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REV. DR._ T A IMAGE. THE BROOKLYN DIVINE’S SUN DAY SERMON. Subject: “The Three Greatest Things To Do.” Text. —‘'The pt-opTe that do-know thcii God sha'l he strong, and do exjzloits."— Daniel xi., 32. Antiochus Kpiphar.es, the old sinner, cam o down three times with his army to desolate the Jews, advancing one time with a hun dred and two trained elephants swinging their trunks this way and that, and si -tv two thousand infantry, and six thousand cavalry troops, and they were driven ha le. Then the second time he advanced with sev enty thousand armed men and had been again defeated. But the third time he laid success ful siege until the navy of Romecamein with the flash of their l< ng banks of oars and demanded that the siege be lifted. And Antiochus Epiphanes said he wanted time to consult w ith his friends about it,and Popi lius. one of the Roman embassadors, took a staff and made a circle on the ground around Antiochus Epiphanes, and compelled him to decide before lie came out of that circle; where pen ho li ted the siege. Some of the Jews had submitted to the invader, but some of tnem resisted valorously, as did Eleazer. when he had swine’s flesh forced into his mouth, spit it out. allhough ha knew he must die for it, and did die for it, and others, as my text says, wero enabled to do exploits. An exploit I would define to be a heroic act. a brave feat, a great achievement. “Well,” you say, “lahnire such things but there is no chance for me; mine is a sort of humdrum life. If I had'an Antiochus Epiph anes to fight I also could do exploits.” You are right so far as great wars are concerned. There will probably be rio opportunity to dis tinguish yourself in battle. The most of the brigadier-generals of this country wou d never hav& been heard of had it not been for the war. General Grant would have remained in the useful work of tanning hides at Galena, and (3t‘ nowall Jackson would have continued the quiet college professor in Virginia. And whatever military talents you have will probably lie dormant forever. Neither will you probably become a great inventor- Nineteen hnndred and ninety-nine out of every two thousand inventions found in the patent office at Washington never yielded their authors enough money to pay for the expenses of securing the patent. So you will probably never be a Morse or an Edi son, or a Humphrey Davy or an Eli Whitney. There is not much prohabilitv that you will bo the one out of the hundred that achieves extraordinary success in com mercial or legal or medical or literary spheres. What then' ('an you have no op portunity to do exploits! I am going to show you to-day that there are three oppor tunities open that are grand, thrilling, far reaching, stupendous and overwhelming. They are before you now. In one. if not all three of them, you may do exp’o ts. Toe three greatest things on earth to do are to save a man, or save a woman, or save a child. During the course of his life almost every man getsint > an exigency, is caught hetw.—n two fires, is ground between two millstones, sits on the edge of some precipice, or in some other way comes near demolition. It may bo a financial, or a moral, or a domestic, or a social, or a politic d exigency. You some times see it in court rooms. A young man has got into bad company and he has odend -d the law, and he is arraign d Ali blush ing and confused lie is in the pres ence of judge and jury and lawyers. He can bo sent right on in the wrong direction.- He is feeling disgraced, and he is almost desperate. Let the District Attorney overhaul him 83 though he were an old offender; let the Ablest attorneys at the bar refuse to say a word for him because he cannot afford a considerable lee; let the judge give no opportunity for presenting the mitigating circumstances, hurry up the case and hustle him up to Auburn or Sing King. If he liveseventy years* for seventy years he will be a criminal and each decade of his life will he blacker tan its predecesior. In the interreg nums of prison life he ca»i get no work, and he is glad to break a windo w-glass, or blow up a sate, or play the highwayman, so as to get back again within the walls where he can get something to eat and hide himself from the cruel gaze of tha wcrld. Why don’t his father come and help him? His father is dead. Why don’t his mother cemo and help him? She is dead. Where are ail the ameliorating and salutary in fluences of society! They do not touch him. Why did not some one long ago in the case understand that tlr-re was an opportunity for the explo.t which would be famous in heaven a quadrill ion of years after the earth has become scattered ashes in the last whirlwind? Why did not the District Attorney takethat young man into his private office and say: “My son, I sec that you are the victim of circuin stances. This is your first crime. You are sorry. I will bring the person you wronged into your presence and you wiil apologize and make all the reparation you can, and 1 will give you another chance.” Or the young man is presented in the court room and he has no friends present, and the judge says: “Who is your counsel?” And he savs: “I have none.” And the judge says: “Who will take this young man's case ” And