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Company‘s Mr. P. H. w ”lg nent of the the follow- 92,“..‘ld‘3 ~£)H_s‘19.;zt nz‘iutzi In- n increase the year 3‘ punt. ex- resident. 1502. ”6.331531 ‘2.'>Ol.96 Worn. by the in: a, '\\‘ at :1: the t) the rates llt‘ (lil- years, trio of I have 7 was? point erived f' {:ru- "l per '2} re- ‘r CIIAI’TI‘ZR V_ It must not be supposed that uncle and aunt, although they adop‘ed me. could afford (0' lie It) {‘11: t my bad .. _ allow .31.. .. \ety long tho lll‘cad of niness. llad it been iiecccipuw. they would willingly have U with me their slender means - but it was not necessary. I \\'as found.” year; of age. I had rect-iVeil a wood education. and was in ever"; 5 m: .l t .. . ‘ way . t. o tatn my bread. but what could I do '.’ My inclination was for the sea. I sailor longed not because I ticular love for ships, but licc-ii'se I Intel SOlllt' Willi ideal that i; ‘nfivvht ultiriiately be the means of iii-ivibTHw me to Madeline. It was m... 1:0,: in; that I ventured to express no: wisl. to go to sea. My aunt threw up her hands in honor. I“Lawd love the lad 3" she cried ""il' l’Ilt' lilc'ulit, like his Idlilel‘ tt‘l‘t‘uth" \ou d like to gaw to s' would to bet-01“,. at ye 1‘ to wander over the face of the earth and die. like your father did without, a roof to cawwr vour head 2’ A sailor ! Lawd low 'M. and why would you be a sailor 0" ‘ I stanimercd seineth . wishing to work for my my uncle cut my explanation by patting me saying,r : "You'iii a good lad. I'm glad to hear 'ce talk saw ; but there's no cause to gaw to say. \‘oii'in aâ€"com- in' to \vark wi’ me. Hugh 3” "In the nine 3" l exclaimed in delight. for my strong desire to go down. the shaft was growing : but my uncle shook his head. "Naw. naw, lad about when Slinl‘t on the llt'Llil and only for big coarse men like me : a- slip of a lad like you will be better whar you’in “The UillCc‘ "' I repeated. my ar- dor being: coiisideraiilj.‘ (Linipened. “llave 'ee fixed it ;:.l. 'l‘awm 7’” asked my aunt. “Iss. mother. I lived it \vi' the mastee this fawrenoon. lluu‘h can- gaw on Monday and begin. Thus it will be tiny was mapped out for me. ()n the Monday I begai iny duties as under-clerk. with but little satisfac- tion to myself beyond the fact that I contributed :‘ix shillings a wcek towards he household expenditure. .llonotonous as ray days proziiised to be. I soon managed to infuse a little pleasure iuto llit'lll. principally with the aid of my .' and ally. holiest John lludd ; for we soon became close chums. llut the one great fascination for the Was the mine. my uncle fo take iii...~ down. but he refused. At last. bowi-ver. one Sun- day morning: he came to inc. and to my intense delight said : "You can gaw dawn the mine t'-day. Hugh. 1 be gawn' dawn. I'll tuk' ’Ce wi’ me." Excitement is welcome to all boys. and it was especially welcome to me : but there was one cloud on my sunshine, when I lO\)l\t‘{l up and saw that my cousin Annie was as white as a sheet and trembling violently.‘ "Don't father, don't 3" she said, piteonsly. ‘ "Lor‘ a .iussey, Annie. what a frawhtened little woman you'm get- tin’ 3" he said. “Wiui, you arn't liix'e a miner's lass Anulc. We must inak' the lad a man. nawt a milk- :éoti. Naw then, Hugh. hurry up and get ready. we‘in newt got much time to lose l” The first thing to be done was to attire mvself in one of my uncle's mining suits of flannel, and possess Iiivs‘elf of one of his broad felt hats. My uncle handed me half a dozen ca‘ndles. which he told me to put into inv pocket. then, with a merry nod towthe woniein‘olk. we started. I hayin to travel this road ev-‘ ‘ . ’ g acâ€"lycars of age. the mainstay of the lI’endrag‘on household. HIV life, Was Well custOmed to if, and I according-1y followed on my uncle's footsteps WithOUt much feeling 01' ('HI‘IOSXW or cry day of 'ov . but “-11,.“ “,‘r- had passed the mine. When I saw two figures COlll-‘ gobntin" ho’ise éwwnded the cliff, ing from thc direction of the vil- â€" k h c c ' " ’ lage. 0110 '.’.".s my cousui Annie. - . ‘ h f and gained the trap-”0‘” “man“: '0 Iiiâ€"ew'l'wiiislggfailg . of dheama And 80331.3”, mstrcssfng Headaches and Dizzy Spills, Mai-e ti wretchedâ€"Boaters and idacic'nas Mailed fiothirg. b: Gama with the use of Br. 6319:5333 Elli Instead of giving 5;)III'1‘Cfl-“ifiyll‘érwl‘lii Dr. Chase’s Ix'itlxicy‘L“CI I ll 5 “ 1‘?" 5 cm? you, we prefer t0 (that? “out; the experience of “it” Cl'u‘d“0m‘v‘-- 1‘th cusp of Mr. } zines was unusu- . -. “"13 of twenâ€" v, , .