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REV. DR. TALMAIvE.
THE BROOKLYN I'IVINE’S SUE’
DAY SERMON.
Subject: “The March Homeward.”
’IKXT: “Pursue; for thou sha.lt surely
overtake them, and ivit/iout fail recover
all. 1 Samuel, xxx., 8.
There is intense excitement in the village
of Ziklag. David anil his men are bidding
good-hye to their families, and are oft for
the wars. In that little village of Ziklag the
defenseless ones will bo safe until the war
riors, flushed with victory, come home. But
will the defenseless ones be safe? The soft
arms of children are around the necks of the
bronzed warriors until they shake them
selves free anl start, and handkerchiefs
and flags are waved and kisses thrown
until the armed men vanish beyond the
hills. David and his men soon got
through with their campaign and start home
ward. Every night ou their way home, no
sooner does the soldier put his head on the
knapsack than in bis dream ho hears the
welcome of the w ife and the shout of the
child. Oh, what long stories they will have
to tell their families, of how they dodged the
battle-ax! and then will roll up their sleevo
and show the half-healed wound. With glad,
quick step they march on. David and his
»nen, for they are marching home. Now
they come up to the last hill
which overlooks Ziklag, and they expect
in a moment to see the dwelling places of
their loved ones. They look, and as they
look their cheeks turn pale, and their lip
quivers, and their hand involuntarily comes
down oil the hilt of the sword. “Where is
Ziklag ; Where are our homes?” they cry.
Alas! the curling smoke above the ruin tells
the tragedy. The Araalekites have come
down and consumed the village, and carried
the mothers and the wives and the children
of David and his men into captivity. The
swarthy warriors stand for a few moments
transfixed with horror. Then their eyes glance
at each other, and they burst into uncon
trolable weeping; for when a strong war
rior weeps, the grief is appalling. It seems
as if the emotion might tear him to pieces.
They “wept until they had no more power to
weep.” But soon their sorrow turns into
rage, and David, swinging his sword high in
the air, cries: “Pursue, for thou shalt over
take them, and without fail recover
all.” Now the march becomes a
“double-quick.” Two hundred of
David's men stop by the brook
Besor, faint with fatigue and grief. They
cannot go a step farther. They are left
there. But the other four hundred men un
der David, with a sort of panther step,march
on in sorrow and in rage. They find by the
side of the road a halt-dead Egyptian, and
they resuscitate him, and compel him to tell
the whole story. He says: "Yonder they
went, the captors and the captives,” pointing
in the direction. Forward, ye four hun
dred brave men of fire! Very soon
David and his enraged company
come upon the Amalekitish host. Yonder
they see their own wives and children and
mothers, and under Amalekitish guard. Here
are the officers of the Amalekitish army hold
ing a banquet. The cups are full, the music
is roused, the dance begins. The Amalekitish
host cheer and cheer and cheer over
their victory. But, without note of bugle
or warning of trumpet, 1 Avid and his four
hundred men burst upon the scene, suddenly
as Robert Bruce hurled his Scotchmen upon
the revelers at Bannockburn. David and
his men look up,and one glance at their loved
ones in captivity and under Amalekitish
guard throws them into a very fury of de
termination; for you know how men
will fight when ' they fight for their
wives and children. Ah, there are
lightnings in their eye, and every finger
is a spear, and their voice is like the 'bout of
the whirlwind. Amidst the upset tankards
- and the costly viands crushed underfoot, the
wounded Amalekices He (their blood ming
ling with their wine) shrieking for mercy.
No sooner do David and his men win the vic
tory ihen they throw their swords down
into the dust —what do they want with
•words now;—ami the broken families
come together amidst a great shout of
joy that makes the parting scene in
Ziklag seem very insipid in the com
parison . The rough old warrior has to uso
some persuasion before he can get his child
to come to him now after so long an absence;
but soon the little finger traces the familiar
wrinkle across the scarred face. And then
the empty tankards are set up, and they are
filled with the best wine from the hills, and
David and his men, the husbands, the wives,
the brothers, the sisters, drink to the over
throw of the Amalekites and to the rebuilding
of Ziklag. So,O Lord, let. thine enemies perish!
Now they are coming home, David and his
men and their families —a long procession.
Men, women and children, loaded with
jewels and robes and with all kinds of
trophies that the Amalekites had gathered
ttp in years of conquest—everything now in
the hands of Davi 1 and his men. When
they come by the brook Besor. the place
where staid the men sick and incompetent
to travel, the jewels and the robes
and all kinds of treasures are divided
among the sick as well as among the well.
