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DR, TALMAGE’S SERMON.
THE garden of the chubch
T . xt ; •'! am come into my garden.’’-Solo
>u’s Song, v., 1.
Tnr Bible is a great poem; we have in it
, Xs, rbvthm, and bold imagery, and
thtr’ antithesis, and rapturous lyric, and
~s' . ..us-oral and instructive narrative and
Malpsalw: thoughts expressed in
I more solemn than that of Montgomery;
« bold than that of Miltin; more terrible
f ' l that of Cante; more natural than that
<tv >r Isworth: more impas done 1 than that
. pjllok- more tender than that of Cowper;
weird than that of Spenser. This great
brines all the gems of the tarth into
C oronet, aud it weaves the flames of judg
in’o its garlands, and jaiurs eternal
EXonies into its rhythm. Everything this
K k touches it makes beautiful, from the
, n stones of the summer threshing floor to
Isu daughters of Nahor filling the trough for
t camels. and th « «®t-pooto of Heshbon up
“.h. Psatmist praising God with diapason of
rf.rin and whirlwind, and Job leading forth
Orion Arcturus and the Pleiades.
Mr text leads us into a scene of summer
,1 jence. The world has had a gnat many
k'i itiful gardens. Charlemagne added to
the’lory of bis reign by decreeing that they
S estafibrhed all through the realm—de
even the names of the flow ers to be
Slanted there. Henry IV., at Montpelier,
Published gardens of bewitching beauty
Lid luxuriance, gathering into them Alpine,
th-renean and French plants. One of the
fleetest spots on earth was the garden of
slaaswne, the poet His writings have made
but little impression on the world, but his
m-den, The Seasons, will be immortal. To
fh e natural advantage of that place was
brought the perfection of art. Arbor aud
terrace ami slope and rustic temple and
reservoir and urn and fountain here had
tbeir crowning. Oak and yew and hazel put
forth their riche,t foliage. There was no life
more diligent, no soul more ingenious than
that of Shenstone, and all that ddigence, aud
tenius he brought to the adornment of
that one treasured spot. He gave £3OO for
it he sold it for £17,000. And yet lam
to’tell you to-day of a richer garden than
an v I have mentioned. It is the garden
spoken of in my text, the garden of the
church which belongs to Christ, for my text
a \s so. He bought it, Ho planted it, He
owu- it, aud He shall have it. Walter Scott,
in his outlay at Abbotsford, ruined his for
tune. and now, in the crimson flowers of
tLo-e gardens, you < an almost think or imag
ine that you see the blood of that old man's
broken heart. The payment of the last £ 100,-
600 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 Jiangs,
sal 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 loved the Church and gave himself
for it” If the garden of the church belongs
to Christ, certainly He has a right to walk
in it Come then, Ob blessed Jesus, to-day,
wall; 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 place
of choice flowers, of select fruits and of
thorough irrigation. That would be a strange
garden in which there were no flowers It
nowhere else, they would be along the bor
ders or at the. gateway. The homeliest taste
will dictate something, if it be the old-fash
ioned hollyhock, or dahlia, or daffodil, or
coreopsis; but if there be larger means, then
you will find the Mexican cactus, and dark
veined arbutelion, and blazing azalea, and
clustering oleander. Well, now’, Christ comes
to his garden and he jilants there some of the
brightest spirits that ever flowered upon the
world. Some of them are violets, unconspic
uous, but sweet as heaven. You have to
search and find them. You do not see them
very often, perhaps, but you find where they
have been by the brightened face of the in
valid, aud the sprig of geranium on the
stand, and the new window curtains
keeping out the glare of the sun
light. They are, perhaps, more like
the ranunculus, creeping sweetly along
amid the thorns and briars of life, giving
kiss for sting, aud many a man who has had
in his way some great black rock of trouble,
have found that they have covered itall over
with flowery jessamine running in and out
amid the crevices. These Christians in
Ihrist’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 cereuses.