- . sc-uzbc 1‘ ‘ . , all}, sciious has”! -~nd had 1.0.1.,WJ: ' “5‘ “ tv veai's' stat... j: d . ll ' ' . .htsitians an a the efforts of two I)“. H .. . _, otl‘er ill'usu'atiqiil 01192:; the sew; of Kidne -Liver 1‘1 5 ' disc-as: and cure when other means fail. f - s armor, of M . William Hal“ ’ Tholrold Towfhégénzlcfroiff Stftzg: .- W llan ‘ ’ ‘ and iflIsoli’ave ‘been subject :gncsf‘lfg;h‘oovd. distressing 119334“th ‘ com- anfl in later 111;: ‘ , 'g‘ (I With r e Ethic and altogetgrw “fieglleaylgz made miserabl?‘ .‘th dizziness and were accompaniedw: for days and womiting. and t {or anything. A81 9.4 9 often weeks unfi I became re- » the trouble Wanted ‘ shared , had any par-‘ the mine be‘ seen that my des~ Again and again I had begged, llmring that time mi ”B0 3mm amazon the mine, my .with anticipation. Here we both paused. "You‘ll keek a strawuy head." said had chosen heart lzegaii to beat my uncle. lookingr at me. ""I‘will be a bad business . tramble sure you aren't afraid, lad 2‘" “Not a bit,” I returned : then. (looking at the ladder which was set. at the entrance of the mine, I asked, “Shall I go first '3” returned. "Ui‘s one o' thain can- ? tilt-s." I did so, whereupon be lit it and stuck it into my hat. then llt‘ lit anâ€" 1other for liiziiseif : after this he be- I followed fill“. The first object I was conscious of Yas the huge beam of a steam enâ€" gine. which worktd on my right. al- Itcrnately bowing and rising, and heavily straining at the deluge of \‘aler which it lifted. (in the other side. throua‘h boards. the chinks of which admitted just light enough at the foot of one of the ladders to show the passage. I saw a loaded tubblc or bucket, rushing past its descending companion. After descending two or three ladders, which were almost perpen- dicular. we came to a platform. and ‘lllkttlt‘ a halt. ' "Waal. lad 1’" said my uncle. hold- [ing his flickering: candle above his head, and looking into my face. I laughed. and hastened to assure him it Was all right, though in reality. I began to feel some of my cousin’s niisuiving. l "Saw. lad," said he, “come on .wi' a will : lay liawld 0’ the sides .. ‘o’ the ladder, and ha’ a care. jrecommenced our descent, he going {first and I following. We went down .first one ladder and then another. till again ‘and rested. ' "\‘iliat's below ‘2" I asked of my uncle. who was again l‘t‘g’ili‘lllllg inc .euriously, tryingr ‘silwle any sign of fear or shrinking in my face. "What's beiaw, lad 2‘" he said. “What. the water drained from all the mine. the pumps at wark pump- in}; it awt, and p'raps a cartload o' rattine' human bawns." "he fetid air of the place was biL ginning: to tell upon me, my breath became labored. and tallow and iron drippings v.‘erc_ visible on my clothes. 1‘in uncle. who was siniilarilv bespattcrcd to :;:_vself, bzit who was breathing more : S. a To prove, to you thy: Dr. 9.. L‘lnsc‘s Ointment isaccrtam l El a and absolute cure for each . ' ‘- and every form of itching, blesdingand protruding piles, tho manufact wars have guaranteed it. bee ten bore what. they think ofit. You can use it and get your iiionev back if not. cured. 600 a. box. at all dealers or EmussoleATi-s a; Co..'l'oronto, freely.W'econinu-nded a rest. I sat the duties of clerk for that of as- sistent ()Verscer, giid then. on the death of Mr. Ilezlruth, for those of overscer-in-chief. down on the floor while he set liimf SeTf to replenish the candles. which had nearly flickered out. Sitting thus in the stillness. I be- came Conscious of a strange moan- After lis- my uncle l ling and soughincr sound. l tcning intently, I asked what it was. "It's the sac,” he returned : “it .. lbe rolling up thar above our heads. . CHAPTER VI. I must now pass over, at one 'swift bound. a lapse of eight years. I had exchanged at twenty-two Behold me, then, I Was standing.r one day on the cliffs. close to the mouth of the -m‘ Sill PP C) l2? 6 if you begin to: like our Annie. Are you. "Bide a bit. bide a bit, lad l” he. lf-‘Cau to descend the first ladder. and. _, .;. . . . i I iroinised to obev him, and we; saw insâ€"flnta the: ‘ We came to a platform3 to detect if posâ€"z the perspirationv .strcamed down my face. while mud» timcnials in t 0 daily press and ask yourneigh- . Dr. hase’s Qintmensi r l l i fiekfivsr a ills. l l I l | i l 2 i l ‘ was partially now a Coniely young woman : the other was young George Iledruth, whom I had scarcely set eyes “PO“ since the time of his father's death. They were talking: earnestly. and did not scent at first to notice inc : but presently I saw Annie give . a startled look in my direction, and afterward they approached