Newspaper Page Text
ffiie illonigomcvii monitor.
D. C. SUTTON, Editor and Prop’r.
DR. TALMAGE’S SERMON.
THE GARDEN OF THE CHURCH.
Text: “I am come into my garden.”—Solo
mon’s Song, v., 1.
Tiro Bible is a great poem; we have in it
fanltles. rhythm, and bold imagery, and
sunt bug antithesis, and rapturous lyric, and
sweet pastoral, and instru--tivenairative and
devotional psalm: thought-! oxpresed in
.‘tyle more solemn than I hat of Montge.me v;
more bold than that of Milt n; n ote ten'll >lo
thau that of l’ante; more natural than that
of H'onlsworth; ntore impas t no! than that
of Poll ok; more tender than that of Cotvpi r;
more weird than that of Spenser. This great
l>oem brings all the gems of ill * earth into
its coronet, and it weaves the flame-; of judg
ment into it.s garlands, and pours eternal
harmonies into its rhythm. Everything this
book touches it makes beautiful, from the
plain stones of the summer threshing lloor to
tho daughters of Nahor tilling the trough .or
the camels, and the fish-pools of Heshbo.i ti)
to the Psalmist praising (lod withdiai a- on <.l
storm and whirlwind, an-1 Job leading lerth
Orion, Arctttrus and the Ple'adcs.
Mr text leads us into a scene of sum met
redolence. The world has had a great mmy
beautiful gardens. Charlemagne added to
the glory of his reign by decreeing that they
lie established all through tho realm— le
ciding even the names of tho flowers to bo
planted tb re. llcnry IV ~ at Montpelier,
established gardens of bewitching boanty
and luxuriance, gathering Int > themAlpin',
Pyrenean and French plants. One of tho
sweetest spots on earth was the garden of
!S1 anstoue, tho poet, llis writings have made
but little impression on tho world, hut Ins
garden, The Heasons, will be immortal. To
the natural advantage of that place was
brought tho perfection of art. Arbor and
terrace ami slope and rustic temple and
reservoir and urn and fountain hero lmd
their crowning. Oak and yaw and ha el put
forth their richest foliage. There was no life
more diligent, no soul more ingenious than
that of Shenstone, and all that diligence, and
genius he brought to the adornment of
that oue treasured spot. He gave f: no fur
it; he sold it for £ 17,000. And yet lam
to tell you to-day of a richer garden than
any 1 i.nve mentioned. it is the garden
spoken of in my text, the garden of the
church which belongs to Christ, for my text
says so. He bought it, He planted it, Ho
owns it, and He shall have it. Walter Scott,
in his outlay at Abbotsford, ruined his for
tune. and now, in the crimson flowers of
those gardens, you; nil almost think or imag
ine that you see tho blood of that old man's
broken heart. The payment of tho last tt'.Mj,-
(KM) pounds sacrificed him. But I have left
to tell you that Christ’s life and Christ’s
death were the outlay of this beautiful gar
den of the church of which my text speaks.
Oh, how many sighs, and tears, and pangs,
nn I agonies! Tell me, ye women who saw
Him hang. Tell me, ye executioners who
lifted Him and let him down. Tell me,
thou sun that didst hide, ye rocks that fell.
‘'Christ ioveil the Church and gave turnsdf
for it. if Hu? dcu of the ( Ihiicli belongs
to Christ, certainly lie has a right to walk
in it. Come then, Ob blessed Jesus, to-day,
walk up and down these aisles, and pluck
what Thou wilt of sweetness lor Thyself.
The church, in my text, is appropriately
compared to a garden, because it is a pla. o
of choice flowers, of select fruits and of
thorough irrigation. That would I eastrange
garden in which there were no flowers If
nowhere else, they would be along the bor
ders or at the.gateway. Tho homeliest taste
will dictate something, if it be the ol (-fash
ioned hollyhock, or dahlia, or daffod 1, or
coreopsis; but if there he larger means, then
you will And the Mexican cactus, and dark
veined arbutelion, and blaring azalea, and
clustering oleander. Well, now, Christconies
to his garden and he plants there some of the
brightest spirits that ever flowered upon the
world. Some of them are violets, unconspic
ttous, but sweet as heaven. You have to
search ami find them. You do not see them
very often, perhaps, but you find where tli *y
have been by the brightened race of the in
valid, and the sprig of geranium on the
stand, and tho new window curtains
keeping out tho glare of the sun
light. They are, iierhaps, more like
the ranunculus, creeping sweetly along
amid the thorns and briars of life, giving
kiss for sting, and many a man who lias had
in his way some great blank rock of trouble,
have found that they have covered itall over
with flowery jessamine running in and out
amid the crevices. These Christians in
Christ’s garden are not like the sunflower,
gaudy in the light, but whenever darkness
hovers over a soul that needs to be comforted
there they stand—night-blooming remises.