But in Christ’s garden there are plants that
may be better compared to the Mexican cac-
Mt— thorns without; loveliness within—men
with sharp points of < haracter. They wound
almost every one that touches them. They
are hard to handle. Men pronounce them
nothing but thorns, but Christ loves them,
notwithstanding all their sharpnesses. Many
a man has had a very hard ground to culti
vate, and it has only been through severe
trial he has raised even the smallest crop of
grace. A very harsh minister was talking
to a very placid elder, and the placid elder
raid to the harsh minister: “Doc
tor, I do wish you would control
your temper.” “Ah,” said the minister to
the elder. “I control more temper in five
minutes than you do in five years.” It is
carder for some men to do right than for
other men to do right. The grace that would
elevate you to the seventh heaven might not
keep your brother from knocking a man
down. I had a friend who camo to me and
raid: “1 dare not join the church.” I said:
"Why?’ “Oh,” he said, “I have such a vio
lent temper. Yesterday morning I was cross
ing very early at the Jersey City ferry and
law a milkman pour a large amount or water
into the milk can and I said to him, ‘I think
that will do,’ and he insulted me and 1
knocked him down. Do you think I ought
to join the church?’ Nevertheless, that very
ra: e man who was so harsh in his bebav ior
loved Chri-t, and could not speak of ia< red
things without tears of emotion and affec
tion. Thorns without but sweetness within
-the best specimen of Mexican cactus I ever
saw.
There are others planted in Christ’s gardei
who are always radiant, always impressive—
Bore like the roses of deep liue that we oc
casionally find, called -‘giants of battle”—
the Martin Luthers. St. Pauls, Crysostoms,
ickliffes, Latimers and Samuel Ruther
fords. What in other men is a spark, in
them is conflagration. When they sweat,
they sweat great drops of blood. W’heu they
Pray, their prayer takes tire. When they
P'ea hit is a I’entecost. When they fight
it is a Thermopylae. When they die it is a
martyrdom. You find a great many n.s.-s
ln 'h® gardens, but only a few “giants of
rattle.” Men say: “Why don’t you have
Wore of them in the church!” I say, “Why
non t you have in the world more Humboldts
J® 1 Wellingtons!” God gives to some ten
■tents; to others, one.
In this garden of the chur h which Christ
~ planted I al-® find the snowdrop , beau
viiil but cold-looking, seemingly another
wiX w ntx?r I mean those Christians
. 110 are P rec >se in their tastes, unimpas
”oned, pure as snowdrops ami as col l. Tlu-y
raver shed any tears, they never get excite I,
rayn ver .-ay anything rashly, they nja er
’’ anything pre ipita’.ely. Their jml-es
J® r Uutt.r, their aeries never twitch, their
jMignation never boils over. They live
eager than most people; but their life is a
The X never run up to C above
e staff. In their musi ■of life they ha ono
t^ cc ? to fa-sages. Christ planted them in
or th Ur< “ and th®!’ must be of some service
“-y would not be there; snowdrops, al
’»y» snowdrops.
«„7®t I have not told you of the m st beauti
fe.t H , er * n a *t t^i- s garden spoken of in the
't. It you see a “ -entury” plant your
j, ® t,o o s are started. You gay: “Why this
; ’ er has been a hundred years gathering up
nr°°m, and it will be a hundred years
j, before other petals will come out" But
uave to tell you of a plant that was gather
itnl’, , orn ali eternity, and that I'.KW years
» .iF’ ut ‘°Tth its bloom never to wither. It
!, jass ‘ OQ 'P' ant the cr, mb! Prophets
rto.d it Bethlehem shepherds looked
epon it in the bud: the rocks shoo"; at its
bursting, aud the dead got up in all the r
winding sheets to see its full bio un. It is a
crims n flower—Wood at the roots, blood on
th' branches, blo-rd on all the lea,e-. Its
per unois t • fill all the nation i. Its breath
is heaven. Come, oh winds from the north,
and winds from the south, and winds from
the cast, aud winds from the west, and tear
to ail the earth the sweet-smelling savor of
Cliri-t, my Lord—
His worth if all the nations knew,
Bure the whole earth would love Him too.
uigaiu, Sue cmi.vu up^r-piuvmlv
compared to a ga: de i. b 'cause it is a place of
seb-et (r.dts. Tuat would boa strange gar
den which had in it u > berries, no i lums or
peaches or apricots. The coarser fruits are
planted in the orchard, or they are set out on
tli‘ s inny hillside; but. the ch diest iruitsare
kept in the garden. So in the world oit dd-j
the h irch Christ had planted a great iflfr.iy
beautiful things—patien e, charity, gener
osity, integrity, but hu intends the choicest
fruits to be in the ga-den, and if they are
not there, then shame on th? cliur. h. Relig
ion is not a mere flowering sentimentality.
