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THE SUMY SOUTH.
Tabernacle Sermons.
A DISCOURSE BY
REV. T. DeWITT TALMAGE. ON
SUNDAY MORNING SEP. 12TH.
“Thejday is at hand.”—Romans, xiii., 12.
Good morning! Back from the mountain:
and the seaside, and the springs, and the
farm-house, your cheeks bronzed and your
spirits lighted, I hail you home again with
the words of Gehazi to the Sbunamite: “Is
it well with thee? Is it well -with thy hus
band? Is it well with thy child?” On some
faces I see the mark of recent grief, but all
along the track of tears I see the story of
resurrection and reunion when all tears are
done. The deep plowing of the keel follow
ed by the flash of the phosphorescence. Now
that I have asked you in regard to your wel
fare, you naturally ask how I am. Very
well, thank you. Whether it was the
bracing air of the Colorado mountains,
twelve thousand feet above the level of the
sea, or the tonic atmosphere of the Pacific
coast, or a bath in the surf of Long Island
beach, or whether it is the joy of standing
in this great group of warm-hearted friends,
or whether it is a new appreciation of the
goodness of God, I cannot tell. I simply
know I am grandly and gloriously and inex
pressibly happy. It was said that John
Moffatt, the great Methodist preacher, occa
sionally got fast in his sermon, and to ex
tricate himself would cry ‘‘Hallelujah!” I
am in no such predicament to-day, but I am
full of the same rhapsodic ejaculation.
Starting out this morning on a new ecclesi
astical year, I want to give you the keynote
of my next twelve-months’ ministry. I
want it set to the tune of Antioch, Ariel, and
Coronation. During the summer a new stop
has been put in this great organ, a new
trumpet-stop, and I want to put a new trum
pet-stop into my sermons. In all our Chris
tian work, vou and I want more of the ele
ments of gladness. That man had no rigt to
say that Christ never laughed. Do you sup
pose that He was grum at the wedding in
Cana of Galilee? Do you suppose Christ was
unresponsive when the children climbed over
His knee and shoulder at His own invitation?
Do you suppose that the evangelist meant
nothing when he said of Christ. “He rejoic
ed in spirit?” Do you believe that the divine
Christ who pours all the water over the rocks
at Vernal Falls, Yosemite, does not believe
in the sparkle, and gallop, and tumultuous
joy and rushing raptures of human life? I
believe not only that the morning laughs,
and that the mountains laugh, and that the
seas laugh, and that the cascades laugh, but
that Christ laughed. Moreover, take a laugh
and a tear into an alembic, and essay them,
and test them, and analyze them, and you
will often find as much of the pure gold of
religion in a laugh as in a tear. Deep spir
itual joy always shows itself in facial illumi
nation. John'Wesley said he was sure of a
good religious impression being produced be
cause of what he calls the great laughter he
saw among the people. Godless merriment
is blasphemy anywhere, but expression of
Christian joy is appropriate everywhere.
Moreover, the outlook of the world ought to
stir us to gladness. Astronomers recently
have disturbed many people by telling them
that there is danger of a stellar collision. We
have been told through the papers by these
astronomers that there are worlds coming
very near together, and that we shall have
plagues and wars and tumults, and, perhaps,
the world’s destruction. Do not be scared.
If you have ever stood at a railroad-centre
where ten or twenty or thirty rail-tracks
cross each other, and seen that by the move
ment of the switch one or two inches the
train shoots this way and that without any
colliding, then you can understand how fifty
worlds mav come within an inch of disaster,
and that inch be as good as a million miles.
If a human switch-tender can shoot the
trains this way and that without harm, can
not the hand that for thousands of years has
upheld the universe keep our little world out
ot harm’s way ? Christian geologists tell us
that this world was millions of years in build
ing. Well, now, I do not think God would
take millions of years to build a house which
was to last only six thousand years. There
is nothing in the world or outside the world,
terrestrial or astronomical, to excite dismay.
I wish that some stout gospel breeze -'light
scatter all the malaria of human foreboding.
The sun rose this morning at 5 o’clock and
thirty-seven minutes, and I think that is just
about the hour in the world’s history. “The
day is at hand.”