there is a dead halt and no one offers, and after a while the judge turns to some attorney who never had a good case in all his life and never will, and whose advocacy would be enough to secure the condemnation of inno cence itself. And the professional incompetent crawls up beside the prisoner, helplessness to rescue despair, when there ought to be a struggle among all the best men of the profession as to who should have the honor of trying to help that unfortunate. How much would such an attorney have re reived as his fee for such an advocacy? Nothing in dollars, but much every way in a happy consciousness that would make hi 3 own life brighter and his own dying pillow sweeter and his own heaven happier—the consciousness that he had saved a man! So there are commercial exigencies. A very late spring obliterates the demand for spring overcoats and spring hats and spring apparel of ail sorts. Hundreds of thousands of people say: “It seems we are going to have no serins: and we shall eo straight out of winter into warm weather, and we can get along without the usual spring attire.” Or there is no autumn weather, the beat plunging into the cold, and the usual cloth ing, which is a compromiee between sum mer and winter, is not required. It makes a difference in the sale of millions and millions of dollars of goods, and some over-sanguine young merchant is caught with a vast amount of unsalable goods thut never will be salable again ex cept at prices ruinously reduced. That young merchant with a somewhat limited capital is in a predicament. What shall the old merchants do as they see that young man in tdiis awful crisis! Rub their hands and laugh and say: “Good for hits. He might have known better. When he has been in business as long as we have, he will not load his shelves in that way. Ha! Ha! He will burst up before long. He had no business to open his store so near to our: anyhow.” Sheriff’s sale! Red flag in the window: “How much is bid for these out of-the-fashion spring overcoats and spring hats or fall clothing out of date! \\ hat do J hear in the way of a bid?” “Four dollars.’' ’“Absurd, 1 cannot take that bid of four dol lars. Why,these coats when first put upon the market were offered at fifteen dollars each, and now lam offered only four dollars. Is that all? Five dollars do I hear? Going at that! Gone at five dollars,” and he takes the whole lot. The young merchant goes homo that night and saysto his wife: “Well. Mary, we will have to move out of this house and sell our piano. That old merchant that ha had an evil eye on me over since 1 started has bought out all the clothing, and he will have it rejuvenated, and next year put it or the market as new, while we will do 'yell if wi keep out of the poor-house.’’ The young man broken-spirited, goes to hard drinking. The young wife with her baby goes to her father s house, and not only is his store wiped out, but his home, His morals, and his prospe ts for two worlds, this and the next. And devils make a bammet of fire and fill the r cups of gall and drink deep to the health of the old merchant who swallowed tin the voung merchant who got stuck on spring goods and went down. That is one way and some of you have tried it. But there is another wav. That young merchant who found that he had miscalcu lated in laying in too many goods of one kind and been flung of the "unusual season, is standing behind the counter feeling very blue and biting bis finger nails or looking over his account books, whi'-h real darker and worse every time he looks at them, and thinks how his young wife will have to bo put in a plainer housi than she ever expected to live in, or go to a third-rate boardinc-bnuse whera tney have tough liver and sour bread five mornings out of the seven. An old merr-hanS comes in and says: “ Well. Joe, this has been a hard season for young merchants, and this prolonged cool weather has put many in the doldrums, and I have been thinking of you a good deal of late, for just after I started in business I once got into the same scrape. Now if there is anything 1 can do to hclu voa out 1 will gladly do it. Better just put thoie goods out of sight for the present and n -xt season wo will plan something about them. I will help you to some goods that you can sell for me on commission, and I will go down to one of the wholesale houses and teil them that 1 know you and wfll back you up, and if you want a few dollars to bridge over the present I can let you have them. Be as economical as you c m, keep a stiff upper lip, and remember that you have two friends,. Gol and myself. Good* morning! ’ The old merchant goes away and the young man goes behind his desk and the tears rol l down his cheeks, It is the first time ho has cried. Disaster made him mad at everything, an 1 mad at mm and mad at God. But this kindness mel’s him, and the tears soem to relieve his bruin, and iiis spirits rise from ten below zero to eighty in the shade, and he comi s out of the crisis. And about three years after, this young merchant goes into the old merchant's store and says: “Well, my old friend, I was this morning thinking over what you did for me three years ago. Yon helped me out of an awful crisis in my com mercial history. I learned wisdom and pros perity has