It is a practical, life-giving, healthful
fruit, not posies, but apples. “ Oh,”
says somebody, “ I don’t s-e what
your garden of the church has
yielded.’’ Where did your asylums come
from.'land your hospitals! and your insti
tutions of mercy! Christ planted every one
of them: He planted th? n in His garden.
Wh n Christ gave sight to Bartimeus He
laid the corner-stone of every blind asylum
that has ever been built. ' When Christ
soothed the demoniac of Galilee He laid the
corner-stone of every lunatic asylum that has
ever been established. When Christ said to
♦ho sick man: “Taka up thy bed and walk,”
He laid the corner-stone of every hospital the
world has ever seen. When Christ said: “I
was in prison and ye visited me,” He laid the
corner-stone of every prison reform associa
tion that has ever been formed. The church
of Christ 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 Ire
thrown over the fence. I know there are
some crabapple 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 the Champs
Elysees. You do not tear down and destroy
the whole garden because there are a few
specimens of gnarled fruit. I admit there
are men and women in the rtiurch who ought
not to be there; but let us be just as frank
and admit the fa-t that there are hundreds
and thousands and tens of thousands of glori
ous Christian men and-women—holy,l les ed,
useful, consecrated and triumphant. There
is no grander collection in nil the earth than
the collection of Christians. There are
Christian men in this house whoso religion is
not a matter of psalm-singing aud church
going. To-morrow morning that rcli
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 (haracter than Mary of Bethany.
They not only sit'at the feet of Christ, but
they go out into the kitchen to help Martha
in her work that she may sit there too. There
is a woman who ha; a drunken husband who
has exhibited more faith and patience and
courage than Ridley in the fire. He was con
sumed in twenty minutes. Her s has been a
twenty years’ martyrdom. Yonder is a man
who has been fifteen years on his back, un
able even to feed himself, yet calm and peace
ful as though he lay on one of the green banks
of heaven, watchm ' the oarsmen dip their
paddles in the crystal river. Why, it seems
to me this moment as if St. Paul threw to us
a pomologist s catalogue of the fruits grow
ing in this great garden of Christ—love, joy,
peace, patience, charity, brotherly kindness,
gentleness, mercy—glorious fruit, enough to
fill all the baskets of earth and heaven.
I have not told you of the better tree in
this garden and of the better fruit. It was
planted just outside Jerusalem, a good while
ago. When that tree was planted it was so
split and bruised and barked men said noth
ing would ever grow upon it; but no sooner
had that tree been planted than it budded
and blossomed and fruited, and the soldiers’
spears were only the clubs that Str ick down
that fruit nnd it fell into the lap of the na
tions, and men began to pick it up and eat it,
aud they found in it an antidote to all thirst,
to all poison, to all sin, to all death—the
smallest cluster larger than the famous one
of Itshcol. which two men carried in a staff
between them. If the apple in Eden killed
the race, this one cluster of mercy shall 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
ducts reaching from this garden up to the
mountains, aud through those aqueducts the
water came streaming down and tossing up
into beautiful fountains until every root and
leaf and flower we re saturated. That is like
the church. The church is a garden in the
midst of a great desert of sin aud suffering;
but it is well irrigated, for “our eyes are
unto the hills from when -e cometh our 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 the gospel
is one of those aqueducts. The Bible is an
other. Baptism and the Lord's Supper are
aqueducts. Water to slake the thirst, water
to restore the faint, water to wash th? un
elean, water tossed high un in the light of
the Sun of Righteousness, showing the rain
bow around the throne.
Oh. was there ever a garden so thoroughly
irrigated! You know that the beauty of
Versailles and Chatsworth depends very
much upon the great supply of water. I
came 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 Englishman as an Ameri
can, I got in, and then the gardener went far
up above the stairs of stone and turned on
the water. I saw it gleaming on the dry
pavement, coming down from step to step
until it came so near I could hear the musi
cal rush, and all over the high, broad stairs
it came foaming, flashing, roaring down
until sunlight and wave in gleesome wrestle
tumbled at my feet. So 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, and
that to-day we might find this place to be
“Elim, with twelve wells of water and three
score and ten palm trees.”
Hark! 1 hear the latch of the garden gate,
and I look to see who is coming. I hear the
voice of Christ: “I am come into my gar
den ” I say: “Come in, O Jesus, we have
been waiting for Thee; walk all through the
paths. Look at the flowers, look at the fruit:
pluck that which Thou wilt for Thyself.”