together. lle strolled up carelessly, swinging his cane. and smoking a cigar. “Ab. ’l‘rclawncy." he said, with a nod : “your cousin Annie has been telling: me that there are com- plaints. again, about the outlying shafts of the mine. 50 I'm going down to have a look round." “Very well. sir." ] replied, to make iiiouthâ€"piece of the men. . "I suppose it's safe enough '9” he said. after a moment. "You know. though I am a iiiiue owner, I don't know much about the. business : I nor." , “It is only right." was my reply. “that you should judge its safety f0" .VOUI‘Self. lf anythingr happened. you would be responsible.” Said, sharply ‘superintending the work. and there's (luiig‘ei‘~â€"â€"" “There is 3" I interposed. it and reporting upon it. be both employer and servant, too!" I was about to retort somewhat treatiiu.,r eyes, and refrainc I. “Mr. George," she said. quickly. "is anxious that nothing should go wrong. man, with a curious laugh. "I know what flooding the mine meansâ€"any amount of expense, perhaps ruin : for if the sea once got fairly in, wliew ! it would be a bad job for me." ing‘. know how to look after themselves. lie good enough to mavc all ready. once. I suppose there is a dress handy 1’" ] answered in the affirmative. and walked off toward the office. int." back over my shoulder. I saw him glance after me. and then, with ‘a contemptuous laugh, say some- thing to Annie. My blood boiled angrily. and my son. I could have turned back gnd struck him in the face. l‘lose to the oflice I. found my uncle. who had just come up from underground, and who was covered with the r :st of the coppe‘as earth. ‘1 told him the young master was going down. and he was delighted. "He's a brave lad, Master :Jargc." he cried, “a fine. brave lad! I'll gaw wi’ ’un, and Shaw 'uii where the wall be breaking down." My uncle led the way down the trap, showing infinite care and ten- lderness for the young master, who followed him, while I came last. 1The earth soon the only light we had \‘as the light of the caudlts stuck upon our per- sons and in our hats. At last my uncle paused and wiped his brow. We were all three now completely disfiguredâ€"with ,cartb, mud, tallow, rust, and iron drippings. “Where the deuce are we now ‘2” 'asked the young master. , “Whar, 3. aster Jarge ?" repeated Emy uncle, with a friendly grin. “ltight dawn under the sae." Redruth glanced at Inc. “How far down, Trelnwney '3" “Twenty fathoms under the sea- level, sir, and three hundred feet. or more, out beyond low-water mark.” "Well, where's the damage ‘3 It all seems snug enough." "Come this way. Master Jarge i” said my uncle. crawlingr forward, llll- til we reached a narrow space with just room for abreast. Suddenly We found ourâ€" ,selves ankle deep in water. and at the same time thick drops like heavy rain fell from the rocks above us. My uncle reached up with his hands. and touched the roof, which fortified with \vood and cement. "I plugg’d this yar last night. Mns‘tcr .larc‘c,” be explained : “the salt water were str‘aniiug in like a fall.” As he spoke the roar deepened to a crash. and re could distinctly bear the Sea grinding on the pebbles. right, above our heads. I saw Redâ€" ruth start back. and glance toward the gallery down which we. had come. But he recovered his sang- froid in a moment. "The deuce l" he muttered. “How thick is the ceiling here, 'I‘relawâ€" my '3'" “Six feet at the thickest, sir : at the thinnest.‘ where you see the \‘.‘oodr-n plug, not more than three. Young '{edruth looked up again, and. taking.r a candle from his perâ€" son. examined the rock. ' "Why. it's almost solid ore," he said. “iss. Master Jame.” returned my Iuncle, "but us can't go no farther ducezl in flcs-li. and was wrecked health and spirits. "-\ ft er undergoing tWo doctors iiiestz‘c and patent medicines, I most gave up in despair, as none ofl tl e c did me any good. l "l"()l‘tl).'f:‘.l0l.\' I began tree. tineii t by l that if I were only benefited it would be a wonder. However, I persisted in using these pills until the time came when the had symptoms of nearly twenty years” standing ”dis- appeared. I had gained nicely in flesh. and began once more to en- joy life. For this great change all the credit is due to Dr. ClmSe's Kidâ€" ney-Liver Pills,’ and I shall never cease to recommend them whenever the opportunity ofiers.” Dr. Chase’s Kidney-Liver Pills have attained their enormous . sale because they succeed where others fail. One pill a. dose; 25 cents a box: at all dealers, or Edmanson, Bates 6’: 00., Toronto. in l this ways using Dr. 5 part of .