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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,