The first ray of the dawn I see in the grad
ual substitution of dipiomatic skill for human
butchery. Within the last twenty-five years
there have been international differences
which would have brought a shock of arms
in any other day, but which were peacefully
adjusted, the pen taking the place of the
sword. That Alabama question in any other
age of the world would have caused war be
tween the United States and England. How
was it settled ? By men-of-war off the Nar
rows or off the Mersev ? By the Gulf Stream
of the ocean crossed by a gulf stream of hu
man blood ? By the pathway of nations in
carnadined ? No. A few wise men go into
a quiet room at Geneva, talk the matter over,
and telegraph to Washington and to London,
“All settled !” Peace; peace. England pays
to the United States the amount awarded :
g ays really more than she ought to have paid,
ut the United States is not honest enough to
return it. But still all that Alabama broil
settled, settled forever. Arbitration instead
of battle. So, this" recent quarrel about the
Canadian fisheries in any other age would
have caused war between the United States
and England. England said : “Pay me for
the invasion of my Canadian fisheries.” The
United States said: “I will not pay any
thing.” Well, the twonations say : “I guess
we had better leave the whole matter to a
commission.” The commission is appointed,
and the commission reports, and pay we
ought, pay we must, pay we do. Not a
pound of powder burnt, not a cartridge bit
ten off, no one hurt so much as by the scratch
of a pin. Arbitration instead of battle. Three
or four years ago it seemed as if all the na
tions of Europe were about to fly at each
other’s ihroats. You remember how we here
in America stood breathless with suspense,
wondering what could come next. If one
drop of blood had been shed, rivers of car
nage would have poured forth. If one musk
et had been discharged, all Europe would
have quaked with cannonade. Disraeli, at
Berlin, makes a proposition, and all the dogs
of war slink to their kennels. France will
never again, I think, through peccadillo of
embassador, bring on a battle with other
nations. She sees that God in punishment
at Sedan blotted out the French Empire, and
the only aspirant for that throne who had
any right of succession dies in a war that
has.not even the dignity of being respecta
ble. What is that blush on the cheek of Eng
land to-day ? What is the leaf that England
would like to tear out of her history ? The
Zulu war. What was the rising up of the
England nation at the ballot-box last spring,
overthrowing an administration which they
thought was getting fond of military glory ?
It meant this, that the people of England
want no more w ar. Down with the sword
and up with the treaty. We in this country
might better have : ettled our sectional dif
ficulties by arbitration than by the thrust
national debt which has almost ground this
nation to powder. Why did we not let Will
iam H. Seward, of New York, and Alexander
H. Stephens, of Georgia, go out and spend a
few days under the trees on the banks of the
Potomac, and talk the matter over, and set
tle it as settle it they could, rather than the
North pay in cost of war four billion seven
hundred million dollars, and the South pay
four billion seven hundred and fifty million
dollars, and the destroying angel leave the
first-born dead in so many houses all the way
from the Penobscot to tne Alabama. Ye
aged men whose sons fell in t;he strife, do you
not think that would have been better? Oh,
yes! we have come to believe, I think, in this
country that arbitration is better than battle.
I may be mistaken, but I hope that the last
war between Christian nations is ended.
Barbarians may mix their war paint, and
Afghan and Zulu hurl poisoned arrows, but
1 think Christian nations have gradually
learned that war >s disaster to victor as well
as vanquished, and that almost anything
bought by blood is bought at too dear a price.
I wish to God that this nation might be a
model of willingness for arbitration. No
need of killing another Indian. No need of
sacrificing any more General Custers. Stop
exasperating the red man and there will be
no more arrows shot out from the reserva
tion. A general of the United States Army,
in high repute throughout this land, and who
perhaps has been in more Indian wars than
any other officer, and who has been wounded
again and again in behalf of our Government
in battle against the Indians, told roe within
thirty days, that all the wars that had ever
occurred in this country between Indians and
white men had been provoked by white men,
and that there was no exception to the rule.
While we are arbitrating with Christion
nations, let us towards barbarians carry our
selves in a manner unprovocative of contest.
I inherit a large estate, and the waters are
rich with fish, and the woods are songful
with birds, and my cornfields are silken and
golden. Here is my sister’s grave. Out yon
der, under that large tree, my father died.
An invader comes and proposes to drive me
off and take possession of my property. He
crowds me back and crowds me on and crowds
me into a closer corner and still closer corner
until after awhile I say: “Stand back; don’t
crowd me any more, or I’ll strike. What
right have you to come here and drive me off
of my premises? I got this farm from my
father, and he g >t it from his father. What
right have you to come here and molest me?”
You blandly say: “Oh! I know more than
you do. I belong to a higher civilization. I
cut my hair shorter than you do. I could
put the ground,to a great deal better use than
you do. And you keep crowding me back
and crowding me on into a closer corner and
closer corner, until one day I look around up
on my suffering family, and fired by then-
hardships I hew you in twain. Forthwith
all the world comes to your funeral to pro
nounce eulogium, comes to my execution to
anathematize me. You are the hero, I am
the culprit. Behold the United States Gov
ernment and the North American Indian.
The red man has stood more wrong than I
would, or you. We would have struck
sooner, deeper. That which is right in de
fense of a Brooklyn home, or a New York
home, as right in defense of a home on the
top of the Rocky Mountains. Before this
dwindling red race dies completely out, I
wish that this generation might by common
justice atone for the inhumanity of their pre
decessors. In the day of God’s judgnent 1
would rather be a blood-smeared Modoc than
swindling United States officer on an
Indian reservation. One man was a barba
rian and a savage, and never pretended to be
anything but a barbarian and a savage. The
other man pretended to be a representative
of a Christian nation. Notwithstanding all
this, the general disgust with war and the
substitution of diplomatic skill for the glit
tering edge of keen steel is a sign unmistak
able that “the day is at hand.”
