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an“ When I 1001: back at. the earlier days of my life. I wonder why I did not follow the ample of Rampfytde Moore Carew, and um may with the gypsies. Many of them came through our parish on their way bickwards and forwards hetween the south, An-i Exmoorrand Dartmoor in the north. _ ‘ ‘ ,Oseulsmn was I think, the most. misemble 3 “11“!” In all North Devon. For miles and 3 "“163 there was not. a hedgeâ€"nothing but ': heuy. Squat, stone walls. The river 1:31) through the parish, and there was 3 1111.11, ofecoutse, and a mill-dam with trout in 1t, Which used to he under the shadow of the old stone bridge ; you could lean on ghe Ptl’apez and watch them hanging lazgy thou: the stream, each in its own especial nook. ‘ My father was the Vicar of Ossulston, and I was his only child. The Vicarage was a. stone house of eight. rooms, roofed with stone roughly chipped into henvy slabs. We kept. acouple of cow:, some pigs, and of course ponltry and ducks. I need scarcely any we had an orchard, but the trees had not been grafted for years, and were long past. their prime. \Vc burned wood and uniâ€"being many miles from the nearest railway station, and even iron} the canal. u __ THE DEAN AND HIS DAUGHTER Our roof was thickly covered with yellow stonecrop, housekeek, and other such pal-milk: plants. In the garden my fa.- ther allowed old gooseberry and entrant. trees to run to waste. and there Were a few wall-flowers. Once or twice a year my father went. to Exeter, comizg back with clothes for himself. a supply of tobacco zunl Spirits and rough am 8'3, flannel, ealin:o,princ. and serge, to be made into garments 101‘ his daughter. He used to bring back some remly-made boots and a few m-her domestic necessaries, not. tobe procured n the Village shop. .- . ‘ ,,,0.L sl., rv Of myself, and my cducatim, with the exception of Greek and Latin which he taught. me more or less thoroughly, and of anything that. might. concern me, he took no heed whatever. Except that I had to go to church twice on Sundays, I was as little looked after as an Exmoor col t. l was happy, however, in my own way. For I could not even remember the loss of my mother, and there was nobody :0 care or trouble where I went. or what I did \\ hen I was six years old, I recollec! that. I used to steal the fresh eggs early in the morning. make little holes in them with a. pm. suck out the contents, and carefully pulverize and bury the shells. My father often wondered why his hens did not lay as regularly as they ought to have done, but. he never seemed to troubie himself as :0 how I got. my breakfasB, or, injeed, whether I got, any breakfast at, M1. luueuu, wucvucl L 5vv «u, v.-â€"....â€",_ ... In summer there ware apples and plums. After dinner I could forage for myeelf in the kitchen, for my faLher dined alone. Somgtimes I did not. see him for several days together. When his own dinner was over, he used to sin m an arm-chair in his room, smoke a long clay pipe and drink spirits and water. When ho had enough tc bacco and enough spirits, he used to go to bed. His great. occasions were when a. neigh- boating farmer asked him to dinner. He always acceptqd such mvitaaions. n L, “ We must. be a}! things to all men,” he used to any solemnly. I fancy he gave this precept. a somewhat liberal interpretation, for I know now than. the peculiar conditIOu in which he used to return home was due tostrong waters. and that his late hours the next morning, with his anxiety for dry toast and weak tea, had the same explanao non. I have since heard that he was a. disap. pointed man. He ought. to have taken high honors as his university, but instead of that. be somehow failed :9 tgke a“ 590d de- groe. He ought. to have had a. Fellowship and a. College living, but. his claims were pnssed over. As he got; on in life, or rath- er in years, his friends persistently gave him the cold shoulder. The livings he had been positively promised, and which had been given to other men, Were more numer- ous than the number of pounds in his own watched stipgnd. -‘ .. awhu: n-"-..-~_ -V He once in «leaperaniou thought. of writing 3 book on antiquities, coduty history, and natural history of Devonshire, but, he never got, further than ordering several reams of foolscap and a big jar of ink, for both of which he was ultimately sued in the County Court, when an order was made again“ him to liquidate the amounc by monthly instal- ments of four shillings each. ‘ My father was now periiously close upon 3 sixtyyears ofage,buthad aplensant habit of ‘ telling everybody that he was somewhere between fortyosix and fifty. Age had cer~ taiuly put a very few traces upon him. Like all selfish men he was thoroughly well preserved, and if he had been a. duke, with the medical resources of a duke, and with ducal opportunities for travel, change of climate, and special attention to every min- ute detail of comfort, might, perhaps, have livad on into his tenth decade. With nothing to worry you. and with plenty of money, it is perfectly possible to trifle with Providence up to an immense age. His own views of life and his arrange- ments, so far as they concerned himself, were simple enough. He had his income as Vicar and his bit of glehe, which he pru- dently let out. Duringthe summer months, when London was empty. he made a clear profit. Some fashionable London preacher would come down and-ta.ke the Vicarage “Vin-v- ....V. V, for three months, undertaking all the Fe- sponsx'oilities of psrochial service. Out. of this temporary transfer my father used to make a comfortable annual sum. In fact. he farmed his Vicarage. and the summer months m which_he let. his house were the season of his fan sine. ‘ 1 A1 A714 he‘ finu: Vlflvuw, -._._._ - ._ the rook, Was not. more ”fielvless B had a. chance which I has no; if: :9 moment Weseamouater might put. in a: VOL 1- NO ‘21. y -‘ 9-,“ 1,, ~ CHAPTER I. f‘ )7 he One day there came n' break in this terrible monotony My father received a. letter which evidently puzzled him. It could not have been a. County