But in Christ’s garden there are plants that
» ay b; better compared to tho Mexican cac
tus—thorns without: loveliness within—men
with sharp pointsof character. They muni
almost every one that touches them. They j
are hard to handle. Men pronounce them
nothing but thorns, but Christ loves tltem, j
notwithstanding all their sharpnesses. Many
a man has had a very hard ground to culti- j
vate, and it has only been through severe i
trial he has raise ! even the smallest crop of
grace A very harsh minister was talking
to a very placid elder, and the placid elder |
said to the harsh minister; ‘'Doc
tor. 1 do wish you would control
your temper.” -*Ah,” said the min ster to
the elder. '•£ control more temper in live
minutes than you do in five years.” II is
hander for some men to do right than tor
Ollier men to do right The grace that nuultl
elevate you to the seventh heaven might not
keep your brother from knocking a man
down. I had a friend who came to me ami
raid: “1 dare not join the church.” I said:
‘‘W hyf ’ “Ob,” he said, “I have such a vio
lent temper. Ye-terday morning £ was.-ross
iug very early at the Jersey City ferry and
saw a milkman pour ainrge amount of water
into the milk ian and 1 said to him, ‘J th nk
that will do,’ and l:e irs ilted me and I
knocked him down. Do you think I ought
to join the chur, h. ’ Never h -loss, that very
sa . o man who was it) harsh in his behavior
loved Chri-t, and could not speak of- a red
things without tears of emotion and afle*--
tien. Thorns without but sweetne s within
—the best specimen of Mexican cactus I ever
Saw.
There are others planted in Christ’s gat’d- n
who are always radiant, always impressive—
more like the roses of deep hue that we oc
casionally find, called “giants of bottle”--
the Martin I.others. St. hauls, Cry so-tool-,
AVlckliffes. Latimers an l Samuel Ruther
fords. What in ct.itr men is a spark, in
th-m is conflagration. AVhen they sweat,
they sweat great drops of blood. AV hen t hev
proy, their prayer takes tire. AVhen th y
plea hit is a J’eutecost. AVhen they tight
it is a Thermopylae. When they die it is a
martyrdom. \ou find a great many res -s ,
in the gardens, hut only a few “giant; of
battle.” Men say: “Why don't you have |
more of them in the church ?’ Isay, “V. hy .
don't, you have in the world more Humboldts
an 1 Wellingtons?” God gives to some tea ,
talents; toothers, one.
In this garden of the chur h which Christ
has planted I also find the snowilrop-, b du
tiful but cdl-looking, seemingly another ,
phase of winter. I mean thus: Christians
who are precise in their tades, undm as- j
fioned. pure as snowdrops and as col l. They
never shed any tears, they never get excite l, ,
they never ‘ay anything rashly, they never
do anything precipitately. Their pul es -
never flutter, their nerves never twitch, their ,
indignation never bolts over. They live
longer than ipost people; but their life is a
minor key. They never rllti tip td C above
the stair, tn ttioir music df life they hltvd nd
staccato iius>hge-. Christ planted them in
the ehuren and they must l>o of some sorvico
or they would not be there; sriciwdhops, al
ways snowdrops.
lint I have not told you of the most beauti
ful flower in all this garden spoken of in the
text. If you see a ‘'century” plant your
emotions are started. You say: “Why, this
flower has been a hundred years gathering up
; tor one bloom, and it will be a hundred years
1 now before other in-tals will come out.” But
I 1 have to toll you of a plant that was gatlior
-1 ing up from all eternity, and that l'.'no years
i ago put forth its bloom novel 1 to wither. It
; is the passion-plant of the i floss! ITo phots
i foretold it, Bethlehem shepherds looked
> upon it in tho bud: the rocks shook at its
; bursting, and tho dead got up in all their
; wind ng sheets to see its full bloom. It is a
crimson flower—blood at tho roots, b'ood on
i the branches, blood on all tho leave;. Its
jx-r.u ae is to fill all the nations. Its breath
is heaven. Come, oil w inds from the north,
ami winds from the south, and Winds from
thoea-t. and winds from tho west, and bear
to all the earth tho sweet-smelling savor of
Ciiri t, my Lord—
His worth if all tho nat oas knew, V
Bure tho whole earth would love Him trio.