I find another ray of the dawn in the com
pression of the world’s distances. What a
slow, snail-like, almost impossible thing
would have been the world’s rectification
with fourteen hundreed millions of popula
tion and no facile means of communication!
Eut now, through telegraphy for the eye,
and telephonic intimacy for the ear, and
through steambocting and railroading, the
twenty-five thousand miles of the world’s
circumference are shriveling up into insig
nificant brevity. Hong Kong is nearer to
New York than a few -years ago'New Haven
was. Bombay, Moscow, Madras, Melbourn
within speaking. Purchase a telegraphic
chart, and by the blue lines see the tele
graphs of the land and by the red lines the
cables under the ocean. You see what op
portunity this is going to give for the final
achievements of Christianity. A fortress
may be months or years in building, but
after it is constructed it may do all its work
in twenty minutes. Christianity has been
planting its batteries for nineteen centuries,
and may go on in the work for other centuries
but when those batteries are thoroughly
planted, those fortresses are fully built, they
may do their work in twenty-four hours. The
world sometimes derides the church for slow
ness of movement. Is science any quicker?
Did it not take science five thousand six hun
dred and fifty-two years to find out so simple
a thing as the circulation of the humau blood?
With the earth and tbesky full of electricity,
science took five thousand eight hundred
years before it even guessed that there
was any practical use that might be made of
this subtle and mighty element. When good
men take possession of all these scientific
forces, and all these agencies of invention, 1
do not know that the redemption of the
world will be more than the work of half a
day. Did we not last Wednesday read the
Queen’s speech at the proroguing of Parlia
ment, the day before, in London? If that
be so, is it anything marvelous to believe
that in twenty-four hours a divine communi
cation can reach the whole earth? Suppose
Christ should descend on the nations—for
many expect that Christ will come among
OFF-HAND TALES.
“ Our Boarding- House,,’
the nations personally—suppose that to-mor
row morning, the Son of God from a hover
ing cloud should descend upon these cities.
Would not that fact be known all the world
over in twenty-four hours? Suppose He
should preach His gospel in a few words,
saying: “I am the Son of God: I came to
pardon all your sins and to heal all your sor
rows; to prove that I am a supernatural be
ing I have just descended from the clouds;
do you believe me, and do you believe me
now?” Why, all the telegraph stations of
the earth would be crowded as none of them
were ever crowded just after a shipwreck.
I tell you these things to show you it is not
among the impossibilities, or even the im
probabilities. that Chr.st will conquer the
whole earth, and do it ii.stanier when the
time comes. There are foretokenings in the
air. Something great is going soon to hap
pen. I do not think that Jupiter is going to
run us down, or that the axle of the world is
going to break; but I mean something for
the world’s blessing, and not for the world’s
damage, is going to happen. I think the
world has had it hard enough. Enough, the
London plagues. Enough, the Asiatic chol
eras. Enough, the wars. Enough, the ship
wrecks. Enough, the conflagrations. I think
our world could stand right well a proces
sion of prosperities and triumphs. Better be
on the lookout. Better have your observa
tories open towards the heavens, aiurthe
lenses of your most powerful telescopes well
polished. Better have all your Leyden jars
ready for some new pulsation of mighty in-
flue: ce. Better have new fonts of type in
your printing offices to set up some astound
ing good news. Better have some banner
that has never been carried, ready for sud
den procession. Better have the bells in
your church-towers well hung, and rope
within reach, thatyou may ring out the
do not let us do another stroke of work until
we have settled one matter. What is going
to be the final issue of the great contest be
tween sin and righteousness ? Which is go
ing to prove himself the stronger, God or
Diabolus ? Is this world going to be all gar
den or all desert ? Now, let us have that
matter settled. If we believe Isaiah, and
Ezekiel, and Hosea, and Micah, and Malachi.