Surely, the lame and exhausted ought to
have some of the treasures. Here is a robe
for this pale-faced warrior. Here is a pillow
for this" dying man. Here is a handful of
gold for the wasted trumpeter. I really
think that these men who fainted by the
brook Besor may have endured as much as
these men who went into tattle. Some mean
fellows objected to the sick ones having any
of the spoils. The objectors said: “These
men did not fight.” David, with a magnani
mous heart, replies: “As his part s that
goeth down to the tattle. so shall his part be
that tarrieth by the stuff.’’
This subject is practically suggestive to
me. Thank God, in these times a man can
go ott on a journey, aud Is? goiv weeks and
months, and como back and see his house un
touched of incendiary, and have his family
on the step to greet him, if by telegram he
has foretold the moment of his coming. But
there are Amalekitish disasters, and there
are Amalekitish diseases, that sometimes
come down upon one's home, making as de -
vastating work as the day when Ziklag took
fire. There are families in rny congregation
whose homes havo been broken up. No bat
tering-ram smote in the door, no iconoclast
crumbled the statues, no flame leaped amidst
the curtains; but so far as ail the joy and
merriment that once belonged to that houv
are concerned, the home has departed.
Armed diseases came down upon the quiet
ness of the scene—scarlet fevers, or pleurisies,
or consumptions, or undefined disorders
came and seized upon some members of* that
family, and carried them avvav. Ziklag in
ashes 1 And you go about, sometimes woep
ing and sometimes enraged, wanting to get
back your loved ones as much as David
and his men wanted to reconstruct their
despoiled households. Zikiag in ashes! Some
of you went off from home. You counted
the days of your absence. Every day seemed
as long as a week. Oh, how glad you were
when the time came for you to go aboard the
steamboat or rail ear and shirt for home!
You arrived. You went up the street where
your dwelling was, and in the night, you put
your hand oi) the dour bell, and, behold! it
was wrapped with the signal of bereavement,
and you found that Atnalekitish Death,
which has devastated a thousand other
households, had blast-d yours. You go about
weeping amidst the desolation of your once
happy home, thinking of the bright eve
dosed, and the noble hearts stopped, and the
gentle hands folded, and you weep nntil you
have ik) more power to weep. Ziklag in
ashes!
A gentleman went to a friend of mine in
the city of Washington, and asked that
through him he might get a consulship to
some foreign port. My friend said to him:
“What do you want to go away from your
beautiful home for. into a foreign port.'”
••Oh," he replied, “my home is gone! My six
children are dead! I must get away, sir.
I can t stand it in this country any lunger.”
Ziklag in ashes!
Why these long shadow* of bereavement
across this audience? Why is it that in al
most every as-.emblago black is the predomi
nant color of the apparel! Is it because you do
not like saffron or brown or violet? Oh, no!
You say: “The world is not so bright to us
is it once was; ’ anil there is a story of s lant
loues. and of still feet, and oi loved ones
gone, aud when you .ooi- over tr.o hills, ex
pecting only beauty and loveliness, you find
only devastation aud woe. Ziklag in ashes!
lii Ulster County, New York, the village
church was decorated until the, fragrance of
the llowers was almost bewildering. The
maidens of the village had emptied the
place of flowers upon one marriage
altar. One of their own number was
affianced to a minister of Christ, who had
come to take her to Ins home. W ith hands
joined, amidst a congratulatory audience,
the vows were taken. In throe days from
that lime one of those who stood at Lho altar
exchanged earth for heaven. The wedding
march broke down into the funeral dirge.
There were not enough flowers now for the
coffin lid, because they had all bean taken for
the bridal hour. The dead minister of
Christ is brought to another village, lie
had gone out from them Iss tnan a
week before in his strength; now he
comes home liieless. The whole church
bewailed him. Tue solemn procession
moved around to look upon the still l ace that
once had beamed with messages of salvation.
Little children were lifted up to look at him.
And some of those whom lie had comforted
in days of sorrow, when they passed that
silent form, made the place dreadful with
their weeping. Another village emptied of
its flowers —some of them put in the shape of
a cross to symbolize his hope, others put in
the shape of a crown to symbolize his tri
umph. A hundred lights blown out iu one
strong gust from the open dbor of a sepul
cher. Ziklag in ashes!
I preach this sermon to-day, because I
want to rally you. as David rallied his men,
for the recovery of the loved and the lost, 1
want not only to win heaven, but 1 want ail
this congregation to go along with me. I
feel that somehow I have a responsibility in
your arriving at that great city. I have on
otlyr Mabbaths used other inducements. I
mean, to day, lor the sake of variety, hoping
to reach your heart, to try another
kind of inducement. Do you really want to
join the companionship of your loved ones
who have gone? Are you as anxious to join
them as David aud his men were to join
their families? Then lam here, in the name
of Goi, to say that you may, and to tell you
how.