Again, tho church may be appropriately
compared to a pin den, because it is a place of
sole -t ft- its. That would boa strange gar
den which had in itn> lurries, no plums or
pea It's or apricots. Tho coarser fruits nro
n.anted in th.- erehurd, or they are a -t out on
mo sunny lullsido; but tho choicest fruits are
kept in the garden. Bo in tho world outside
Lho li ii-ch Christ had plant -d a great many
heiutiful things—pntien e, charity, gener
:> ity, integrity, but he intends the choicest
fruits to be in tho garden, and if they are
not there, then stiame on the church. Relig
ion i; not a more flowering sentimentality,
it is a pra-tical, life-giving, healthful
fruit, not posies, but apples. “ Oh,”
says somebody, “ 1 don’t flee what
your garden of tho church lias
yielded.’’ Where did your asylums come
irom? and your hospitals' ana your insti
tutions of mercy? Christ planted everyone
of them; He planted thorn in His garden.
AVh u Christ gave sight to Bartimous lie
laid tne corner-stone of every blind nsyium
that has ever been built. AVhen Christ
soothed tho demoniac of Galilee He laid the
corner-stone of every lunatic asylum that has
ever boon established. AVhen Christ said to
the sick man: ‘‘Take up thy bed and walk,”
Ho laid tho corner-stone of every hospital tho
world lias ever seen. When Christ said: “I
was in prison and ye visited me.” He laid tho
corner-stone of every prison reform asso ia
tion that has ever been formed. The church
of ( hrist is a glorious garden and it is full
of fruit.
I know there is some poor fruit in it. I
know there are some weeds that ought to ho
thrown over the fence. I know there are
soma crnbapplo trees that ought to be cut
down. I know there are some wild grapes
that ought to be uprooted; but are you going
to destroy the whole garden because of a lit
tle gnarled fruit? You will find worm-eaten
leaves in Fontainebleau and insects that
sting in the fairy groves of tho Champs
Klysces. You do not tear down anil destroy
the whole garden because there are a few
specimens of gnarled fruit. I admit tlierfl
are men and w omen in tho church who ought
not to be there; but let us be just as frank
and admit the fact that there are hundreds
and thousands and tens of thousands of glori
ous Christian men and women-,-holy,blessed,
useful, consecrated and triumphant. There
is no grander collection in all the earth than
tho collection of Christians. There are
Christian men in this house whose religion is
not a matter of psalm-singing and church
going. To-morrow morning that reli
gion will keep them just as consistent
and consecrated in their worldly occupation as
it ever kept them at, the communion table.
There are women hero to-day of a higher
type of i haracter than Mary of Bethany.
They not only sit at the feet of Christ, but
they go out into tho kite-hen to help Martha
in her work that she may sit there too. There
is a woman who lias a drunken husband who
has exhibited more faith a-id pat once and
courage than Ridley in the fire. Ile was con
sumed in twenty minutes. Her's has been a
twonty years’ martyrdom. Yonder is a man
who has been fifteen years on his ba -k, un
able even to feed himself, yet calm and peace
ful as though he lay on one of the green banks
of heaven, watching the oarsmen dip their
paddies in the crystal river. Why, it seems
to me this moment as if Ft. Paul threw to as
a poinoh gist’s catalogue of the fruits grow
ing in this great garden of < 'hrist —love, joy,
peace, patience, charity, brotherly kindness,
gentleness, mer.-y—glorious fruit, enough to
fill all ill • baskets of earth and heaven.
J have not told you of tho hotter tree in
this garden and of the better fruit. It was
planted just outside Jerusalem, a good whilo
ago. When that tri o was planted it was so
split and bruised and barked men said noth- j
ing would ever grow upon it; but no sooner
had that tree been planted than it budded
and blos-omo 1 and fruited, and tin-soldiers’
spears were only the clubs that struck down
that fruit and it fell into the lap of tho na
tions, and men began to pick it up an 1 eat it,
and they found in it an antidote to all thirst,
to all poison, to all sin, to all death—the
smallest clu-ter larger than the famous one
of Kshcol. which two men carried < n a stair
between them. If the apple in Eden killed
the race, this one cluster of mercy sha'l re
store it.
Again, the church in my text is appropri
ately called a garden because it is thor
oughly irrigated. No garden could prosper
long without plenty of water. I have seen a
garden in the midst of a desert, yet bloom
ing and luxuriant. All around was dearth
and barrenness; but there were pipes and aque
duefs reaching from this garden up to the
mountains, aud through those aqueducts the
water carne streaming down nml tossing up
into beautiful fountains until every root and
leaf and flower wire saturated. That is like
th-church. The church is a garden in the
midst of a great desert of sin and suffering;
but it is well irrigated, for “our eye; are
unto the bills from when-o comethour help.”