and John, and Peter, and Paul, and Christ,
we believe the former—that it is going to be
all garden. But let us have it settled. Let
us know whether we are working on toward
a success or toward a dead failure. Let us
know whether this is a Bull Run or a Gettys
burg. If there is a child in your house sick
and you are sure he is going to get well, you
sympathize with present pain, but all the
foreboding is gone. If you are in a cyclone
off the Florida coast, and the captain assures
you the vessel is staunch and the winds are
changing for a better quarter, and he is sure
he will bring you safe into the harbor, you
patiently submit to present distress with the
thought of safe arrival. Now, I want to
know whether we are coming on toward
dismay, darkness, and defeat, or on toward
light and blessedness. You and I believe the
latter, and if so, every year we spend is one
year subtracted from the world’s woe, and
every event that passes, whether bright or
dark, brings one event nearer a happy con-
summat on, and by all that is inexorable in
chronology and mathematics, I commend you
to good cheer and courage. If there is any
thing in arithmetic, if you subtract two from
five and leave three, then by every rolling
sun we are coming on toward a magnifi eat
terminus. Then every w in er passed is one
severity less for our poor world. Then every
summer gone by brings us nearer unfading
arborescence. Put your algebra down on the
top of your Bible and rejoice. If it is nearer
moruing at 3 o’clock than it is at 2, if it is
nearer morning at 4 o’clock than it is at 3,
then we are nearer the dawn of the prosperi
ty. God’s clock seems to go very slowly,
but the pendulum swings and the hands move,
and it will yet strike noon. The sun and the
moon stood still once; they will never stand
still again until they stop forever. If you
believe arithmetic as well as your Bible
you must believe we are nearer the dawn.
“The day is at hand.” There is a class of
phenomena which makes me think that the
spiritual and the heavenly world may, after
a while, make a demonstration in this world
which will bring all moral and spiritual
things to a climax. Now, I am no spiritua
list: but every intelligent man has noticed
that there are strange and mysterious things
which indicate to him that perhaps the spiri
tual world is not so far off as sometimes we
conjecture, and that after a while from
the spiritual and heavenly world there
may be a demonstration upon our world
for its betterment. We call it magne
tism, or we call it mesmerism, or we call
it electricity, because we want some term to
co /er up our ignorance. I do not know
what it is. I never heard an audible voice
from the other world. I do not say that
there may not be persons who have heard
voices from the other world, I am persuaded
of this, however—that the veil between this
world and the next is getting thinner and
thinner, and that perhaps, after a while, at
the call of God—not at the call of the Daven
port Brothers or Andrew Jackson Davis—
some of the old scriptural warriors, some of
the spirits of other days mighty for God—a
Joshua, or a Caleb, or a David, or a Paul—
may come down and help us in this battle
X inst unrighteousness. Oh! how I would
to have them here to show us how—him
of the Red Sea! him of the Valley of Agelon!
him of Mars Hill!
History says that Robert Clayton, of the
English cavalry, at the close of the war,
bought up all the old cavalry horses lest
they be turned out to drudgery and hard
work, and bought a piece of ground at
Naversmire Heath, and turned these old war-
horses into the thickest and the richest
pasture to spend the rest of their days for
what they had done in other days. One day
a thunder storm came up, and these war-
horses mistook the thunder of the skies for
the thunder of battle, and they wheeled
into line—no riders on their backs—they
wheeled into line ready for the fray. And I
doubt me whether when the last thunder of
this battle of God and truth goes booming
through the heavens, the old scriptural war
riors can keep their places on their thrones.
Methinks they will spring into the fight, and
exchange crown for helmet, and palm branch
for weapon, and come down out of the kina’s
galleries into the arena, crying: “Make
room! I must fight in this great Armaged
don.”
My beloved people, I preach this sermon
because I want you to toil with the sunlight
in your faces. I want you old men to under
stand before you die that all the work you
did f> r God while yet your ear was alert and
your foot was fleet is going to be counted up
in the final victories. I want all these young
er people to understand that when they toil
for God they always win the day, that all
CALMLY CONSIDERED
FROM A COUNTRY FIRESIDE
BY BILL ARP.
— — — will put up with any sort of excuse or apolo-
prayer is answered, and all Christian work gy. The convention complained the other
in some way is effectual, and that the tide is
setting in the right direction, and that all
heaven is on our side,—saintly, cherubic,
seraphic, archangelic, omnipotent, chariot
and ihrone, doxology and procession, prin
cipalities and dominion; He who hath the
moon under his feet, and all the armies of
heaven on white horses. Brother! brother!
all I am afraid of is, not that Christ will
lose the battle, but that you and I will not
get into it quick enough to do something
worthy of our blood-bought immortality.
