Earlier text: THE SECOND COMMANDMENTFOR ages the people of Great Britain have been noted for their generous convivial hospitality. All classes have indulged in alcoholic beverages of various kinds. The custom has been almost universal in public and in private life; the British public occupying upon this question a position quite similar to that occupied by the American public fifty years ago, before the agitation of the temperance question, when drinking was universal. This practice was held to be innocent, healthful, proper, and Scriptural. The best men indulged moderately in the use of strong drinks. What has been the result? To-day the vice of intemperance permeates the nation, and the statesmen and philanthropists of England are roused to a sense of impending national peril, and are seeking to hold the people back from the gulf of drunkenness. Terrible as are the ravages of intemperance in America, they seem much greater, and are more universal in England. We have very rarely seen a drunken woman in an American city, but a friend of ours, an Englishman, reported that in walking the streets of London for an hour or two one night, he met forty-six drunken women upon the side of the street on which he walked, and that after an absence of some twenty years, on revisiting London, and walking its streets by night as he had often done before, he judged that in temperance had increased more than two hundred per cent. We have hardly ever seen a woman entering a dram shop in America; no doubt there are many who do it; but we have seen such places in London crowded and thronged with men and women who are drowning reason and virtue in the cup. Mr. Wm. Saunders writes to the London Daily News, that having obtained from the chief of the bureau of statistics in Washington a detailed account of the consumption of alcoholic liquors in the United States, he found it amounted to ninety-three million pounds sterling per year, or about fifteen dollars for each of the forty-five millions of inhabitants of the United States, and that at the same rate Great Britain with a population of thirty-three millions should consume liquors amounting to about sixty-eight million pounds sterling per annum; "whereas the consumption is actually one hundred and forty two million pounds sterling, showing an excess of seventy-four million pounds sterling, and that the consumption of alcoholic liquors in the United Kingdom is more than double that of the same population in the United States. Since 1870 the consumption in the United States has diminished, whereas during the same period that of the United Kingdom has grown from one hundred and eighteen million pounds sterling, to one hundred and forty-two million pounds sterling." These terrible statistics tell us the dire results of the popular convivial habits of the British people. They have sown the wind, they are reaping the whirlwind. Not only are the working people, the bone and sinew of every nation, becoming demoralized, but the extremest poverty is grinding them into the very dust. The bread that is given by a bountiful God is turned to poison by the deadly process of distillation, and the food which he gives to supply the wants of the people and preserve them in strength and virtue, is used to debase them and incapacitate them for labor, and sink them in the depths of vice. Says the London Times: "There is something exceedingly irritating in the fact that a great part of the harvest, raised with infinite care and pains, instead of adding to the national wealth and bringing rich returns, is poured, in the shape of liquid fire, down the throats of the nations who produce it, and instead of leaving them wiser and happier, tends to impoverish them by vicious and debilitating indulgence." Beside all this, crimes of a most brutal description, are continually on the increase, and every vice which rots down physical, moral, and national life follows in the wake of the intoxicating cup. It is high time for Christians, both in Great Britain and in the United States, to lift up their voices and in trumpet tones warn men of their danger and their sin. Let those who are yet free from the dire enchantment of drink beware of the tempter’s wiles; and let those who are taking the first steps in this downward course, turn at once to secure their own safety and avoid leading others to their ruin.—Christian. WHAT IT COSTS.
