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e THE HAPPt MAN.
•y day no biting owes assail
My peaceful, calm, contented brmstt
By night my dumber* never fail
Of welcome rest.
Soon as the Sun, with orient beams,
Gild* the fair chamber* of the Day,
Musing, I trace the murmuring streams
That wind their way.
Around me Nature fills Die scene
With boundless plenty and delight.
And touched with joy sincere, serene
1 bless the sight,
I bless the kind creating Power
Exerted thus for frail mankind.
At whose command descends the shower,
And blows the wind.
Happy the man who thus at ease,
Content with that which nature gives,
Him guilty terrors never seise.
He truly lives.
DOROTHY.
ST t. E. CBITTSKDEX.
It is an ideal hStel or semi-hotel down
By the sea, known and appreciated by a
certain set, who come summer after
summer to enjoy its lovely location and
famous table.
Broad porches extend around the
house, an d these shelters from the sun's
fierce rays, are generally well filled of a
morning. On this special morning when
our story opens, the western porch is
occupied . with a bright bevy of pretty
girls, who arc all apparently talking and
laughing at once, ns only girls and mag
pies can. One exception to this merry
hubbub, is found in a girl withdrawn a
little from the rest, whose head is bent
over her book with an almost eager in¬
terest in her bright face. At last the
girls hail her, longing for fresh ears
into which to pour their gossip.
“0 rare, sweet Dorothy, prithee give
us heed,” gaily cries her cousin Amy.
“Lend us those small, shell-like eurs,”
chimes in another tormentor.
“For we would a tale unfold,” sums
up a third.
But Dorothy is deaf to blandishments
or entreaties, and never lifts her head
until a ball of crewel deftly tossed into
her face causes her to exclaim im¬
patiently: “Well, what is it now?” tell,
and have done, and then let me alone.”
“Now, Dodo,you know, in your mind
you added, ‘idle rattle-pates,’ to that
sentence,” says Amy reproachfully.
“If you know so well what I am think¬
ing, perhaps it will occur to you to leave
mo alone,” returns Dorothy bending over
her book again.
cries <*P, you strong-minded young person,”
Gertrude VaUo “to pretend not to
be interested in our hews. It’s thrill
sing! It's sublime! and you prefer Emer¬
son's essays, dry old Emerson—why I
always take him as a sleeping draught.”
”*^“1 Dorothydrlly. don't doubt it at all,” answers
“Now Dodo, you must take your
medicine. Bo sit up, assume a pleasaut
expression and wink as often as you
please, as the man said who took my
tintype on the beach the other day. By
the way girls, I have utterly forgotten to
tell you about that romantic adventure of
mine. Tho other afternoon a tallow
candle-looking creature with a camera,
mot me down on the beach and implored
me to have my picture taken with the
whole Atlantic for a background. Of
’oourec I did; could I resist the appeal of
such an Adonis? Nay, I should have
been taken as Aphrodite (in a tailor suit,)
with my classic bead rising above the
waves’ crests, had he so elected. For¬
tunately he did not. I do wish you had
been there girls, but you were all sensi¬
bly taking siestas at that hour, and I
to have but I had a new
novel and tho hero and heroino wore in¬
extricably involved in a hairbreadth
situation, and I really couldn't with a
good conscience leave them there. So I
was taken with my novel tucked under
my arm; end the result was a most sur¬
prising combination of a female sullrogist
and a book agent, that you ever beheld,
for 1 was morally certain that if I lot go
the corners of my mouth to assume the
pleasant expression I should outroar the
Atlantic. Hero it is. Behold it in all
its pristine loveliness.”
So saying, Amy produces a tintype
from her handkerchief bag and passes it
around. Whereupon the girl’s giggling
chorus rapidly crescendoes iuto wild
shrieks of laughter, as they gaze upon
the dark, stern face and ramrod-like pos¬
ture of winsome, dimpled Amy, always
running over with fun and laughter.
Meantime Dorothy has again sought
refuge in Emewon’s “Compensations. ”
“Dodo, Dodo,” they call shrilly and
in every key, but with no result until
their victim suddenly arises, bangs her
book together with emphasis, and is
walking away with a majestic air when
they' all with one iutent fall upon and
surround her with such a mass of billowy
mulls and such chaos of babble, that she
yield perforce, and they escort her back
to the piazza and put her in a huge arm
chair and surround her, a most unwilling
“Now will you hear our gossip or
not!” queries Gertrude with uplifted fin
ger.