Court sum- mons, for he anticipazcd tho=e and knew their COHteuts betore their arrival. Neither was it, an ofi'er of prefermeut, in which case he would have at once made his way to Pentridge, the nearest railway station. and have done extravagant things in telegraphy; perhaps even have borrowed a. couple ofpmmds, on the strength of the gomi news. from the landlord of the “ Bull Hotel” at Pentridge, and so have hurried up to London, by way of taking time by the forelock, and making assurance doubly sure. « appearance and devour her. I had In prospect. of any such sharp, sudden and merciful end to my sufferings. There I wasâ€"chmned, Twenty years from now I Should be an 0M woman. And the twenty years showed no hope, prospect, or even chance of release. IL was horrible. Evidently it was none of these things. Equally clear was in that it. meant somb- thing, and as the something in question could not. possibly be for the worse, I was content to wait. That afternoon. my father, at an earlier 1 hour than usual. batonk himself to the? room which he called his study. Let me give the inventory of this apartment. There were several battered volumes of Bulm‘s Translations of the Classics: there ware some odd volumes of South. Burrow amt Tillotson. There was Stsnley’s “Sinai and PaliStine," an old euition of the “Encyclopaedia Britannica ;” Alford‘s "Greek Testament,” Harold Browne on the Arcticles, Paley’s “Endenccs,” and a. few stray novels in yellow pasteboard: “ lizirchester Towars,” “The Last Chron- icles of Barset.” “Dr. Theme,” “Tom Jones.” “Peter Simple.” and other such ecclesiastical and unecclesiasticul romances On the mzmtelpiece was is tobbucco jar, and by it were one or two clay pipes: there was 'a shelf with bottles white and black, most of them empty. 0:: rails against the. wells, hung in various stages of dilapid- ation, overcoats, leggings and water-proof garments. There was also an old double. barrelled gun, a powder flask, and a. shot belt, for my father. being on terms with the surrounding farmers, considered rabbits a lawful part of the tithe or which the State had iniquitously despoiled him. I entered this sanctum sanctorum with- out terror. 1 was too old for my father to smack me, and there was really nothing eise of which I uce‘l be in the least degree afraid. But I knew it was his habit to transactimportaut husiness in the study. Unimportant business, such as the bill of the baker, he mist-.1 to transact at the gar» den gate ;and so, when summoned to the study, I knew LI: 1! there was something more important. on hand than the weekly accounts, or the prospects of the potacoe patch, or the precise reasons why the old brown Cochin hen should hive left off lay ing. My father was in an ohl wooden mm- .:hair, in which he looked almost venerable. It was close to the table, which gave him an appearance of having that very moment abandoned his work. Thei: must have been in him, at some time u ether, some vague instincts of art, for Ile pose and the surroundings were really clever. As I opened the door I almost seemed to hear a small bell jingle for the rising of the cur- tain. ' My parent arranged his necktie, and ran his fingers through his hair ; then he twisted his only ring round upon his little finger, bringing the small brilliant diamond held in its claws into prominent play. Then he cleared his throat and began. “Take a. seat, Miriam,” be commenced Then, when I had obeyed, he proceeded cheerily, and in a. tone of assurancems if he possessed the secrets of the Univ erse, and it lay with him only to hold up his little finger and to at once stop tle rotation of the earth upon its axis. l “My dear friend, I may my my oldestl friend, for long years have not diminished an atfection which was commenced at Rug- l by, continued at Cambridge, 'iud ‘confirm- ed and consolidated in riper life; my dear, friend, I say, Sir Henry Craven, is exhaust- 5 ed by his manifold duties in town, undl l writes to say that he wants a. few days or weeks of entire rest. Of course I have asked him to share our humble roof; his wealth is enormous, his influence immense. ‘ I believe that to marrow he could get me , made a. Bishop; you may be sure I shall, not lose the chance, and you must use your ’ wits to aid me. He is a. man of the world, and men of the world are [ captivated at once by an ingenue. You 1 see, my dear, this place is lonely, l desolate, and remote. You have no com-o panions of your own age ; you have noti these pleasures and innocent enjoyments, 4 which it is the chief sorrow of my life that l Iam unable to provide for you. And I ‘ 100." here my father expanded his chest, and assumed on appearance of intense re- - sponsibility, “ feel myself a laborer in the .vxneysrd whose allotted work has not yet . come to his hand. I am wasting my abili- l ties and my time in a Small parish, when I l ought to be leading public opinion, warn- ing a-2sinst the errors of the time, and pointing out the true path to take among the many rocks, shoals, gulis, and quick sands that beset our age. And so, my dear We must be practical. Get the house in order ; get some ammonia. and sponge the grease spots out of my Sunday suit; see \thst my study is put in order. and make the receptiomroom look as pretty as you‘ can. J uggins. our churchwurden, has a greenhouse, and no (lOJbb Mrs. Juggins will lend you a few gemmums or celceo- larias, or something of the kind in pots. And if you have a. muslin dressâ€"I bezieve you haveâ€"you had better get it washed and ironed, for you’ll have to dine while Sir Harry is here; and you’ll want a. little blue ribbon round your waist, and some velvet, or something, round your neck. Eereis a. two-shilling piece. And now pray be as quick as you can, for money in travelling expenses is no object to Sir Henry. He thinks nothing of ten shillings for a fly. It is odd that the good things of this world should be so unevenly divided. He may be here Very shortly. He must on , no uccount find us unprepared.” . . nbâ€"n‘. nu vauuv uuu u: our..