I remark, in the first place, if you want to
join your loved ones in glory, you must travel
the same way they went. No sooner had the
half-dead Egyptian been resuscitated than he
pointed the way the captors and the captives
had gone, and David and bis men followed
after. So our Christian friends
have gone into another country, and
if wo want to reach their companion
ship we must take the same road. They re
pented; we mu-t repent. They prayed; we
must crav. They trusted in Christ; we must
trust in Christ. They lived a religious life;
we must live a religious life. They were in
‘■nine thin is like ourselves. I know, now that
they are gone, there is a halo around their
names; but they had their faults. They said
and did things they ought never to have said
or done. They were sometimes rebellious,
sometimes cast down. I hey were far from
being perfect. So I suppose that when we
are gone, some things in us that are now
only tolerable may he almost resplendent.
But ns they were like us in deficiencies, we
ought to be like them in taking a supernal
Christ to make up for the deficits. Had it
not been for Jesus, they would have all
perished; but Christ confronted them, and
said: “I am the way,” and they took it.
I hare also to say to you that the path that
these captivas trod was a troubled path, and
that David and his men had to go over the
same difficult way. While captives
were being taken off. they said: “Oh, wa are
so tired; we are so sick; we are so hungry!”
But the men who had charge of them said;
“Stop this crying. Coon!” David uni his
men also found it a hard way. They had to
travel it. Our friends have gone into glory,
and it is through much tribulation that we
are to enter into the king loin. How our
loved ones used to have to struggle! how their
old hearts ached! how sometimes they had a
tussle for bread! In our childhood we
wondered why there were so many wrinkles
on their faces. We did not know that what
were called “crow’s feet” on their faces were
the marks of the black raven of trouble.
Did you never hear the old people,
seated by the evening sand, talk
over their early trials, their hardships,
the accidents, the burials, the disap
pointments, the empty flour barrel when
there wore so many hungry oms to feed, the
sickness almost unto death, where the next
dose of morphine decided between ghastly
bereavement and an unbroken home circle?
Ob, yes ; it was trouble that whitened their
hair. It was trouble that shook the
cup in their hands. It was trouble
that washed the lustre from th"ir eyes
with the rain of tears until they
needed spectacles. It was trouble that
made the cane a necessity for their journey.
Do you never remember seeing your old
mother sitting, on some rainy day, looking
out of the window, her elbow on the window
sill, her hand to her brow—looking out, not
seeing the falling shower at ail (you well
knew that she was looking into the distant
past!, until the apron came up to her eyes,
because the memory was too much for her?
“Oft the big, unbidden tear.
Stealine down tue furrowed cheek,
To'd in eloquence sincere.
Tales of woe they could not speak.
"But this scene of weeping o’er
Vast th » scene of toil and pain,
They shali fee! distress no more,
Never, never weep iicam.”
“Who are these under the altar;’’ the ques
tion was asked; and tbo response came:
“These are they which came out of great
tribulation, and have washed their robes,
and made them white in the blood of the
Lamb.” Our friends went by a path of tears
into glory. Be not surprlsedif we have to
travel the same pathway.
1 remark, again, if wo want to win the so
ciety of our friends in heaven, we will not
only have to travel a path of faith and a
path of tribulation, hut we will also have to
positively battle for their companionship.
David and his men never wanted sharp swords
and invulnerable shields and thick breast
plates so much as they wanted them on the day
when they came down upon the Amalekites.
If they had lost that battle, they never
would have got their families back. I sup
pose that one glance at their loved ones in
captivity hurled them into the battle with
ten-fold courage and energy. They said:
“We must win it. Every thing depends upon
it. Let each one take a man on point of s;>ear
or sword. We must win it.” And I have to
tell you that between us and coming into the
companionship of our loved ones who are
departed there is an Austerlitz, there is a
Gettysburg, there is a Waterloo. War with
the world, war with the flesh, war with the
devil. We have either to conquer our troub
les, or our troubles will conquer us. David
will either slay the Amalekites, or the
Amalekites will slay David. And yet is not
the fort to be taken worth all the pain,
all the peril, all the besiegement?
Look! who are they on the bright
hills of heaven yonder; There they
are, those who sat at your own table, the
chair now vacant. There they are. those
whom you rocked in infancy in the cradle,
or hushed to sleep in your arms. There they
are, those in whose life your life was bound
up. There they are, their brow more radiant
than ever before you saw it. their lips
waiting for the kiss of heavenly greeting,
their cheek roseate with the health of eternal
summer, their hands beckoning you up the
steep, their feet hounding with the mirth of
heaven. The pallor of their last sickness
gone out of their face, never more to lie sick,
never more to cough, never more to limp,
never more to lie old, never more to weep.
