure of a man. Instantly the coxswain caught up the boat hook and waved his flag. The man on the ridge had seen them, for he stooped, picked up the signal flag from the rock, and waved it in reply. Then he was seen coming slowly and cau tiously down the steep rocky slope, i Twice he fell down before he reached ; - the foot. As he approached, still walking feebly and with difficulty, j (,’olwell hailed him from the bow of the boat: “Who all are there left?" “Seven left.” As the cutter struck the ice, Colwell i ; jumped off and went up to him. He i was a ghastly sight. Ilis cheeks were ' hollow, his eyes wild, his hair and i beard long and matted. His army j ' blouse, covering several thicknesses of j shirts and jackets, was ragged and dirty. He wore a little fur cap and | rough mocassins of untanned leather tied around the legs. As he spoke, his utterance was thick and mumbling and in his agitation his jaws worked in convulsive twitches. As the two met, the man, with a sudden impulse, took off his glove and shook Colwell’s hand. “Where are they?” asked Cciweli 1 briefly. “In the tent,” said the man,pointing over his shoulder, “over the hill—the tent is down.” “Is Mr. Greely alive?” “Yes, Greely’s alive.” “Any other officers?” “No.” Then he repeated absently, “The tern, is down.” “Who are you?” “Long.” Before this colloquy was over, Lowe ' I and Norman had started up the hill. < Hastily tilling his pockets with bread, ■, and taking the two cans of pemmican, . Colwell told the coxswain to take Long J into the cutter, and started after the ■ others with Ash. Reaching the crest ; of the ridge, and looking southward, i they saw spread out before them a des- ! < olate expanse of rocky ground, sloping i gradually from a ridge on the east to , the ice-covered shore, which at the west made in and formed a cove. Back j ; of the level space was a range of hills SUMMERVILLE. GEORGIA. WEDNESDAY EVENING. JULY 22,1885. I rising up 800 feet, with a precipitous I face, broken in two by a gorge,through I which tho wind was blowing furious- ! lyi On a little elevation directly in I front was the tent Hurrying across • the intervening hollow, Colwell came I j up with Lowe and Norman, just as j they were greeting a soldierly looking I man who had just come oiit from the ; tent. I As Colwell approached, Norman was : saying to the man: “There is the lieutenant.” And he added to Colwell: “ This is Sergeant Brainard.” Brainard immediately drew himself j up to the “position of a soldier,” and ’ . was about to salute, when Colwell i I took his hand. At this moment there was a confused I I murmur within the tent, and a voice ! said: “Who’s there?” Norman answered: “It is Norman ■ —Norman who was in the I’roteus.” This Was followed by cries of “Oh, it’s Norman!” and a sound like a fee ble cheer. | Meanwhile ono of the relief party, who in his agitation and excitement ! was crying like a child, was down on J his handsand knees trying to roll away i the stones that held down the flapping > tent cloth. Tho tent was a “tepik" or ' wigwam tent, with a llyattached. The I fly with its posts and ridge-pole had I been wrecked by the gale which had I been blowing for thirty-six hours, and ; the pole of the tepik was toppling over, I and only kept in place by the guy ropes. There was no entrance except under the flap opening, which was held down by stones. Colwell called for a knife, cut a slit in the tent cover and looked in. It was a sight of horror. On one side, closu to Hie opening, with his head toward the outside, lay what was I apparently a dead man. His jaw had j dropped, his eyes were open, but fixed ■ and glassy, his limbs were motionless. On the opposite side was a poor fellow, alive to lie sure, but without hands or j feet, and witli a spoon tied to the ; stump of his right arm. Two others, seated on the ground in the middle,had just got down a rubber bottle that hung on the tent pole, and were potir i ing from it into a tin can. Directly opposite, on his hands and knees, was a dark man with a long matted beard, ; in a dirty and tattered dressing gown with a little red skull cap on his head, and brilliant, staring eyes. As Col- I well appeared, lie raised himself it little ; and put on a pair of eye-glasses. “Who are you?” asked Colwell. The man made no answer, staring I at him vacantly. “Who are you?” again. One of the men spoke up; “That’s I the Major—Major Greely.” Colwell crawled in and took him by the hand, saying to him, “Greely, is this you ?” “Yes,” said Greely in a faint, I : broken voice, hesitating and shuffling j with his words, “Yes—seven of us j left—here we are—dying—like men. I Did what I came to do—beat the best i record.” Then he fell back exhausted. “Major Jones.” One of the personages about