By Richard Newton
A GENTLEMAN was walking in Regent's Park in London, and he met a man whose only home was in the poor-house. He had come out to take the air and excited the gentleman's interested attention. "Well, my friend," said the gentleman, getting into conversation, "it is a pity that a man like you should be situated just as you are. Now may I ask how old you are?" The man said he was eighty years of age. "Had you any trade before you became penniless?" "Yes, I was a carpenter." "Did you use intoxicating drink ?" "No, oh no, ; I only took my beer; never anything stronger; nothing but my beer." "How much did your beer come to a day?" "Oh, a sixpence a day, I suppose." "Well, I suppose for about sixty years." The gentleman had taken out his note-book, and he continued figuring with his pencil while he went on talking with the man. "Now, let me tell you," said he as he finished his calculations, "how much that beer cost you, my man. You can go over the figures." And the gentleman demonstrated that the money, a sixpence a day for sixty years, expended in beer, would, if it had been saved and placed at interest, have yielded him nearly eight hundred dollars a year, or an income of fifteen dollars a week for self-support. "Let me tell you now how much one gallon of whisky costs," said a judge, after trying a case. "One gallon of whisky made two men murderers; it made two wives widows; and it made eight children orphans." Oh, it's a costly thing.—Rev. Richard Newton. The Effects of Cigarette Smoking
WHAT sight more common than half a dozen boys, lads and young men smoking cigarettes on the platform of a bob-tail car? And what more trying to one's nerves than the filthy odors they puff into the car and over the other passengers? Ten years of this almost universal habit have left their mark in the sunken eyes, the pallid faces, the weak nerves and the flabby muscles of these so-called men. That many of them find no real enjoyment in the practice is shown by their habit of spitting. Aside from the vulgarity and nastiness of this muscular exercise is the detriment it does the general system. No man—certainly no growing boy—can expectorate constantly without injuring himself. Bootblacks, messenger boys, school-children, clerks, smoke and spit, smoke and spit, as together in a great and multitudinous army they move along towards idiocy and imbecility. What a cheerful prospect it is, to be sure!” — N. Y. Herald. Tobacco and Ill-Nature
By S. S. Times
Of all the poor excuses for using tobacco, the most shameless is that of the man who says that he left it off once or twice, but his wife urged him to take it up again, because it made him "so nervous" to be without it; and the wife's added comment is that her husband was "really so ill-natured without his tobacco that there was no living in the house with him." It is bad enough for a poor working woman to be compelled to give "soothing syrup" to her crying baby, so that she can have a quiet time at her washing or sewing; but when a husband is beyond all hope of decency unless his ill-nature is kept within bounds by his being half stupified by the fumes of tobacco, why—well, that tobacco fills its place a great deal better than that husband does his.—S. S. Times. WINE-BIBBERS have a new trouble. In France the wine crop has been falling off steadily for several years, and yet the amount of French wine in the market steadily increases at the old prices. The dealers seem to be independent of French vineyards; and if there were not a French grape produced, there would be plenty of wine. The good-natured Frenchmen just measure the foreign demand, and then kindly supply it from the resources of French chemistry.—The Methodist. The Purpose of Prohibitory Law
The object of securing a prohibitory law is not to make people temperate—not to redeem even the intemperate, but to protect the innocent from the horrible, devastating, demoralizing influence of the liquor traffic. Law does not propose to convert the sinner, but it does propose to protect society from the wicked act of the sinner.—Weekly Mirror. DEACON GRAY was assisted carefully into his chair, then his wife mounted beside him. Things were reversed since his long illness—she took the driver's seat and then the reins. As for Dobbin, the faithful old family horse, he was a slow going beast at the best, such a horse as old ladies like to drive, and the Deacon's wife was verging on sixty. "Mother's hair is really beginning to turn now," Jane, the eldest daughter, said (Jane had gray hairs herself), and so it was; but mother, blessed good woman, don't care. She had lived a spotless life, and the peace of her soul had given to her face a sweetness of expression that was far better than beauty. "Deacon, are you warm enough?" Mrs. Gray always called her husband "Deacon," but now there was a peculiar intonation of tenderness in her voice, never very musical. "Oh, yes, I'm comfortable. Dear, dear, how sweet the clover smells. I didn't know as the scent would ever come to me again, when I lay in the south chamber, choking for breath." "Never mind, Deacon, we won't talk of the past