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STREETS OF A CITY. dr. TALMAGE CONTRASTS THEIR SPLENDOR AND WOE. .....tlr principle of V»iHL. Hi? n< I’<»r the ’ t» "” * Work For Christian., fCopjTlrlit. JS». by American Press Asso- ‘ elation.) WASHINGTON, March 19. —In this dis course Dr. Talmage, who has lived tho most of his life in cities draws practical lessons from his own observation; text, Proverbs 1, 20: “Wisdom crietli without She uttcreth her voice in the streets.” Wearcall ready to listen to the voices of nature —tho voices of the mountain, the vices of the sea, the voices of the storm, the voices of the star As in some of tho cathedrals in Europe there is an organ at either end of tho building, and the one instrument responds musically to the other, so in tho great cathedral of nature day responds to day, and night to night, and flower to flower, and star to star in the great harmonies of the uni verse. Tho springtime is an evangelist in blossoms preaching of God’s love, and the winter is a prophet —white bearded— denouncing woe again t <>:.:• .■■ We arc all ready to listen to tho voices of nature, lint how few of us learn anything from the voices of the noisy and dusty street. You go to your mechanism, and to your work, and to your merchandise, and you come back again—and often with how different a heart you pass through the streets Are there no things for us to learn from these pavements over which we pass? Are there no tufts of truth growing up between these cobblestones, beaten with the feet of toil and pain and pleasure, tho slow trend of old age and tho quick step of childhood? Ayo, there aro great harvests to bo reaped, and now I thrust in the sickle because tho harvest is ripe “Wisdom crleth without. She uttoreth her voice in the streets.” Toil and Struggle. In the first place the street impresses me with tho fact that this life is a scene of toil and struggle. By 10 o’clock every day tho city is jarring with wheels and shuf fling with feet and humming with voices and covered with the breath of smoke stacksand a-rush with traffickers. Once in a while you find a man going along with folded arms and with leisurely step, as though he had nothing to do, but, for tho most part, as you find men going down these streets on the way io business, there is anxiety in their faces, as though they had some errand which must be executed at the first possible moment. You are jostled by those who have bargains to make and notes to sell. Up this ladder with a hod of bricks, out of this bank with a roll of bills, on this dray with a load of goods, digging a cellar, or shingling a roof, or shoeing a horse, or building a wall, or mending a watch, or binding a book. In dustry, with her thousand arms and thousand eyes and thousand feet, goes on singing her song of work, work, work, while the mills drum it and the steam whistles fife it. All this is not because men love toil. Some one remarked, “Every man is as lazy as he can afford to be.” But it is because necessity with stern brow and with uplifted whip stands over you ready whenever you relax your toil to make your shoulders sting with the lash. Can it be that passing up and down these streets on your way to work and business you do not learn anything of the world’s toil and anxiety and strug gle? Oh how many drooping hearts, how many eyes on the watch, how many miles traveled, how many burdens carried, how many losses suffered, how many battles fought, how many victories gained, how many defeats suffered, how many exas pc rations endured—what losses, what hunger, what wretchedness, what pallor, what disease, what agony, what despair! Sometimes I have stopped at the corner of the street as the multitudes went hither and yon, and it has seemed to be a great pantomime, and as I looked upon it my heart broke. This great tide of human life that goes down the street is a rapid tossed and turned aside and dashed ahead and driven back—beautiful in its confu sion and confused in its beauty. In tho carpeted aisles of the forest, in the woods from which tho eternal shadow is never lifted, on the shore of the sea over whoso iron coast tosses the tangled foam sprin kling the cracked cliffs with a baptism of whirlwind and tempest, is the best place to study God, but in the rushing, swarm ing, raving street is the best place to study man. All ClaaaeN Meet. Going down to your place of business and coming home again I charge you to look about —see these signs of poverty, of wretchedness, of hunger, of sin, of be reavement —and as you go through the streets and come back through the streets, gather up in the arms of your prayer all the sorrow, all the losses, all the suffer ings, all the bereavements of those whom you pass and present them in prayer be fore an all sympathetic God. In the great day of eternity there will be thousands of persons with whom you in this world never exchanged one word who will rise up and call you blessed, and there will be a thousand fingers pointed at you in heaven, saying, “That