Wash ! ington during the war was Annie J : Jones, who originally professed to have ; I ran away from a boarding-school in ! i Boston to “follow the drum,” and who I i attached herself to the headquarters of ! I General Stahel, the commander of a f i German brigade A flippant talker, i j she ingratiated herself into the favor I I of the General, and received an honor i ary appointment as a member of his j staff, and as “Major Jones’ became an j institution in the army. She ate with j I the General, drank with the General, I rode with the General on ail his haz- i irdous forays, chatted with the Gene ral, nursed the General when he was ! sick, fought the General’s battles when i -he heard him aspersed by jealous un derstrappers, and when night drew the starry flag over the heavens, she slept with her beloved colored maid in the ■ next little tent, which the General had assigned her. She thus lived and flourished. Her orders were wont to be obeyed, because she was recognized as a stall officer. She always had the counter sign, and could pass the picket at pleasure. She was said to be a girl oi great dash and daring, and would fre quently venture out beyond the out posts, and for days watch the move- ' mentsof the enemy,and bring in whole budgets of information from the rebel 1 camps, as proofs of her stewardship i and shrewdness. Every one knew Major Jones; officers would doff their i hats, and privates would stand at full 1 “present” as she rode by in military , feminine dignity. The visiting officers i from other commands were introduced ; to Annie, and admired her, and she I reigned supreme as the “she-major es < 1 cavalry.” I When General Hooker marched into i Maryland and Stahel was relieved. ' Miss Major Annie joined her fortunes I with the young and gallant. Custer, j with whom she remained, retaining ' her rank and title, until a general or- I derfrom army headquarters rendered it necessary for him to dispense with ! her valuable services, and the Major wits compelled to search for a field of usefulness elsewherA For a few days ; she wandered about the camp, having no particular abiding place or eontin i uing city, until Colonel Sharpe, then acting provost - marshal - general, thought the interests of the service re quired that she should be removed to Washington. Accordingly a pass was j granted her to travel as far as the mil- J itary railroad would carry her, and a ■ sergeant of the Ninety-Third New ' York Was detailed to accompany her. to guard against any accident on the 1 way. Arriving at Washington she i stopped at the Kirkwood House,where I :ho sometimes appeared in staff uni ' form and then in fashionable female I attire, it was believed that she was a Confederate spy in the Union secret service. —Bo.sfmt litidget. v —. Epithelioma. This word— now so sadly familiar from the case of General Grant—is one of the mimes of carcinoma, or cancer. It, is used because most cases of cancer are connected with the epithelium,— the membrane which lines most of the internal organs and cavities of the body,—or with the epidermis (scarf skin), which covers the outer surface and is essentially of the same nature. All our tissues—muscles,membranes, nerves, fat, bones, etc.—are built up by, and consist mainly of, cells. These cells select from the blood, transform ami assimilate the element essential to their activity, growth and perpetua tion. They multiply by division, ru mors result from a morbid multiplica tion of cells. Benign tumors simply crowd—as they grow by the multipli cation of cells -against the adjacent parts. In malignant tumors the mul tiplying cells infiltrate into the ad jacent parts, and thus constantly enlarge their deadly area; or they are taken up by the blood-vessels and lymphatic ves sels, particularly the lat ter, and borne to distant glands, where they set up the same deadly act ion. A cancer, of whatever kind, is al ways malignant., though a hard cancer, of which an epithelioma is one, is not so malignant as a soft cancer, in which Hie culls preponderate over the fibrous tissue What is now called a I sarcoma, which was once thought to | be a cancer, is a benign tumor gene rally, but. may be malignant. It differs from a cancel: mainly in liavi g its cells separated from each other by in tervening substance. In thelatterthe cells lie against each other -several hundred of them perhaps— in (other wise) empty spaces, or nest:. The microscope alone distinguishes be ! tween the two—the cancer and the | sarcoma. A cancer may long remain simply a ’ hard, painless tumor, with its true character unknown. If it can be cut out then, it may never recur. This, ■ i therefore, is the time for its extirpa tion. A cancer due solely to local irritation is quite likely to be cured I ' when operated on early. When due to hereditary taint, it is more likely to recur under some new irritation. The age at which cancers appear is ' generally after forty. Hence theoc ! currence of a hard tumor, say from i i forty-live and onward, should awaken j attention. But comparatively few tu i mors are cancerous. In cases where extirpation is im practicable, medical treatment may still do much for the general health, the relief of distressing symptoms, and averting the progress of organic dis ease.