Jesus comes into the garden and up to that
old man and touches him and says: “Almost
home, father, not many more aches for thee:
I will never leave thee: I will never forsake
thee; take courage a little longer and I will
steady thy tottering steps and I will soothe
thy troubles and give thee rest; courage, old
man.” Then Christ goes up another garden
path and He comes to a soul in trouble and
he says; “Peace! all is well. I haveseen thy
tears; I have heard thy prayer. The sun
shall not smite thee by day nor
the moon by night The Lord
shall preserve thee from all evil. He will
preserve thy soul. Courag", O troubled
spirit! ’ Then I see Jesus going up another
garden path and I see gr at excitement
among the leaves, and I hasten up that gar
den rath to see what Jesus is doing there,
an 1 lo! He is breaking off I'owers sharp aud
clean from the stem, and I say.
Jesup don’t kill those beautiful flowers.” He
turns t> me and savs: “I have comeinto my
garden to gather lilies, and I mean to ta e
th so up t> a higher terra ea id tor the gar
den around my j al-ic -. an I there I will pl ,nt
them, and in bettor soil and better air they
shall put forth la-icliter leaves and sweeter
redolen e. and no frost shall touch them for
ever.” And I looked uj> into His face and
said: “Weil, it is His garden, and He has
• fight to do xvhat Ho will with it Thy wll
be done!'’—the hardest prayer a man ever
made.
It has seemed as if Jesus Christ took the
best: from many of your households the laist
one is gone. You knew that she was too
good for this world: she ««- the gentlest in
her ways, the deepeet iu her affections; and
when at last the sicknees lame you had n
! laith in medicines. You knew that Jesu
was coming over the doonill. i'ou knew the
hour of parting had come, and when through
ths rich grace of the Lord Jesus Christ you
surrendered that treasure you said: “Lord
Jesus, take it—it is the best we have—take
it Thou art worthy.” The others in the
household may have been of grosser mould.
She was of the finest line day n man was
taking me from the depot toa village. He was
I very rough and coarse, and very blasphe
mous; but after awhile he mellowed down as
| he began to talk of his little son whom he
had lost. “Oh! sir,” lie said, “that boy was
different from the rest of us. He never used
. any bad language; no sir, I never heard him
use al ad word in my life. He used to say
his prayers and we laughed at him, but ho
would ke’non saying his prayers. I often
Ihiught. T <au’t keep that child,’ and I said
to my wife: ‘Mother, we < au't keep that child.’
But, sir, the day he was drowned, mid they
brought him in and laid him on the carpet,
so white and so beautiful, my heart broke,
sir; I knew we couldn't keeji him.”
The heaven of your little ones will not be
fairly begun until you get then'. All the
kindnesses shown them by immortals will not
make them forget you. There they are, the
radiant throngs that went out from your
homes. I throw a kiss to the sweet darlings.
They are all w-ell now in the palace. The
crippled child has a sound foot now. A littl >
lame child savs: “Ma, will I be lame in
heaven." “No, my darling, you won’t be
lame in heaven.” A little sick child says:
I “Ma, will I be sick in heaven!” “No. my
I dear, you won’t be sick in heaven.” A little
blind child says: “Ma, will I be blind in
heaven!” “No, my dear, you won’t be blind
-in 11 aven. They are all well there.”
1 notice that the line gardens sometimes
have high fences around them and I cannot
get in. It is so with a King’s garden. The
only glimpse you ever get of Slum a garden is
when the King rides out in his splendid car
riage It is not so with this garden, this
King’s garden. I throw- wide open the gate
and tell you all to come in. No monopoly in
religion. Whosoever will may choose now
between a desert and a garden. Many
of you have tried the garden of this
world's delight. You have found it has
oeen a chagrin. So it was with Theo
dore Hook. He makes us laugh now
when eve read his poems; but he could not
make his own heart laugh. While in the
midst of his festivities ho confronted a look
ing-glass and he saw himself aud said:
, “There, that is true. I look just as I am,
done up iu body, mind and purse.” So it
was of Shenstone, of whose garden I told
you at the beginning of my sermon. He sat
down amid thosw bowers and said; “I have
lost my road to sappiness. lam angry and
envious and frantic, and despise everything
around me just as it becomes a madman to
do.” Oh ye weary souls, come into Christ's
garden to-day and pluek a little hearts
ea-e. Christ is the only rest and the
only pardon for a perturbed spirit. Do you
not think your chance has almost come ?
j You men and w omen who have been w aiting
year after year for s one good oportunity in
which to accept Christ, but have post
oned it five, ten, twenty, thirty years, do
you not feel as it now your hour of deliver
ance and pardon and salvation haleonie!