‘habie‘s Kidney-Liver I‘iils, thinkinglclogml, without flooding the It would be warth thousands to [raw on. and 'twill shaft. 0’ pounds and trying many (lo-[cost a heap to keep tight and safe ul- ’ as it be." “Is that so. Trelawney ?" “Yes. sir. We must build up this the gallery and have. it I can’t keep the men from using;r their picks Where the ore runs thickest, even when every inch of stuff they loosen is bringing them nearer to their death.” The young master made no further remark just; then, but continued his examination of the other parts of the mine. In several other places the roof was dangerous. My uncle pointed out the various unsafe por- tions, and led the Way from gallery to gallery, until the .tour of inspec- tion was complete. ‘ At, last we reascended to the sun- shine. How bright and dazzling all seemed after that subaqueous dark- ness ! "Is there anything else you wish ‘ won-. he looked inc conteiiiptuously during; in my own mind why Annie. herself the , used to leave all that to the goverâ€". angrily. When 1 met Annic's en-l “Of course I am,” cried the young "And for the men, of course ; but. . advice. Lookâ€" cheeks grew Cl‘llll-v swallowed us, and; two of us to standf )r[ a to report ?" asked ltedrulh, sharp- ly, as We stood together at the ‘ oflice door. “Nothing more than I have al- ready reported in writing." ' “Well, what was that 2’” "The whole mine wants repair. Putting aside the out-lyingr galleries where the sea may enter at any ‘iiiinute. the engines and machinery lnecd replacing, the ladders are rot- 'tcii : in fact. everything is in the. Elast stage of decay : and no von- dcr, seeing that scarcely a penny ‘has been spent on it within my memory." lle frowned, and bit his lips ; then from head to foot. “You are a pretty fellow, a very pretty fellow. You want to ruin line, ell '3" “No. sir : but I want to insure the .safcty of the men.” l t : 'l’shaw ! You are a croaker, and lkuow little. or nothing of the inat- ter,” he said, turning on his heel. “At any rate, sir," I returned, lfollowinu‘ him. “you will have the outer galleries filled up at once. 2' --1 don't km)“. about that," hoilf you don’t, 1’“ not answer for ; "l‘liav vou for l lhl‘ consequences.” if, "Who the devil asked you ‘9" he cried. “Your place is to report. not to advise. As to ceasing to work "Well. then, 1 pay you for facingéthe outer galleries. I suppose you One can't know that the richest lode of ore {runs there, and that the inner por- i tion of the mine is almost barren 1’" "1 know that ; but 'lut you prefer mutiny and (lis- {affection to study of your eniâ€" ,ployer's interests ‘2 I tell you flat- Ily, I don‘t intend to listen to such nonsense. Thanks to you, the. mine .at present yields little or no proâ€" fit, and I am in a fair way to be« l:come a beggar.” He saw me smile incredulously. as I cried : “Then you will do no- "And for the non," I said, frown-. thing 1’" “I will do nothing: under your 1 for I don't trust you. A it's their living. and no doubt theyigeiitlcman in whom I have. the ut- most confidence will be here to-mor- row morning. You will accompany 'l‘relawney. for I'm going; down utiliiiii down the mine. and you will show him what you have shown me. livice, not by yours." I With these words he Walked away. l Soon after sunrise the next mornâ€" {.ing, as I sat in ' Emilieâ€"head, l was visded by the per- .son to whom young lledrutli had .alluvded. He gave. me his card, on '\\'lllCll was printed the wordsâ€"- .li"lll{AlM S. JOHNSON, (.‘ivil linginccr, l Bethesda, State of New York. I glanced at. the name, and then .took a good look at the owner. IIe ‘Wore a showy tweed suit. a glaring .rcd necktie with a horseshoe pin. and a light billycock hat. Altogeâ€" ther, his appearance was not preâ€" posSessing. lle informed me, in a high shrill :voice, that he had been instructed iby Mr. George lledruth to go down .the mine, and report on its pros- pects and condition. "You‘ll find its condition had enâ€" ough," i said quickly. “islaybe .I shall. and iii-aybe I sha'n’t," he answered. "I don't man : not that you could do it if you tried. (iness I haven't. three years on the Shoshone terâ€" iitory for nothing.” 