From the mountains of God’s strength there
flow down rivers of gladness. There is a
river the stream whereof shall make glad
the city of our God. Preaching tho gospel
is one of there aqueducts. The Bible is an
other. Baptism and the Lord's Supper are
a lue-luets. Water to slake tho thirst, water
to restore the faint, water to wash the un
clean, water tossed high up in the light of
the Hun of Righteousness, showing the rain
bow around the throne.
Oh, was there ever a garden go thoroughly
irrigated? You know that the beauty of
Versailles and Chatsworth depends very
much upon the great supply of water. I
carne to the latter place, Chatsworth, one day
when strangers are not to be admitted; but
by an inducement which always seemed as
applicable to an Engli-hrnan as an Ameri
can, I got in, and then the gardener went far
up above the stairs of stone and tunic 1 ou
the water. I saw it gleaming on the dry
pavement, corning down from step to step
until it came so near I could h ar the musi
cal rush, and all over the high, broad stairs
it came foaming, fleshing, roaring down
until sunlight aud wave in gleesome wrestle
tumbled at my feet. Ho it is with the church
of God. Everything comes from above, joy
from above, adoption from above, satisfac
tion from above. Oh, that now God would
turn on the waters of salvation, that they
might flow down through this heritage, an 1
tint to-day we might find this [flare to be
“Klim, with twelve wells of water and three
score and ten palm trees.”
Ms. YERNOK, MONTGOMERY CO., (J A., THU BSD AY, AUGUST 19, 1S8(l
Ilark! I hear the latch of tho garden gate,
ami 1 look to soe who is coining. 1 hoar the
voice of Christ: “l am come into my gar
den ” 1 sa f: “Come in, O Jesus, wo have
beeii waiting ftfr Tliee; walk all through the
paths. Look rit the Mowers, look at the fruit:
pluck thliti which Thou wilt for Tliysdf.”
Jesus comes, into the garden ritfd up to that
bid man and touches hini find says: ‘ Almost
home, father, hot many more riches for thee?
1 will never leave thee; I will never forsriko
thee; take courage a little lounger and 1 will
steady thy tottering steps and I will soothe
thy troubles and give thee rest; courage, old
man.” Then Christ goes up another garden
pit li and Ho comes to a soul in trouble and
lie says; “Peace! all is well. I have seen thy
, tears; I have hoard tliv prayer. The sun
shall n>t smite thee hy day nor
the moon by night. The Lord
shall preserve thee from all evil. Jte will
1 preserve thy soill. Courage, O troubled
, spirit!” Then I see Jesus going up another
; garden path and 1 seo great excitement
' among tiio leaves, and I hasten up that gar
den path to seo what Jesus is doing there,
an 1 lo! Ho is breaking oil* Mowers sharp and
clean from the stem, and I say: “Stop,
•lesUs. don’t kill those beautiful flowers.” 11«
turns to me and says: “1 have come into my
garden to gather idles, and l moan to taka
tlu so up to a higher terrace nml for tho gar
den mound my palace, and there l will plant
them, and in better soil and better air they
shall put forth brighter leaves and swoetef
redolen e, and no frost shall touch them for
ever.” And 1 looked up into His face and
said: “Well, it is His garden, and He has
fight to do what He will with it. Thy wil
!h‘ done!”—the hardest prayer a man ever
made.
It has see me 1 ns if Jesus ( hrist took the
host; from many of your households the lwst
one is gone. You knew that she Was too
good for tliis world; she wtt* the gentlest in
her ways, the deepest in her affections; aud
when at last the sickness < ame you had n
faith in medicines. You knew that Jem
was coming over the doorsi 11. You knew the
hour of parting had come, and when through
the rich grace of the Lord Jesus ( hrist you
surrendered that treasure you said: “Lord
Jesus, take it—it is the best wo have—take
it. Thou art worthy.” The others in tho
household may have been of grosser mould.
Mhe was of the finest. One (lava man was
taking mo from tho depot to a village, lb? was
very rough and <oarso, and v ery Mnspho
, tnous; but after awhile ho mellowed down as
: ho began to talk of his little son whom he
had lost. ‘ Oil! sir,” he said, “that boy was
different from tho rest of us. Ho never used
any bad languuge; no sir, I never heard him
use a bad word in my life. He used to say
i bi s prayers and we laughed at him, but ho
would ke.?p on saving his prayers. I often
Ih night, ‘I < au’t keep thit. child,’ and I said
to my wife: ‘Mother, we < an’t keep that child.’