now. See Uncle Biah's medder, don't it look splendid? And the corn over there, why, it's growed a sight since yesterday. La! do see Dr. Baird's apple trees, don't they look beautiful?" "Everything looks beautiful, Marthy," said the Deacon, a light breaking over his rugged and somewhat hard face. "So it does," and the good woman's eyes were lifted to the sky, across which the softest, whitest clouds were floating with a motion so airy that they seemed like spirits of the upper ether taking forms of grace and beauty. "Don't care about stopping anywhere, do you, father?" asked the Deacon's wife, as the old horse jogged along. "Well, yes, guess we might as well get out at the lane." "Old Joe!" exclaimed Mrs. Gray aghast, "aren't you afraid he'll worry you, now you're so weak, Deacon?" "Well, no, I guess not, Marthy, he's a poor critter, and—and you know I feel different now about such things. Forty years of health goes nigh to harden a man's heart, Marthy," and he sighed as he spoke. So Dobbin was reined in at the head of the lane, and Mrs. Gray, making herself a crutch for the Deacon, went toward the homely little house, over whose door, poor and lowly though it was, the honeysuckle wandered, full of sweets. "If I ever did! Here's Deacon Gray a-coming!" cried Joe's maiden sister, smoothing his hair. "I don't want to see him," said Joe, moving uneasily on his bed. "Good morning, how are you all?" It was Marthy's cheerful voice, and Joe couldn't choose but turn; and when once his faded eyes caught sight of the Deacon's altered face, they stayed there, fastened by the expression of pallor—of tenderness that rested on those weatherbeaten features. "Joe, I didn't know as we should ever meet again," said the Deacon, holding out his hand. "I have thought of you every day since I was laid on my sick bed. How hard it must be for you to stay there month after month!" Joe's lips trembled a little. These words coming from a man who had more than once reproached him with shiftlessness and shamming, touched his heart. "Well, yes, it's sort of hard," he answered, "but I s'pose I'll have to bear it. There's them that's wuss off, I guess." "What can I do for you, Joe?" asked the Deacon, his voice still soft with that strange tenderness. "Is there anything you'd like? Is the bed soft enough? Perhaps you could use my sick chair, it wheels about, and you might go to the door, or even outside in it. You're welcome to it, Joe, only say the word. And anything in the way of jellies, or delicate things that you fancy to eat, and books or papers if you want them. Don't make a stranger of me, Joe; send to me as you would to a brother." "But you know I ain't a brother—I ain't one of your kind—Deacon, I—" "Never mind," said Deacon Gray, as sedulously avoiding the argument now as he had before plunged into one; "never mind what your opinions are just now; the Lord sees, and may be he'll bring you round to my way of thinking yet. What I am after now is to make the body comfortable. And I just want to ask your pardon for all my hard ways and ungenerous speeches. I know I've done wrong, the Lord forgive me. I couldn't tell what a difference sickness makes in body and mind then, but I do now. Come, Marthy, we'll be going, and Joe, I'll take it hard if you don't tax me for something. God bless you, Joe. Good morning." The two had vanished, but it seemed, some way, as if the sunshine streamed more genially over the place they had left. "Well, I never!" exclaimed Joe's sister. Joe himself was silent for some time. "What ailed the Deacon?" he asked at last, as his sister came back to his bedside. "Thought he would die; folks said so." "Well, it's done him more good than all—no matter—," and Joe ended his sentence abruptly. "To think how he used to fret and fume!" muttered Joe's sister. "And what a blessing that chair will be, and how it's wished you could get one, and he coming and offering it himself. Well, I'll never say Deacon Gray ain't a Christian again, never!" Meantime the Deacon's wife was lifting the attenuated frame of her husband into the carriage again, her vigorous shoulders his main support. There were tears in her eyes, but she bustled about, looking this way and that, tucking the big shawl over the Deacon's knees, and pressing him snugly back, as if she feared a gust of the strong spring wind would blow him away. Oh! but in her heart it seemed as if she had never felt such wealth of tenderness. The one thing that this good, but severe man had lacked, had now, almost by a miracle it seemed, been wrought into being, and taken its lodgment in his heart. In his face a new, a holier benignity shone, even on the strongly seamed forehead, and in the deep lines that toil and thought have worn in his cheeks. The eyes, the gray eyes, that only on extra occasions had lighted up with a human beauty, seemed now to have gained an almost unearthly softness. "Marthy, Christ knew, didn't he?" he asked, in a tender voice. "Knew what, dear?" The good woman started at her own tenderness—at the unusual term of affection. "Through suffering," and he turned to his wife. "How to pity us. Oh, yes! and he took