1 saw at once from that. he. had come. with a precon- ’ceived opinion, and that nothing he might see Would be likely to make him side with the men against their master. However, 1 treated him as civilly as possible. and, when he had assumed the necessary dress. we made the tour of inspection toge- itllcl‘. Once or twice on the way, as We ascended the ladders communicat- ing with the abyss, he grew giddy, land I had to vatch him carefully, ifearing he. might fall. All this. it may be guessed, did not incr-ase my Mr. l'lpliraini S. John- li'espett for son. . He did not altogether recover his equaniinity until he had slouglied 'his miner’s dress and put on his \own radiant apparel. Then. curious ’to know what he Would say to his employer, I. questioned him : * “Well. Mr. Johnson ? Did I ex- ‘aggcrate when I. said that the mine Was unsafe ‘3" He answered inc sharply and im- upudently. but averting his small keen eyes from mine : "l‘lxclls‘t‘ mo, young; lllan, I Shall report my opinion to Mr. lcorg’c lft'tll‘utll, not to you. I don't mind saying. however. that I guess you did cxagge'ate, on the whole." Angry at his manner, I could not forbeur retorting :â€" "You didn't seem to express that opinion when you were down be- llow !” ' i "What do you mean ‘3" he cried, I turning crimson. “I mean that you seemed rather ’in a hurry to get; back to the term firma. up here !" - ' IIe (lid not reply. but. gave me a look full of inalignity and dislike. “You think yourself smart," he said : “but you’ll have to get up early before you’re as smart as me. I mean to do my duty. young.r man, and so you’ll find aforc very long." lle left me with this curious vale- diction. I saw neither lledrutli nor Johnson for some days. Then I heard casually that the latter be. gone back to London. About a Week after his departure. I saw it publicly announced that arrangmcnts had been made with George lied- ruth, I-Isq.. the proprietor, to turn the St. Gurlott’s copper mine into a. joint stock company, the said George Redruth, Esq., receiving half the purchase money and retaining the other half in fully paid-up shares. Nothing was said about the precise amount of commission money which Went into the pocket of Mr. E. S. Johnson, but the name of that, worthy Was down on the pros- pectus as surveyor and inspecting engineer, and I had no doubt what- ever in my own mind that he had made a. very excellent bargain. (To Be Continued.) I shall then be guided by his ads. the oflice at the, want to prejudice my mind. young, been ' his manner ‘ ‘ , MEN. Better That nu Sheuld Ultimatâ€"cly Receive tic Applause of Heaven. tl’lztered according to Act of the k’u‘ 'li‘umcnt or Canada, in the year 011° lhousand Nine Hundred and Three. by Win. Baily, of 'l‘oroJLu. at ”‘9 “Little one, come here; I will un- dress you." He got out a woolen shirt and used it for her nightgown. ' i . L‘Epnrtutelli of Agriculture. U¢t\Â¥u.l Then she looked up in her sweet, inâ€" A ‘l‘fSputv‘h from Chicago saySZI Rm:- 1‘ rank De Witt ’l‘aliiiage preachâ€"r 0‘1 11‘0111 the following text: Mat-t thew i, 4 Salmon.” Why did Thomas Carlyle entitle Worship?" lle knew that the vast majority of the human r- ce loved to women. Most people are lloswells. bowing before some Johnsonian s’lrrine. We want to see the hero as la divinity, a prophet. a priest. a man of letters or a king. What Dante or Shakespeare or Luther or llo’ussuiu or Burns or (.‘ronnvvll or Napoleon was in public and private life has for most of us an absorbing with excitement when we come. in touch with a N't'lllll’lg “nobody," but we will travel far to sit at the feet of a great orator or lto clasp hands with a Goethe or a lVicfor Hugo or to see one whose Idictum may influence the (lestiny of a nation. We do Well to honor the transcen- dent. genius and to take an intense interest in the characteristics of the great man, but we ought not to o verâ€"wrought dinai'y lives. There are iiiaii among us, inconspicuous and unknown, who lave living valiant, lives, overcoming ‘the evil within them and around fl‘ucnce Icle. These are men who, if a. great crisis ‘aine or a great opportunity 3 opened, would iwitliout it will by the few who know hem is such men I would liclnl up for your admiration 10â€"day. and die unhonored save .of the class an obscure name a genealogical tablc. 