come, and the pa lor has gone out of my wife’s cheeks, and the roses that were there when I courted her in her fatherls house have bloomed again, and my business is splendid, ami 1 thought I ought to let you know that you saved a man!” In a short time after, the old merchant who had been a good while shaky in his limbs and had poor spells is caUe.l to leave the world, and one morning after he bad read the twency third Psalm ab-uit “The Lord is my Shepherd,” he closes his eyes on this world, and an angel who had been for many years appointed to watch the old man’s dwelling, cries upward th ■ news that the patii irch’s sp r.t is about ascending. And the twelve angels who keep the twelv e gates of heaven unite in crying down to this approaching spirit of the old man: “Comein at any of the twelve gates you choose! Come m and welcome, for it has heentoid all over these Celestial neighborhoods that you saved a man.” Tnere sometimes come exigencies in the life of a woman. One morning about two years ago I saw in the newspaper that there was a young woman in New York whose pocketbook containing thirty-seven dollar.? and thirty-three cents had been stolen and she hal been left with out a farthing at tho beginning of winter in a strange city, and no work. And although she was a stranger, I did not allow the nine o’clock mail to leave the lampost on our corner without carrying the thirty-seven do! ars and thirty-three cents: and the case was proved genuine’. ’ Now I have read all Shakespeare’s tragedies, and ad Victor Hugo’s tragedies, and all Alex ander Smith’s tragedies, but I never read a tragedy more thrilling than that, ease, and similar cases by the hundred) and thousands in all our large cities; young wo men without money and without home and without work in these great maelstroms of metropolitan life. When such a case comes under your observation, how do you treat it? “Get out of my way, we have no room in our establishment for any more hands. I don’t be lieve in women anyway, they are a lazy, idle, worthless set. J ohn, please show this person out of the door.” Or do you compliment her per sonal appearance and say tli.ngs to her which if any man said to your sister or daughter you would kill him on the spot? That is one way, and it is tried every day in these large cities, and many of those who advertise for female hands in factories and for governesses in families have proved themselves unfit to be in any place outside of hell. But there is another way. and I saw it the other day in the Methodist Book Concern in New York, where a young woman applied for work, and the gentleman in tone and manner said in substance: “My daughter, we employ women here, but I do not know of any vacant place in our' department. You had better inquire at such and suc-b a place, and 1 hope you will be successful in getting something to do.” The embarrassed and humiliated woman seemed to give way to Christian confidence, l'he started out with a hopeful look that I think must have won for her a place in which to earn her bread. I rather think that consid erate and Christ an gentlemen saved a woman. New York and Brooklyn ground up last year about thirty thousand young women, and would like to grind up atiout as many this year. Out of ali that long procession of women who mar h on with no hope for this world or the next, battered, bruised, scoffed at and flung off the precipice, not one but might have been saved for home and God and heaven. But good men and good women are not in that kind of business. Alas for that poor thing! nothing but the thread of that evening-giri s needleheld her, and the thread broke. 1 have heard men tell in public discourse what a man is, but what is a woman? Until some one shall give a better definition I will tell you what a woman is. Direct from God, a sacred and delicate gift with affections so great that no measuring line short of that of the infinite God can tell their bound. Fash ioned to refine and soothe and lift and irradiate home and society and the world. Of such value that no one can appreciate it. unless his mother lived long enough to let him understand it. or who in some great crisis of life w hen all else failed him, had a wife to reinforce him with a faith in God that nothing could dis turb. Speak out, ye cradles, and tell of the feet that rocked you and the anxious faces that hovered over you! Speak out, ye nurseries of all Christendom, and ye homes, whether desolate or stilt in full bloom with the faces of wife, mother and daughter, and help me to define what woman is. If a man during all his life accomplish nothing els« except to win the love and confidence auu help and companionship of a good woman he is a garlanded victor and ought to hav« the hands of all the people between here and the grave stretched out to him in con gratulation. But as geographers tell us that the depth! of the sea correspond with the heights of th« mountains, I have to tell you that good womanhood is not higher up than bad woman hood is deep down. The grander the pnlacs, t he more awful the conflagration that destroys if. The grander the steamer Oregon, the more terrible liar going down just off the coast. Now I should not wonder if you trembled a little with a s -nse of responsibil ity when I