- _. And herewith my excellent. parent. strol- ’ led away down the village to visit his . senior churchWax-den, intimating than he 1 wished to accompany him. By a. singular ‘ and happy coincidence is was one o’clock. ‘ Mr. Thacker, a prosperous blacksmith and wheelwtighb, was just. about to dine ofl‘ bacon and broad beans. with a- treacle dumpling to follow. Tiic call of the Vlcar was positiveiy Opponune. My flit/her and I stayed to dinner, and after in he smoked a pipe with Mr. Thacker, over which they dj ecussed the present average prices of market produce. He also inbimategl. the name and rank of his expected vzsnor, whereas Mr. Thacker put. aside the tobacco air, and produced a box of cigars, together with a choice bottle of old Holixu‘xds.‘ WILLA a uuvuou uvuuu u. \uu ....... “He had always himself.” said the church- wsrdeu, “been a hard working-.111” w_ho hag paid his own way, every inthm of w, an never been beholden to any y for “‘3‘ thing.” leant.~ “What does it matter, Mr. St. Aubyn '2” he profoundly observed. “Some of us ride he the hounds in pink, and some in black. ’Tisn'b those who ride in pink that. are always in at. the death. Give me a man who knows the country. Look there,the Hflhmds are your way. It‘s only April now. Wait till the burning season. I shall see you in gaiters long before you’ll see me in my old cops. \Vhen you’ve got; the gaizers you must remember an old friend, and let, me have a good Cathedral lease. Inever like no trouble 3. friend, especially a. gentleman and a reverend gentleman like yourself, and that. little matter of three pound ten inst Miuhnelnms may stand over as long as you like. Here’s my hand upon it.” ...'.:- . To forego a very doubtful debtof seventy shillings for the prospect, however remote, of an advantageous lease, is not, as things go, a. bad- speculation. Evidently Mr. Thuckcr‘did not think so; for, as his Vicar left, he presseda sovereign upon him, with some incoherent remarks about the number of turnpikes upon the road. He must have forgotten, in his excitement, that his reverend visitor had been 0. foot passenger, and did not live more than half a. mile ewiiy. _.. .. .. . e .- ,i,.1 Mr. Thackflerz; added that good man wére scarcegmd be, for his )art, should like to gee my father made a. ishop or a. Canon at The gold in his Waistcoat pocket imparted elasticity to my father's tread. He bummed operatic airs as we walked back. He had been, in his younger days, one of of the lending spirits of a. musical club. His head was erect, and his chest expanded like that of a pouter pigeon. Indeed, his enthusiasm was positively infectious, and I begun to picture myself the proud possessor of a. silk dress, a sewing machine, and a. com- .plete set of Tennyson’s poems, inaccessible' luxuries for which I had often yearned when sitting alone in the twlight upon the kitchen hearth, knitting mittens and stockings for the winter, and sorely puz- zled over the stockings in the matter of heel. This was a home thrust which made my father gulp his Hollands at. the temporary r: st: of sufiocation. “Oil, WAD SOME POWER THE G'HU’IE G'IE I held a. brief council of war that night with Mrs. Peel, our old domestic, in which we rehearsed the household stores, an] wantinto a. number of minute economic details. There is an infinite amount. of trouble involved in such sum.“ matters as linen, the best china ten. service. and the Le mporury reproduction of ahnosc forgabten household treasures that are resting in levender and must be furbished up for this special occu- siou. But. my father did nob interfere with us, and so upon the whole we settled umb- ters more expeditiously than might have been anticipawd. Lady Aberdeen’s father. the late Lord Twecalmoubh, was a. most diligent collector of mediwval and eighfeemh century 01)- jchs of art. His seat. in the Highlands. Huisachan, contains a. magnificent collection of all kinds of treasures. Fourteen women, known as the Grey Ladies of London,lmve dedicated their lives to working among the poor of Blackheath. The population of this district amounts to over 70,000, and the Grey Ladies, 30 called from the habit they wear, visit. the sick,and try to educate the well. They have one day a. week for rest. A ‘ n . 4- ‘,,__ General Booth, of the Salvation Army, announces his purpose of making acum- peign of ‘ four months’ duration in the United States and Canada. next fall. He wants the army to raise afund of$250,- 000 this year to celebrate lus “fiftieth veer of Christian 1ife,”and proposes that an international jubilee. coagress be held in London next July. He will use the money, if he gets it, to further the work of the army. A,A m”. . . u .- .v 1 ,1- J . \V. S. Gilbert describes his method of collaboration with Sullivan. He meets the composer and proposes a. subject, which they discuss freely and fully. After the plot is settled, Gilbert. writes a. fairly long scene anal than is discussed and altered several times. Anything that Sullivan thinks unfit. for musical treatment is stricken out. After a number of conferences Gilbert. begins in earnest, and sends his libretto to Sullivan, always keeping an act ahead. Echoes of the great words spoken in the World’s Congresses in Chicago are heard in Turkey, where the law school at. Con- stantinople has been closed because of the liberal ideas advanced in the lectures of Ibrahim Hakki Elfendi, who was Turkish Commissmner to the Exposition. He im- bibed his dan gc rousdoctrines in the congress~ 9s, and returned home filled with the spirit, of reform. But whatever the temporary check imposed by the Porte,the young men 91' Turkey were aroused, and changéisinev- “able. Lord Hannen, the distinguished English judge,whose death was recently announced, was known as a. very stern and strict ruler of his court ; no man dared to take at liberty with him, and he was never known to be hoax- ed but on one occasion. A juryman, dressed in deep mourning, serious and downcust in expression, stood up and claimed exemption from service on that day as he was deeply interested in a. funeral of a gentleman at which it was his desire to be present. “0h, certainly,” was the courteous reply of the judge, and the and man went. “My Lord,” interposed the clerk as soon as the ex-jury- man had gone, “do you know who that mm is that you exempted ‘3" “No." “ He is an undertaker.” [low the llrlqm-IH Are Made and Admn Rages from Their Use. Fuel bricks of crude petroleum are exten- sivelyneed in the Italim navy, and are melons follows: The mixture, which is made in the proportion of 1;} pints of petro- leum, 10 per cent. of rosin, 5.5 ounces of powdered soap and 1].