They are watching from those heights to sea
if through Christ you can take that fort, and
whether you will rush in upon their.— v ictors.
They know that upon this battle depends
whether you will ever join their society. Up*
strike hard* r! Charge more bravely! lie
member that every inch you gain puts you
so much further on toward that heavenly re
union.
™lf this morning while I speak you could
hear the cannonade of a foreign navy coming
through the Narrows, which was to despoil
our city, and if they really shonll succeed in
carrying our families away from us, how
long would we take before we resolved to go
after them? Every weapon, whether fresh
from Springfield or old and rusty in the gar
ret. would te brought oat; and wa would
urge on, aud, coming in front of the foe, we
would look at them, and then look at our
families, and the cry would bo: "Victory or
death!” and when the amunition was
gone, wa would take the captors on
the point of tho bayouet or under the breech
of the gun. If you would make such a
struggle for the getting buck of your earthly
friends, will you not make as much struggle
for the gaining of the eternal companionship
of your heavenly friends? Oh. yes! wo must
join them. We must sit in their holy society.
We must sing with them the song. AVe
must celebrate with them the triumph. Let
it never he told on earth or in heaven that
David and his men pushed out with braver
hearts tor the getting back of their earthly
friends for a few years on earth than we to
get our dopartod 1
You say that all this implies that our de
parted Christian friends are alive. Why,had
you any idea they were dead? They have
only moved. If you should go on the 2d of
May to a houso where one of your friends
lived, aud found him gone, you would not
think that ho was dead. You would
inquire uext door where he had moved
to. Our departed Christian friends
have only taken another house. The secret
is that they are richer now than they
once were, and can afford a better residence.
They once drank out of earthenware ; they
now drink from the King’s chalice. “Joseph
is yet alive,” and Jacob will go up and see
him. Living, are they ? AVliy. if a man can
live in this damp, dark dungeon of earthly
captivity, can he not live where he breathes
the bracing atmosphere of the mountains of
heaven ? Ob, yes, they are living 1
Do you think that Paul is so near dead
now as he was when he was living iu the
Roman dungeon? Do you think that Fred
erick Robertson, of Brighton, is as near dead
now as he was when, year alter year, he
slept seated on the floor, his head on the
bottom of a chair, because he could find
ease in no other position; Do you think
that Robert Hall is as near dead now as
when, on his couch, bo tossed in physical tor
tures? No. Death gave them ttie few black
drops that cured them. That is all death
does to a Christian— cures him. 1 know that,
what I have said implies that they are living.
There is no question about that. The only
question this morning is whether you will
ever join them.
But I must not forget those two hundred
men who fainted by the brook Besor. They
could not tako another step farther. Then
feet were sore; their head ached; their en
tire nature was exhausted. Besides that,
they were broken hearted because their
homes were gone. Ziklag in ashes! And yet
David, when he comes up to them, divides
the spoils among them. Ho says they shall
have some of the jewels, some of the robes,
some of the treasures. I loik over this
audience this morning, and 1 find at least
two hundred who have fainted by the brook
Besor—the brook of tears. Y’ou feel as
if you could not take another step farther,
as though you could never look up again.
But I am go'ing to imitate David, nud divide
among you some glorious trophies. Here is
a robe: “All things work together for good,
to those who love God.” Wrap yourself in
that glorious promise. Here is for your neck
a string of pearls, made out of crystalized
tears: “Weeping may endure for a night,
but joy cometh in the morning.” Here is a
coronet: “Be thou faithful unto death, and
I will give thee a crown of life.” Oye faint
ing ones by the brook Besor, dip your blis
tered feet in the running stream of God's
mercy. Bathe your brow at the wells of sal
vation. Soothe your wounds with the bal
sam that exudes trom trees of life. God will
not utterly cast you off, O broken hearted
man, O broken-hearted woman, fainting by
the brook Besor.
A shepherd finds that his musical pipe is
bruised. “He says: -‘I can’t get any more
music out of this instrument: so I will just
break it, and I will throw this reed away.