“If your shrieks and yells have not
absolutely deprived me of the sense of
hearing and you can^ocus your accumu¬
lated mass of weighty intellect upon this
Important subject in hand, I think very
likely I shall hear it," returns Dorothy,
with dignity. bar
“The prisoner at the is fined ten
kisses for contempt of court,” says Ger
trade, and proceeds to collect the fine in
person. her
“Now, we have teased long
enough, girls,” do says Amy, think “so Dodo pre¬
pare! Who you came last
night!” and alibis suit.”
“The President
“Guess again.” man.”
“The clam-bake
•“Horrors, no! Now, once more.”
“I oan’t think of any one else, unless
jit's Gertrude’s Dick.”
“No such good we’d luck,” pouts riding that
young lady, “or be tne
waters blue.”
••And burning your nose a roajr hue,"
ehiroee in Amy readily.
“Well, PH tell you before you go wild
with curiosity. I hope you haven’t for¬
gotten your old friend, Wayne Palmer¬
ston, who lost his wife three or four years
ago. Well, maamsellc, they are here!
Not his wife, you understand, jinless her
harnt has come, but he and his little boy.
He is no end rich, handsome, and fascin¬
ating, we know. Could tnything have
been more desirable? No, not the death
of his wife, Gertrude, I blush for you—
but his coming here."
“This is positively his first appearance
since his grief,” says Gertrude. “Ah,
Dick look out, if you stay away much
longer, there is no telling what may hap¬
pen, for, of course,he is after a wife. If
that is not a bonanza for this man-less
resort, where the bug professor is belle of
the ball, I give it up.”
Dorothy’s face, usually most expies
sivc, is positively rigid now, so anxious is
she to keep any betrayal of her feelings
from this giddy crowd of butterflies.
When they finish talking, she sits
straight up in her cha ir and says:
“Do you, iniquitous young females,
really mean to say that you have had the
audacity to take me away from Emerson,
to fill my eyes with such vapid nonsense
ns this? I admire your temerity and I
have the honor to wish you a very good
morning."
So saying she takes her departure
beachward, unhindered this time, her
slender figure in its dark blue habit
dress sharply sillhouctted against sea and
sky. The girls watch her tili a curve in
the beach suddenly shuts her from their
sight. They are quiet for a minute or two,
then Gertrude says :
“IIow did you dare. Amy?” 4
“O, I dare do anything,” returns that
nonchalant damsel, with, at the same
time, an uneasy feeling in her heart, as
she rcculls some memories o! Wayne Pal¬
merston’s friendship for Dorothy.
As they separate to prepare for bath
ing, a gentleman in the balcony overhead
throws away his cigar and walks beach
ward also, but out of sight of the girls.
The next morning Dorothy, with “Sar¬
tor Resartus” held loosely i^ _her .hand,
is looking out over'sea"and sky from a
pile of rock far above tho beach, when
the book, struck by a pebble, fulls down
on tho beach below.
Good temper may not be Dorothy’s
strong discover point, for sho turns wrathfully to
tho cause of her mishap, and
meets the roguish laughing eyes of a
small boy in kilts, who contemplates her
‘ v rathy face with calm satisfaction.
“Did you over seo a better shot?” ho
proudly queries.
' “I can think of a better,” slic answers.
“Wlmt is it?” he asks with interest.
“To shoot you down after it,” she re¬
plies, laughing.
“Ho, you couldn’t, you’re a girl, and
girls can’t throw for cold victuals, Don¬
ald said, and ho knows; Donald toadied
me.”
“Well, suppose you go and fetch it
back, then, since you belong to the su¬
perior sex,” she says, amused.
“I will, pretty quick. I’m tired now;
I’d rathor talk to you. Girls can talk;
Donald says thoy’ve got tho gift of gab,
if nothing else.”
“Pray, who is Donald?"
“Gracious! don’t you know Donald?
Well, he’s one of the bulliest bricks you
over knew. He takes caro of a place of
papa’s, down in tho country, and ho’s
touched me more things than I s’posc
you’ll ever know, ’cause he won’t let
girls come there if he can help it, he
’apises ’em ’eause they gabble so.”
“Good for Donald; they do,” with a
recollection of the preceding morning’s
trial.
Just then a gentleman comes in sight
with Dorothy’s book in his hand, nnd ho
comes toward tho mute little figure look¬
ing blindly, anywhere but toward him,
saying, “Good morning, Dorothy, here
is your book which my son so rudely sent
from your hand.”
Mutely, still, Dorothy stretches out her
hand for tho volume and finds it clasped,
and presently is aware that there is some
oue sitting besides her on the rocks.
“Dorothy, are you never going to
speak?” ho says, quietly, near her ear.
The boy luis run off to play again.