'l‘IIE CltAllLIC‘S INIi‘IJ'I‘TNCI‘T. First, Naasson's cradle must have 'bccu an important part of his life's ministry. It is a very coininon c'us- from ful influence of a cradle. Many cri- jtics are apt to say that, all a baby gis good for is to eat and sleep, to icry and get sick and to keep the house in uproar from the time he lgets into it until, as a young man, §lte goes forth to start a home of his lown. For nearly two years at least the Ill()l,l‘(‘l‘ is bound to that 1cra.dle as firmly as if she were link- jcd to it. with a chain of stecl. For lfour or five years the baby is utterâ€" :ly helpless. If turned out in the cold, he would not be able to take as much 'are of himself as a live- iiionths'-o1d buppy. For the first fifteen years of a child's life his opin- ‘ any subject is practically lell upon ivalueless. The first are for {for life's work rather lac'hievemenf. of any high purpose. |“'l‘l;crefore." some one says: to me, i“l do not see how you car affirm ,that Naasson's cradle could have been a very important part of his ilife's ministry." l While admitting~ these facts. I still contend that the first. few years of a icliild's life have a momentous influ-jwords. Naasson icncc. They are important not only [to the child, but to his parents. beo has not. witnessed the influence 10f a cradle in a house? I appeal to ’your own experience. It must. be in .‘essciitinl principles a parallel of mine. My cradle and the cradles of lowing influence in our home. They were an and mother. My better .120 knew father preached that in his nursery the {ing the week would look to llllll as ther \‘as all the more consecrated .nnd circumspect. because her (laugh- itei's were looking; to her for guid- laucc and maternal training. And, my brother, when any one says that your childhood amounted to nothâ€" ing‘, you deny it. By the saintcd graves of your (lead father and ino- it.her you declare that you know lthcy were better Christians and bet- ter citizens because you, as a little stranger, once. crept into their hearts. Your parents not only gave you to the Lord Jesus Christ when mal altar. lsainc time, on your account. renew- ed their consecuttion vows to the Christ. who loved their little child. A CHILD IN (.‘.\.\1I’. ’l‘he purifying, en’noblini: and Chiristianizing influence of a little child was once illustrated by a bro- vther minister in the following story: Onoday, in the far west. a stalwart miner was returning to his encamp- ‘imcnt when he found. a lost. child. She was a beautiful little girl of . about five s’tuiiiiiers. “Where is your father and mother, little one?:' ask- ed the minor. “Don't know." said the baby. “What are you going; to do?" "Well," she answered, not the least ubaslicd, "I guess I will go home with you and wait until mam- ina comes and gets me." The thin- cr, with a laugh, picked her up in his strong arms and started up the mountain side. "The little girl in his embrace was not a bit afraid. She laughed and sang and ohattered all the way. When the miner came to camp, he asked the men what he would do with her, and they said, “Let her stay here over night, and then some one will take her to town in the morning." After supper the little girl suddenly stopped her chat- tering and said: ‘ “Now it is time for me to go to bed. Who will un- dress me?" That was a. new task for those hard listed workmen. They did not know what to do. At last the man Who had found her said, overlook the heroic elements in or- , "And haassoii bcgat itlie other. interest. We are not, as a rule,l them and CXt‘lTlSlllg' a beneficent lll-lxe\(l . . on their own cont “lClt‘d cir heaven as when lllS little baby boy . , . _. _ 1 .- - . achieve fame, but. Elm!" pra) ct. Ijhas blinded his eyes my brother and sisters bad a halâ€". inspi'ation to my father' sermons on Sunday because. children with whom he rouiped dur-s lan example and a model. My ino-. they stood with you at the baptisâ€"‘ but they also at. the‘ nocent way and said: "Now I must Isay my prayers. Who will 1 say :thcni to?” This was a harder pro- .position for the men to solve than At last one minor said, “Come, my darling. and say your prayers to me." When the little one one of his books “Heroes and Hero .kiielt, the tears caiiic welling out of ithe miner's eyes. He pushed her off .as he said, "No, my little one: I am study the lives of its great men and Snot good enough for you to suv vour lpraycrs to me.’ Another miner ltried it. He broke down. At; last Ltlie little girl knelt by her bunk. leien she coniiiicntod to pray the old ‘ prayerâ€" l Now I lay me down to sleep, I I pray the Lord my soul to keepâ€"â€" ganzd ended up that prayer with the .plea that God would bless the good jineii who were looking after her, lthcrc was not; a dry eye in that cabâ€" }in. Many of those rough, stalwart linen, through that child's example, lwcre led to give their icarts to Mind. As a result of that little lgirl’s visit these rough miners built in church. They brought to that ‘clturch a minister. The minister dcâ€" l(’lal‘t‘(l that. in all his life he never lprcached to a more impressionable ,au-dience. than those rough men, who iha'd been brought into touch with that little child prayer. You assert that that