} ounces of caustic soda, is heated and stirred at the same time. Solidiiication begins in about ten minutes, and the operation must then be carefully watched. If there is a tendency to remain liquid :1 little more soda. is added. After the mixture has been stirred until the mass becomes nearly solid, the thick paste is poured into the molds, which are placed for ten or fifteen minutes in a. ‘drying-stove. The briquettes, which are ‘ of the same size and form as those largely mused in Frnnce and Germany, are then cooled and are ready for use in afew : hours. Sig. Maestracci recommends the addi- tion of ‘20 per cent. of wood 8Wdust and 20 per cent. of clay or sand, which makes the; briqr_et,to both cheaper my! more solid: In trials made in Mirseilles on several tug boats the petroleum briquettes furnish- ed about three times as much heat. as coal briquettes of the same size. They were burned in the ordinary boiler furnace, without any special preparation, gave out very little smoke, and left little or no ‘ash. The advantages claimed for the petroleum briquettes are the absence of smoke and a large reduction in bulk of fuel whiCh must be carried, as compared with coal, while the risks attending the carrying 0f liquid fuel are avoided. SOLID PETROLEUM FUEL. PERSON AL POINTERS. (To 1m. vox'nxmu.) OMEMEE, ONT 11111,1D\Y 11121152111: 12m BROOKI YN. April 1 1â€"10 the great miclience which assembled in the Broukiyn Tabernacle this forenoon were many strangers. Rev. Dr. Tailm Lge chose for the subj act, of his snrmon “Home Religion,” baking his text from Luke S . 39: “Return to Lhiuc mm house, and Show how great things bodfl nabh (lone unto thee.’ 1 ,LL -..._,,v r - , ,, After a. fierce and shipwrecking night. Christ. and his disciples are climbing up the slaty shelving of the beach. How pleasant it is to stand on solid ground after having been tossed so long on the billnws. While the disciples are congratulating each other on their marine escape, oub from a. dark deep czweru on the (lavluriiie hills there is something swiftly and terribly advancing. Is it. an upparicion ‘3 Is it a. man? Is it. a wild beast, ‘3 Is it a. maniac who has broken away from his keepers, perhaps a. few rags on his person.u.nd fragments ofsbout shack- les which he has wrenched oli‘ in terrific paroxysm. With wild yell, and bleeding wounds of his own laceration he flies dawn the hill. Back to the boats, ye fishermen, and put, out. to sea, and escape assassination. hit. Christ stands His ground : so do the. Disci- ples ; and us this flying fu:y, with gnushing teeth and upliftei lism, dashes at; Christ. Christ says, “ Hands 011' 3 Down at. my feet, thou poor sulfcrer,” and the demouiac dmps harmless, exhuusbed, worshipful, “ Away yé devils 1” commanded Christ, and the two thousand fiends which had been tor- menting the poor man are transferred to the two thousand swine, which go to sea with their accursed cargo. SIX W'ISE Dr. Tnlnmgr’n I-limluent “Immune-a" Re- Iurnlu'l‘hlnc Own Home and Show How Great [lung-t God llnfll Hume Unm Thee." The restored dcmoniac sits down at, Christ’s feet and wants to stay there. Christ. says to him pmcLicaily, “ Do not scan -. you have a. mission no execute ; wash 01‘? the filth and the wounds in the sea; smooth your disheveiled locks: put on decent apparel and go struightto your deso- latell home. and tell your wife and children that you will no more ati'right. them, and no more do them harm : that you are restored to reason, and than I, the Omnipownt Son of God, am entitled hex‘eafzcr to the Wor- ship of your entire household. lcturn to ihme own house, and show how great, things God hath done unto thee.” “ Yes, the house, the home is the first place where our religious gratitude ought to he demonstrated. In the outside world we may seem to have religion when we have it not ; but the home teats whether our religion is genuine or a sham. - What makes a. happy home ‘3 Well, one would say It house with great wide halls. and antlercd deer heads, and parlors with sculpture and brieâ€"mimic, and dining-hall with easy chair and plenty of light and engravings of game on the wall, and sleeping, apartnmnts commadions and adorned. No. In such 21 place as that gigantic wretchedness has sometimes dWelt. while some of you look back to your father’s house, where they read their Bible by the light of u. tullow candle. There were no carpets on the floor, save those made from the rags which your mother cut- night by night, you helping wind them into a. ball, and then sent to the wearer. who brought them to shape under his slow shuttle. Not a. luxury in all the house. But you cannot think of it this morning without tearful and grateful emotion. You and I have found out that it is not rich tapestry, or gorgeous architecture, or rare art that makes a. happy home. ’l he six wise men of Greece give prescrip- tions fora. happy home. Solon says a happy home is a. place, where a. mum's estate was gotten without injustice; kept without disquietude and spent without re- pentance. Chilo says that a. happy home is the place where a. man rules as a. monarch a. kingdom. Bias says that a. happy home is a place where a. mam does voluntarily what by law he is compelled to do abroad. But you and I, under a grander light, give a. better prescription : I happy home is a. place where the kindness of the Gospel of the Son of God has full swing. While I speak this morning there is knocking at your front door, if He, he not :alreudy admitted, One whose locks are wet with the dews of the