Then I will get another reed, and I wilt p!ay
music on that. But God says He will not
cast you off because all the music has
gone out of your soul. “The bruised
reed He will ' net break.” As far as
I can teil the diagnosis of your disease, you
want Divine nursing,and it is promised you:
“As one whom his mother comforteth, so
will I comfort you.” God will see you all
the way through, O troubled soul, and when
you come down to tho Jordan of death, you
will find it to be as thin a 1 rook as Besor'for
Dr. Robinson says that, in April Besor dries
up, and there i 3 no brook at all. And in
your last moment you will be as placid as
the Kentucky minister who went up tc
God, saying, in the dying hour: “Write tc
my sister Kate, and tell her not to be wor
ried and frightened about the storv of the
horrors around the death-bed. Tell her
there is not a w-ord of truth in it, for I am
there now, and Jesus is -with me, and I find
it a very happy way; not because I am a
good man, for i am not; I am nothing bnt a
poor, miserable sinner; but I have an Al
mighty Saviour, and both ot His arms are
around me.”
May God Almighty, through the blood of
the everlasting covenant, bring us into the
companionship of our loved ones who have
already entered the heavenly land, and en
tered the presence of Christ, whom, not hav
ing seen, we lovp, and so David shall recover
ail, “and as his part is that goeth down tc
the battle, s i shali his part be that tarrieth
by tho rtuff.”
Little Clara’s Grievance.
Oh, how sad it is to know
Little girls must always grow—
• Grow in size and grow in year,si
Thinking of it brings the tears.
But though J may cry and fret,
Every day I < igger get;
Every day I’m older too.
And there’s nothing 1 could do
That would make me stop a-growing,
/' "■V
C\
mMM,
*\ p |",
fm M*
Or would keep the years from going.
Now I'm five; soon I’ll be six;
Here's a poor child in a fix?
After six comes seven, then
Follow eight and nine and tea.
How I wish that 1 could stay
As I am this very day—
Always have my hair in curl,
Always be mamma’s wee girll
But I can’t: I’ve got to grow.
Oh, dear met why is it so?
Very soon I must be six;
Here's a poor child in a fix!
— •Harper’s Young People,
The reason why American girts have
better lucx than tho English girls in se
curing eligible British husbands, is said
by a slang writer to l>e, because the
American gtils are taught to run down
their »wn game. In England the match
making is done by the mothers of the
girls.
A WIZARDS EARLY DAYS
HOW EDISON THE GREAT IN
VENTOR, CAME EAST.
He Cut a Funny Figure, But As
tonished the Operators—Dispos
ing; of His Telegraph Inventions.
“1 don’t think,” said a friend of
Thomas A. Edison some days ago to a
group seated in the rear room of one of
the most comfortable hostelries of
Orange, “that you ever heard the story
of how the Wizard first came East. He
was only a young man, careless, gener
ous, jovial and totally ignorant of the
value of a dollar. He had been knocking
round in Western towns in various small
telegraph offices until the reputation of
his wonderful swiftness as an operator
got him into the central office of a
Western city. From there he was
ordered to report to Boston to fill a va
cancy. It was warm weather for the
season when he started East, and he
donned linen trousers and a duster. By
the time he had reached Boston the
weather had got cold, raw and stormy.
He didn’t care, and reported just as he
was. Linen trousers and duster, topped
by a slouchy, broad-brimmed hat, weren’t
the fashion in Boston in the best of
weather, and on a raw day a man with a
limp, wot duster on and wet linen trous
ers sticking to his legs was something to
provoke a smile. He walked into the
superintendent’s room and said:
“ 4 Heie I am.’
“The superintendent eyed him from
head to foot and said:
“ ’Who are you?’
44 ‘Tom Edison.’
“ ‘Who the deuce is Tom Edison?’
“The young operator explained that he
had been ordered to reoort for duty, and
the superintendent told him to sit down
in the operating room. His advent
here created much merriment, and the
operators guyed him loud enough for
him to hear them. He didn’t care,
though, beveral hours later a New' York
sender noted for his sw’iftness < ailed the
office and there was no one to take him.
“ ‘Well, let the new fellow try him,
anyway,’ said the superintendent
Y’oung Edison sat dewn, and for four
hours and a half wrote out messages in a
clear round hand, stuck a date and num
ber on them aud threw' them on the floor
for the office boy to pick up. The time
he took in numbering and dating were
the only moments he was not writing out
transmitted words. Faster and taster
ticked the instrument, and faster
and faster Edison’s fingers, till the
rapidity with which the messages came
tumbling out and on the floor attracted
the attention of other operators, who,
when their work was done, gathered
around to witness the spectacle. At the
close of four hours and a half, and the
New York business, there flashed from
New York the salutation:
“‘Hello!’
“ ‘Hello yourself,’ ticked back Edison.
44 ‘Who the dickens are you;’ rattled
into the o i ce.
“ ‘Tom Edison,’ was ticked back.
“ ‘Shake, Tom Edison,’ came over the
wires.