Oh, Christ! how shall I meet Thee, Thou of
the scarred brow, and the scarred back, and
the scarred hand, and tne scarred foot, and
the scarred breast, if I have no scars of
wounds gotten in Thy service? It shall not
be so. I step out to-day in front of the bat
tle. Come on, you foes of God. I dare you
, I had an idea of circulating a little among
the people—making a little tour for the sake
of my health; the doctor said I was over
worked and needed a little change. I knew
I needed change, for change is a good thing:
but I’ve been wondering if it was safe for a
man to leave home in these times of excite
ment, when everybody seems to be mad with
everybody. I wanted to talk to my friends
about Dixie as she used to be in the good old
times and Dixei as she is now; but she is cut
ting up so, and quarreling and fussing all
over the State, that I am afraid it’s a bad
time to show her up. I haven’t seen her be
have so badly in twenty-five years. It’s all
peaceful and quiet and lovely out here in the
woods and fields. The locusts and katydids
sing happily their evening song. The first
fires of approaching winter cheer up the fam
ily hearth, and if it was not for an occasional
visit to town or the perusal of the daily pa
pers all nature would seem at peace and our
people dwelling together in harmony. The
farmers in this region don’t seem to know
much about the general disturbance and stick
to the cotton fields pretty close. I don’t thmk
there was a dozen at the speaking last Tues
day. It’s the people of the towns and cities
who haveut got nothing much to do who are
kicking up most of the political dust. Cobe
had to go to the blacksmith shop and I went
over to the court house to hear Dr. Miller
speak. I saw he was troubled in his mind
that evening and asked him what was the
matter. “I’m a little bothered,” said he,
“about all them things the doctor told on our
governor and I didn’t exactly understand
whether they was gwine to send him to the
asylum or the penitentiary. 1 reckon though
it’s the asylum, for the penitentiary is turned
into the chain-gang and General Wofford is
opposed to ihat. I don’t think the general
will let ’em put the governor in the chain-
gang.” I heard a man talking luminously to
Squire Pritchett about General Colquitt’s
war record and he said he didn’t believe there
was any fight at Olustee or anybody killed.
“There was a battle there,” said the squire,
“and my brother was killed.” Considerable
silence seemed to prevail about that time,
and the individual retired. I asked an old
darkey who was a sort of lead horse among
’em what they were going to do about voting,
and says he: “Gwine to do nothing; gwine
to stay at home. White folks all quarreling,
and niggers, too—never hearn such a fuss in
my life. Been down to de convention, and
and dar was Pledger and Belcher and Bry
ant, and Long Jeff and Henry McJackson,
all a fussing and a fighting. Some was for
Colquitt and some for Garwood, and they
never settled down on nothing; and I is done
quit politics, 1 is. Been tryin to make sum-
thin out of it for ten vears, and General
Grant is de same as dead and nuthin in sight
as yit. White folks git all de offices and set
on de juries at two dollars a day and drive
fine hosses, but de niggers is jes de same dey
always was—dey work de roads and cook
and wash and clean out de stables and picks
cotton in de day time and shucks de white
folks corn at night, and when dey wants to
go anywhar dey rides a bareback mule.
Dat’s all so, bless de Lord, and it’s gwine to
be so—I dun gin it up 1”
But he hasent gin it up, and he is not going
to, for there will be somebody to fool him
for a long time to come, I recon. The radi
cals have been using him for fifteen years,
and promised everything and paid nothing,
and now the domocrats of Georgia are doing
the very same thing. Joel Dranam says
that some development is going to come from
all this business—that the nigger will get
something for his voice as soon as the demo
crats split up and begin to bid for it, and the
first thing we know the legislature will be
full of ’em, and the jury boxes too. Ben
Butler says the radicals have betrayed the
colored man, and he has joined the democrats
because he knows that party will do him
justice. Old father Cox had a dream the
other night. He dreamt that he died and
was sent down to the bad place and he saw
some democrats there and lots of republicans,
and about as many niggers, and the demo
crats looked pretty hot and was fanning
around, but every cussed radical had his
grip on a nigger and was holding him be
twixt himself and the fire. That’s a fact,
dream or no dream. That’s about all the use
they have got for ’em, and its the strangest
thing in the world to me that the niggers
don’t see it. They are the easiest people to
satisfy upon the face of the earth. They
—BT—
SLIM JIM,
Review ofliew Books.
I have added several new books to ray li
brary within the past month.
One of them is the “American Fruit-
Grower.”
This is a splendid and very accurate work,
with a single exception.
^ It tells where all the finest fruit is raised,
but omits to state whether its owner keeps a
dog or not.
In the chapter devoted to tropical fruits, it
makes the startling announcement that
Louisiana raised thirty-two million oranges
last year.
And now, when a man slips up on an orange
peel and sprains his ear, he will run home,
grab a pair of scissors, and cut Louisiana out
of every geogrnphy in the house.
This work shows that cherries are cherished
everywhere, that pears are paramount to all
other fruit in California, and that the apple
crop is ’appily large.
“Brown’s Ornithology” is another interest
ing book, being the natural history of birda
Among other things it tells how to distin
guish the sex of the mocking-bird.
It is a singular fact that not one person in
a hundred can tell a male mocking-bird from
a female.
Yet the process is simple enough.
If you own a mocking-bird, just take a
common angle-worm and put it through the
wires of the cage. If he eats it, its a he, and
if she eats it, its a she. f
There is nothing simpler.
Another new book in my recollection is
called the “History of the Race Course.”
Of course this is a very racy production,
with capital illustrations—illustrating how
capital may be lost by betting on the wrong
horse.