— Youth’» Companion. The Harber’s Side of It. “You hear a great deal of talk about being too talkative,” said a I’ittsburgh barber, “but let me tell you that the barber who doesn’t talk isn’t any good. He isn’t popular with the trade and and he doesn’t make a good workman. You see, a man comes in and he gets into the chair, and the barber commen ces shaving him without saying a word. The man who is being shaved j has nothing to think about except him- ; seif, and he immediately begins tc' kick about the razor. It pulls and and hurts his face, and nothing suits him, and he goes away dissatisfied with the shop and barber. Now one of those good-natured, talkative bar bers would take that same man and commence talking politics and the weather, the police and the skating rink to him, and there would never be the slightest kick. No sir; the barber could use his oldest, dullest, and rusti est razor ami the man would nevei think of complaining, and when th< ' barber would finish combing his hail by telling him that he had hair jusl like Abe Lincoln or Charles Sumner he’d get up and give him a cigar aru go oB feeling good natured, and swea, that, was the best shop irj the city.— Pittsburgh Dispatch. A SEEM BI TALMAGE. “A First-Rate Mother.”: Text, I. Samuel, ii. 19 : “ Moreover his • mother made him a little codt and brought it ' to him from year to year, when she came up ■ with her husband to offer the yearly sacri fice.” The story of Deborah and Abigail is very j ant to discourage a woman’s soul. She says I within herself: “It is impossible that I ever achieve any such grandeur of character, and I don’t mean to tty;’’ as though a child should refuse to play the eight notes because he cannot execute a “William Tell.” This Hannah of the text differs from tho persons I just now named. She was an ordinary woman, with ordinary intellectual capacity, placed in ordinary circumstances, and yet, ; | by extraordinary piety standing out before ■ | all tho ages to come, the model Christian | i mother. Hannah was the wife of Elkanah, i who was a person very much like herself — | unromantic and plain, never having fought a battle or been the subject of a marvelous escape. Neither of these would have been called a genius. Just what you and I might , be, that was Elkanah and Hannah. Tho brightest time in ell the history of that family was the birth of Samuel. Although no stur ran along tho heavens pointing down to his birthplace, 1 think tho angels of God stooped at tho coming of so wonderful a prophet. As Samuel had been given in answer to prayer, Elkanah and all his i family save Hannah, started up to ■ i Shiloh to Offer sacrificesof thanksgiving. Tho ! cradle where the child slept was altar enough ' for Hannah’s grateful heart; but when tho boy was old enough she took him to Shiloh and took three bullocks and an epnah of flour ' and a bottle of wine, and made offering of j : sacrifice unto the Lord; and there, according I to a previous vow, she left him: for there he ! ! was to stay all the days of his life and minis ( , ter in the temple. Years rolled on, and every j year Hannah made with her own hand a gar- . | meat for Samuel, and took it over to him. ( j The lad would have got along well without 1 i that garment, for 1 suppose he was well clad by the ministry of the temple; but Hannah j could not bo contented unless she was all the I time doing something for her darling boy. ! I “Moreover, his mother made him a little coat i and brought it to him from year to year, > I when she camo up with her husband to offer ( tho yearly sacrifice.” Hannaii stands before us t hen in tho first i place as an industrious mother. There was | Ino need for her to work. Elkanah, hor hus- | 1 band, was far from |>oor. He belonged to a ' distinguished family; for the Bible tells us that ho was tho son of Jerohani, the son of ! ; Elihu, the son of Tohn, the son of Zuph. i - : “Who were thov?” you say. Ido not know; j but they were distinguished people no doubt, I i or their names would not have been inon i tioned. Hannah might have seated herself ' in her family, and with folded arms and dis j hoveled hair read novels from year to year, i if there had been any to read; but when 1 see 1 i her making that garment and taking