“Havoyou lorgotteu mo so utterly,
Dorothy!”
‘ ‘No, not forgotten, ” she answers in a
queer voice, as though some one had a
hand on her throat .
“Nor forgiven,” he adds.
But she answers not, and rising
wculd pass him, but ho gently detains
her.
“No, dear, not yet; I have hungered
for this moment too long to have it
shortened so. Stay, Dorothy, and hear
me, and yet what can I say that will not
be disloyal to the dead? Oh, be pitiful
dear, do not look so hard! I have loved
you tenderly for so long, Dorothy, Lucy,
your friend^ and confidant, and my wife,
is dead, and I can never tell you what it
was that came between us. Her short
life was happy I think, and I loved her,
but Dorothy I love you and I want you
for my wife, won’t you come!”
Dorothy dares not look up into the face
so eloquent with longing, so she droops
her head and answers, “No, no, that
time has gone forever—O Wayne, why
did you come to disturb roy quiet com¬
panionship with my books. I can never
be vour wife.
He points to “Sartor Resartus.” “Do
you pessimistic gain peace Carlyle! and Is happiness it he from who
teaches you to live an ideal visionary life,
when real duties and a husband's devo
tion awaits you? Do you not remember
' his own lovo madness described here,
when he went up and down upon the
earth a desolate wanderer seekiug illu¬
sive peacot"
Here a piping voice breaks in. “I’m
about as huugry as they make ’em, and I
wish we'd go to luncheon together;
'sides I want to talk to the girl some
more. I like her, aud 1 am going to tell
Donald abo«t her.
But Dorothy is gone.
That evening Wayne Palmerston looks
into the parlors where a hop is in pro¬
gress. espies in
11a Dorothy cream white,
with » groat bunch of Jacqueminot roses
'z c
covcries with her face alight with inter-,
est. At this instant a curious feeling
takes possession of the man looking
through the window; he is conscious of
a desire to adorAthe bug professor’s neck
with one of bis pet snakes and leave it to
do its duty.
Meantime, cousin Amy, a bewitching
spectacle in masses of white tulle, has
paused in her mad career, near the win¬
dow, and is watching him with laughing
eyes. ,
“Banquo at the feast,” she cries gaily
at last, “and quite gloomy encugh to take
away Macbeth’s appetite. Why, sir, in
this forlorn spot whore the masculine ele¬
ment of society is so absurdly small, are
you not doing your duty?”
Wayne pulls himself together. iate “Be¬
cause 1 was "sure I was too to liave
the honor of your charming self for ■
partner, Miss Amy,” he replies to that
young lady, whom he has known since
she emerged from pinafores.
A nd Do rothy is presently edjfied and
disTracted fromher lesson on bugs, by
the vision of Amy and Wayne waltzing
as they only can waltz. She receives a
wicked glance from radiant Amy, who is
happy as she complacently fancies the
other girls’ emerald enyy at this spectacle.
The whole thing suddenly palls upon
Dorothy, and with the briefest word of
excuse, she leaves the professor, who
gazes regretfully after his appreciative
listener, and seeks her own room. )
There she finds Buskin, Carlyle and
Emerson regarding her from a shelf with
mute them sympathy, but she will have none
of it is apparent, but passes them
by without a glance, kneels by the win¬
dow and cries! yes, strong-minded Doro¬
thy cries in the weakest and most femi¬
nine way possible.
How long she sits there she never
knows, but by and by her head droops
over on the window sill and she falls
asleep and dreams that she hears Donald’s
sneering laugh at girls, of her champion
Roy’s defense of her as the one exception
to girls, in general; finally of being
borne off through burning forests and
over fiery bridges by Roy’s father, and
of continually stopping at people’s gates
and banging away on their doors to tell
them the world is on fire, as a piece of
gossip.
When she at last awakens the room is
full of smoke, andnhc hears a voice that
she can never forget, calling: “Dorothy,
come, the house is on fire!”
She opens her door half bewildered,
not at all certain she is not still dream¬
ing, and finds Wayne with Roy in his
arms, rolled in blankets and solemnly re¬
garding her from them like a small, new
ly-come-to-life-mummy.
“Come this way, Dodo,” says Wayne,
taking her .hand in his, and they run to
the stairway, J>ut it is too late; the
stairs are blazing. The halls are filled
with panic-stricken men and women.
“I remember a long ladder at a back
window, Wayne,” says Dorothy, and
they run in that direction. Yes, there is
the ladder, and he takes Roy down and
returns to the little woman bravely wait¬
ing without a cry. As he gfiides User
carefully down she whispers:
“I loved you all the time, Wayne,”
and he feels a rush of gladness through
his heart as he answers: “My darling.”