child’s gos- :pel influence is the exception? I lknow it is not. I know that a man ' on earth comes as near to 501' girl kneels by his side and in :tr'ust and love says a baby's even- (lod pity the man who that joy! (lod forgive 1 never knew run It i the father who has dulled his ear so ' jas not. to hear Such a message. who. to shut out ' - . Au: : s" ‘l" ' ”ll" \‘2 'clioose at random as an illustration i‘ “h ‘ 'hht' “ ”‘h ”1 ant?" 1‘ {"1” can come to him in bare feet, robod ,iii a little white nightgown. Ilroth-i jcr. do not. tell me That Naasson's Ichildhood was wasted years. Do liiot for a. inoueut suppose that al- , though you may be an ordinary man diving: an ordinary life in an ordin- [tom l'or people to sncer at the 1301],- ary lioiue your little cradle bad no 'gospel significance in the lives of ‘your (‘bristian parents. NAASSON LlKl-Z MOST OF US Naasson's matured ziianhood teach- cs that (lod provides for the Inim- lblest’ of his children as wcll as for lthe greatest. Who was i‘x'aasron ‘? Ille had a father and a son, Salmon. l i | l éknow of his direct connections. ’l‘licy ‘ . ~ . jwere evidently as liuinbic as llllll-‘ ‘sclf. There was certainly nothing, extraordinary about this man. His- jtory makes no mention of Naasson. llcadiiig a great. army. Among: all ;\\hetlier he was in physique tall or, twenty years ‘ the most part. preparation? than the‘ short, whether he bad light. hair or dark, blue eyes or black, a broad or a narrow chest, must be all left :‘to conjecture. Wainâ€"whether be was the humblest lindividual who ever lived or no, God itook care of him, (lod fed him. (lod it'lothed him, God saw him grow up lto full manhood. Then when his . vork. llt)\'\'t‘\'t'l‘ small. was done lod. himself. In other was like most of ius, who are without any particula' :talcnt or power of leadership. Yet ;God is caring and feeding,r and cloth- ling and housing us. just as he feeds ithe birds of the air and clothes the jlily of the field. i \".‘llliilllv3 PLAIN LIVES LI'IAI). l But I find another very suggestive Naasson's genealogical ihistory. It led to mightier names. iAs Joseph Parker once graphically and tersely exprcsscd it : "You .sbould remember that a long, flat. road may be leading up to a great mountain. There are some very Iilaiii and uninteresting miles out of (lcncva, yet every one of them brings ryou nearer to Mont Blane. So you ‘do not know to what high bill your :life may be quietly leading.r up. l-Iven if you yourself are nobody, your son may be a man of renown or his son may be a valiant and mighty man. Metliusclah was the father of Lamcch, and Laniecli was the father of l‘loah." Yes. yes, that is the thought; to which I point. Naasson may only have been a seeming no- .body. His son. Salmon, was a seeming nobody. lut Salmon was the father of the mighty lloaz, who jwas the husband of beautiful Ruth. who was the grandmother of the I took him to :fat t about of Jesus Christ. So. () humble wuâ€" man. you may think your domestic life does not amount to much. You may say it consists mostly in sew- ing dresses for the babies and cook- ing meals and petting the little ones when they are hurt and r'ading the Bible to the children before they go to bed. But 1 want to tell you that in the light of this history of Naasson you have a mighty, a' tre- mendous work upon your hands. You may be the mother or the grandmother of a boy who will yet proclaim the gospel of Jesus to the furthciinost parts of the world. Again, Naasson's life impresses me with the fact that the grestcst of earthly Works are accomplished by ordinary people. Here and there in the long list of genealogical names which are recorded in the first chapter of Matthew there is a pro- minent man, but fourâ€"fifths of them â€"aye, nine-tenths of themâ€"are names as humble as that of Naasson's. Thus we find that everywhere the vast bulk of the world's work is done by the ordinaries and not by the extraordinarics. Why 1’ Because there are but few cxtraordinaries and thousands upon thousands and mil- lions and millions of ordinaries. Wren you stand by the grave of Christcâ€" pher Wren in St. Paul’s cathedral of LOndon, you read his epitaph thus : iianicd Ainiuadab: That is all wet the leaders of the Bible there is no; recorded speech spoken by his lips, llut this fact is ccr-‘ mighty David. who was the ancestor] x, XQWJ "CHINESE IDOL." “If you wish to see my monument, look about you." But when I look about St. f’aul's cathedral 1 sec in the stones of every wall and the dovetailing of every crevice the Work of hundreds and thousands of