it over i to Hainmd, I know siie is industrious from 1 j principle as well as from pleasure. God ] would not have a m-•■'"’er become a ! i drudge or a slay r no would have i her employ all tho helps possible in this day ' 1 i in the rearing of tier chiklreu. But Hannah i j ought never to b« ashamed to be found mak i ing a coat for Samuel. Most mol hers need ino counsel in this direction. The wrinkles on ! their brow, the pallor on their clicks, the thimble mark on their finger attest that they are fathlul in their maternal duti'.s. The bloom and the brightness and the vivacity of girlhood have gi ,un place for the grander ; ! dignity ami usefulness and industry of niother hofxi. But there is a heathenish idea getting 1 abroad in some ot the families of Americans; I there are mothers who banish themselves s from the horn circle. For t hroe-fourths of their maternal duties they prove themselves incornpetenl-. They are ignorant of what their children wear and what their children ' eat and what their children read. They en trust to irresponsible persons 1 hese young im mortalsand allow them to be under influences i which may cripple their bodies or taint their purity or spoil their manners or destroy their souls. From the awkward cut of Samuel’s coat you know his mother Hannah did not ; make it. Ont from under flaming chandeliers and off from imported carpets and down the granite f-Liirs there is come a great crowd of children in this day, unrestrained, saucy, in competent Im- all practical duties of life, i ready to be taught in the first whirl of crime ; and seiHiiahty. Indolent and unfaithful mothers will make indolent and unfaithful children. You cannot expect neatness and order in rny house where the daughters see nothing Imt slattei mmsand upside downna- ' tivene-s in their i arents. Let Hannah be idle and most certainly Sain icl will grow up idle. Who are the in ' dust nous men in all our occupations and pro i fessi >ns? Who are they managing the nier i chandi .e of the world, building the walls, i ti-miug the roofs, weaving the carpets, ' making the laws, governing the nations, maki g the earth to quake ai d heave and roar and i al tie witli the tread of gigantic en terprises" Who are they? For the most part i they descend from industrious mothers who j in the old h< nu stend used to s_>in their own ■ yarn and wi»ave t icir gwu ■ urii-’ti and plait j their own door maisand flag I h'dr own < liairs an Ido the.row i work. Th • stalwart men ; and tile infiue.tial women of this day, ninety- I nine out of a hundred of th m, came from such an d us'rioiis anceslry of hard knocks j and h>m • i i And who are thus* people in soci' ty, li dit; as Loth, blown on every wind ' of temp'ut o.t an I fashion the poddkus of filthy : lories, th • dancing jacks of politi< al parties, the scum of so F ty, the tav<-rn- | loung n the store-infesting, the men of low ■ wink un I fi’t'iy c huckle and brass breastpin ! and rotten associations! For the most part they came from mothers idle and disgusting I —the scandal-mongers of society, going Ir<»ni bouse to house attending to everybody's bn>iii<*FS buttheir own: believing in with s and ghosts and horse shoes to keep the devil ' out of the < hum, and by a godless life setting j their childr n on tho very verge of hell. Ti e ! , mothers of Samuel Johnson and of Alfred ' the Great and of Isaac Newton and of Saint Augustine and of Richard C’ecil and of I’resi- ■ dent Edwards for the most part were indus- ; trious, hard-working mothers. N w, while I ■ congratulate all Christian mothers upon the ; wealth and the modern science which \ may afford them all kinds of he.' ji, let me say that every moth r ought to lie observant of her children’s walk, ' her chit Iren’s behavior, her children’s food, i her children's Injoks, her children’s ; i companionship. However much help ' Hannah may have, I think she ought every year, at least, make one garment ! for Hainuel. The Lord have mercy on Ihe \ man who is so unfortunate as to have a lazy ' mother' Again Hannah stands lief ore us ns an intel ligent mother. From the way in which she ta!k<d in this chapt-r, and from the way she , , managed this boy, you know she was intelli- . gent There are no persons in a community i who used to lie s > wise and well informed as .. mothers. Oh, this work of culturing chil- • dren for this world and the next. This child * is timid and it must be roused up and pushed j out into activity. This child is forward and he must be held ha-k and tamed down into i modesty and politeness. Rewards for one, . punishments for another; that whi -h will j make George wili rum John. The rod is ne cessary in one ease, while a frown of dis pleasure is more than enough in another. Whipping and a dark