When they are down the ladder Doro¬
thy, for the first time in her life, faints
away, but not till sho hears the fire com¬
panies come clattering down the road.
When her eyes open languidly she
hardly knows the sooty, besmirched man
bending over her, but by and by she
finds out that she is in a cottage and she
recollects all about it.
“Are they all safe?” sho asks.
“Every one, thank Heaven,” answers
Wayne. “The firemen behaved like
heroes.”
“So did papa; I could have helped,
only papa made mo watch you. He says
you will live with us. I only hope
Donald will not care.” At this they
laugh a little, although Dorothy’s eyes
are full of tears .—The Housewife.
Tile Parisian Butchers’ Uuiform.
From the dimmest era, now lost in ob¬
scurity, says IFide-Mwale, tho Paris
butcher boy lias worn a uniform be¬
tokening the trade of which he is invari¬
ably a cheerful ornament. Tho apron
he wears is a most curious affair, and he
himself must be regarded as tho aristo¬
crat of apron wearers, for he sports no
less than three aprons at once. Two of
these aprons are apparently superfluous,
» tho, aren.llcj„p .«d fa*»=d
each side, the third is worn in front and
held in place across the breast by a
string ® made into a peculiar “ knot at tile
back. , . Wi honever you see this ... old ,, kn3 ,
you may be assured a butcher’s appren
tice had tied it. The method of making
it it reouires requires as as delicate delicate maninutation manipulation as as
does the successful arrangement of the
white necktie, and our gallant butcher
boy 3 takes as much pains with its con
struction . .. as swell t for a ball, v, n
Its tying is a profound secret, offer and no
matterwhat inducement you he
won’t disclose it-you must become a
butcher boy to find it out. With hil
fresh, white aprons, ruddy complexion
and closely cropped hair—for never AnnJL by
any anv chimm chance does does he he wear wea. a a hut hat during
the functions of his office—the butcher
boy is by no meaus an unappetizing ob
*
J toet
The “Trigger Fish.”
One of tho scarce fish on the Banks ol
Newfoundland is called “trigger fish.”
The name is given on account of the pe¬
culiar construction of the dorsal fin, the
first spine of which is very strong,
roughened in front like a file and hol¬
lowed out behind for a second much
smaller spine, which has a projection fit¬
ting into a notch of the first at its base.
These two spines can only be moved si¬
multaneously, and the first cannot be
forced down unless the second has beer
depressed previously, hence the name
“trigger fish.” It has a very rough and
tough skin. It is said that the carpcn
ten of the West India Islands use tht
skiu in preference and to sandpaper, claiming
it is more lasting better adapted foi
Dolishhur hardwood.—Nine Fork Prm.
rev. did talmage.
THE BROOKLYN DIVINE’S SUN¬
DAY SERMON.
Subject: “The Wide Open Door.”
TUi: “ And, behold, a door teas opened
<*» heaven, Rev. iv.. 1.
John had been the pastor of a church it
position Ephesus. He had been driven from hu
in that city by an indignant pop
®* BOe - The preaching of a pure and earnest
gospel had made an excitement danger¬
ous to every form of iniquity. This wil
?^ten be the result of pointed preach¬
ing. Men wijl flinch under the sword
strokes fbf truth. You ought not to b<
surprised that the blind man makes an
outcry the of pain when the surgeon remove!
cataract from his eye. It is a good sign
when yon see men uneasy in the church pew,
and exhibiting impatience at some plain ut¬
terance of truth which smites a pet sin that
they patient are has hugging been to their low hearts, that After the
»ki so for weeks he
thought nothing__atjd to be good noticed when nothing, be begins it „is
be alittle a sign to
cross. And so I notice that spir*
itual invalids are in a fair way for recovery
when they become somewhat irascible and
choleric under the treatment of the truth.
Bnt John had so mightily inculpated public
church iniquity that he had been banished froTnHEus
and sent to Fotmas, a desolate island,
only a mile in breadth, against whose rocky
coaste the sea rose and mingled its voice with
the prayers and hymnings of the heroic exile.
You cannot but contrast the condition of
this banished ajiostle with that of another
famous exile. Look at the apostle on Pat
mos and the great Frenchman on St. Helena.