is tho man, that is the woman, who helped me when I was hun gry and sick ami wandering'and lost and heartbroken. That is tho man, that is tho woman." And the blessing will come down upon you as Christ shall say: ‘‘l was hungry, and ye fed me; I was naked, and ye clothed me; I was sick and in prison, and ye visited inc. Inasmuch as ye did it to these poor waifs of tho streets, ye did it to me." Again, the street impresses me with the fact that all classes and conditions of society must commingle. Wo sometimes culture a wicked exclusiveness. Intellect despises ignorance. Refinement will have nothing to do with boorishness. Gloves l ate the sunburned hand, and the high forehead despises the flat head, and the trim hedgerow will have nothing to do with the wild copsewood, and Athens hates Nazareth. This ought not so to be. The astronomer must come down from his starry revelry’ and help us In our naviga tion. The surgeon must come away from his study of the human organism and set our broken bones. The chemist must come away from his laboratory, where he has been studying analysis and synthesis, and help us to understand the nature of the soils. I bless God that all classes of people are compelled. to meet on the street. 1 he glittering coach wheel clashes against tho scavenger's cart. Fine robes run against tho peddler’s pack. Robust health meets wan sickness. Honesty confronts fraud Every class of people meets every other class. Impudence and modesty, pride and humility, purity and beastliness, ■ rankness and hypocrisy, meeting on the same block, in the same street, in th* same city. Oh, that is what Solomon meant when he said: “The rich and tho poor meet together. The Lord is the Maker of them all. ” I like this democratic principle of the gospel of Jesus Christ which recognizes the fact that we stand before God on one and the same platform. Do not take on any airs, whatever position you have gain ed in society; you are nothing but man, born of the same parent, regenerated by tho same Spirit, cleansed in the same blood, to lie down in the same dust, to get up in the same resurrection. It is high time that we all acknowledge not only the Fatherhood of God, but the brotherhood of man Temptations Abound. Again, the street impresses me with the fact that it is a very hard thing for a man to keep his heart right and to get to heav en. Infinite temptations spring upon us from these places of public concourse. Amid so much affluence, how much temp tation to covetousness and to be discon tented with our humble lot! Amid so many opportunities for overreaching, what temptation to extortion! Amid so much display, what temptation to vanity! Amid so many saloons of strong drink, what allurement to dissipation! In tho mael stroms and hell gates of the street, how many make quick and eternal shipwreck! If a man-of-war comes back from a battle and Is towed into the navy yard, we go down to look at tho splintered spars and count the bullet holes and look with patriotic admiration on the flag that floated in vic tory from the masthead. But that man is more of a curiosity who has gone through 80 years of the sharpshooting of business life and yet sails on, victor-over the temp tations of the street. Oh, how many have gone down under the pressure, leaving not so much as the patch of canvas to tell where they perished! They never had any peace. Their dishonesties kept tolling in their ears. If I had an ax and could split open tho beams of that fine house, perhaps I would find in the very heart of it a skele ton. In his very best wine there is a smack of poor man's sweat. Oh, is it strange that when a man has devoured widows’ houses he is disturbed with indi gestion? All the forces of nature are against him. The floods are ready to drown him and the earthquake to swallow him and the fires to consume him and tho lightnings to smite him. But the children of God are on every street, and in the day when the crowns of heaven are distributed some of the brightest of them will be given to those men who were faithful to God and faithful to the souls of others amid tho marts of business, proving themselves the heroes of the street. Mighty were their temptations, mighty was their deliverance, and mighty shall be their triumph. Shams and Pretensions. Again, the street impresses me with the fact that life is full of pretension and sham. What subterfuge, what double dealing, what two facedness! Do all peo ple who wish you good morning really hope for you a happy day? Do all the peo ple who shake hands love each other? Are all those anxious about your health who inquire concerning it? Do all want to see you who ask you to call? Does all tho world know half as much as it pretends to know? Is there not many a wretched stock of goods with a brilliant show win dow? Passing up and down the streets to your business and your work, are you not impressed with the fact that society is hollow and that there are subterfuges and pretensions? Oh, how many there are W’ho swagger and strut