closet do not exhaust all the rounds of domestic discipline. There have been childn n who have gone up and : i gone to glory without ever having had their ears boxed. Oh, how much care and intelli gence is ne e>sary in the rearing of children! But in this day. when there are so many books on the subject no parent is excusable in being ignoi-ant of the best mode of bringing ipa >li !'i If parents knew'more of diet etics thei'e would not b * so many dyspeptic stomachs and weak nerves and inactive liv ers among children. If parents knew more of physiology there would not be as many curve-1 spines and cramped < hes‘- and inflamed throats and diseased lungs as there are among children, if parents knew more NO. 27. ; of art and Wore in sympathy with all that is i beautiful, there wpuld not be so many chil dren coming nut in the world with boorish proclivities. If parents knew more of Christ i and practiced more of bis religion, there would not be so many little feet already starting on the wrong road, and all around us voices of riot and blasphemy would not • come up with such ecstacy of infernal tri umph. The eaglets in the eyrie have no ad- Vantages ever tLa eaglets a thousand years ago; the kids have no superior way of climb i ing up the rocks than the old goats taught hundreds of years ago; the whelps know no j snore now than did the whelps of ages ago— they are taught no more by the lions of the desert; but it is a shame that in this day, when there are so many opportunities of im proving ourselves in the best manner of cul turing children, that so of ten there is no more advan nnent in this respect than there has been among the kids and the eaglets and the Whelps. Again Hannah stands before us as a Christian mother. From her prayers and from the way she consecrated her boy to God, I know she was good. A mother may 1 have tho finest culture, the most brilliant sur* I roundings, but she is not fit for her duties un . less she boa Christian mother. There may ■ bo well-read libraries in the house, and ex quisite music in the parlor, and the canvas of the best artists adorning the walls, and the wardrobe bo crowded with tasteful apparel, and the children bo wonderful for their at tainments, and make the house ring with laughter and innocent mirth; but there is something wooful-looking in that house if ii be not also the residence of a Christiar mother. I bless God that there are not many prayerless mothers—not many ol them. The weight of responsibility is so great that they feel the need of a divine hand to help and a divine voice to comfort, an<l a divine heart to sympathize. Thous amis of tho others have been led into the kingdom of God by the hands of their litth children. There are hundreds of mothen who would not have been Christians had it not been for tho prattle of their little ones standing someday in the nursery they be thought themselves: “This child God hai givtui me to raise for eternity. What is mj influence upon it/ Not being a Christian my self. how can I ever expect him to become f Christian! Lord help me!” Oh. are then anxious mothers who know nothing of th< infinite help of religion? Then I commend t< them Hannah, the pious mother of Samuel Do not think it is absolutely impossible tha your children come up iniquitous. Out of just, such fair brows and bright eyes and sofl 'i-iibls nnd innocmit. henrtß rrimn <rnt.<s its vin thus -extirpating purity from the heart and rubbing out tho smoothness from the brow, squelching the lustre of the eye and shrivel i ing up and jioisoning and putrefying and seething and scalding and blasting and burn ! ing with shame ami woe. Every child is a . bundle of tremendous possibilities; and I whether that child shall come forth in life, its I heart attuned to the eternal harmonies, and i after a life of usefulness on earth go to a life j | of joy in heaven; or whether across it shall | jar eternal discords, and after a life of wrong ■ doing on earth it shall go to a house of impen etrable darkness and an abyss of innneasur- , able plunge, is being do *ided by nursery song ' and Sabbat Ii lesson and evening prayer and | walk and ndo and look and frown and smile. ; | Oh, how many children in glory, crowding ; all the battlements and lifting a million- i voiced hosiana—brought to God through I j Christian parentage. Ono hundred and twen i ty clergymen were together and they were telling their experience and their ancestry; ' and of the 120 clergymen, how many of them do you suppose assigned as the | nI-uns of their conversion, the influence of a Christian mother? One hundred out of the 120! Philip Doddridge was brought to Goil by the scripture lesson on the Dutch tile of the chimney fire-place. The mother thinks i she is rocking a child; but at the same time she may be rocking the destiny of empires— rocking tho fate of nations—rocking tho glories of heaven. The same maternal power t hat may lift a child up may press a child down. A daughter came to a worldly mother an I said she was anxious about her sins, and she had been jn aying nil night. The mother j said; “Oh, stop praying! 