say that there is hardly a person in this house but may have an opportunity to save a woman. It In ay, in your case, bo done by good advice, or by financial help, or by trying to bring to bear some one oi a thousand Christian influences. You would not have to go far. If, for instance, you know among your acquaintances a young W’oman who is apt to appear on tho streets about the hour when gentlemen return from business and you find her responding to the smile of entire strangers, hogs that lift their hat, go to her and plainly teil her that nearly all the de stroyed womanhood of the world began the downward path xvith that x T ery kind of bo ha vior. Or if, for instance, you find a woman in financial distress an 1 breaking down in health and spirits trying to support her chil dren, now that her husband is dead or an in- valid, doing that very important and honor aide work, but which is little appreciated, keeping a boarding house, where all the nests, according as they pay small 0 ird. or propose, without paying any board at all, to decamp, are i r.tieal of everything and hard to please busy yourselves in trying to get her more patrons and tell her of divine sympathy. Vea, if you are a woman favored of fortune ami all kindly surroundings, finding in the hollow flatteries of the world her chief re galement, living for herself and for time as if there were no eternity, strive to bring her into the kingdom of God, as did I the other clay a Kabbath-school teacher w ho was tho means of the conversion of the j daughter of a man of immense wealth, and the daughter resolved to join the church, and she went home and said: “Father, I am going to o n the church and I want you j to come. ” “Oh, no,” he said, "I never go to j church.” “Well,” said the daughter, “if I were to be j married, would you not go to see me mar ried?” And he said: “Oh, yes.” “Weil,” i said she, “this is of more importance than that .” 8o he wenf and lias gone ever s.nce, ti7i.il loves to go. 1 do not know but that faithful Kabbath-school teacher not only saved a woman but saved a man. There may i be in this audience gathering from all parts | of the world, ti e most eosmopo itan assembly j in all the earth, there may be a man whose behavior toward womanhood has been perfidious. Repent! Stand up, thou mas terpiece of sin and death, that I may charge vou! As far as possible, make reparation. I>o not boast that you have h r in your pow er and that she cannot help herself. W hen that fine collar and cravat and that elegant suit of clothes c-omes off and your uncovered soul stands in judgment and b.-tore God, you will be better off if you save that woman. There is another exploit that you can do, and that is to save a child. A chilci does not seem to amount to much. It is nearly a year old before it can walk at all. For the first year and a half it cannot speak a word. For the first ten years it would starve if it had to earn its own food. For the first fifteen years its opinion on any subject is abso lutely valueless. And then there are so many of them. My! what lots of children! And some people have contempt for chil dren. They are good for nothing but to wear out the carpets and break things and keep you awake nights crying. well your estimate of a child is quite different from that mother’s estimate who lost her child this summer. They took it to the salt air of the seashore and to the tonic air of the mountains, but no help came, and tha brief paragraph of its life is ended. Suppose that life could bo re stored by purchase, bow much would that bereaved mother give! She would take all the jewels from her fingers and neck and bureau and put them down. And if tcld that that was not enough, she would take her home and make over the deed for it, and if that were not enough she would call in all her investments and put down nil her mort gages and bonds; and if told that were not enough, she would say: “I have made over all my property, and if I can have that child back I will now pledge tha:, I w ill toil with my own hands and carry with my own shoul ders in any kin t of hard work, and live in a cellar and die in a garret. Only give me back that lost darling,” lam glad that there are those who know something of the value of a child. Its possibilities are tremendous. TV hat will those hands vet do? Where will those feet yet walk? Toward what destiny will that never-dying soul be take itself! Shall those lips be the throne of blasphemy or benediction? Come, all yo surveyors of the earth, and bring link and chain and measure if you cm its possible possessions. Come, all ye astronomers of the earth, with your telescopes, and tell us if you can see the ranze of its eternal flight. Come, all ye chronologists, and calculate the de cades on decades, the centuries on centuries, the cycles on cycles, the eternities on e'.er nities of its lifetime. Oh, to save a child! Am I not right in putting that among the great exploits? Yes, it beats the other two, for if you save the child you save the man or you save the woman. Get the first twenty years of that boy or girl all right and I guess you have got manhood or womanhood all right, and their entire earthly and eternal career ail right. Rut what are you going to do with those children who are wor.