There are so many heats in a horse-race
that the author thinks it must be managed
by Satan.
And after a man attends one, and has his
watch and pocket book stolen, and his best
hat knocked off and trampled under the feet
of the crowd, he inclines to a similar opinion.
This work shows conclusively that it is
safest, in the long run—or in the short run,
either—to bet on the winning horse.
Our American Forests” is the title of a
large and handsome volume, written by a
traveler.
It tells of all the different kinds of wood to
be found in this country—such as beech
woo 1 *, hickory wood, maple wood, I would,
you would, and a great many others who
would if they could.
Beams of the eye are made out of I would.
Wood is a thing of life, and is divided into
male and female distinctions—such as he
would and she would.
Dogwood bears a close resemblence to one
or two other species, and in looking for it
you are apt to find yourself barking up the
wrong tree.
But then, as a general thing dogwood may
be told by its bark.
This rule is not infallible however, for
when one dogwood perhaps another dog
wouldn’t.
“The Proper Time to Travel” is the title of
a new book, written by a young man.
I have no doubt the author gained his
knowledge from bitter experience.
The proper time to travel, in my opinion,
ss when you hear the old man’s foot on the
third stair, coming down.
Some youths postpone it till he is clear in
the parlor, and then they are apt to walk
Spanish when they do start.
It is not always a bootless proceeding to
dodge the boot.
“Turkey’s last struggle” is a concise his
tory of tne late unpleasantness.
It is bound in Russia, and its pages are
pretty well smeared with Greece, but it is
emphatically a book of the times, for now
that Thanksgiving is drawing nigh, the tur
key’s last struggle is at hand.
A small book called “The Family Phys
ician,” is full of useful information.
Among other things it makes the consoling
announcement that sauer-kraut is healthy.
And this is true Who ever heard sour-
crout complain of being sick, or of having
the rheumatism?
It is always healthy, even h> old age.
In fact, the older it gets the stronger it
grows.
And yet, it must be admitted that if a bar
rel of sour-crout is placed in the middle of a
Dutch assembly it would be afflicted with
hasty consumption in less than no time.
An elegant volume of poems by Fanny
Floss is called “Olive Boughs.”
Well, what are you going to do about it?
I suppose Olive has a right to bow if she feels
like it, and there is certainly no use in kick
ing up a disturbance about so trifling a
matter.
The first poem in this book is entitled,
“There is no Night in that Bright Land.”
Then all I have to say is, its a mighty thin
place for torchlight processions.
Another poem bears the astonishing and
rather fanciful caption, “The Wind Blows—
it snows.” *
Now really, Fanny, I never heard of the
wind blowing its nose before. I wouldn’t
contradict you for the world, but I think you
are mistaken in the person.
But the most ambitious production in the
whole work is a poem in twenty-eight stanzas
entitled, “We Cannot Live Always.”
Well, who the dickens said we could?
Don’t come howling around me about a state
ment I never made. Go to the man who
said we could live always—and don’t waste
your time writing poetry to him, either.
Tell him in plain prose that he’s a squint-eyed
liar, and then, if he dares to open his head
again, just smack him in the ear with the
flat side of a skillet. He knew better when
he said it.
the dark Talmona lighted them up stairs to
the loft room. As the door was opened and
the light of the torch fell into the chamber,
the old Hasub was found kneeling in the
middle ot the floor. The women did net
dare to disturb him, and remained hesitating
on the threshold. Naema’s heart told her for
whom he was praying, and she was overcome
by deep emotion. Finally Hasub broke the
silence, and arose. His daughter then fell at
her father’s feet and embraced his knees, a
customary mark of veneration in Eastern
countries.
“Arise, my daughter !” he said with an
effort to appear calm, which however con
cealed a strong emotion. “You are well again.
The Master’s words have restored you to
life.”
“Yes, the very minute you bent your knee
to Him,” said the mother, “the sickness left
her. His words are powerful. How shall
we be able to thank Him ?”
“He needs nothing”—Husub answered—
“He can give but not take. He owns noth
ing, and yet he gives everything. Besides,
He will leave Simon’s house to-morrow and
go to Jerusalem.”
Then Naema arose.
“My father,” she said, “my heart is full,
for my eyes have seen the eternal darkness.
I thought I should never more behold your
face, and that I had received the last pres
sure of my mother’s hand. But you nave
again given me life through the Master’s
words. Let me go and thank him. I will
give him a glass of myrrh and balsam.
“Go my daughter, and do as yarn* heart
bids you,” said the old mm, “but you must
await the morning, Nmina. In the mean
while let Talmona bring your harp, and re
joice my soul with song.’’
Talmona went out with the torches. The
old Hasub seated himself on a costly carpet.
His wife took her place at his side. Naema
leaned against the railing and looked out
over Gennesaret.