1 don’t believe in jn aying. Get over all those religious notions, mid 1 11 give you a dress that will cost five hundred dollars, and you may wear it next j week to that party.’’ I'he daughter took the , dress and she moved in the gay circle, the gayest of all the gay t hat night; and sure enough all religious impressions were gone, ■anti she steppe 1 praying. A few months after she came to tlie, and in her closing momentss d1: “Mother, I wish you would bring me that dress that cost five hundred . dollars?” The mother thought it a very strangere juo.it; butshebrought.it to please the dying child “Now,” said the daughter, “mother, hang that <1 ress on the foot of my b(‘d;’’ and the dress was hung there on the foot of the bed. Then the dying child got up on one elbow and looked at her mother and then nointed to the dress and said: “Mother, that dress is the price of my soul I” Oh, ' what a momentous thing It is to ben mother! Again and lastly, Ummah stands before us as the rewarded mother. For all tho coats she made for Bamuel; for all the prayers she offered for him; for the discipline she ex erted over him, sho got abundant coinpen sation in tho jiiety and tho usefulness and the popularity of her son Samuel, and that is true in all ages. Every mother gets full pay for all the prayers and tears in behalf of her ' children. That man useful in commercial life; that man prominent in tho profession; that master mechanic—why, every step he takes in life has an echo of gladness in the old heart that long ago taught him to be Christian and heroic, and earnest. The story of what you have done, or what you have 1 written, of tho influence you have exerted, i i has gone back to the old homestead—for there is someone always ready to carry good tidings—and that rtory makes the needle in ; the old mother’s t remulous hand fly quicker, j and the flail in tlie father’s hat'd come down on the barn floor with a more vigorous tbumj). I’arents love to hear good news from their children. Do you send them good news always? Lo >k out for the young man I who s|»eaks of his father as the “governor,” j the “squire,”or the “old chap” Look out for the young woman who '-alls her mother her “maternal ancestor,” or the “old woman.” “Tiie eye that mocketli at his father and refuseth to obey his mother, the tavens of the valley sb ill jd k it out, and the young eagles shall eat it.’ God grant that all : thus* parents may h ive the great satisfaction , of eeing their < hil Iren grow up Christians. But, oh, the jiang of that mother who, after a bfe of stroet-g-iddmg and gossip retailing, > hanging on her c hildren the fripperies and foliies of this world, see those children tossed i out on the sea of bfe like foam on I the wave or nonentities in a world I where only brawny and stalwart i character can stand the shock! But blessed be the mother whe looks upon her children as sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty! Oh, the satisf:u tion of Hannah in seeing Sam uel serving nt th- alt ir; of mother Eunice in seeing her Timothy learned in the scriptures. That is tho mother’* rocornjiense, to see chil dren coming up useful in the world, reclaim ing the lost. healing the sick, pitying the ig norant, earnest and us- ful in every sphere. There she sits tne old Christian mother—• • ripe for heaven. Her eyesight isalmost gone, but the splendors of the celestial city kindls up her vision. The gray light of heaven’s morn has stru k through the gray lock which are foiden b'ick over the wrinkled temples. She stoops very much now under the burden of care she used to carry for her children. She sits at hom r *, too ol«l to find her way to the house of God: but while she .-.its there, all the past comes back, and the children that forty years ago trooped around her turn ehair with their griefs ami joys ami sorrows—those children are gone now. Some caught up into a iietter realm, where they shall never die, and others out in the broad world, attesting th® excellence of a Christian mother’s disci pline. Her last days are full of jv*aee; and calmer and sweter will her spirit become until the gates of life shall lift and let in the worn ou’ pilgrim into eternal spring tide and vo’t’h. P. M.—Several of the Georgia towns have hit upon a novel plan to decide who thall he their Postmasters. Every man who receives mail from the office is ntitied to a vote, which he drops into a box provided for the purpose. Contentment. 