it all on himself." "It was put on me, thank God! I wouldn't have it; no, no! Humanity shrinks from the offering, from the cross. Forty years of health, Marthy, is a fearful test. I don't know, looking at the past as I do now, feeling what I have lost and what I have gained—I don't know as I had grace enough to save me, Marthy. It didn't seem to me once as if anybody need to be sick. Many a time I thought folks give up because they were weak and lazy. But you see God knew what I needed. Stop Dobbin, Marthy; there's poor Stephen's little lame boy. I wonder if something can't be done for him." So Dobbin was stopped, and the poor child gladdened with a kind word and a handful of coppers that set his face shining. What with delight and surprise, tears came again to the good wife's eyes, for children had rather avoided the Deacon, sterling man though he was. "I'll see if that boy can't be helped," the Deacon went on. "I've heard that if his father could only afford it, there's a place where he might be cured. He's a fine little fellow, and it is a shame to let him go stumping through life." "Shan't we turn round now, Deacon?" asked his wife. "I think I would like to go to Tom Blake's—he's another cripple, and more likely to be worse than better." "But Deacon, you hadn't heard, I suppose. The truth is, he was taken to the poor-house." "Marthy, is that so?" cried the Deacon, the old sternness coming back to his face. "It is so. He grew so bad that they couldn't find any one willing to be burdened with him, so they just put him there." "I've heard him say, many's the time, he'd rather die than go there. Poor Tom!" "We'll drive there, Marthy." There was another refolding of the shawl, after the good woman had turned Dobbin's dull head in the direction of the poor-house. The Deacon went in, leaning on the arm of his wife, and led directly to the room of the old man, Tom Blake. Tom looked askance at the Deacon, from whom he had taken many a long sermon—for Tom was as near an infidel as that other godless man, Joe—then at the sight of his pale, mild countenance, the old man faltered, he put up his thin hand, turned aside his face, and burst into tears. "Tom, I'm sorry to see you here," said the Deacon, placing his withered hand on the old man's shoulder. "I'd rather you'd seen me in the grave, Deacon Gray," sobbed the old man. "But I won't die here,"—a look of defiance crossed his features—"it shan't be said that Tom Blake died a pauper. No, sir. I'll crawl on my hands and knees at the last gasp, and I'll find strength to do it, too, out of this pauper place." "Tom, you shan't stay here," said the Deacon, resolutely. The old man looked up. His face was pitiful to see, all dabbled with tears. "No, Tom, I know how you feel. When I was choked with that awful sickness, I thought I'd give worlds for one easy breath." "Yes, and I'm choking in here; every mouthful I eat chokes me." "You shall come out, Tom; be patient, and bear it as well as you can, you shall come out. If nobody else'll take you, I'll take you myself." "Oh! God bless you, Deacon Gray! God bless you for a true Christian," cried the grateful man, tears of joy falling from his dim eyes. "I used to say hard things about you, Deacon Gray, because you tried to make me a better man. But the seed you sowed is there, Deacon, and if it takes root and ripens, it will be because I see your faith and your works go together. You've made an entirely new man of me. God bless you, Deacon Gray." Old Dobbin took a quicker step on his way home—oats in prospect. As for Mother Gray, the way she patted and tucked that old shawl, looking up every now and then into the Deacon's gray eyes with a love that made her old face look angelic, was quite a treat to see. And as for the Deacon, he thought to himself that he had always held religion as one would an ear of corn, ignorant of its use; but now, Christ had taught him how to strip off the harsh outside husks, and find within the life-giving kernels.—Christian Monitor. THERE lives a voice within me, a guest angel of my heart,
And its sweet lispings win me, till tears do often start;
Up evermore it springeth, like hidden melody,
And evermore it singeth this song of songs to me:—
This world is full of beauty as other worlds above,
And if we did our duty, it might be full of love. If men were more forgiving, and kind words often spoken,
Instead of scorn so grieving, there might be few hearts broken;
When truth our uttered language, angels might talk with man,
And God-illumined earth should see the golden age again;
For this world is full of beauty as other worlds above,
And if we did our duty it might be full of love. While plenty round us smileth, why wake this cry for bread?
Why are crushed millions toiling, gaunt, clothed in rags, unfed?
The sunny hills and valleys blush ripe with fruit and grain,
But the lordling in the palace still robs his fellow-men;
Yet this world is full of beauty as other worlds above,
And if we did our duty it might be full of love. O, God! what hosts are trampled amid this thirst for gold!
What noble hearts are sapped of love, what spirits lose life's blood!