Daybreak, the fore-runner of morning,
was rising above the vast Syrian plain,
which near Gennesaret is limited by the
mountains of Gaulonitis. The streak of light
on the mountain tops was getting more and
more red and glowing Not a wave was
stirring on the mirror-like lake, and each
ray was redoubled in its transparent depth.
The oppressive stillness of night ceased, and
faded Nature was again awakening to fresh
ness and life. Just as the flaming glow of
morning spread itself over the horizon, Gen-
nesaret blushed, as if ashamed of being desert
ed by the stars of heaven which she had car
ried on her bosom during the night. Now
motion also invaded the air. A light breeze
from Syria, pregnant with a romatic fresh
ness, swept gently over the heights. A tremb
ling, as if from some mysterious emotion,
quivered through the lake. Its purpled sur
face shivered and broke into a light ripple.
Now a flaming ball of fire, with its narrow
but rapidly increasing border, rolled up above
the eastern edge of the horizon, and soon the
glowing sun of the East flamed in all its
splendor over the gorgeous landscape. The
palms rustled in the morning air, the vines
quivered on the hills, and the vapours, satu
rated with the perfume of flowers, took their
flight toward the distant spans of the Medier-
ranean.
Talmona entered with the harp and gave
it to her young mistress. Na?ma rested it
against her bosom, and sang :
I will praise Thy goodness, O God of our
Fathers,
My harp shall sound Thy holy name !
Thou lookest from Thy heaven on Thine
earth,
As the rays of thy sun descend into the clear
depth of Gennesaret
Thy mighty hand rests over Thy people,
Thy people bow down under Thy mighty
hand.
Death and sorrow travel side by side through
Israel,
But Thou seest them, and puttest an end tso
their course.
When darkness surrounds our soul,
And the grave yawns for our heart,
Then a wind blows from Thy holy corny.
tenance,
And light is vouchsafed unto our spirit.
O, Lord look upon Thy people,
Disperse its darkness and support its life 1
Fulfill the words of Thy prophets,
Let our eyes rejoice at Thy messenger’s coun
tenance.
Behold, our hearts are yearning toward him
As the flowers of the desert toward the dew
of the morning.
Esdraelon adorns her plain with lilies,
The cedars of the mountain raise their tops
toward the sky.
Jerusalem steps out upon her walls,
And all Israel uplifts its eyes.
They are all waiting for Thee,
They are all consumed by the fire of their
longing.
But Thou doest not forget us, that we know,
Our eyes shall behold Thy magnificence.
Try us, therefore, if it pleases Thee,
But do not chase us from Thy altar. .
Be with us as Thou hast been with our fathers,
And crown yet Thy people with Thy love 1
TO BE CONTINUED,
NAEMA.
day that white folks wasent giving them any
offices, but when Hargrove got up and stated
that a d&rkey at Rome liked to have got a
little place in the post-office, it satisfied ’em.
Henry Mack Jackson actually apologized to
Mr. Hargrove for entertaining any suspi
cions.
But there is one thing that will settle all
this and that is the election of General Han
cock. After that niggers will be niggers and
white folks will be white folks, and there
won’t be but two sorts of people dewn here
in Dixie. The native radicals will come over
to the democrats and the furriners will take
up their tents like the Arabs and silently
steal away.
marriage of the King’s Son. Cleanse all i
your court-houses, for the Judge of all the I to the combat Come on, with pens dipped ! white illusion at the end of the season. The
earth may appear. Let all your legislative j in caricature. Come on,with tongues forked j ladies throw it away long before it is soiled,
halls be gilded, for the great Law-giver may j and adderine. Come on with types soaked in : according to the servants’ ideas, and when
be about to come. Drive off the thrones of , the scum of the eternal pit. I defy you! the latter appear in the intelligence offices to
[CONTINUED FROM FIRST PAGE ]
Hasub shook his head and crossed the
yard.
But at the entrance of the women’s apart
ments he met Talmona. She carried the
gorgeous garments over her arm. Hasub
looked at her in astonishment, as she turned
her dark face toward him above her rich
burden. Her eyes were radiant, and her
ivory teeth glittered between her red,
smiling lips.
“Oh God of my fathers,” exclaimed the
old man, who now needed no further infor
mation. “The Master has spoken the truth;
she is safe!”
His eyes filled with tears, and as he felt a
warm drop trickling over his cheek down in
to his grey beard, he turned away and said:
“Go to rest, slaves. I will go up to the
loft room and pray.”
Talmona entered to her mistress and
Naema. They had already taken their bath
and were putting on the •‘Ketonet,” a white
garment of Etyptian linen, which constitu
ted the domtsiic apparel of the Israelit sh wo
men. Over that they donned the “Simlah,”
a dress of costly silk with flower-embroider
ed edges around the neck and sleeves, a wide
border dyed with Tyrian purple at the bot
tom, and a train interwoven with gold thread.