Both were suffering among desolation and
barrepnegs Both .because of offenses committed.
had passed through lives eventful and
spised. thrilling. Both Both had been honored and de¬
had been turned were off imperial die. natures. Both
to Yet mark the
infinite difference—one had- fought for the
other perishable crown of worldly authority, the
for one eternally lustrous. The one
had marked his path with the bleached skulls
of his followers, the other had introduced
peace and good will among men. The one
had lived chiefly for self-aggrandisement
and the other for the glory of Christ. The
successes of the one were achieved amid the
breaking of thousands of hearts and the
acute, widowhood, heaven-rending cry of orphanage and
while the triumphs of the other
made joy in heaven among the angels of
God.
The heart of one exile was filled with re¬
morse and despair, while the other was
lighted tinguishable np with thanksgiving and inex¬
ered the blackness hope. Over St. Helena gath¬
and darkness, clouds,
lighted up by no sunrising, but rent and
fringed and heaving with the lightnings of
a wrathful God, and the spray flung over
the rocks seemed to hiss with the condemna¬
tion, Bnt “The way of the ungodly shall perish.”
over Patmos the heavous were opened,
and tho stormy sea beneath was forgotten
in tho roll and gleam of waters from under
the throne like crystal; and the barrenness
of the ground under the apostle was forgot¬
ten as above him he saw the trees of life all
fruitage, bending under the rich glow of heavenly
whilo the hoarse blast of contend¬
ing drowned. elements around his suffering bofly was
in the trumpeting of trumpets and
the harping of harps, the victorious cry of
multitudes like the voice of many waters
and the hosanna of hosts in number like the
stars.
What a dull spot upon which to stand and
have such a glorious vision! Had Patmos
been some tropical island, arbored with the
luxuriance of perpetual summer, and drowsy
with breath of cinnamon and cassia, and tes
sclated with long aisles of geranium and cac¬
tus, we would not have been surprised at the
splendor of the vision. But the last place
you would go to if you wanted to find beau¬
tiful visions would bo tho island of Patmos.
Yet it is around such gloomy spots that God
makes the most wonderful revelation. It was
looking prison that through John the awful shadows of a
celestial city. God Bunyan saw the gate of the
there divided the light
from the darkness. In that gloomy abode,
on sera ps of old paper picked up about his
room, tho great dream was written.
It was while Johu Calvin was a refugee
from bloody persecution, and was hid in a
house at Angouleme, that he conceived tho
idea of writing his immortal “Institutes.”
Jacob had many a time seen the sun break¬
ing through the mists, and kiudling them
into shafts and pillars of fiery splendor that
might well have been a ladder for the angels
to tread on, but the famous ladder which he
saw soared through a gloomy night over tho
wilderness. The night of trial and desola¬
tion is the scene of the grandest heavenly
revelations. From the barren, surf beaten
rock of Patmos John looked up and saw that
a door was opened in heaven.
Again, the announcement of such an
opened looking entrance suggests the truth that God
is down upon the earth and observ¬
ant of all occurrences. If we would gain a
wide prospect we climb up into a tower or
mountain. Tho higher up we are the broad¬
er the landscape we behold. Yet our most
comprehensive leagues—here view is limited to only a few
a river and there a lake and
yonder a mountain peak. But what must
must bo the glory of the earth in the eye of
Him who from tho door of heaven beholds at
one ries glance all mountains and lakes and prai¬
and oceans, lands bespangled with trop¬
ical gorgeousness and Arctic regions white
with everlasting snows, Lobauon majestio
with cedars and American wilds solemn with
unbroken forests of pine, African deserts of
unbroken glistening sand and wildernesses of water
with harvests by ship's keel, continents covered
of wheat and rice and maize,
the glory ot every zone, the whole world ol
mountains and seas and forests and island
n ln a single glance of their grea
! . ke o„, to d u p»«,„ sUx hp < ,ta
single objects dwindle intosueh insigniGcenci
that we cease to see them in the minutiae,an<
tb !
scenery. But not so with God. Althougl
nothingiw standing far up in of the its very tower of heaven,
vision. reason smallness escapes His
Every lilyofthe ffeld.every violel
uu d 0r the grass, the tiniest heliotrope, aster
and gentian are as plainly seen by Hhn as
the proudest magnolia, and not one rein ol
™ or hi their leaf deepens or fa-las without
*? 8868 8 - aot »**! ?. ce : human From conduct d ?° r and heaven tho world’s God
moral changes. Not one tear of sorrow falls
“ hospital or workshop or dungeon but He
hi high heaven makes record of
TheUd’s iniquities in all their ghastli
ness glower under His vision. Wars and
tumults, and the desolations of famine and
whirlwind and shipwreck
^®®". out b “ oro ?? there were no
being be happy in all 11 the universe but God He could
with such an outlook as the door
®fbeaven. disturbed by But the fall there of He kingdom stands, than no more
dropping a the
of a leaf no more excited by the
risu^g of a throne than the bursting of a bud,
the faumg of a deluge than the trickling of
a raindrop. Earthly royalty clutches ner
vouslv its scepter and waits in suspense the
wm of inflamed subjects, and the crown is
tossed from one family to another. But
above all earthly vicissitudes and the as
sault of human passions in unshaken security
scauls tne icing of Kings watching all the
aflairs of His empire from the introduction
of an era to the counting of the hairs of your
kead.