'My little world is very small, carce worth your notice, sir, at all,” The mother said. 'My good, kind husband, as you see,* kud those three children at my knee, Vho look to us so trustingly For daily bread— ‘For their sweet sakes, who love me so, keep the firelight in a glow In our dear home, ?hat, though the tempest roar outside, And fiercely beaten far and wide, The cheery blaze may serve to guide Dear feet that roam. "And as the merry kettle boils, Vo welcome him who daily toils For us each day. ■ )f true ovo kisses full a score J de gets, I’m certain, if not more, IVlien fond ones meet him at the door, v At twilight gray. ‘One gets the slippers for his feet, • knot her leads him to his seat — The big arm chair— •\nd while tho children round him sing, And make the dear old miters ring, )nc little daughter crowns him king With blossoms fair. ‘Ah, sir, we are not rich or groat, Fhe owners of a vast estate,” The mother said; ‘But we have better fur than gold, I Contentment, and a little fold » \s full of love as it can hold, With daily bread.” —Mrs. M. Jf. Kidder. HUMOROUS. The giraffe presents the most won derful case of soar throat on record. In these “shutting down” times it is avident that ten mills do not make a sent. Spicer asks: “What is the rate of interest when distance lends enchant ment to the view.” •-.- • • “Os all my family patients,” said Dr. Killemquick, “not one is sick.” “Guess you haven’t called on any of them lately ’?” inquiringly remarked a brother M. D. Over 200 new doctors were turned out of a New York medical college recently. This looks as though their institutions were working on full time to keep pace with the establishment of skating rinks. "Hello, Smith! Suppose a man mar ries his first wife’s step-sister's aunt, what relation is he to her?” “First wife—um—step-aunt—er—let’s see— I don’t know.” “Bright fellow. He’s her husband.” “What did I understand you to say this is, ma’am ’?” the new boarder asked the landlady. “Spring chicken, sir,” tartly replied the lady, “pray, what did you think?” “That’s what I thought it was, ma’am, with all the springs left in.” An honest man may be about as hard to find as a plumber with a mort gage on his house; but when you do stumble upon him he has his trade mark upon his face, and,.whether in homespun or store-clothes, might walk through the town with an umbrella under each arm without fear of unjust suspicion. A Good Word for the Turks. The Turkish people have been ac cused of brigandage, assassination and every description of crime. I, who have lived among them for fifteen years, am proud to proclaim myself their cham pion. As soldiers and sailors they arc unrivalled when well commanded. As peasants they are industrious, long suffering and good. In their religion they are sincere, and never fanatical unless roused t.o be so by ill usage and sneers at their faith. Let the sports man, the traveller or the antiquarian in pursuit of pleasure or business find himself among the real Turks in Ana tolia or elsewhere, and he will be safe as to his person and property and re ceive every kindness and hospitality whereas, when he goes among the Christains settled in Turkey, he will frequently be robbed, and always un der the levy of blackmail. Accusa tions have been made against the Turks of cruelty and ill-usage, which have been exaggerated, sometimes tc a ludicrous degree—such as when a reverend divine reported that he actu ally saw a man impaled, who turned out to be a fisherman sitting on a pole watching for fish to enter his net. Se riously speaking, the statistics of crime committed in Turkey by Turks would bear favorable comparison with those of many so-called enlightened nations. —Turkey and England. The Hat as a Party Badge. It is noticed that more soft hats arc now seen in Washington than ever be fore. Why is it that Democrats have a predilection for soft and the Repub licans for stiff hats is one of the un solved psychological problems, but the facr remains. Os course there are thousands of exceptions, but not toe many to prove the rule. It is noticed too, the more deeply steeped in Democ racy a man becomes the longer he wears a hat. It is an idiosyncrasy which ossifies with age, just as an old maid gradually acquires a passion foi the color lavender.— Chicago Times Hood Have Thought It I “Take her up tenderly, “Lift her with care,” — “Ah, that is a beautiful thing, sir.” said the pensive stranger. "Wot is?” asked the man with a cast in his eye. “Hood’s ‘Bridge of Sighs,’ that I just heard you quoting,” replied the pensive stranger. “That ain’t no 'Bridge of Si-.-hs,’ ’" re plied the man with a cast in his eye. “That’s the commencement ot an odt to a roller rink!”— Pittsburg Chronicle.