But. sir, the day in* was drowned, and they
brought him in and laid him on the carpet,
i so white and so beautiful, my heart broke,
j sir; 1 knew we couldn’t keep him.”
The heaven of y<my little ones will not ho
fairly begun until you got there. AM the
kindness s shown them by immortals will n t
make them forget you. There they are, the
I radiant throngs that went out from your
homes. I throw a kiss to tho sweet darlings.
They are all well now in the palace. Tho
crippled child has a sound foot now. A littl •
l.uno child savs: “Ala. will I I e lame in
heaven.’ “No, my darling, you wont, Im*
lame in heaven.” A little sick child says:
i “Ma, will f he sick in heaven?” “No. my
dear, you won’t bo sick in heaven.” A littl*
blind child says: “Ma, will I be blind i/,
heaven'” “No, my dear, you won’t lx* blind
in h aven. They ate all wo!l there.”
I notice t ,f it the fine gardens sometimes
i have high letlcos around them mol I cannot
| got in. It is so with a King’s garden. Th**
only glimpß3 you e\ or get of su li a garden in
\vh**n the Kin : rides out in his splendid car
; riago It i> not si with tins garden, this
IJ v mg's garden. I throw wide open the gat ■
and tell you all to come in. No monopoly in
j religion. Whosoever will may choose now
between ft desert and a garden. Many
of you have tried the garden of this
World's delight. You have found it has
been a chagrin. Ho it was with Tlieo
j (lore Ilook. Ho makes u> laugh now
when we read Ins poems; but ho could not
j make his own heart laugh. While in the
1 midst of his festivities in* confronted a look
ing-glass and he y aw himself and said:
“There, that is true. I look just as I am,
done up in body, mind and purse.” Ho it
was of Shenstone, of whoso garden I told
you at the beginning of my so ino ». He sat
down amid those bowers and raid; “1 have
lost, my road to ha >piucss. lam angry and
envious and frantic, a id despise everything
around mo just as it !> comes a mad man to
do.” Oh yo weary souls, come into Clui t s
garden to-day aud pluck a little hearts
ea-o. Christ i; the onlv rest and tho
oniy pardon for a perturbed spirit. Do you
not think your chance has almost come?
You men and women who have been waiting
year after year for s *ino goo 1 oportuuity in
which to accept Christ, hut have post
oned it five, ton, two ity, thirty yours, do
you not fool as if now your hour of deliver
ance and p'irdon and salvation ha I come?
Oh man, what grudge hast thou against thy
poor soul that thou wilt not let it !> • saved '
I feel as if salvation must come to day in
some of your hearts.
Some years ago a vessel struck on the
rocks. jTliey had only one lifeboat. Jii that life
boat th i passengers and crow wen* getting
ashore. The vessel had foundered and was
sinking deeper and that one boat could not
take the passengers very swiftly. A little
girl stood on tho deck waiting for her turn to
get into tho boat Tho boat came and went,
came and went, but her turn Jid not seem to
come. After awhile she could wait no longer
and she ieape I on the bad rail aud
then sprang into th • sea, crying to the boat
men: "Save mo next! Save mo next!” Oh,
how many have gone ashore into God’s mercy
and yet you are clinging to the wreck of sin.
Others have accepted the pardon of ( 'hrist,
but you an* in fieri 1. Why not, this moment,
make a rush for your immortal res no, cry
ing until Jesus shall hear you and heaven
and earth ring with the cry: “Have mo next!
Have in" next!” Now is the day of salvation!
Now! Now!
This Sabbath is tho last for some of you.
It is about to *ail away forever. Her Ix-ll
to!I«. The planks thunder back in Hie gang
way. Hho shove.* oT, she floats toward tho
gre.it ocean of eternity. Wave farewell to
your last chance for heaven. Ob, Jerusa
lem, Jerusalem, how often would I have
gather* d thee as a hen gathereth her brood
under her wing-i aud ye would not. Behold
your house is left unto you desolate. Invited
to revel in a garden, you die in a desort
May God Almighty, before it is too late,
break that infatuation.
A Detail Frequently Omitted.
“What a pice summer resort that must
be. Let’s go there, pa. ”
“Well, I don’t know, dear; I do not
consider this circular quite satisfactory.’ 1
“Why, pa, it is full of all sorts of de
tails.”
“Yea, I know it; it tells all about the
size of the hotel, the size of the grounds,
and the size of the rooms, but not a word
about the size of the mosquitoes.”