-e off than if their father or mother had died the day they were born? There are tens of thousands of such. Their parentage was against them. Their name is against them. The structure of their skulls against them. Their nerves and muscles contaminated by the inebriety or dissoluteness of their parents, they are practically at their birth laid out on a plank in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean in an equinoctial gale and told to make for shore. The first gre ting tiiev get from the world is to be called a brat or a ragamuffin or a wharf-rat. What to do with them is the question often asked. There is another question quite as pertinent, an l that is, what are they gong to do with us? They will ten or eleven years from now have as many votes as the same number of well-born "children, and they will hand this lanl Aver to anarchy and political damnation just as sure as we neglect them. Suppose we each one of us save a boy or a girl. Youcandoit. Will you? I will. Take a cake of perfumed soap and a fine toothed comb, ana a New Testament and a little candy and prayer, and a piece of cake and faith in God and common sense, and be gin this afternoon. But how shall we get rea ly for one or all of these three exploits? We shall make a dead failure if in our own strength we try to save a man or woman or child. But my text suggests where we are to get equipment. “The people that do know their God shall bo strong, and do exploits.” We must know Him through Jesus Christ in our own salva tion, and then we shall have His help in the salvation of others. And while you are saving strangers you may save some of your own kin. You think your brothers and sis ters and children and grandchildren all safe, but they are not dead, and no one is safe till he is dead. On tho English coast there was a wild storm and a wreck in the offing, and the cry was: “Man the lifeboat.” But Harry, the usual leader of the sailors’ crew, was not to lie found, and they went without him and brought back all th shipwrecked people except one. By this time Harry, the leader of the crew, appeared and said: “Why did you leave that one?” The answer was: “He could not help himself at all and we could not get him into the boat.” “Man the lifeboat,” shouted Harry. “and we will go for thut one.” “No,” said his aged mother standing by, “you must not go. I lost your father in a storm like this, and vour brother Will went off six years azoand 1 have not heard a word from TV ill since he left, and I don’t know where he is, and what has happened to him, poor Will, and I cannot let you also go for I am old end dependent on vou.” His reply was: “Mother, I must go and save that one man, and if I am lost God will take care of you in your old days.” The lifeboat put out, and after an awful struggle with the sea they picked the poor fellow out of the rigging just in time to save his life, and started lor the shore. And as they came within speaking distance, Harry, just before he fainted from the over-exertion, cried out: “TVe saxed him, and tell mother it was brother Will.” Ob, yes, my friends, let us start out to save some one for time and for eternity, some man, and some woman, and some child. And who knows but it may, directly or indirectly, be the salvntion of one of our own kindred, and that will be an exploit worthy of celebration when the world itself is shipwrecked and the sun has gone out like a spark from a smitten anvil and all the stars are dead 1 The Tonng Man With the Sash. First Old Party ton hotel piazza).— “What has that young man got that big sash around his waist for?” Second Old Party. ‘ Dunno, unless he has got a pane in his stomach.”— Boston Bulletin. Tke constitutional amendment increasing tho number of Supreme Court Judges of Georgia from three to five, was defeated at the recent election by a majority of about k 25,001. The farmers united against it. HOUSEHOLD AFFAIRS. Knuckle of Mutton. Cover with cut bailey, a few caper*, finely cut unions, and thin slices of turnips; season with pepper and salt; let it steam or simmer gently for an hour and a half, and then have ready melted butter and pour over, allowing it again to steam or simmer for twenty minutes. A beautiful gravy will have collected, and the meat-be as tender as a chicken. Garnish with Paysadu tongue, warmed previously by steam. The price of Hits tongue is far less than the British article, and the tongue lias a sweet taste. Scalloped Onions. Boil, and if large cut into quarters. Put into a shallow dish, cover with white sauce and buttered crumbs, and bake until the on ous are brown. Take off the outside skin of onions and cut. Pour hot water over them, add a half teaspoonful of soda, and let them stand for half an hour or more. Put on to boil with a teaspoonfal of soda in the water. 