and how few peo ple who are natural and walk! While fops simper and fools chuckle and simple tons giggle, how few people are natural and laugh! The courtesan and tho liber tine go down the street in beautiful ap parel, while within tho heart there aro volcanoes of passion consuming their life away. I say these things net to create in you incredulity or misanthropy, nor do I forget there are thousands of people a great deal better than they seem, but I do not think any man is prepared for the conflict of this life until he knows this particular peril. Ehud comes pretending to pay his tax to King Eglon, and while ho stands in front of tho king stabs him through with a dagger until the haft went in after the blade. Judas Iscariot kissed Christ. Field For Charity. Again, the street impresses me with tho fact that it is a great field for Christian charity There are hunger and suffering and w f and wretchedness in the country, but these evils chiefly congregate in our great cities. On every street crime prowls and drunkenness staggers and shame winks and pauperism thrusts out its hand asking for alms. Here want is most squalid and hunger is most lean. A Christian man going along a street in New York saw a poor lad, and ho stooped and said, “My boy, do you know how to read and write?” The boy made no answer. The man asked the question twice and thrice, “Can you read and write?” and then the boy answered with a tear plashing on the back of his hand. He said in defiance: “No, sir; I can't road nor write neither. God, sir, don’t want me to read and write. Didn't he take away my father so long ago I never remember to have seen him, and haven’t I had to go along tho streets to get something to fetch home to eat for the folks, and didn’t I, as soon as I could carry a basket, have to go out and pick up cinders and never have no schooling, sir? God don’t want me to read, sir. I can't read nor write neither." Oh, these poor wanderers! They have no chance. Born in degradation, as they get up from their hands and knees to walk, they take their first step on the road to despair. Let us go forth in the name of tho Lord Jesus Christ to rescue them. Lot us ministers not be afraid of soiling our black clothes while wc go down on that mission. While wo are tying an elaborate knot in our cravat or while we are in tho study rounding off some period rhetorically wo might be sav ing a soul from death and hiding a multi tude of sins. Oh, Christian laymen, go out on this work. If you are not willing to go forth yourself, then give of your means, and if you are too lazy to go and if you are too stingy to help, then get out of the way and hide yourself in the dens and caves of the earth, lest when Christ 's chariot comes along the horses’ hoofs trample you into the mire. Beware lest the thousands of the destitute of your city, in the last great day, rise up and curse your stupidity and your neglect. Down to work! Lift them up! One cold winter’s day, as a Christian man was going along the Battery in New York, ho saw a little girl seated at the gate, shivering in the cold. He said to her, “My child, what do you sit there for this cold day?” “Oh,” she replied, “I am waiting—l am waiting for somebody to come and take care of me.” “Why,” said the man, “what makes youthink anyliody will come and take care of you?” “Oh,’ she said, "my mother died last week, and I was crying very much, and she said: ‘Don't cry. dear Though lam gone and your father is gone, the Lord will send son..■! -j.lv to take care of you.’ My mother never told a lie She said some one would 1 come and take care of me, and lam watt ' Ing for them to come." Oh, yes, they are r i waiting for you. Men who have money, ! men who have influence, monos churches, > men of great hearts, gather them in, gath i er them in. It is not the will of your ■ Heavenly Father that one of these little i ones should perish. Lvoldng Forward. Lastly, the street impresses me with the fact that all the people are looking for ward I see expectancy written on almost every face I meet. Where you find a thou sand people walking straight on. you only find one man stopping and looking back. The fact is, God made us all to look ahead, lieeause we are Immortal. In this tramp of tho multitude on the streets I hear tho tramp of a great host marching and marching for eternity. Beyond the office, tlie store, tho shop, tho stns-t, there is a world, populous and tremendous. Through God's grace, may you reach that blessed place. A great throng fills those boule vards, and the streets are a-rush with tho chariots of conquerors. Tho inhabitants go up and down, but they never weep and they never toil. A river flews' through that city, with rounded and luxurious banks, and the trees of life, laden with everlasting fruitage, bend their branches into thecrys tai. No plumed hoarse rattles over that pave ment, for they aro never sick. With im mortal health glowing in every vein, they know not how to die. Those towers of strength, those jMilaces of iieauty, gleam