night, who would take your children into His arms, and would throw upon your nursery, and your sleeping apartments, and your draw- ing-room, and your entire house‘s. blessing, that will make you rich while you live, and be an inheritance to your children after you have done the lust day’s work for their sup- ,port, and made for them the last prayer. iIt is the illustrious One who said to the man of my text, “ Return to thine own house, and show how great things God hath done unto thee.” New, in the first place, we want religion in our domestic duties. Every housekeeper needs great grace, It Martha had had more religion she would. not have rushed with such a bad temper to scold Mary in the presence of Christ. It is no small thing to keep order, and secure cleanliness, and mend breakages, and achieve economymnd control all the ull‘airsof the house old advantageously. Expenses will run up, store bills will come in twice its large as you think they ought to be. furniture will wear out, carpets will unrav- el, and the martyrs of the fire are very few in comparison with the martyrs of house- keeping. Yet there are hundreds of people in this church this morning who in their homes are managing all these allhirs with a. composure nd udreituess and ingenuity, and a. faitl ilness which they never could have reached but for the grace of our practical Christianity. The emsperations which wear out others have been to you spiritual development and senetificution. Employments which seemed to relate only to an hour have on them all the grandeurs of eternal history. ... nn.-,.‘L v; vvv...â€". ...--v- J. You need the religion of Christ in the] discipline of your children. The rod which l in other homes may be the first means used, ‘ in yours will be the last. There will be no harsh epithetsâ€"“you knave, you villain, yon scoundrel, I’llthrash the life out of you,you are the worst child I ever knew.” All that kind of chastisement makes thieves, pick-pockets, murderers and the outlaws of society. That parent who in anger strikes his child across the head deserves penitentiary. And yet this work of dis.- cipline must be attended to. God’s grace can direct us. Alas for those who come to the work with fierce passion and wreck- lessness of consequences. Between severity and laxatives there is no choice. Both ‘ruinous and both deatruotive. But there l is a. healthful medium which the grace of 1 God will show to us. npn uvu " u- w..- n Then we need the religion of Christ to help us in setting a good example. Cowper said of the oak : “ Time was when settled on thy leaf 3. fly could have shaken thee to the root. Time has been when tempest could not.” In other words, your children are very impresaible Just now. They are alert, they are gathering impressions you have no idea. of. Have you not been sur- 0N “HOME RELIGION.” SE MEN GIVE THIER IDEAS OF A HAPPY HOME. ['5' TAE SEE 00RSEL.,' AS ITIIERS SEE US 3 9 0f “iliyrfia‘niry and arbitrary decision have no b to rper bled e to pesb iron are you sur- plece in a. household. If the parents love God, there will be a. spirit. of forgiveness, and a. kindness which will throw its charm over the entire household. Christ will come into that household.‘ and will say, “Husbands, love your wives, and be not. bitter against; them; wives, see that you reverence your husbands: children, obey your parents in the Lord; servants, be obedient to your masters ;” and the family Your children are apt to think that what you do is right. They have no ideal of truth or righteousness but yourself. Things which you do, knowing at the time to be wrong, they take to be right. They reason this way : “ Father always does right. Father did this. Therefore this is right.” That is good logic, but bad premises. No one ever gets over having had a. bad example set him. Your conduct more than your teaching makes impression. Your laugh, your frown, your dress, your walk, your greetings, your goodbyes, your comings, your goings, your habits at the table, the tones of your voice, are making on impress- ion which will last a. million years after you are dead, and the sun Will be extin- guished, and the mountains will crumble. and the world will die, and eternity will roll on in perpetual cycles, but there will be no diminution of the force of your con- duct upon the young eyes that saw it, or the young ears that heard it. . . prised sometimes, months or'years after some conversation, which you supposed was too profound or intricate for them to understandâ€"some question of the child do- monstmted the fact that he knew all about, it? Now Irivould not have by this the idea. given to you that you must be in cold reserve in the presence of your children. You are not Emperor ; you are companion with them. As far as you can, you must talk with them, skate with them, fly kite with them, play ball with them, show them you ureinterested in all that interests them. Spensippus, the nephew and suc- cessor of Pluto in the academy, had pictures of joy and gladness hung all uround the schoolroom. You must not give your children the impression that when they come to you they are playful ripples striking against a rock. You must have them understand that you were a boy once yourself, thut you know a boy’s hilurities. z. boy‘s temptations, a. boy’s mn- hitionâ€"ycn, that you are a boy yet. You may deceive them and try to give them the idea that you are some distant. super. natural efl‘ulgence. and you may shove them oil by your rigorous behaviour, but the time will come when they will find out the deception, and they will have for you utter contempt. Aristotle said that, a. boy should begin to study at. seventeen years of age; before that his time should be given co recreaoion. I cannot, adopt that, theory. Bub unis sug- gests a. trubh in the direction. Childhood is too brief, and we have not enough sym- Imthy with its sportfulness. We Want, divine grace to help us in the adjustment, of all chase matters. Besides that; how are your children ever to become Christians if you yourself are not a. Christi-an ‘3 I have