1 'oil till soft, and then proceed as directed above. If one has to cut up a large quantity of onions it is well to do it under water, a part of the odor being thus absorbed home lay a piece of breitd neh • the onions, thinking that it absorbs part of the odor. Pickled Cucumbers. For GOO cucumbers: Three gallons strong cider vinegar, three quarts water, one heaping quart of salt, eight ounces alum, one handful horseradish root cut in strips, three do/en small onions, par boil and peel o t outer skin, one-half pound sugar. Wash the cucumbers in cold water and rub off the roughness, put them into a large jar, sprinkle con siderable salt over them and pour enough boiling water to cover them. Let them stand for twenty-four hours, then take out the pickles, empty out the brine and put the pickles again into the jar with the ■onions and horseradish, boil the vinegar and water with the eight ounces of alum, one quart sat, one half pound sugar, ab nit fifteen minutes. Take two ounces whole clove, two ounces of all spice, one-half pound pepper cor s crushed, two ounces mustard seeds broken, two ounces cinnamon I roken. Sew these into one or two flannel bags and put them in the jar. If you like add two or th ee green peppers cut in slits. Now pour on boiling vinegar and cover your jar tightly. In a week pour off the vinegar, boil it, and pour over the pickles a second time. —Detroit Free Press. Chicken in Jelly. Clean and put on to boil a plump chicken, allowing a uint of xvater for each pound of the chicken's weight. When the xvater is heated to the boiling point skim it and set ihe pot back where it will simmer until the meat is tender, about an hour and a half. Then remove the chi- ken, sain it and remove all the flesh from tho bones, then put the la ter back in the kettle and let the liquor boil until it has been reduced one half. Then strain the liquor and put it away to cool. It will get into a regular elly. Then remove the fat, and put the hardened liquor into a saucepan, andadda quarter of a package of gelatine for each quart of jelly—soak the gelatine for an hour in half a cup of cold water—twelve pepper corns four cloves, a small piece of mace, a stalk of celery, an onion, the white and shell of an egg, salt and pepper to taste. Let the ingredients boil up at once, then put the saucepan back where it will sim mer for twenty minutes Then strain the jelly through a napkin. Put a layer of it three-quarters of an inch thick in a mold and put the mold in ice-water to harden. Cut the flesh of the chicken into long, thin strips, Aasou them well with salt and pepper and lay them lightly in the mold when the jelly is hard. Pour the :e-t of the jellly into the mold and put >t away to harden. When the dish is ready to be served, dip the mold into warm water and turn it upside down on a platter; its contents will slide out in one mass. A garnish of parsley im prove; its appearance , and Tartare or mayonnaise sauce may be served with it. J.rouklj n Eagle. Household Hints. Remove stains from cups and saucers by scouring with line coal ashes. If sassafras bark is sprinkled among dried fruit it Will keep out the worms. Tin cleaned with paper will shine better than when cleaned withllannel. ( lothe-pins boiled a few minii es and quickly dried once or twice a month become more durable. A little petroleum added to the water with which waxed ot polished tloorsare washed improves their looks. Tea or coffee stains will come out at once if they are taken immediately and held over a pail while boiling water is poured upon them. Make starch with soapy water and you will find it a pleasure to do up your starched goods. It prevents the iron from sticking and makes a glossy sur face. When potter’s ware is boiled for the purpose of hardening it, a handful or two of bran should be thrown into the water, and the glazing will never be injured by acids or salt. Dry buckwheat flour, if repeatedly applied, will entirely remove the worst; grease spots on carpets or any other woo en cloth, and wiil answer as well as French chalk for grease spots on silk. Oilcloths should never be washed in hot soapsuds; they should first be washed clean with cold water, then rubbed dry with a cloth wet in milk. The same treatment applies to stone or slate hearth. Ink stains are entirely removed by the immediate application of dry salt before the inK has dried. When the salt be comes discolored by absorbing the ink brush it off and apply more; wet slight ly. Continue this till the ink is all removed. The dishes on which meat , came, poultry or fish are served ought to be large enough to leave a space of about two inches between the food and the border of the dish. It is very awkward for the carver to cut up a large piece on a small dish. The French have a pretty manner of serving smelts. After frying them in the usual way, a little skewer four inches long, silver-plated or of polished wire, is run through two or three of the smelts, running it carefully through the eyes. A slice of lemon is then put on top of each skewerful, which is served as a portion for one person. An Indian’s Cunning Rnse. Tn the town of New Boston, N. IT., there is a hill called “Joe English,” which received its name froip a circum stance connected w.th a noted Indian friendly to the whites. This hill is pre cipitous and abrupt on its southern end, having an appearance as if the southern end had been carried away by some con vulsion of nature. In 1703 or 1705, there was an Indian living in these parts, noted for his friendship for the English settlers upon the lower Merrimac. He was an accom plished warrior and hunter. From his friendship to his white neighbors, the Indians, according to their want, gave him the name, significant of