“ ‘With all my heart.’ was the’ reply.
44 ‘You are the first man in the coun
try,’ said the instrument, ‘that could
ever take me at and the only
one who could at the other end
of my wire for more than two hours and
a half. I’m proud to know you.’
“Mr Edison had been experimenting
and studying and improving telegraphy
ever since he nineteen years old.
He patented his inventions. He
left the Boston office to sell his
multiplex system to the I nion.
He was a careless looking young fallow
when he walked into the office one day
in New Yosk and asked them if they
wanted to buy a patent.
“ ‘What is it?’ they asked.
“ ‘Why, a means of sending two mes
sages bver the same wire in diil'erent
directions at tho same time,’ said the
young inventor.
“The A\f£Btern Tnion ollicia s layback
in their chairs and shouted in merri
ment.
“Don’t bother us with such nonsense
as that,’ said one at last.
“Mr. Edison tried to sell it to one of
the rival companies that existed at the
time. They also laughed to scorn the
idea of doing such a feat.
“ ‘Well,” remarked the in venter, as
he turned carelessly away, ‘if you ever
get anything the matter with your
plant that you can’t straighten out your
selves, send round for me.’
“He took a little office and announced
himself an electrical and telegraphic ex
pert. Some time afterward the compauy
had trouble with its Albany wire. The
wire w’asn’t broken, but wouldn’t w’ork,
and several days of investigation on the
part of the company’s electricians only
served to puzzle them the more. As a
forlorn hope they sent for young Edison.
“‘llow long will you give me?’he
asked.
“The manager 1 ughed.
44 ‘bix hours?’ asked Ed son.
‘‘The manager la ghed louder and
told him he'd need long’ r time than that.
Edison sat down at tue instrument, es
tablished communication wflth Albany
by way of 1 ittsburgh, told the Albany
office to put their best man at the instru
ment, and began a careful and rapid
series of tests with all currents of all in
tensities. He had his Pittsburgh circuit
instrument by his side and directed the
Albany operator in each movement from
his end. The steps were simultaneous,
and the Albany man telegraphed the
results of each test. Edison compared
them, made calculations, and in two
hours and a half told the officials that l
the trouble existed at a certaiu point he
named on the line, and told them w hat
it was. The o fficials telegraphed the
office nearest this point, and an hour
later messages were tripping gay
ly between New York and Albany.
The company made him their superin
tendent immediately. Now lie was in a
position to command repect and atten
tion. He induced the c ompanies to test
his patents, and sold them rapidly. He
much improved his multiplex system,
and sold that to the Western l nion at
ten times what he would have taken for
it at the time they laughed at his
first proposition. lie simply informs
the Western t nion now when he has in
vented something new iu telegraphy.
Does it work ; It works. How much?
Hundred thousand. Check. 'lhat’s
the wav he sells all hir- inventions nowa
days.
‘‘The public doesn’t know it. but there
are in the safes of the Western L’nion
patents which, if applied, would nearly
double the efficiency of the telegraph in
the interests of public convenience. They
are not used because it costs money to
put them into use, and there is no com
petition to compel the Western Union to
do the best it knows how to do. The
company buys Mr. Edison’s inventions,
partly because they may want to use them
someday, but chieffv because they don’t
want them to get into the hands of peo
ple who might by these become
dangerous competitors. They have to pay
a fortune for each invention, and don’t
expect to use it when they get it, but
the retention of their secure monopoly
makes the policy a paying one.” —Nem
Y.urk Sun,
WISE WORDS.
Bearn to say no to thyself.
The thief who is found is lost.
bilencc is the fence around wisdom.
Conceit, like any other seat, should be
sat on.
The surest political appointment is
disappointment.
Truth is as indiffrent to public opinion
as the general public is to truth.
Give no friendship to one who objects
to your thinking your own thinks.
A person who don’t know anything is
pretty sure to tell it the first chance lie
gets.
Never peddle other people’s faults so
long as you have any of your own on
hand.
Every time you strike a child you ad
mit your incapacity to govern yourself
or others.
If most people only knew as much as
they think they know, they wouldn’t
talk so much about it.
Figures never lie, but under skilful
manipulation they may be induced to
prevaiicate to an extent that answers the
purpose.
Women never weep more vio ently
than when they weep from spite, says a
wise man, who had perhaps spiteu one
some day.
Chanty itself commands us, where we
know ill, to think well of all; but friend
ship, that always goes a pitch higher,
gives a man a peculiar right and claim
to the good opinion of ins friend.
Education and instruction are the
means, the one by use, the other by pre
cept, to make our natural faculty of
reason both tho better and the sooner to
judge rightly between truth and error,
good and evil.