- arzm
It isn’t always the man who knows
pi most that wins, but the man who can
apply what he does know.
“SUB DEO FAOIO FORTiTEE*
The Lillie llnnchbjicK.
I'm nine* J'.rtlrt* olill an’ you can’t guras how
much I weigh, I lietf
Last birthday I weighed thirty-Hitee,- an’ I
weigh thirty yet!
I’m awful little for my sin?—l’m purt’ high
Hitler mi’
Seine babies is-. mi neighbors nil calls mo “the
fittF Man!”
An’ Oof one lime helanghed an said,“l ’spoct
first thing you know,
You'll have a little spike tail coat nn’ travel
wit h a show I"
An’ non 1 laughed - till t looked round and
Auntv was a eryin’-
Sumetlines she acts like that, ’cause I got
“Ourv’ture of the spine!”
I sol while aunty’s washing on my little
long leg stool.
An'-watch tho little boys nn’girls a-skippin’
by to seliool;
Ar'l peck on tho winder an’holler out an’
say:
"Who wants to fight the little man 'at dares
you all to-day f”
AnVncii the boys climbs on tho fenco, an’ lit
tle girls peeks through,
An’they all say: "’Cause you’re so big, you
think we’re ’feared o’ you?"
An’ nen they yell, an’ shake their fist at me,
like 1 shake mine—
Tlie’re tlmst in fun, you know, ’cause I got
•‘curv’turo of the spine!”
At itvoniug, when the ironin’* done, an
amity’s fixed the fire.
An* filled an'lit the lamp, and trimmed tho
wiek an’ turned it Higher,
An’ fetehed tho wood all in fer night, an’
looked the kitchen door,
An’ stuffed the 010 craok wlioro the wind
blows in up through tho tioor—
Sho sets the kittle on tho coals, an’ biles an’
makes tho lea,
An’fries the liver an’mush, an’cooks a egg
fer me,
An’ sometimes, when I cough so hard, her
elderberry wine
Don’t go so bad fer little boys with “curv’turo
, of tho spine!”
Uutaunly's all so childish, like, on my ac
count, you sec,
I’m most nfonred she’ll ho took down, nn’ ’ats
w hut 1 withers me
’Cause cf my good 010 aunty evor would get
sick an’ die,
I don’t know ivliat she’d do in heaven, till 1
come, by an’ by,
For she’s so ust t o all my ways, nil’ every
thing, you know,
An’no one there like mo, to nurse, an' worry
over so,
’Cause all the little childrens there’s so
J si might an’si rung, an’ tine,
\/ey’s nary angel ’bout tho place with
, “curv’turo of the spine."
IK. A 'ih'y in the Current.
TH’-I LAbt STRAW.
■>a |
Mrs. Black was next neighbor to tho
Peppers when they bought their collage
at Beuvicw, and on the very first night
she tumbled over the scattered hits of
furniture in the passage and appeared in
their midst unexpectedly to borrow a lit
tle salt. 81 ic said it was nice to have
neighbors again, and that Mrs. Popper
Idokcd so sweet she knew she wouldn’t
mind.
At midnight she roused them from their
slumbers to inquire if they had any chol
era medicine, for little Peter had been
eating too many green apples and she
thought he would die. She said she was
thankful Mrs. pepper had moved in, and
that hut for that circumstance she might
have lost her darling. Mrs. Pepper was
thankful, too, and the two women em
braced with tears. Then Mrs. Black bor
rowed some mustard for a plaster.
The next day she sent Peter, fully re
covered and with his pockets full of
green fruit, to ask for the ax, the handle
having come olf theirs; also a rolling-pin.
Fortunately the Peppers possessed
three axes and two rolling-pins, so they
did not feci disturbed by the fact that
the articles were never returned. Put
after a short interval filled by loans of
coal, potatoes, bread and cheese, Mrs.
Black came herself to borrow the folding
table, a pair of scissors, the pattern of a
basque, and a low rocking-chair. Blie
was going to make some dresses, and if
Mrs. I’epper would step over and fit he,-
she’d be much obliged.
Mrs. Pepper did it and made the but
ton-holes, too. Mrs Blank never could
learn to make a button-hole. The table,
the scissors, the rocking-chair, and the
pattern all remained at Mrs. Black’s.
The next week Mrs. Black borrowed a
mantle and a water-proof.
Mrs. Pepper by this time grew bold
enough to beg that she would send them
home when she returned.
Mrs. Black said “Os course,” with
some offense, but when Peter was next
seew-it was not to bring back those arti
cles. What he wanted was the baby
carriage and a market basket.