in Again, heaven I learn from the fact that a door
is opened that there is a way of
entrance for our prayers and of egress for
divine blessings. It does not seem that our
weak voice has streugth enough to climb up
to God’s oar. Shall not our prayer be lost
in the clouds? Have words wings? The
truth is plain: Heaven’s door is wide open to
receive every prayer. Must it not be loud?
Ought lungs? it uot to Must ring up it with be the streugth of
stout not aloud call,
such as drowning m utter, or like the shout
ot tome chieftain inAhe buttle* No; a whl»
per is as good as a shbut, and the mere wish
it the soul in profound silence is at good as
plishes » whisper. just It rise* just as hi*U aud accom¬
as raue.i.
But ought not prarer to be made of golden
words if it is to eater such a splendid door
end live beside seraphim and archangel?
Ought fection, not every phrase the be rounded into per¬
and classic ought and not poetic and language be musical No;
rhetorical?
the most illiterate outcry, the un jointed pe¬
tition, the clumsy phrase, the sentence break¬
ing into grammatical blunders, an unworded
it groan the is just as effectual heart if it be the utterance
soul’s want. A all covered up
witn garianos or thoughts would be no attrac¬
tion to God, but a heart broken and contrite
that —that is Redeemer the acceptable liveth,” sacrifice. “I know
mighty my harmony of musical rising academy, up in the
a may
overpower our ear and heart, but it will not
reach the ear of God like the broken voiced
hymn of some sufferer amid rags and deso¬
lation loosing up trustfully to a Saviour’s
compassion, •‘I know that singing Redeemer amid tears liveth.” and pangs,
I my there
suppose that was more rhetoric
and classic elegance in the prayers of the
Pharisee than of the publican^ but you know
which was successful. You may kneel with
r_ mpleteelesance alabaster on and some soft cushion at an
altar of utter a prayer of Mil¬
tonic sublimity, but neither your graceful
posture nor the roll of your blank verse will
attract heavenly attention, while over some
dark cellar in which a Christian pauper is
prostrate in the straw angels bend from
their thrones and cry one to another: “Be
hold, heaven he prays!” Through procession this of open door of is
what a long What thanksgivings! prayers
Continually What confessions! passing! What intercessions!
What beseeching*! “And behold a door was
opened iu heaven,”
low Agaib, the door ef heaven is opened to al¬
us the opportunity of looking in. Christ
when He came from heaven to Bethany left it
open, and no one since has dared to shut it.
Matthew threw it still wider open when he
came to write, and Paul pushed the door
furthev back when he spoke of the glory to be
revealed, and John iu Revelation actually
points us to the harps, and the
waters, thrones. and the crowns, and the
There are profound mysteries
about that blessed place that we cannot
solve. But look through this wide open door
of heaven and see what you can see. God
means us to look and catch up now some¬
thing its of the rapture and attune our hearts
to worship.
It is wide open enough to see Christ. Be¬
hold Him, the Chief among ten thousand, all
tho bannered 1 pomp o£ o heaven at His feet,
With your enkindled faith look ud alone
these ranks of glory. Watch how theiu
Floods palms wave, and hear how their voices rin<*t
with clapping gold, their hands, streets gleam¬
ing uncounted multitudes ever
accumulating into in number and ever rising up
to look gladder hosannas. If you cannot stand
upon that joy for at least one hour
how could you endure to dwell among it for¬
ever? You would wish yourself oat of it in
teres days, and choose the earth again or
any other place where it was not always
Sunday. My
hearer in worldly prosperity, affluent,
honored, healthy and happy, look in uoon
that company of the redeemed, and see how
tho poor soul in heaven is better off than
higher you are, in brighter in apparel, richer in estate,
tried, look power. through Hearers, afflicted and
in that open door, that
you may see to what gladness and glory you
Hearers coming, to what life, to what royalty.