noLieed that, however worldly and sinful parent-s may be, they want; their children good. When young people have presented themselves for ad- misaiuuiuto our membership, I have said to them, “Are your father and mother willing you shall come?” and they have said, “Oh ! yes; they are delighted to have us come: they lmvo not been in church for ten or fifteen years, but. they Mn 1 here next. Sabbath to see me baptised.” l have noticed that parents, however worldly, want, their children good. So it was demonstrated in a police court in Canada, where a mother, her little child in her armsâ€"sat by a table on which he; own handcnfis lay, and the little babe took up the handcull’s and played with them and had great glee. She knew not the sorrow of the hour. And then when the mother was sent to prison, the mother cried out, “Oh! God, let not this lube go into the jail. Is there not some mother here who will take this child? It is good enough for heaven. It is pure. I am bad. I am wicked. Is there not some one who will tslze this child? I cannot have it tainted with the prison.” rl‘hen n brazen creature rushed up and said, "Yes, I’ll take the child.” “No, No,” said the mother, “not you, not you. Is there not some good mother here who will take this child?” And then, when the oliicer of the law in mercy took the child to carry it away to findnhome for it, the mother kissed it lovingly good-bye, and said, “ Good-bye, my darling ; it is better you should never see me again." IInwever worldly and sinfu‘ people are, they want, their children good. How are you going to have Lhem good? Buy them a. few good books? Teach Lhem a. few ex- cellent oMechisms '3 Bring them to church ': That is a” very well, but, of little final re- sult, unless you dgit with the grace of God in your heart. Do you not realize that your children are started for eternity? Are they on the right road? Those little forms that are now so bright and beautiful, when they have scattered in the dust there will he an immortal spirit living on in a mighty theatre in action, and your faithfulness or your neglect now is deciding that destiny. - A .' ' l,,,_,,_._. ‘ ’ J There is contention already among minis- tering spirits of salvation and fallen angels as to who shall have the mastery of that immortal spirit. Your children are soon gomg out in the world. The temptations of life will rush upon them. The most rigid resolution will bond in the blast of evil. What will be the result? It will require all the restraints of the Gospel, all the strength of a. father’s prayer, all the influence of a. Christian mother’s example, to keep them. i You say it is too early to bring them. Too early to bring them to God? Do you know how early children were taken to the ancientPassover? The rule was just as soon as they could take hold of the father’s hand and walk up Mount Morinh they should be taken to the Pass- over. Your children are not too young to come to God. While you sit here and think of them perhaps their forms now so bright and beautiful, vanish from you, and their disembodied spirit rises, and you see it after the life of virtue of crime is past and the judgement is go'ie and eternity in here. A Christian minister said that in the first. year of his pastorate he ' rind to per- ; sunde a. young mechanic 0! the impnrnance ‘ of family worship. Some Lime passed,a.nd the mechanic came to the pastor’s study and said: “Do you remember that girl?” That was my own child; she died this morning very suddenly. she has gone to (’iosl, I have no doubt, but if so, she has told Him what I tell you now; chat, my child never heard a prayer in her father’s houseâ€"never heard a. prayer from her father’s lips. Oh ! if I only had her back again one day to do my duty 1” It; will be a. tremendous thing at. the last day if some- one sllell say of us: “I never heard my father pray; I never heard my mother pray.” , A‘ll Agalrn I remark, we want religion jn all our home sorrows. There are ten thousand questions that come up in the‘best regulat- ed household that must be settled. Per- haps the father has one favorite in the family, the mother another favorite in the family, and there are many questions that need delicate treatment. 3W6 W a n t But then therge will be sorrows that will come to the household. There are but few families that escape the stroke of financial misfortune. Financial misfortune comes to a house where there is no religion. They kick against divine allotments; they curse God for the incoming calamity; they cannot hold as high a. position in society as they once did, and they fret, and they scowl, and they sorrow, and they die. During the past few years there have been tens of thousands of mag destroyed by their finan- cial distress. But misfortune comes to the Christian household. If religion has fullsway in that home, they stoop gracefully. They say. “This is right. " The father says “Perhaps money was getting to be my idol. Perhaps God is going to make me a. better Christian by putting me through the furnace attribu- lation. Besides that, why should I fret. anyhow? He who owneth the cattle on a thousand hills, and out of whose hands all the fowls of heaven peck their food, is my Father. He clotheth the lilies of the field: he will clothe me. If He takes care of the raven and the hawk and the vulture, most certainly he will take care of me, hie child‘.” will be like a garden on a. summer morning â€"-the grass-plot, and the flowers, and the vmes, and the arch of honeysuckle stand- ingin the suplight gliptcting withltilew. . Sorer troubles comeâ€"sicknesa and death. 3 Loved ones sleep the last sleep. A child is buried out of sight. You say. “Alas l for this bitter day. God has dealt very severely with me. I can never look up. 0, God; I cannot bear it.” Christ comes in and He says, “Hush ! 