And yet upon this God-blessed earth there's room for every-one,
Millions of acres wait the seed, and food rots in the sun;
The world is full of beauty, as other worlds above,
And if we did our duty, it might be full of love. The leaf-tongues of the forest, the flower-lips of the sod,
The birds that hymn their rapture into the ear of God,
And the living wind that bringeth sweet music from the sea,
Have each a voice that singeth this song of songs to me:—
This world is full of beauty as other worlds above,
And if we did our duty, it might be full of love. On the tombstone of Rev. Dr. Morrison, the renowned Chinese missionary, is the following characteristic epitaph: "I have sinned; I have repented; I have trusted; I have loved; I sleep; I shall rise; and (through the grace of Christ, though unworthy) I shall reign." -The estimated value of railroad property in the United States is $4,416,510,847. -Ten hundred and fifty-one emigrants from Europe arrived in New York on September 1. -Lorenzo Delmonico, proprietor of the famous New York restaurant, died Sept. 2, aged 68 years. -Europe has a population of 145 inhabitants to the square mile, while the United States has only 16 1/8. -Quite heavy showers, accompanied in some instances by thunder, have visited Shasta and Siskiyou counties. -Ex-Secretary Stuart, of the Brooklyn, N. Y. Board of Education, has been arrested on a charge of embezzling $107,500 of funds. -The Oregon stage was robbed near Yreka, Cal., on the morning of the 31st ult. The express box and nine mail sacks were taken. -Five hundred delegates were present at the national convention of free-thinkers, which was held at Hornellsville, N. Y., on the 2d. -The French Government has granted a subsidy of $100,000 a year for ten years to a new steamship line to run between Montreal and Rouen. -By the falling of a huge mass of rock into the Jobel, a small river in the canton of Gusos, Switzerland, the valley has been converted into a lake. -The coinage of the United States mints during the month of August amounted to $11,565,500. The decrease in the public debt was $14,181,121. -Two naval officers were instantly killed on the 29th ult., in Newport bay, R. I., by the unexpected explosion of a torpedo with which they were experimenting. -Reports from New Mexico state that there is good reason to believe that the recent outrages, by which so many lost their lives, were committed, not by Indians, but by disguised white men. -Bradlaugh has issued a fresh manifesto to the English people, announcing his intention to go to the House of Commons again at the next session of Parliament, and asking them to protect him against unlawful violence. -Extensive forest fires are raging in the vicinity of Toronto, Canada, and in the Ottawa valley. It is estimated that already farm property to the value of $150,000 has been destroyed and some sixty families rendered homeless. -Saginaw, Michigan, is now the largest salt-producing district in the United States. The amount produced last year was 13,000,000 bushels. The product of the salt works at Onondaga, N. Y., for the same time was 8,000,000 bushels. -Georgia, which has hitherto been a fertile field for Mormon missionaries, has taken an active stand against them. The Legislature of that State has passed a bill making it a felony to propagate Mormonism or to attempt to make converts. -Paul Berts, a lecturer on educational topics, in a recent lecture in Paris, made a violent attack on the Catholic religion and its system of education. It is considered as quite significant that Gambetta, the French leader, was present and lauded the speaker. -The Union mail steamer Teuton with 200 souls on board was wrecked a few days since off Algoa bay, South Africa. The vessel struck a rock, but floated off and was in the act of putting back to port when she sank. Only twenty-seven persons were saved. -A severe drought is reported from New York and neighboring States. "Late potatoes are utterly ruined, many fruit and shade trees are dying, wells and cisterns are drying up, and stock requires feeding. Fires are spreading in many directions, and the air is filled with smoke." -The Arabs in Algeria have been setting fire to the forests, and a large extent of country is in flames. A great deal of damage has been done, and it is impossible for the soldiers to extinguish the flames. The most valuable of the cork trees, which form the wealth of the country, were destroyed. -It is reported that gold in paying quantities has been discovered in Georgia, in the beds of the Chestatic and Chattahoochie rivers. Gold lies in great quantities in the mud, and can be easily mined. A dredging boat is in process of construction which is confidently expected to take out $1,000 worth of bullion from the beds of the rivers in a day. -The standing armies of Europe number over 2,100,000 men, besides the still more numerous reserves who may be called out at any moment. More than one in every 110 of the population is a soldier in active service. Reckoning one able-bodied man to every five inhabitants, each twenty-two men sustain one soldier. The United States' army is only 25,000 strong, or one soldier to 2,000 inhabitants. -Although one-sixth of the peace force of the French army is now in Africa, more troops are being sent. Typhoid fever is raging, the mortality in some regiments being 148 out of 1,000. The Bey of Tunis has no authority over his tribes and soldiers, and Europeans dare not stir out of the coast towns. Altogether, France will doubtless have ample employment in its self-imposed task