world, pleased to fascination with this
gather up your souls for one appre¬
ciative look upon riches than never fly away,
upon health that never sickens, upon scepters
that never break, upon expectations that are
never there disappointed. Look in and sea "
all are battles, not enough crowns to pay us for
fatigues, our enough enough living rest to relieve all our
all fountains to quench
our thirst, enough glory to dash out for
ever and ever all earth’s sighing and restless¬
ness and darkness. Battles ended, tears
bosoms, wiped away, thrones plucked from the
stabs healed, the tomb riven—what
a scene to look upon!
the Again, Christian’s the door of heaven stands open for
final entrance. Death to the
righteous ing is not climbing high walls or ford¬
door. deep If rivers, but visit it is the entering an open
you ever old homestead
where you were born, and while father and
mother are yet alive, as you go up the lane
in front of the farm house, and put your
hand on the door and lift the latch, do you
shudder with fear? No, you are glad to en
ter. So your last sickness will be only the
lane in front of your Father’s house, from
which you hear the voice of singing before
you reach the door. And death, that is the
lifting of the latch before you enter, the
greetings family and embraces of the innumerable
of the righteous. Nay, there is no
latch,for John says the door is already open.
What a company of spirits have already en¬
tered those portals, bright and shining!
Souls released from the earthly prison house
how they shouted as thev went through!
Spirits that sped up from the flames of mar
tyrdom, in, making heaven richer as thev went
pouring their notes into the celestial har¬
mony.
And that door has not begun to shut. If
redeemed by grace we all shall enter it. This
side of it we have wept, but on the other side
of it we shall never weep. On this side we
may have grown sick with weariness, but
on the other side of it we shall be without
fatigue. On this side we bleed with the war¬
rior’s wounds, on the other side we shall wave
the victor’s palm. When you think ot dying
what makes your brow contract, what makes
you breathe so deep a sigh? What makes
lower you gloomy in passing a graveyard? Fol
of Christ, you have been thinking
that death is something terrible, the measur¬
the ing of lances with a powerful antagonist,
everlasting closing in of a conflict You which may be your
defeat. do not want much
to think of dying. The step beyond this
life seems so mysterious you dread the taking
of it. Why, who taught you this lesson
of horrors? Heaven’s door is wide open,
*>■> °«.tf r o^ck
Not as long as a minute will elapse between
your i\ alf ^Jougas departure and your arrival there. Not
the millionth part the of twinkling of an eye. Not
an instant. There is no
stumbling ing down into darkness. There is no pluti"
into mysterious depths. Thedoor
isopen. This instant When you are here, the next
you are there. a vessel struck tho
rocks of the French coast, while the crew
were in the clambering ship’s cabin, up awakened, the beach a cage of birds
most sweetly, and when the last began to sing
man left the
vessel they were smgrag yet. Even so in the
last hour of our dissolution, when driven on
the coast of the other world, may our disem
barkation from this rough, tossing life be
uroftX te ^^Srv| OUSandPr0,n *
For all repenting and believing souls the
door of heaven is now wide open, the door
of mercy, the door of comfort, for the poor
est as woll as for the wealthiest, for the out
law as well as for the moralist, for Chinese
coolie as well a; his Emperor, for the Rus
sian boor as wall as the Czar, for the Turk
as well as the Sultan. Richer than all
wealth, more refreshing than all fountains,
deeper than all depths, higher than all
heights an:l broader Jesus than all breadths is
tho si! vat ioa of Christ which I press
upon vour consideration ' Come all ye trav
elers 'of the desert under thesQ palm trees,
Oh, if I could gather before vou that tre
meadous future upon which you are
palitios, invited to day enter—dominions without and princi
under the throne, and night, four-and- martyrs
the
twenty elders falling before it, stretching off
iu great distances the hundred and forty and
four thousand and ^thousands of thousands,
host beside host, rank beyond rank, in infl
nite distance, uations of tho saved beyond
nations of the saved, until angelic visions
cease to catch anything more thau the faint
outline beyond of whole capacity empires of yet vision outstretching the
the any Then, save
eye of God Almighty. after I had
finished the sketch, I would like to ask you
if that place is uot grand enough and added, high
enough, and if anything could be
any purity to the whiteness of the robes, auy
power to the acclaimin' thunders of its
worship. And ail that may be yours.__
BtltNimC AND iNDlsliUAU
Aluminium bronze is coming into ex¬
tensive use.
The health officer of Chicago refuses
to accept “heart failure” as a cause of
death.
Chicago, HI., is 581 feet above the sea
level. St. Louis, Mo., lies about 100
feet lower.
An Italian torpedo ram fires a 448
pound projectile through twenty-six
inches of iron.
An immense deposit of fine oolittic
lime-stene has been discovered northeast
of Mitchell, Ind.