Oh man, w hat grudge hast thon against thy
poor soul that thou wilt not let it be 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. In thatlife
boat the passengers and crew were getting
ashore. The vessel had foundered and was
sinking deeper aud that one boat could not
take the passengers very swiftly. A little
girl stood on the deck waiting for her turn to
get into the boat. The boat came and went,
came aud went, but her turn did not seem to
come. After awhile she could wait no longer
and she leaped on the taffrail and
then sprang into thu sea, crying to the boat
men: -‘Save me next! Save me 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 Christ,
but you are in peril. Why not. this moment,
make a rush for your immortal rescue, cry
ing until Jesus shall hear you and heaven
and earth ring with the cry: “Save me next!
Save me next!” Now is the day of salvation!
i Now! Now!
This Sabbath is the last for some of you.
It is about to sail away forever. Her bell
tolls. The planks thunder back in the gang
way. She shoves off, she floats toward the
great ocean of eternity. Wave farewell to
your last chance for heaven. Oh, Jerusa
lem, Jerusalem, how often would I have
gathered thee as a hen gathereth her brood
under her wings and ye would not. Behold
your house is left unto you desolate. Invited
to revel in a garden, you die in a desert.
May God Almighty, before it is too late,
break that infatuation.
KENTUCKY TRAGEDY.
A .‘Sharp Fuailade Opened L'p Just For
Fun—The Result.
Jack Moore, who was shot Friday in a
street fight at Mount Vernon, Kentucky,
died Saturday morning, and his brother
Tom died a few hours after. The
particularsof the terrible affair are
about as follows: Judge G. W. Mc-
Clure, Lee Carter, ‘Jack and Tom
Moore had a dispute about the re
cent kuklux trouble of the county, and
f. fight ensued. McClure grappled with
Jack Moore, and was fired on by Tom
M< orc. Carter then opened on Tom Moore,
and they emptied their revolvers at each
other. Jack Moore and McClure were
separated. The Moore boys then armed
themselves with guns, and were walking
down the strict, when they met Carter.
Jack fired at Carter, but missed, and
Carter shot him down with a load 01
buckshot. Tom’s shot also missed, and
he, in turn, fell by his brother, pierced
with six balls. McClure was shot twice
but not dangerously. He gave himself
up. Carter escaped uninjured, and has
fled. McClure is ex-sheriff, and was
judge of the county court. The Moore
boys are the sons of a Methodist minister.
Carter is a lawyer. There is much ex
citement over the affair, and the friends
of both sides are flocking into Mt. Ver
non, though no further trouble is ex
pected.
BLOWN VP BY DYNAMITE.
A dispatch from Wheeling, W. Va.,
says: At an early hour Sunday morning
Benze Ramage, a merchant at Union Coal
works, 11 miles down the river on the
Ohio side, was killed and hi%store blown
to atoms by dynamite deposited beneath
it. Henry Campbell, a former partner of
Ramage, was arrested on suspicion of
causing the explosion. Ramage was
burned and mangled almost teyond re
cognition.
TRIED TO WHIP A NCIIOOL TEACHER.
A special dispatch from Bamberg, S.
C., says: “In the forks of the Edisto
Monday, a school teacher named King,
was assaulted by Thomas Williams and
several friends, who dragged him from
his buggy and tried to whip him. King
thereupon shot Williams, inflicting a fatal
wound.”
CHILDREN’S COLUMN.
Rork*a-By«.
“Rock-ai-bye- bab es, upon the tree-top,”
To her young the mother-bird sings,
“When the wind’s still, the rooking will stop,
And then you may all use your wings.”
“Rix-k a?bye, babies, under the eaves”
The swaitew croons to her brood,
“Here you* are safer, my children, from
thievek
Than if I had built in the wood ”
“Bock-a-bye, babies, the river runs deep,”
The reed-bind trills to her flock,
“The river stirs only to to sing you to sleep.
The wind your green cradle to rock!”
—Mary N. Pracott, In St. Nioholas,
The Lesson lie Learned from a Nnall.
Freddy sat on a wall in the garden
with a book in his hand, at which he
was looking with a very sad face.