in the light of a sun that never sets. Oh, heaven, beautiful heaven! Heaven, where our friends arc! They tako no census In that city, for it is inhabited by “a multi tude which no man can number. ’’ Rank above rank. Host above host. Gallery above gallery sweeping all around tho heavens. Thousands of thousands, mil lions of millions. Blessed are they who enter in through the gate into that city. Oh, start for it today! Through tho blood of the great sacrifice of tho Son of God tako up your march to heaven. “Tho Spirit and the bride say, Come, and who soever will let him come and take tho wa ter of life freely.” Join this great throng marching heavenward. All tho doors of invitation aro open. “And I saw twelve gates, and tho twelve gates were twelve pearls." Illa Weather Prophet. A certain king had a philosopher upon whose judgment he depended. It hap pened that one day tho king took it into his head to go hunting, and after sum moning his nobles and making prepara tions he called his philosopher and asked him if it would rain. The philosopher told him it would not, and the king set out. While journeying along he met a coun tryman with a donkey. He advised them to return, “for,” said he, “it will cer tainly rain.” They smiled and passed on. Before they had gone many miles, how ever, they had reason to regret not having taken the advice, as, a heavy shower com-' ing up, they were drenched to the skin. When they returned, the king reprimand ed the philosopher for telling him it would bo clear when it was not. “I met a coun tryman, and he knows a great deal more than you do, for he said it would rain, whereas you said it would not.” The king then dismissed the philosopher and sent for the countryman. He soon appeared. “Tell me," said the king, “how did you know it would rain?” “I didn’t know," said the rustic. "My donkey told me so.” “And how, pray, did he tell you so?” “By pricking up his ears, your maj esty.” Tho king then sent tho countryman away, and, retaining the donkey, placed him in the office the philosopher had filled. I Monkey Dentistry In n Street Car. An itinerant musician who daily grinds out operatic airs and popular songs on a street piano at Bridgeport, opposite Nor ristown, and his monkey were a miserable pair as they sat in a trolley car on the way to this city the other morning. The mon key was squealing and holding one of his paws to its mouth, while tears flowed co piously. The master could not console the animal, and a well dressed man who sat opposite asked what caused the monkey's suffering. “Ho gotta da pain in da toot," was tho reply. “I tinka he goin to die, but wants to got him to city.” Tho questioner asked permission to ex amine the monkey's mouth, and after looking at it he produced a vial and al lowed a few drops of a liquid to fall on the gums. Tho animal ceased squealing. Then the sympathizing man got the Ital ian to hold the monkey's mouth open, i when he inserted a pair of forceps he took .from his pocket and drew out the trouble some tooth. Tho monkey yelled once, and I then showed the relief it felt. While tho > owner was wiping tho blood from its mouth the dentist left the car and shook > his head good naturedly when the street > musician called after him, "Comma back an gitta you mon. ” —Philadelphia Record. The Aiuerloanl.ntlon of Santiago. I was greatly interested in seeing how rapidly the town is becoming Amerlcan- * ized. A ragged Cuban bootblack shouted to me, “Shine? Shine ’em up?” How these Santiago street arabs have acquired ’ precisely the words, voice, tone and pro ' nunciation of the ferryboat bootblacks in 'New York I don't know, but they have. Many of them can also count in English, and, I am sorry to say, swear fluently in the same language. Half the street boys in the city can whistle our bugle calls, ’ “Afterthe Ball" and “The Star Spangled ' Banner." ’ There can bo no doubt, I think, that * American customs, American ideas and J American methods are beginning already J to influence not only the boys, but the men and women, of this city. In dress, in so cial habits, in commercial transactions and in a growing regard for neatness and 1 cleanliness, one sees everywhere the slow * but sure working of tho leaven of civiliza ' tion and enlightenment.—George Kennan ‘ in Outlook. ,■ I She Was Passed. * In Bangor, Me., curfew rang for tho i first time a few nights ago and was foi -1 lowed by a scampering home of all the young folks. Only one little girl was 3 found out after 8 o’clock by the police, 1 and sho was allowed to proceed, being armed with a note which read: 1 Mister Policeman: ? Sta—My girl Jenny ain’t braking no law she 3 is after pairogouric for Title James piste parse i besides if you don't my man will lick the stuf r flag out of you tewmorrow. 