Christmas time came and with it cards
for a party. The Blacks so hoped they’d
all come and enjoy themselves.
Having accepted what was more natu
ral than to take an interest in the pro
ceedings—to lend sugar and ice-cream
freezer, butter, and the egg-beater, the
cut-glass goblets and the best table-cloths,
the spice-box entire, and lots of other
things? Finally Mrs. Slack, witli her
gown tucked up and her eyes sparkling,
ran it to say that they thought a dance
wofrtd he nice and could Mtv, Pepper
spare the plrftfw for ogo evening?
“There’s nobody to move it,” said j
Mrs. Pepper, rejoiced U> liava an excuse. I
“I’fit so sorry.”
Mrs. Black laughed and went to
window. Fonr f’fg laborers appeared 1
and without nny prclinilttvy directing
shouldered the instrument mid /ftgged it
away. They bumped it against raillffw*
and fairly tumbled it down in a plowed
field before they finished their mission, |
but by nf.*iin strength they got it at last j
to the Black’s door aitd Mrs. Black took j
her leave, carrying the piano stool and !
cloth herself.
The appearance of her beloved pintto
gave Mrs. Pepper n great deal of unhap
piness that evening. It had a deep
scratch on tho cover and one of the keys ;
wouldn’t lift. However, she played
waltzes and sets for the limners most of j
the evening,and as the company went in
to supper in relays old folks first and
young folks last, as Mrs. Black said sho
found very little left but a cup of colTeo
and a turkey-bono when her duties were
done.
I tut there is an end to everything.
One day she saw Mrs. Slack driving up
the road in the minister’s new buggy.
She was wearing tho pretty mantilla slu
had borrowed of her. With her usual lit
tle giggle she stopped at the garden gate.
Mr. Pepper had taken a holiday and
was lying in the hammock read ing. 11 is
wife had her sewing under the oak trees [
and was extremely luippy mid comforta- 1
ble. If Mrs. Sleek lmd come to ask her ;
to drive she had resolved not to go. She |
would say: “My husband has so few
holidays 1 cannot leave home to-day.”
lint Mrs. Black did no such tiling.
“You dear, good soul!" she cried, ns
soon as she was within speaking distance, j
“1 came to borrow your husband,”
“Borrow whatl" ejaculated Mrs. Pep*
per.
“Your husband,” said Mrs. Black,
“Slack’s in New York; I am going ton
n picnic; 1 want, an escort and some one
to drive. May 1 have him?”
“You ought to ask Mr. Pepper him
self,” said Mrs. Pepper, very coldly.
“1 shan’t,” said Mrs. Black, playfully,
“I came to borrow him of you. You’ll
lend him, won’t you? and I shall toll
every one Hint dear, good angel, Mrs.
Pepper, lent me her husband.”
“You insist I shall answer, Mrs. Black,”
Mrs. Pepper answered.
“Yes,” lisped Mrs. Black, “you’ll lend ;
him, won’t you?”
“No!” said Mrs. Pepper in a very de
cided tone, “I am afraid 1 shouldn’t get
him hack. I let you have my piano. 1
That hasn’t been returned. My water
proof -where is that? My baby’s car
riage your baby takes air in it now.
My cutting-hoard and scissors, my roll
ing pin, mi I all the rest, J haven’t seen.
But I promised to cleave unto my hus
band till death does us parti You surely
never would return him!”
“Oh! oh loh I” screamed Mrs. Black,
turning pink. “You wicked woman!
You mean thing! You shall have all
your horrid things buck. Do you want
your spoonful of salt, too, you mean,
mean wretch?”
Then, tearing the mantilla from her
shoulders, she threw it at Mr. Pepper’s
head as ho struggled from the hammock
and drove away.
She borrowed a shawl from tho clergy
man's wife mid went to tho picnic with
her eldest boy ns escort.
Before her return Mrs. Pepper had
proceeded to her neighbor’s house and
collected her goods and chattels.
The piano was out of tune and scratch
ed ; onions had been kept in the ice
cream freezer, and tho mantle had a
grease-spot on one shoulder; the child
ren had cut a game on the hip-board, and
it was evident Mr. Black had whipped
t-hern with the egg-beater. The baby
carriage had be on used to carry char
coal home, and the points of the scissors
were gone. Ho was Mrs. Black’s love.
She goes about abusing Mrs. Pepper as
the meanest and most jealous thing sho
ever knew.
Knew (lie Deep Places.
A passenger said to the pilot of a
steamboat: “You have been a long,
time, f suppose, at this business?”
“Yes,” answered the pilot, “upwards
of twenty years.”