“I’m sure I shall never learn it!” ho
cried, in tones of despair.
The schoolmaster had given all the
boys a holiday task, and Freddy Scott
had let the time slip away without touch
ing a book till only a week was left and
he had his long poem to learn by heart.
Like most boys he wished to get the
prize, but did not like the labor of work
ing for it. Rather an idle lad was Mas
ter Freddy, in fact, though ho had got it
into his head somehow that he was not so
clever as other boys, and that it was not
much use for hi tn to try.
He was thinking that very thing just
now, when his eye fell upon a snail crawl
ing up the bottom of the wall on which
he sat.
“Surely,” thought he, “that silly thing
is not going to try to get to the top nt
that pace!”
Yet slowly, as he watched it—very
slowly—the snail came nearer and near
er, until at length the summit was
reached, and, as if iu triumph, the old
snail reared itself up and waved its horns,
till Freddy laughed outright.
Then the thought flashed upon—Sup
pose the snail had said what he had, “It
is of no use trying 1” He would never
have reached the top of the wall; that
was certain.
“I wont be beaten by a snail 1” cried
he; and he set to work at once in down
right earnest, aud by the time the holi
days came to an end he knew his poem
by heart and could recite it without a
mistake.
Prize day came, and the boys listened
eagerly for the prize-boys’ names. Fred
dy's surprise can scarcely be imagined
when he heard his own called out; but
there was no mistake about; he had won
a prize.
The Little Bird Which Npoke.
Once upon a time there lived a little
boy who spent all his time either in
bird’s-nesting or in setting traps to catch
the old birds.
The other children used to tell him
that it was very wrong thus to kill the
poor birds, who did harm to no one.
But he would answer, “I don’t care;
its good fun.”
One day he caught a pretty bird, with
green, yellow and red feathers. You
may fancy how pleased lie was.
“Alas!” said the bird, “are you going
to kill me, too?”
“Holloa,” cried the little boy, “my
bird can speak 1”
“Won’t you let me go?" continued the
bird.
“Oh, no,” he answered, “you speak
too well, and your feathers arc too pretty
for that; besides, I’ve got you, and you
belong to me.”
The bird said no more, feeling sure it
was no use reasoning with such a naughty
boy.
That very same day, in the evening, as
the child was playing in a neighboring
wood, a great giant suddenly appeared
among the trees. The little boy, with a
scream of terror, tried to run away. The
giant, however, put his foot before him
and stopped him, for the little fellow
was no higher than the giant’s instep. He
stooped down, and taking the child be
tween his finger and thumb, lifted him
up to his eyes. The poor fellow scream
ed as loudly as he could, but the giant
only exclaimed, “Why, this little ani
mal can scream!”
“Alas! Mr. Giant,” said the child,
“I’m not a little anima), but an unfortu
nate little boy, who begs you not to kill
him.”
The giant then began to skip over the
tops of the trees for joy, exclaiming,
“This little thing can speak!”
The poor child, with joined hands be
gan to entreat:
“Oh, please, do let me go!”
“No, no,” replied he, “you talk so
nicely, and you are such a nice little fel
low, I should like to keep you. Do you
remember,” he continued, “that you
said the same this morning to your pretty
bird? Besides, I’ve got you, so you be
long to me. ”
“I was very naughty then and made
bad use of my strength.”
“I know that very well,” replied the
giant, “and I might do the same; if I
liked I could even kill you, but I will be
more just. I only want to teach you that
it is very wrong to do harm only because
you have the jwwer to do it. Go and
tet your bird loose, and in future don’t
destroy birds as you have done.”
You may be sure he agreed to this.
He at once let fly his many-colored bird,
and during the remainder of hfs life
never forgot the lesson he had been thus
caught— French Fabia.
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row’ PH ICES! KASY TKIiMS !
AUGUSTUS BAUS & CO.'M'fbs.
Warerooms. 58 W. 23d St. New York.
IThii Wash
Board la made
of ONB SOLID
SHBET Os
BEATYCORBU®
BATED ZINC,
which produce*
a double-facad
board of th*
beat quality and
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more water, and
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Theframeio
made of hard
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together with an
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tu'bS k'innid 1 ™
the lower edge
oftbe zinc.thua
binding the
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In the molt nub
aUntlal manner,
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We fiud mo many dealers that object to our board
oa account of its IH KABILITY, aaying “It will
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IMSIS'I' upon having the
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SUPERIOR FOR STRENGTH, QUALITY,
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Made from Selected Fruit, and Sploei,
Insist on having Bastino'e Flavors
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SOLD BY ALL GROCERS.