0, troubled soul: it is well with the child. I will strengthen thee in all thy troubles; My grace is sullicient. When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee. " When through the deep waters 1 call thee to (-50. The rivers of sorrow shall not overllow: For I will he with thee thy troubles to bless. And smlctify to thee thy deepest distress. But there are hundreds of families repre- sented here this morning where religion has been a. great comfort. There are in your homes the pictures of your departed, and things that have no wonderful value of themselves; but you keep them precisely and carefully because hands now still once touched them. A father has gone out of this household, 3. mother has gone out of this, a daughter just after her graduation day. ason just as he was entering on the duties of life. And to other homes trouble will come, I say it not that you may be foreboding, not that you may do the unwise thing of taking trouble by the forelock, but that you may be ready. We must go one by one. There will be partings in all our households. We must smy farewell. We must die. And yet there 'zu‘e triumphant strains that drown these tremulous accents, there are anthems that whelm the dirge. Heaven is full of the shout of delivered captives, and to the great wide field of bum in sorrow there comes now the reaper angels with keen sxckles, to harvest the sheaves of Heaven. Saints. will to the end endure: Safely \\'l l the Shenherd keep Those he purchased for his sheep. G0 Mme this day and ask the blessing on your noono'ny meal. ’Io-night set up the family altar. Do not wait until you be- come a Christian yourself. This day unixe Christ to your household, fer the Bible (lis- tinctly says that Hod will pour out his fury upon the families which call not upon his name. ()pen the Bible and read a chapter; that will make you strong. Kneel down and other the first prayer in your household. It may be a. broken petition, it may be only “ Hod be merciful to me, a sinner ;” but God will stoop, and spirits will listen, and angels will chant, “ Behold ! he preys." Do not retire from this house this nom- ing until you have resolved upon this mat- ter.‘ You will be gone. I will be gone, many years will pass, and perhaps your younger children may forget almost every- thing about you ; but forty years from now, in some Sztlilmth twilignt, your daughter will be sitting with the family Bible on her hip reading toner children, when she will stop, and peculiar solemnity will come to her face, and 8. rear will start, and the children will say, “Mother, what makes you cry 2’" and she will say, “ Nothing. only I was thinking that this is the Bible out of which my father and mother used to read at morning and evening prayer.” All other things about you they may forget: but train them up for God and heaven : they will not forget that. When a queen died, her three sons brought an utfisriug to the grave. One son brought gold, another brought silver, but the third son came and stood over the grave and opened one of his veins and let the blood drop upon his mother’s tomb,a.nd all who saw it said it was the greatest demonstration oiaifection. My friends what is the grandest gift we can bring to the sepulchres of a. Christian ancestry '3 It is a. life all consecrated to the God who made us and the Ch rist who redeemed us. I cannot but believe that there are hundreds of parents in this house who have resolved to do their Whole duty, and that at this moment they are passing into a better life ; and having seen the grace of the gospel in this place to-day,you are now fully ready to return to your own house, and show what great things God has done unto you. Though parents may in covenant be, And have their Heaven in view, They are not happy till they see Thexr children happy too. May the Lord God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, the God of our fathers, be our (;0d and the God of our cluldren forever The Late Slr (Jerald l'orial Recommended the Retention: of that Country. A London special says :â€"The report of the late .‘Bir Gerald Portal, who waa British Consul-General and Political Agent at Zan- zibar, has just been issued. The report Strongly urges the construction of a. rail- road to the coast, and the draining of the territory around the Victoria. Nyanza with ‘ a view to the development; of commerce in ‘ their: region. The report strongly recommends the re- tention by Great Britain of its protectorate over Uganda, which, it says. is desirable in the interests of British commerce from the Indian Ocean to the Nile Basin. It 3.13. recommends the termination of the ex- istence oi the British Chartered Company a; a. foliticel or administrative body, either in the interior or within the limits of the Sultanate of Zanzibar. The report suggests the app: intment of a. British Commissioner with astaif compris- ing thirteen officers and a. force of 500 Soudtmese soldiers, the headquarters of the Commissioner to be at Uganda, the Commissioner to have jurisdiction over Uganda. and its dependencies to the Kavir- ondo border. In addition to these recommendations, Sir Gerald believed that another British Commissioner should be appointed, with headquarters at Kikuyu. to have a. stafl‘ of four officers, and a guard of sixty Zanzibar soldiers. In conclusion, the report recom- mended thc adoption of special precautions against slave trading, and the abandonment of the idea of using the route to the lakes by the Zambezi and Shire rivers. ENGLAND IN UGANDA. A terrible atory of the see. in reloted by the survivors of the steamer Kenuhooka. which founder-ed in a. heavy gale 1n the Gulf of Curpenturia, North Queensland, on the 19th of January. The Kunahook I. was bound from Rocky Islet, which is about 120 miles WNW of Normanton to Launceston, with a. cargo of guano. When about forty miles off the west coast of Cape York peninsula, south of the Letavia River. on Thursday, the 18th of January, the Kanahooka en- countered a. tremendous gale. The after- deck house and skylight were Curried away. Tremendcus sees washed about-L and the crew were ordered to batten down the large hole in the deck made by the loss of the deckhousc. The men had to be lashed to the rails when at this war it. They were frequently washed overboard and yhauled aboard again. The