this trait,of “Joe English.” In the course of time the Indians, sat isfied that Joe gave information of their hostile designs to the English, deter mined on killing him at the first oppor tunity. It happened one dav iust at twilight, that two or th ee of them came upon Joe as fie was returning from a hunt, and began an upon him; but he escaped from them, and made directly for this hill iu the southern part of New Boston. With the quick thought of an Indian, ho made up his mind that the chances were against him in ah ng race, and that he must have recourse to stratagem. As he ran up the hill he- slackened his pace, until his pursuers were almost upon him, that they might become more eager iu the pursuit. Once near the top he started off with greet rapidity, and the Indians after him, straining every nerve. As Joe came upon the brink of the precipice before mentioned, he leaped be hind a jutting rock, and waited in breath less anxiety. A moment later he heard the hard breathing and lignt running footsteps of h s pursuers. Another instaut, and a startled yell broke on th: evening air, and the dark forms of the avenging Indians rolled over and over down the precipice. Henceforth, the hill was called Joe English, and well did the faithful Indian deserve so enduring a monument.— Youth’s Companion. A i Indian Household. One evening I dined at the Consulate of Calcutta, India, writes a correspond ent. Six servants waited at table, one for each per*,in. It is well wages at low. for many arc required ; first of all, the bearer or valet is ind spendable,doing everything for you; you never go to dine but that he attends to wait on you; he dresses you. does your packing and evenstys “thanks” for you. No one evei in India says “thanks” :or themselves; you always hear them call for their “bearer.” Mine was a very good one, though I could not say I became so de pendent on him as all this, but it was a great satisfaction to be well waited rm at the hotels while other people were making themselves wretched. .text in importance is the cook, and ihe men who look after the house, called kitmagars. Then every household his a ta lor, a xvas her woman and “sweeps.” who do all tha dirty work. If you have horses it requ rcstwo men for every horse, and if several a head man to bos?, the others; one man cuts the grass, another gets it in. The onlv women servants are the ladies’ maids and nurses—all the others are nun. Wages vary from one to tiye dollar- a month and lind themselves. They always go about earefoot and without noise. A gentleman told me on first coming out lie attempted to dress lais servants well, but f aind they would go to sleep in the strawjW lll their clothes on, so gave it up. lain sorry to say ihe amount of drinking done is tremendous. You gc to a dinner, you are o e eil a “peg”— is, whisky and soda water—before sitting down, then through ihe dinner, ank afterwards it is “pegging” all the time. Soda water and lanes, however, I found quite palatable. —Boston Tran script. A Leper as White as Snow. Johnson, the leper, lies in a room off from the contagious ward, says the Chi cago Herald reporter who visited the hospital. He is hideous. His hands and hairless fa e are incrusted with scale-like blotches of reddish-brown. The face shows most distinctly the ravage-; of the horrible disease. The lower lids of the eyes are drawn down and turned insideout. The lipsare blue, and the nose P swollen to twice its na tural si/e. His back and abdomen ate covered with huge tubercles. These scales slightly change color from time to time. Tffere is no known remedy for leprosy. It has for all times defied the efforts of physicians. Put one important discovery ha-; been made of late years, and that is that the disease is coniag ous, and is not hered.tary, as is generally Supposed. The germ of the disease is known to exist, and animals have been inoculated, afterwards showing un mistakable signs of the malady, fftill no cure has been discovered, or even a remedy to alleviate the leper’s suffering. Leprosy is a slow disease, and Johnson may live for even fifteen years. There are two forms of the disease—viz.: b ack leprosy and white leprosy. In the for mer the scales aie dark and in the latter perfectly white. Johnson is suffering from the former. The leprosy of the ancient Jews consisted of shiny smooth blotches on which the hair turned white and silky, and the skin and the muscular flesh lost their sensibility. It was in curable. It was not until about the year iOO A. D. that the black leprosy appeared. In time the toes and fingers drop off, and xvhen the eating process reaches the vitals death ensues. Alpine Casualties. In consequence of the increasing num ber of accidents to tourists in the Alps, the Austrian Government has addressee! a circular to the orhcials in the Alpine provinces instructing them to exert their influence towards the promotion of any measures tending to diminish the num ber of such casualties. They are urged to encourage the development of the | guide system, and to endeavor to secure a reduction in the charges of the guides; they are also called upon to assist the Alpine Club in the work of makingroads and erecting lodges on the mountains. The local authorities aie expected to do their share in putting up safeguards against accidents. The circular points to the necessity of abating the present evil of marking out dangerous excursions to tourists.