A Malaysian “Amok.”
“Amok! Amok!” resounds one morn
ing through the streets of a Malay town
in the Indian Archipelago. Men, wo
men and children fiee in all directions,
screaming with terror; loud cries rend
the air, warning everybody to be on their
guard: the gates of the large houses are
shut and fastened. “Amok! Amok!”
shriek the people, a; they trample over
each other in their hurry to save their
lives. The alarm spreads far aud wide.
The hand of every Malay springs to the
twisted band of his sheath; to draw
forth the dagger that hangs by his side;
the police clutch their weapons; the
Europeans seize their guns; every eye,
every nerve is strained for the coming
peril “Amok! Amok!”—a wild shriek,
a groan, a cry of mercy, and there rushes
on the maniac with the bloody kris in
his hand, striking right aud left, heed
less of friend or foe, having stabbed an
old man to the heart, killed a fainting
woman,and despatched a child half dead
with fright. He is pursued by a number
of people armed with spears, daggers,
knives, guns and clubs, who grow as
madly excited as the wild creature they
chase. Brandishing his ruddy blade, the
ghastly Malay, perhaps himself gashed
with cuts, and bleeding from stabs,
dashes along in his fury, driving his kris
into the back of a man running for his
very life, leaping over his body,avoiding
a thrust made by a pursuer, aud return
ing it with fatal effect. Shot after shot
is fired at the flying maniac, who still
runs on,stroug and enduring,like a fierce
wounded tiger, marking his course with
his own blood and that of fresh victims.
And so he goes on and on till he falls
from some shot, or sinks from exhaus
tion, to be despatched by the ready dag
gers of the chasers. Gr, perhaps,cut off
and hemmed in, the amok-runner, drip
ping with blood, stands at bay in some
house or against a wall, g ariug with
bloodshot eyes, and, holding out his
stained kris, defies anyone to approach.
Then the police bring into use a huge
short-pronged pitchfork, with which
they are provided in the Straits settle
ment, deftly thrusting at him till he ia
caught by the throat,pinned to the wall,
and held there by two powerful arms.
His kris having been wrested from his
gory hand, he is quickly pinioned, and,
if lie does not his w ounds, is tried
and executed byTiative or British laws.
—London Standard.
A Gorgeous War Garment.
The subject of a recent lecture in New
Y'ork city was “The Pacific Ocean, the
Sandwich Islands, and New Zealand.”
At the close of his address the lecturer,
Professor Bickmore, exhibited to the
audience a feather war-cloak, once the
property of King Kauikeaouli of the
Sandwich Islands (hamehameha III.),
who, in the year 1841, presented it, to
gether with other valuable curiosities,to
a United States naval officer, since de
ceased, who was charged with a diplo
matic mission to the Hawaiian govern
ment.
The royal garment is still in the
possession of the family, and is valued at
$15,000. It is four feet six inches long,
semicircular in shape, and is made
wholly of scarlet and yellow feathers
cunningly woven into a line network of
some strong material resembling coarse
linen thread, probably a native grass or
hemp. The yellow feathers were obtained
from a species of bird known to naturalists
as melithreptes Pacifica, once abundant,
but now sa d to be almost extinct, under
each of whose wings, according to
“Appleton’s Cyclopedia,” was “a small
tuft of feathers of a goiden yellow color,
and about au inch iu length.” With
the exception of two smaller specimens
of this kiudof feather-work, one owned
by the Smithsonian Institution, and the
other by the Boston Museum, this is tho
only Sandwich Islanl feather war-cloak
known to be in existence. Nta Lor e
Port.
It i 9 said that 70,000,000 colfi-h arc
caught annually off tbo Newfoundland
coast.
SCIENTIFIC ANI) INDUSTRIAL.
A fund of $1,000,000 has been left bj
•n ‘English brewer for advancing econo
omic and sanilary science.
A Frenchman has invented a key
which simplifies and renders lasting th«
tuning of stringed instruments.
A petroleum motor that will make fif
teen miles an hour and cost $1 per daj
to run is being tested in Chicago.
The watch manufacturers all over th(
United States are crowded with work,
and competition is narrowing margins.
Physiologists have established the fact
that the masculine heart weights mors
and is larger than that possessed by the
fair sex.
The Popular Science Monthly says that
no flying machine which will fly can ever
be constructed until gravity is turned
wrong side up.
A document enclosed in a bottle wai
dropped in the sea in March, 188(1, by
the Prince of Monaco, to test the cur
rents. It has just been washed ashors
at Orkney.