1 , Ills Best Work. 1 A western churchman once asked the r late Bishop Williams of Connecticut what the latter considered the best bit of work 1 be had done in that state during hts long episcopate there. I “Well," the venerable bishop replied, 1 "perhaps the best work I did fur the dio r eese and for the church as well wad to keep 1 b number of men out of the ministry.” SHADOWS ON THE WALL. When the room is tidy. Toys are put away, Eyes are growing sleepy, are turning gray. Come* the children's clamor As they round me throng. Fairy lore's exhausted, Sung wo h nursery song. In the mellow lamplight Hushed their voices all, Whilst they watch me making Shadows on the wall I Through the happy silence Rings their laughter low As upon the wall there Shadows come and go. Nni se. r . e. n, unheeded. Watches from the door. Whilst the children's voices Plead for Just one morel One by one they leave me, Till I sit alone. Seeing in the twilight Shadows of my own, Long fi > gotten fanolea, Dreams in olden guise. Till from heart to eyelids Tears, unbidden, rise. Happy, happy children I Time hns Joys for all; Only some nre fleeting Shadows on tho wall! London Malt. HOW HE GAINED COURAGE, General Chaffre'i Way of Giving: a Recruit Confidence. A youth of 18 who was iu the trench es at El Caney carrying a gun was so badly frightened under fire that he went flat on his face ami was roundly kicked by his companions. General Chaffee came along and called to him, “Well, you’re a fine soldier!” Then he looked at tho boyish face of the kid, and his face softened. “I suppose you can’t help it,” he said. "It ain’t so much your fault. I'd like to get hold of the fellow that took you into the ar my. ” By and by he put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “There isn’t so much danger as youthink for, ” said the general. "Now, you get up and take your 'un and fight, and I’ll stand here by y j. ” The aoy got up, shaking like a leaf and fired his first shot pretty near straight into the air. “That’s pretty high, ” said the gen eral. "Keep cool and try it again.” In three minutes that kid was fight ing like a veteran and cool as a cucum ber, and when he saw it the general started on. ‘ “You’re all right now, my boy,” he said. “You’ll make a good soldier.” • “God bless you, sir,” said the young ster. “You saved me from worse than death. ” And he was pretty close to cry ing when he said it. f After a while the order came to re tire from the trench, and soldiers bad to collar that kid and haul him away by the neck to get him to retreat with his company. And at that he'd got a bullet through the fleshy part of his shoulder an hour before. In the rest of the fights there wasn’t a better soldier i in the company.—Chicago Journal. Theatrical “Prop*.*’ Props comprise all the portable arti cles required in a play. Guns and pis tols—which too often fail to go off t the critical moment—are props; loav of bread, fowls, fruit, all made of rough papier mache, are also props. We may also include those wondrous gilt goblets, only seen on the stage, which make such a -nonmetallic thud when they fall and bounce upon the boards, as among the achievements of the prop erty man. But it is at pantomime time that that individual is at his busiest. Big masks and make believe sausages and vegeta bles, without which no pantomime would be complete, are mingled with fairy wands, garlands of artificial flow- i ers, basket work frames for the accom- ; modation of giants and other articles 1 too numerous to mention. How the right things are forthcom ing at the right moment is one of those mysteries only known to property men. Had one of these useful members of the theatrical world the ability and inclina tion to write a book what un entertain ing volume could he turn out!—Cham bers’ Journal. Original if Not Accurate. This, says The Scottish Leader, is a genuine extract from a schoolboy's re cent on Nelson:” “Oh! Harding, kiss me again, “were the butefull words of a heroik mortal who won a grate battle with one eye and a wooden leg. Before the bloody context this motto was uttered by him. “Thequeen expects every man to do his duty.” When he died the queen met him in a boat and he went to St. Paul’s and was bnried. This is a marvelous lesson to me and all schoolboys. Do your duty to your parstors and masters and then even with a single leg you can say, “with this simple thing I will do my duty.” As Nelson himself said, “Even though you are only man you can do your duty. ” Haman Nature. “You know,” said the collector rather plaintively, “you said that you would pay me if I came today.” “ Well, ” answered Mr. Bildew, “you must bear in mind that human ira|B£o is human nature. The best of us sonHMj ti/nes say things that we are sorry for. * Washington Star. A Swell. “So iu your last place you were valet to a count? When did you have to call him iu the morning?” “At half past 7.” “Call me at a quarter to 8!" —Flie- gende Blatter. There was only an edition of 750 of Herbert Spencer’s “Social Statics.” It took 14 years to sell. Os the “Princi ples of Psychology, ” also brought out at the author’s cost, only 650 were sold in 12 years. The first series of essays, 500 copies, took 10,years. 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