— JS’tw York Post. vn. x omro, Ah, years ago, no matter where, Beneath what roof or sky, I dreamed of days, perhaps remote, When ships of mine that were afloat Should in the harbor lie, And all the costly freights they bora Enrich me both in mind and store. What dreams they were of argosies, Laden in many a clime; So stoutly built, so bravely manned. No fear but they would come to land At their appointed time; And I should see them, one by one, those furl their saiis in summer’s sun. And then, while m m in wonder stood, My ships I would unlade; My treasures vast they should behold, And to my learning or ray gold, What honors would be paid! And though the years might come and I could but wiser, richer grow. 11. In later years, no matter where, * Beneath what roof or s ty. I saw the dreams of days remote Fade out, and ships that were alloat, Asdriftinz wrecks go by: And all the many freights they bore Lay fathoms deep, or strewed th a shoraf While ships of which I never thought Were sailing o’er tho sea; And, one by one, with costlier load, In safety all the voyage ro !e, And brought their freights to me; Then what I lost a trifle seemed. And I was richer than I dreamed. % No wondering ero vd. with envious eye, Looke lon my treasure rare; Yet they were weightier far than gold; They still increase, though I grow old, And are beyond compare; Would all the restless hearts I sea Had ships like these that came to mo! -A. D. F. La idolph, in Sailors' Majasine, HU.TIOII OF THE DAV. A “pass” word—Good morning! There is no wedding without a h’tch ill it. The origiual grand old party Mcthu tclah. The smaller the “talker” the bigger the salesman, often. The thoughts of the lovesick youth ire sadly miss-shapu. When a stock fids to pav a dividend, the ho.der lose* his interest. A certain chiropodist lias dubbed himself '‘William die i oru-ourer. ’ The worst breach of good mounters is for Misfortune to stare a woman m the lace. The most unhappy feature about be ing n jail-bird is sn.il to be its inability to llv. “That puts a different face on it,” ns the small t>oy said as h.s ball struct the clock d al. When an Indian catches a c- Id on the war-path he has the war whoop ing cough. 'l'he man who supplied the inquisition, with machinery was tne ordinal mek ren.er.—Liji. A woman may not object to a man’s following her, bur she cLsl.kcs to have him get on her trail. djhe professor of penmanship cannot do a flourishing business when he drops his pen and uses a typewriter. “No, indeed,” said the young lady from Boston, adjusting her eyeglasses, “1 never iide iti those Robert tail ci.rs.” A Wise 1 octor—“Doctor, I have u frightful cold in the heid . Wb.it shall 1 take for it:” Doctor falter rejection) —“A handkerchief.” The sou of a Detroit railroa,! man was punished at school, lie tod his lather hv was suffering from a m splaced switch. — Detroit rme ires. We pity the young fellow who want's to vote but will lack a day of being ~l on election day. He must leel la k-n-dny sical. — Sprut/jrfiel l ile< u Itcan. Lady of the Ilou-e (urging company to eat “iLea-e be p youi>eives. Do just as iu your own house. I am always so glad when my friends nre at home.”—.l/. r ur . “Where did young Browne get his money. Papa?” “I-loin h.s uncle, old Dim Brown. He inherited everything he has in this world, except ti.e mial ‘o’ to h s name.” — Lije. The girl who bat fine teeth may not have a keener sense of humor than other women, but you can depend on her to chow all the appreciation she has of a joke or a funny story.— Mercury. “Your name, my child?” inquired the matron of tho poor l.tt e wail that had applied for charity. “Mary Haddell.” “j.ittle lam i!” feelingly exclaimed the tenderhearted matron. — C.aeajo Tri bune. First landlady—“ What! Twelve dollars a xveek. board from Liudie Downy lip! I never could get but ifd. How did you manage it!” Second Landlady —“I served h.s coffee in a mustache cup.” —Cur oon. 'i he Trials of Authors—Scapegrace Son (introducing his old father to \ oung lady)—“Miss Gladys, the author of my being.” Old Gentleman (bowing)—“A work that has been much criticised.”—. Uarper’s Magazine. He was an economic man, No money did he waste; He took things as they came along, Nor to get rich made haste; He lived above the store, Where he his money made. And spiteful people used to say lie was above his trade. • —Cleveland Lee? d^v. After Tho Musicale— Miss Screecher— “ Well, dear, how was my voice to night! Did it fill the room?” Miss Veracity—“At first it did, but after ward ” Miss Screecher— “ YYellF* Miss Veracity— emptied it.”— lime. “I want to purchase a narrow escape,’* said a Frenchman in a Pittsburg fur nishing store the other day. He had found out somehow that in the wonder ful English language, a close brush and a narrow escape were synonymous.— Pittsburg Chronicle. ~ y, I admit, dear Charles, I told Miss Jones ? I really did not like you— Perhaps the meaning of my words Doth not yet fully strike you, So hear me swear by all the stare J A-twinkling now above you. The reason why I like you not j, Is this: because I love you. . —Harper's Bazar, !