of protection. Those acquainted with the situation, calculate that it will take three years to subjugate the country. -An attempt to wreck the express train bound East on the Central Pacific was made near Colfax, Placer county, on the night of the 31st ult. The engines and cars were thrown from the track, but no serious damage was done, and the train was delayed only eight hours. The object of the outrage is supposed to have been robbery, as the express car carried several hundred thousand dollars' worth of bullion. For some unaccountable reason the robbers fled without securing any plunder. A large reward is offered for their arrest. -A St. Petersburg dispatch says that a most important Russo-Chinese Convention has just been signed. China has agreed to allow telegraphs to be laid down across the celestial empire, and Russia has already intrusted the work to the Danish company, which laid down her own wires, and which is virtually, though not ostensibly, a Russian enterprise. When the line is completed it will be possible to transmit messages from France to the Pacific without their passing through Germany. The English monopoly will thus, to a great extent, be destroyed. -An engagement recently took place in Arizona, between the troops under command of General Carr, and the Apaches, which resulted in the massacre of the whites. Seven officers and over one hundred men were killed. The massacre is due to the treachery of the scouts, who led the troops into an ambush. A general up-rising of the Indians is feared. The Apache country is quite densely settled by the Mormons, and it is thought that there is an understanding between them and the Indians. Several companies of soldiers have been sent to Arizona from San Francisco. -One of the most terrific gales ever known, took place on the Atlantic coast last week. Great damage was done to life and property on the ocean. At Savannah, Georgia, the storm was especially severe. A dispatch from there says: "A terrific tornado burst from the northwest on Savannah, Saturday, at dark. In a few minutes the city was in darkness, and the parks, streets and squares were rendered impassable by falling trees and houses. Every wire leading out of the city was prostrated. Fully one hundred dwellings, stores and warehouses lost their roofs, and many had their walls blown in." Between forty and fifty lives were lost. "O, Miss Jennie!" cried a little girl to her Sabbath-school teacher, "I am so sorry, but I have lost a whole morning." "Lost a whole morning!" repeated Miss Jennie, with a grave look upon her sweet face; "how is that, Clara?" "Why, mother was so busy, and she left Harry in my room, and really, Miss Jennie, the little fellow was so full of fun that I have done nothing but play with him." Just then Harry put up his dimpled arms to "love" Clara, as he called it in his baby-talk. He pressed his lips upon her cheek, saying, "Me love 'oo, C'ara." "You have not lost your morning, Clara," said her teacher. "You have helped your mother, and have bound your little brother to you by your kindness. Such a morning may have been well spent, my dear." A few days after this Mrs. Palmer was seized with a severe illness. She could not bear the least noise or confusion, and little Harry's noisy play distressed her very much. So Clara took the little fellow to her own room, rocked him to sleep at night, and cared for him almost as well as his mother could, until Mrs. Palmer recovered. "My dear child," said the physician, as he placed his hand upon the little girl's head, "if your mother had not had so kind and thoughtful a daughter, I fear that she would not have recovered so soon—if at all!" Thus little Clara had her reward. Never call that hour lost which is spent in making others happy. The Obedience of Christ’s Followers
"SIR," said the Duke of Wellington to an officer of engineers, who urged the impossibility of executing the directions he had received, "I did not ask your opinion, I gave you my orders, and I expect them to be obeyed." Such should be the obedience of every follower of Jesus. The words which he has spoken are our law, not our judgments or fancies. Even if death were in the way it is— "Not ours to reason why—
Ours but to dare and die."
—Sel. Obituary.
By Jas. T. Chitwood
CHITWOOD—Died at Portland, Oregon, Aug. 12, 1881, George H. Chitwood, son of Jas. T. and Margaret Chitwood, aged 31 years and 9 days. He was a believer in the third angel's message, though he had not united with the church. His wife, sister Alaido Chitwood, remains to mourn her loss. JAS. T. CHITWOOD. The Sunshine Series. Stories for little ones, in ten small books, adapted to children from the ages of four to ten years. In glazed paper covers, 320 pp. 50 cts. Golden Grain Series. A choice collection of instructive stories suited to the wants of children from eight to sixteen years and older, illustrated and beautifully bound in three volumes. THE HARD WAY, 160 pp. 40 cts. THE SCHOOL-BOY'S DINNER, 160 pp. 40 cts. GRUMBLING TOMMY, 160 pp. 40 cts. Golden Grains in Ten Pamphlets. The same reading as in the first two volumes, without pictures, in ten pamphlets of 32 pages each, 320 pp. 50 cts. Sabbath Readings for the Home Circle. In four volumes, containing moral and religious reading for the household; carefully selected, and compiled for the use of Sabbath-school and family libraries. Each, 75 cts. The Child's Poems. Containing Little Will and other stories, teaching beautiful lessons of temperance and virtue. Bound in cloth and richly embossed in gold and black. 128 pp. 30 cts.