A system has been introduced for roll¬
ing liquid steel into thin sheet steel, free
from blow holes and scales.
A new megaphone has been introduced
in England, which magnifies the human
voice so that it can be heard several
miles.
Water and the sap on trees expand not
only in proportion as they rise above,
but also as they go below the freezing
point.
An immense electrical plant is to be
erected near Brinton Station, Pittsburg,
Penn. It will be 600 feet long and 400
feet wide.
A deposit of black slate 1800 feet wide
ind two miles long has been found near
Pine Grove, in Pennsylvania, on lands
belonging to a railroad.
New England capitalists have agreed to
invest $1,000,000 in Laredo, Texas,
in putting up textile mills, and the City
Council have accepted the proposition.
Toast is more easily digested thau
plain bread—if the toast is eaten soon
after it is made. Toast that has grown
ccld is not so easily digestible as bread.
Duplex telephony, it is now thought,
will play au extremely important part in
the solution of the difficulties in connec¬
tion with the long-distance telephoning.
An Oakland, Cal., mechanic has in¬
vented a new rail for railroads, consist¬
ing of two parts, put together so as to
leave an opening for any number of tele¬
graph wires, whereby perfect insulation
is secured.
A large quantity of clay is used in
paper making to give it body and a
smooth surface, but not to cause the
fibres to interlace and hold together.
This they do naturally and very firmly
as the paper is pressed between the
heavy heated rolls.
The Louisiana Electric Light Company
at New Orleans, La., have given orders
for two new driving belts, which will be
160 feet 72 inches (six feet wide) double
belt and 550 feet 48 inches (four feet
wide) double belt, These are the
largest belts ever made, and it will re¬
quire the hide of more than 600 head of
cattle to make them.
The extreme scarcity and high price
of camphor in this country has induced
two or three firms to place on the market
a highly refined naphthalene suitable for
the preservation of woollens, fuss and
other articles from the destructive attacks
of insects. The naphthalene is produced
in several forms, the more saleable being
balls, tablets, scales and granulated.
A regular industry is being started in
this country in the manufacture of gear¬
ing for electric railways out of raw hide.
It is preferred to metal, as it makes far
less noise and wears better. The mate¬
rial is said to finish up in the working as
well as metal. The use of this material
indicates that very severe strains are
brought to bear upon cogs not capable,
if of metal, of standing the stress.
All freight cars hereafter built by the
roads in the Vanderbilt railroad system
are to be equipped with air-brakes, and
all colored line and local box and stock
cars of thirty-four feet in length and
upward now in service on the Vander¬
bilt roads are to have air-brakes attached
as fast as they come into the shops for
repairs, and all such cars so built or re¬
paired are to be equipped with a self¬
coupler.
Concerning the Cat.
Dr. Johnson once went to market and
bought an oyster for his sick cat. Tasso
wrote a sonnet to his puss. Petrarch had
his embalmed at its death; and Cardinal
Wolsey had his sit in a chair beside him
when he was administering justice. The
great Duke of Wellington himself im¬
ported into England the breed of the
royal cats of Siam, which are kept only
in the palace at Bangkok. Archbishop
Whately dignified the cat with the re¬
mark that there was but one noun in the
English language that had a vocative
case, which was cat, vocative puss. Mo¬
hammed is said to have cut off a portion of
his sleeve on which a cat lay asleep rather
than wake it when he was called away.Nor
is intimacy with the gentle animal con¬
fined to the great of the human race.
Godolphin, the famous Arabian horse
whose ancestry so many of our best
thoroughbreds claim, had a friendship
with a black cat, which, after his_ death,
insisted on sitting on his body until its
burial, when she crawled into a corner
and died broken-hearted. In the time
of the early Kings of Britain, wild-cats
made a part of the royal menage, being
kept for hunting, and having officers of *
equal rank and consideration with the
master of hounds. To-day an item in
the French budget is the price of meat
furnished cats kept in the public printing
offices to prevent damage to paper by
mice; and there are also in this country
a number of cats that may be said to be
employed in the postal service.
He Composed “Kathleen Mavonrneen.
A conspicuous figure in the procession
at the unvailing of the Lee Monument,
at Richmond, Va., was the venerable
Professor P. N. Crouch, the composer of
“Kathleen Mavourneen.”. He is per¬
haps nearer ninety than eighty years of
age, yet hale and hearty. He was ar¬
rayed in full uniform of Confederate
gray, having come from Baltimore to
meet probably for the last time his sol¬
dier comrades of the old 1st Howitzers.
His comrades say no braver soldier over
fought with the artillery of the army of
Northern Virginia. —New York Tribune.