hands horny with toil as well as in the complete building the white, soft. fingers of the great architect who there lies buried. I scc the humble laborers digging the foundations ; I see the humble masons rearing the walls: I see the humble carpenters lifting the scaffoldings; I sce the :crowd collect about the poor, bruised. mangled body of the work- , nan whose foot misstemicd and whose b'ains were dashed out upon the ground beneath when he fell 'froni that high scaffolding. Aye, I isee Naassons, humble Nazissons. evâ€" erywhere in life ! They have build- ed the pyramids ; they have lifted the dome of St. Peter‘s and the 'l‘aj Mahal : they have worked on th farms and swept out the stores and died in the soldier‘s trench. It is 'thc accumulation of the work of the obscure individuals in this world lwhich has made this old earth what it is : therefore, my brother. do not ssay that your life's work is useless because it is inconspicuous. But coming near to the earthly end tof Naasson‘s life I find by this ,genealngical account that (lod was keeping just as much account. of his llifc as lie did that of Abraham or lJacob or Boaz or David. .‘.;ias:;on jin his humble capacity and doing his ’lifc's work well was just as dear to ,his Divine Master as if he had oc- :cupicd a Solomon‘s throne or had jbuilt a Noah‘s ark. Indeed. I sonic- ltiines think if (ind has any favor- litcs they are to be found among the fliumble Workers. Abraham Lincoln ithought so. He once said. “(iod 'iiiust love the common people better ‘thaii the aristocrats because he made. so many of them." And (‘hrisi's 'artions when upon earth seemed to We fznd that lie ‘associaled for the most part with :the poor and the humble. The .g'reatest earthly joy Jesus seemed to June had in a human sense after a. day's preachingr in .lci'usaleni was to be able to leave the capital and :climb up the hill upon which is the little “illag‘i- of Beth- :aiiy and there lodge with his few .friends in the home of Mary and iMartha and Lazarus. 'l‘lius. my brother. in your humble capacity. in your obscure home. remember that Christ is with you. llcnieniber that. lie is watching you. Also remember that if you do your work with his help to the best of your ability he will sp'ak to you tlte saine Words inliCll Sir Walter Scott chiseled up- ;on the tombstone of a dmnestic who :llaf’l served him long and was buried in his family plot : “Well Idonc. good and faithful servant." + A 'I‘IIO I‘G H'l‘l“l.'l. IIL'S BAND. . A lady who is subject. to heart dis- ease took tea last Sunday with a :hciglibor, and while sitting at. table ,lier husband rushed Iii without a fliat and in his shirt sleeves. i “ Ze calm!" he cxc-nfmed hurried- ily to his wife; "don't excite your- ;self. you knoll you can't stand ex- 'citcinent, and it might. be worse!" l “Good gracious!” cried the wife; j“the children are " l "'l‘hey‘re all right. Now, Mary. ’dnn't get excited; keep calm and ‘cool; it can't be helped now. We must hear there visitations of Pro- vidcnce with philosophy." l "Then it's mother!" gasped the .wife. i ”Your mother‘s safe. I l prove this theory. situated Get on your things. but don't. hurry or worry. It's too late to be of any use, but, il'll fly back and see what I can do. fl only came to tell you not to get, excited." ; “For mercy's sake," implored the lalnmst fainting woman, "tell me the ' worst ! " ' “ tell. if you will have it. the con- sequences be on your own head. lMary. I've tried to prepare you, ‘and if you will knowâ€"don't, excite lyourself; try to keep calmâ€"but our lkitchcn cliiiiiney's on fire. and all the. lneighbors are in our front garden!” She survived. CHOOSING THE WEDDING DAY. A cariou's old marriage custom, called locally "the settling." still survives in County Donegal. Ireland, and in the Scottish districts of Kinâ€" tyre and Cowal. After the marriage jhas been publicly announced. the ifriends of the couple meet at the 'liouse of the bride's parents to fix a. suitable date for the nfarriage. A bottle of whisky is opened, and as each guest drinks to their happiness |llc names a date. “"hcn each guest has named a date an average is struck, and “settling" is complete. Neither the bride nor bridegroom over thin-ks of protesting against the date so curiously chosen. “What did that man do to make himself so famous?" asked the inâ€" qnircr, gazing curiously at an indi- vidual who formed the center of a social group. “To the best of my lknowledge,” replied the cynic, “he did the pfublic." -. -\3\J"s WNNx‘ ‘ \ “o “‘~W\x‘\\’\ \,' a \ -_v\ -. .. ‘ » \\ Msfi-y~w .‘b’w