The r hair was anointed with an aromatic
balsam of nard. The head was adorned, with
the chaste veil, an emblem of modes: y. The
AN ERA IN SUNDAY SCHOOL MUSIC,
“Spiritual Songs for the Sun
day-School.”
By Rev. CHAS. S. ROBINSOJT, D. D.,
Author of “Songs for the Sanctuary,” etc
Completing with Spiritual Songs for
Church'and Choir," and “Spiritual Songs
for Social Worship,” the “Spiritual Songs
Series” of standard hymn books.
Send 25 cents to Scribner & Co., 743 Broad
way, New-York, for a specimen copy of this
new Sunday-school hymn and tune book,
containing 200 quarto pages beautifully bound
in red cloth with cover linings. Issued in
July last; second edition (90,000) now ready.
It has been said of it that “It marks the high
tide of reaction from the Mother Goose era of
Sunday-school bymnology.”
The Illustrated Christian Weekly
Says: “ It is constructed, in our judgment,
on the right principle. We trust the book
will have a wide circulation. The school
that adopts it will not need to change in
many a year" The Central Methodist calls it
“An Admirable Publication.”
269-4t
The Saratoga chambermaids will find ^ j
themselves the proud possessors of cloucis of j forehead was ornamented with a band of
"" ' gold and precious stones. Costly necklaces
glittered around their necks, and at the low
est link hung a smelling bottle. Rings and
of the sword. Philanthropy said to the j despotism all the occupants, for the King of , Come on! I bare my brow, I uncover my
North : “Pay- down a certain amount of 1 heaven and earth may be about to reign. 1 heait. Strike! I cannot see my Lord until
money for the purchase of the slaves, and j The darkness of the night is blooming and j I have been hurt for Christ. If we do not
let all those born after a certain time be born j whitening into the lilies of the morning cloud, .suffer with Him on earth, we cannot be
free.” Philanthropy at the same time and the lilies reddening into the rose of j glorified with him in heaven. Take good
said to the South; “You sell tbe slaves j stronger day—fit garlands, whether white or j heart. On! On! On! See ! the skies have
and get rid of this great national contest and 1 red, for Him on whose head are many crowns.
trouble.” The North replied: “I won’t pay I “The day is at hand!”
a cent.” The South replied: “I won’t sell.” I One* more ray of the dawn I see in facts
War. War. A million dead men and a j chronological and mathematical. Come, now,
brightened. See! the hour is about to come.
Pick out all the cheeriest of the anthems. Let
the orchestra string their best instruments.
“The night is far spent. The day is at hand.”
hunt up places they will soften their complex
ions with the biggest of illusion ties.
NERVOUS EXHAUSTION.
“Compound Oxygen is especially valuable
where, from any cause, there exists great
physical or nervous exhaustion. Our Treat
ise will tell you all about it. It is mailed free.
Address Drs. Starkey & Pai.en 1112 Girard
Street, Philadelphia, Pa.
chains sparkled on their arms, hands and
feet. Around their waist was tied the belt,
the costliest of all the ornaments, wrought
with an art peculiar to the daughters of th6
land. From the belt hung a bag of metal,
in which the handkerchief was kept. This
kind of handkerchief, with which the young
belles understood to toy just as gracefully as
the beauties of later times with their fan,
was also used by men.
When the women had finished dressing,
ATLANTA MEDICAL COLLEGE,
T HE TWENTY-THIRD ANNUAL COURSB
of Lectures will commence October 15th.
1880, and close March 2d, 1681.
KACULTY-H. V. M. Miller, W. F. West
moreland, A. W. Calhoun, J. G. Westmore
land, V. H. Taliaferro, W. A. Dove, J. H.
Logan, W. S. Armstrong.
At the last Annual Commencement the
graduating class was the largest in the his
tory of tne school. The alumni now number
six hundred and ninety-three. It is in con
federation with thirty-three other leading
medic. 1 colleges of America to secure a high
er standard of medical education. Its diplo
mas are --ecognized by all other colleges in
this country. Send for annual announcement,
giving particulars, to
J. S. TODD, M. D., Proctor,
268-lm 30 Marietta St., Atlanta, Ga.
Southern Conservatory
OF ME SIC,
(Formerly Atlanta Musical Institute.)
BRANCHES TAUGHT — Piano Organ
Singing, Violin, Orchestral Instruments Har
mony and ensemble playing. Facilities ample
Instruc ion thorough, all the Professors bel
ing artists of long experience and admitted
ability. Terms are as follows: For a te-m of
10 weeks, 20 lessons. 815; per month of 4 weeks
8 lessons, $6. For beginners—per term of 10
weeks. 20 lessons, 810; per month of 4 weeks
8 lessons, 34. Harmonic, in classes of sig ner
term of 10 week* 13 Pupi s received at all
limes. For further in for mail cm address
,, E - A. SCHULTZE,
Musical Director