An envelope has been invented which
is tinted in such a manner as to tur»
black, blue and red if an attempt is made
to open it by wetting or exposing to
steam. Damp weather does not affectit.
At Bendigo, in the colony of Victoria,
New South YVaies, gold is now being
procured at a depth of 2400 feet from
the surface. This is the greatest depth to
which the gold seekers of the antipodes
have so far penetrated.
Corn is the source of nearly all the
starch consumed in the United States.
In other countries starch is made from
potatoes, wheat, rice aud a variety of
other materials. Maine produces a great
deal of starch from potatoes.
An electric current observed on a tele
phone line running from Bridgewater,
Nova Scotia, to the mines thirty miles
away, is supposed to be produced by a
“natural battery,” formed by deposits
of copper, silver, lead and iron ore in the
vicinity of the gold mine.
The interesting and important dis
covery has beer made that the filaments
of incandescent lamps soon break when
used near moving belts or other sources
of frictional electricity. The life of
such lamps may be greatly increased by
covering them with wire netting con
nected with the earth.
Experiments by M. G. Govi indicate
that ordinary sunlight does not give us
the true colors of bodies. These can
only be shown by a light combining all
the visible colored rays, and giving s
complete continuous spectrum. Th«
spectrum of sunlight is interrupted by
bright and dark bands.
Concerning the habit of coughing in
church, the London Lancet says; “It
represents to a largo extent avoidable
evils, bred of habit and thoughtless
imitation, and their very desirable re
duction is therefore by no means hope
le-s. Even where a basis of disease
underlies the explosion a little self-con
trol could usually do something to lessen
its force or its frequency.”
A Hw. dish scientist claims to have
discovered the secret of petrifying wood
by artificial process. He thinks it will
be possible ere long to construct edifices
of wood aud convert them into stone.
As it takes three months and costs about
$25 to petrify a block of wood of the
dimensions of one cubic inch, it will
probably be some time before his pro: ess
will be generally adopted.
Old as is the theory that trees promote
•egularity and plentitude of rainfall,and
generally accepted as though an axiom
in natural philosophy, it is being vigor
ausly attacked, says the Sanitary A 'em.
The trouble has been that only facts
favorable to this hypothesis have been
rvailable. Now the result of impartial
investigation seems to show that cause
md effect have been badly mixed.
A Remarkable Umbrella.
Among the many curio collectors it
New York city there is an old gentle
man who declares his umbrella to be hil
greatest treasure. It is his inseparable
companion aud accompanies him wher
ever lie goes. The handle is a piece ol
the Charier Oak, in which is set a small
triangu ar piece of stone clipped from
Plymouth Hock; the stick is made from
a branch of the old elm tree at Cam
bridge under which Washington assumed
command of tho Colonial armies; the
brass cap on the lower end of the stick
is made from the trimmings of a sword
scabbard once used by General Grant:
the green covering originally served ai
the lining of a coat worn on State occa
sions by the suave and courtly Aaron
Burr; the ribs, springs and other metal
trappings were manufactured from t
small steel cannon captured by the
Americans from the Hessians at the
battle of Brandywine. Eight oblong
pieces of brass have been inserted in as
many sides of the octagonal handle.
They were made from buttons cut from
the military coats of eight Generals
famous in the Hevolutionary War. The
owner of this unique umbrella values if
at S3OO, and does not believe in keeping
his treasure under lock and key, bul
makes free use of his interesting pos
session.
Philadelphia Built On a Gold Field,}
The ground on which Philadelphia it
built is one of the richest gold fields is
the world. This is a fact. The only
difficulty, says the Philadelphia Times,
is that the field cannot be worked.
Nearly the whole city is underlaid with
clay to a depth of ten feet—an area say
ten miles square. A cubic foot of clay,
weighing 120 pounds, taken from a
depth of fourteen feet when the cellar
of the Twelfth street‘market house was
excavated, was practically demonstrated
to contain seven-tenths of a grain ol
gold, or one pound iu 1,224,000. The
experiment was repeated with abont the
same results with clay taken from a brick
yard in the suburbs. Supposing, says
the Time.", the whole mass of clay to be
4,1'■0,000,000 pounds (and it is really
much greater), the amount of gold would
reach in value the enormous sum of £L2i\-
000,000. The gravel is much richer in
gold than the clay, but 'there is not so
much of it. Undoubtedly $200,000,000
worth of gold, adds the Times, lies within
fifteen feet of the surface and still it can
not be used.
Mrs. Burnett’s famous child’s story,
“Little Lord Fauntleroy,” is said to have
netted her $ Is*, 000 in profits, iu addition
to what she has received from the dra
matization of the story.