BASTIWE & CO.,
41 Warren St., New York.
theQRRVILLE
CHAMPION COMBINED
ter Holler.
Acknoxvlcducd by Thre.lierm.-n to b«
The Kins !
Will do the work of two neparalo maclitnea. Mo
Clover Unll.-rle nota almple attachment bat
• separate hullli.|f cylinder conrtrnctad aud PPe’n
led upon the moat approved acjentlllc prlncfpieii.
Han the widest separating capaoity at any machine
In the market. I. Ilgtat, contpact. durable,
um. bftt one belt aftd renutre. >*<•»
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In< on.truetl«n that Uh.eu If
stood. Will thresh perfectly all kin.
peas, timothy, fl»x, clover, etc. fiend for ' '’ c u>» r »
price list, etc., of Tbn-ejiers, Bagjnea, M1
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paper. Agents wanted. Address
THE KOPPES MACHINE CO.
ORRVILLE, O.
JOHNSON S ANOOYNE
wy-CTnira TMphtharla, Cronp. A»thmA, Bronohitl*. Nturalfia. Bbaumatlsm, Bleeding at the tmpi,
«oar»en«M, Lnfluenea, j?ackinrOou<h.Whooplnt Cough. C*arrKutu»lara Morbt»*. Ohwaio
tMarrtocea, Kidney Trouble*, oud Spinal Diaeaae*. Pamphlet fr—. Dr. I. 8. Joluwoo >Um.
pAft SONS’’SPILES
* These pills wore a wonderful dleoovery. No other* like in the world. Wis. poettiveJy cune or
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No Robbing! No Rafkicbe! No forr Fingers!
not to ire the Clothes,
Ask yovrv Grocer for It. If he caunot sup
ply yon, ouo cako will be nuii •••! ruts on receipt
of»lxtwocent etHiup* for pi'*Uge. A beautiful
nine-colored ••Chremo” with three Imre. Deal
on and Grocer* should write lor particular*.
C. A. SHOUDY & SON,
ROCKFORD. XX.X..
DURKEE’S
nESICCATEfj
S v CELERY
Ml POSSESSING THE
'AWBL* COMPLETE
SgZr.’ FLAVOR OF_THE PLANT
gM GAUNTLF.T..BRAND
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SALAD DRESSING £;
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/‘EXTRACTS ' li
BAKING POWDER 1
CH& llei ß s AUCe O
MEATS. FISH &
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■CURRY POWDER
I THE- J
liAWRENGE
PURE' UNSEED'OIL
n MIXED
FAINTS
READY FOR USE.
W Tlie Beat Paint Made.
Ounrantoed to contain no water,
benzine, barytes, chemicals, rubjber,
asbestos, rosin, aloes oil, or otfter
similar adulterations.
A full fl us ran tee on every nggkaae
and directions for use, <Q &At any
one not a practical painter <)*h uaALL
Handsome sample cards, ehovdtd
88 beautiful amKtes, milled tre*2*
application. kept by ybMr
dealer, write tp-us.
’ B. careful to »«k UWBENCE PAHTUM”
•nd do not take any olhdF said to be “at gooot*
Lawrence’s.’* -
LW. W. LAWRENCE & 00., 1
PITTSBURGH, PA.
you
Mcy paint
you should
w examine
WETHERiLL’S
vEKpSvW? 'wfitiffi'SXwlll/ Portfolio of
yKj®/' * \ Artistic Designs
Old Fashioned
\ TV’ Houses, Queen An no
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V^~*iS<7^ fttlas “' :i;Pa ® t
* f, d showing tho
latest and moat ef
focttve combtnaUon
— of colors in house
•..wm. kV ■ your dealer nan not
•f •<•’/ F act our portfolio, auk him
,»>•■• b to ar'iid to ue for one. You
•!1“* ,!, can then nee eaactry how
‘ATLAS 1 IK nJ your house will appear
READY- \ M 5 when finished.
MIXED \ -SV I Do this M'd use "Atlas'*
eatsT 41 Ready-Mlxsq Pslntand in-
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CM kpSecourOuarautee.
I 11ff Geo.D. Wetherfll & Co.
All LEAD and PAINT
MANUFACTURERS,
7 iA
PHILAD’A, PA.