“You know, then,” pursued the pas
senger, “every rock arid shoal?”
“ Not liy a long way,” was the an
swer, “bid. I know where the deep water
is.”
Another Match Spoiled.
They were looking over her family al
lium, Birdie and her Harold, when they
came to a portrait of an aged gentleman.
“Who is that old •balloon?” asked Har
old.
“Why, replied Birdie, shutting up
the book angrily, “You don’t think
grandpa looks like a hal o in, do you,
Harold?” — Neu> York Graphic r
VOh. 1. NO. ‘-’4.
Fillr Morning in tho Harbor.
Fair morning Is on tho harbor,
Ami morning on the bay,
Ami the boats that were lying at anchor
Now silently steal uway.
No wind in the sails to tiear them;
They drift with the tide afar, h
Till they enter tho outer harbor
And silently cross tlio l>ar.
It, may ho the skipper is sleeping,
He sits at the rudder so still;
ft may lie the skip|Mir is thinking
Ctr his young wife on tho hill.
She wastes f*o moment In sighing;
With day her Inborn beffhi.
Wide open she flings tl»e shutters
To let tho still sunshi.'*# In*
Fhe pauses only an Instant
To look nt tl» steel gray dew.
From that to tho rosebush glances,
Where it sparkles fresh and now.
And down the slope to the tvu’lxjr,
And over the harbor afar;
For her dear little heart with tlio skipper
Is Just now crossing the Uir.
“(led bless liorl” the skipper is saying, \
“lied bless him!” the wife returns.
Thus each for the other is praying,
W bilo each for the other yearns.
—.Aimes Herbert Morse.
HUMOROUS.
Plan facts—Western prairies.
Tho way of tho world —Itound its
axis.
Tlio original boy cot—Cains littlo
crib.
A temperance movement —Turning on
tlie water.
It is a wise railroad stock that knows
its own par.
A cannibal is beliovod to bo very fond
of his fellow men.
Professor Which teeth comes last ?
Pupil—tho false ones, sir.
A porous plaster bus boon boycotted,
but the proprietors resolvo to stick.
A six-year-old child being asked,
“What is a rope?” replied, “A fat
string.”
The mail witli a No. 15 neck and a
No. 14 collar lias a hard struggle to make
both ends meet.
Dun (drawing out a bill) : Exouso
me, sir- Perplexed debtor (hurrying
uwny) ; Pray, don’t mention it.
“Who should decide when doctors disa
gree ?” Wo don’t know who should, but
we know that tlio undertakers generally
does.
That new dictionary with 240,000
words is intended to provide a sufiieient
ly large vocabulary with which to ad
dress tho Imho ball umpires during a
dispute.
There is a slight difference between
the dead beat and tho apprehended
thief. One asks the bar to charge the
account, and the bur asks tho other to
account the charge.
Professor at Columbia “We cannot
taste in the dark. Nature intends us to
sec our food.” Student “How about a
blind man’s dinner ?” Professor—“ N
ature has provided him with eyeteeth,
sir.”
A good deal is being said lately about
the ability of young wives to cook. Tlio
ability of young husbands to provide
them with something to cook ought not
to be entirely left out of the question.
When you see a business man look melan
cholic,
With haggard face and dull, complaining
eyes,
It’s not because of biliousness or colic ;
The trouble is he doesn’t advertise.
The Warlike Apache.
A correspondent of the Chicago Inler-
Orcan says: The Apache is not only the
most warlike of American Indians - and
I do not except the Ute Indians, the
Bioux, nor the Comanches- -but he is also
the most skilled in war. Trained to an
endurance which would he unattainable
in a more endurable country; with the
eye of a hawk, the stealth of a coyote,
the courage of a tiger, and its mcrciless
riess, lie is tho Bedouin of the new world.
He has horses that will exist on a blade
of grass to an acre, and will travel 110
miles in twenty-four hours thereby with
out falling dead on the homestretch. Hu
knows every foot of his savage country
better than you know the interior of
your parlor. He finds water and food
where the best of us would starve to
death for the want of both. More than
100 different plants yield him intestinal
revenue. lie has fastnesses from which
no forco can dislodge him; and when
you lay siege he quietly slips out by
some back door canon, and is off like
thistle down on the wind.
The dangorousness of an Indian is in
inverse ratio to his food supply. Tho
Apaebc, born to starvation, iiis whole
life a constant fight to wrest a living from
vixenish nature, as well as to wrest life
from his neighbor, is whetted down to a
ferocity of edge never reached by the In
dian of a section where wood and water
and facile game abound,