water continued to find its way into the hold, and was soon soaked up by the guano, the extra. weight cane. ing the vessel to settle. The pumps were worked continuously from Thurs- day nig httill Friday night, when they were abandoned. As the sea. burst into the hold the fires were extinguished, and the vessel sank. The crew had mean- while lowered and manned two boats, which, however, Dreadful? fluttering» of Many of thc (”n-w. in the darkness. The car tain’s boat arriv- ed oif Mitchell River on the sixth day :but when near the shore she capsized,end one )f the crew, named Murray, was drowned. The remaining seven men swam nine hours towards the shore tasting the boat with them. The craft then righted, and the captain and three men went ashore in search of food, leaving three men in the boat, which kept within hailing distance. The boat, however, was cVentuauy caught by the wind and the current, and was tab en to sea again, and after drifting tiity hours was sighted by the steamer Victoria, which was unable to rescue the occupants owing to the shallow water. The Victoria, however, reported the mat- ter at Normamon, aid the Government , steam launch Vigilent went out and rescued the three men. The captain and the three men ashore S i ' l’l-‘EliED TERl‘J “Ll-Z l’RlVATlOXS, and the captain and chief engineer were eventually drowned, the two remaining survivors being picked up by a stockman. Meantime the rest of the crew in the mate’s boat had experienced terrible hardships. They left the sinking ship in an open boat 18ft. long, with only two oars as a means cf propelling it, and they drifted tor two nights and days before the wind guinea. They then struck the coast nest Dnyfllen Point. The boat capsized neuiym mile from shore, but the wind driftedm w: Two of the men were unable mm got ashore in safety with the Wot the others. The party thengtlrheflto n12 towards Batuvia Riveni ' ’ impel”: to try to pull the boat ageing" wind. They could see Duyfhen wa « l ' . £415; Lance, and travelled some miles towardg it, when their route was ‘fim‘l‘ed by dense, impenetrable scrub. add they W'erq’mb pelled to return to. the boat. They next found that the natures had stolen the car: 5-,..1 rawlockS. and they had no sails. For several daye' the party kept traversing the scrub, a (instance of nearly fifteen miles, in hopes of getting through. For eight days they had nothing to cut but occasionally sand cubs and berries. Some of the lame;- nearly killrirthem. Some of Tm: NATIVES cmne and were friendly. but desired the survivors’ clothing. Shortly afterwards three young men who had been in contact, ,._.,_d, n with the mission station and traders took the part of the survivors, and the natives handed over the oars and described the mission station as being so many days’walk away, with so many rivers to swim. The natives all along proved of greatassistanee, helping all they could, although they had no food to give. Mr. Bradley, the chief officer, considers their survival due to the influence of the missionaries with the natives. \Vhen the oars were returned the party started to pull along the coast, but, made little progress owmg to wea'kneSs. Want of sails, head wind and tides, finding it almost hopeless to battle against the adverse elements. During the time the men were an the beach they lived on little else than water, and they dug holes and partly buried themselves at night as JOHN '1'. LANE. ‘O CHAS. “l BICIIAIRBS. 4 PROTECTION AGAIXST FOLD, mosquitoes, and sandfiies. It was ar- ranged that the second engineer and secondZmaLe, who were the str gest swim- mers in the party. should pnsi on ahead. This they did, and after severe trials. swim- ming rivers, dodging alligators, living on raw bechedemer, rotten apples, rottr" cocoanuts, and fresh cocoanuts which wen, wsshed ashore, they reached the missio“. station on the 4th of February. One 0 them had nothing but a shirt on, and his legs were terribly burnt and wounded. At the mission station they were most hospit-t agbly treated. Constable Thomas Smith. ‘ the special officer stationed at the mission, then left with five natives in v. whaleboat in quest of the other men, and found them, but had great difficulty in lending. The boat swamped. Their provisions were washed ashore, but the boat was so much injured that it had to be left behind in a creek. Smith and his men eventually escorted the Kauahook a survivors in safety to the mission. ' British agricultural returns for 1893 show the remarkable fact that during last year some 150,030 acres of land 'n Great Britain were withdrawn from cultivation and turned into pasture. This is spoken of as “actual shandomeut of cultivation” of this area. The main point deducted is that Great Britain is rapidly ceasing to be u. wheat-producing country. Comparing the present wheat area. with that of 1873 the decline is 1,800,000 acres. The returns also show that fruit farming and market garden- ing are largely increasing. In 1893 there were 65,437 acres in this kind of cultivation as against 62,148 acres in 1892. Argu- ment has been largely made of late that ii English farmers would give their attention to truck-farming and fruit raising they might retrieve their almost ruined fortunes. They cannot compete with America and India. in wheat-growing and they losemore money every year. At the some time im- mense quantities of fruit, vegetables, ibuttcr, cheese, eggs and even milk, are imported from abroad. Butter and eggs come in ship-loads even from as far as Aus- tralia. Last year butter, cheese, and eggs alone to the value of £25,820,000 were imported into Great Britain. The econo- mists are seeking to learn why this splendid income cannot be secured for British pock- etsâ€"[New York Sun. TERRIBLE STORY OF THE SEA: Sheâ€"“I shall never forget the night you propoaed to me. You seemed scared to death, and when I said ‘yea’ and kissed you, I really think I touched your heart.” H Heâ€" “ Very likely; I know my heart was in my mouth at. the time.” SOON PARTY!) COMPANY Agriculture in Britain Easy to Do. I’roprl .