says:

2 Sam 18. The base life, the sudden arrest, by his hair twining around the boughs of the thick oak as he rode through the forest, and the effectual thrust to his heart of Joab's three darts, are all familiar to everyone; and now what says the learned doctor upon this desperate case? He "Is there no hope for the soul of this profigate young man? He died in his iniquity; but is it not possible that he implored the mercy of his Maker while he hung on the tree? And is it not possible that the mercy of God was extended to him? And was not that suspension a respite, to the end that he might have time to deprecate the wrath of divine justice?"

Now, what accumulation of awful circumstances can possibly surround the death of a profligate, when the same questions might not be put by the humane heart? The mind remains sometimes active ere the death in reality takes place, however the observer may decide that the person is dead; and why not press the question of hope to even that point? The concluding remarks of the reverend doctor would prompt us to this course, as he says, in reference to the hope implied in his questions: "This is at least a charitable conjecture, and humanity will delight in such a case, to lay hold even on possibilities. If there be any room for hope in such a death, who, that knows the worth of an immortal soul, would not wish to indulge it?" And here we would press the thought still further and ask, Who that knows the worth of an immortal soul, can see anything of a divine economy in the loss of a single soul in utter and eternal sin and misery? It was this thought which impelled Dr. Clark to argue so earnestly in behalf of the salvation of Judas, as may be seen in his Commentary at the end of the first chapter of the Acts of the Apostles. S),

Dr.

also, when he treats of the case of Ananias and Sapphira, who lied unto God in the most awful manner, pre tending to a self-sacrificing piety which they did not possess. They were struck with death while the lie was still sounding in the air. Clark says: "It was not by Peter's words, nor through Peter's prayers, nor through shame, nor through remorse, that this guilty pair died, but by an immediate judgment of God. The question of the salvation of Ananias and Saphira has not been a little agitated; and most seem inclined to hope, that though their sin was punished by this awful display of the divine judgment, that mercy was extended to their souls.” He admits this to be his belief, yet cautions against doing what they did, on the supposition that mercy may be extended to the soul.

The fact is, men treat individuals much more humanely than the classes to which those individuals may belong. "Where are the sinners buried?" said a little child to her mother, as they roamed in grave-yards and read the inscriptions on the memorial stones. The heart spoke better things in those inscriptions than the creed could prompt. The activity of love makes us look kindly on the failings of the departed, and we instinctively shrink from weighing them in the cold light of mere intellect and moral judgment, but throw a tenderness into our feelings from the thought of our own want of compassionating mercy. How tenderly Charles Lamb touches this matter where he speaks of moralizing in the church-yard: "I read of nothing but careful parents, loving husbands, and dutiful children. I said, jestingly, where be all the bad people buried? Bad parents, bad husbands, bad children-what cemeteries are appointed for these? do they not sleep

in consecrated ground? or is it but a pious fiction, a generous oversight, in the survivors, which thus tricks out men's epitaphs when dead, who, in their life time, discharged the offices of life, perhaps, but lamely? This exhibits a trait common to human nature. It is honorable to the race. We see it made prominent in the conduct of those who are most earnest opposers of Universalism, and who assert that there is no opportunity for repentance beyond the grave. They will find some opening for hope, some gleam of comfort, whenever the heart is deeply interested. They are like the Spanish executioner, who struck head after head from the bodies of the condemned, and felt a real gusto in his work, becaused he deemed that they richly merited that fate. The last one knelt and laid his head upon the block, and by some sure token the bloody executioner discovered that it was his son, from whom he had been parted for he threw the axe away, he years; fell upon the neck of that criminal, he tried to break his fetters and bear him to his home. "Let me die with him! was the bursting cry of a father's grief. What a horrid trial was that which made Brutus condemn his own sons to death! How long he wept in solitude! And the heart of true love can never know of joy, while it truly believes in the endless suffering of the object of

that love.

A good illustration of our theme is found in the fact, that the greatest commotion has been caused by the honest application of the Partialist's creed at the burial of an "impeni. tent." I have known an entire community aroused to express earnest condemnation upon a minister for doing this work--and a hard work it is --at a funeral. Such a circumstance once led to the dismission of a Par

tialist minister, and in his farewell sermon, he said he wished it distinctly understood, that he was compelled to leave the field of labor because be "would not preach Universalist sermons at orthodox funerals!" Indeed, as the elders of Gilead resorted to Jepthath in their time of difficulty, after they had thrust him out of his father's house as illegitimate, so do Partialists resort to despised Universalism as the only fountain that does not freeze up in the winter of grief. The heart will save more than the creed allows. Human nature rises against the dogmatism of man's theology. Doctrines cease to be ab stractions, and, as they are applied, the torpedo-touch electrifies the heart with agony, and makes it cry out with the poet Percival,

"We send these fond endearments o'er the grave,

Heaven would be hell, if loved ones were not there."

Oh awful, terrible beyond description, is that theology that builds its heaven on the destruction of the best affections of the soul. For how does popular theology purpose to render the redeemed in heaven happy, while dear relatives are lost in irremediable ruin? It proposes the belief that God will destroy our social susceptibilities so far as they may relate to the "lost," and the mother will cease to love the child that once lay so near her heart. Away with such an idea! It darkens heaven and brings a winter desolation where an Eden's summer beauty was seen. "He will rest in his love," is the Scripture declara. tion concerning God. Zeph. 3: 17; and beautiful shall be the moral creation when God shall rest in his love, as when the physical creation shone in glory, and God rested from his labor.

Universalism is not a denial, but an assertion. It denies error only because it asserts truth. It maintains

that, under the perfect government of God, evil must die, and good be the everlasting portion of the intelligent universe. Thus it gives an answer to the most glorious imaginations of the mind, the highest soarings of sympathetic love, by the visions of hope which unveil eternal reality. We look to this End, and bear with the difficulties and mysteries of God's providence, thankful that we are free from the unbelief which adds to the evils of Time, by the anticipation of unspeakable mysteries of sin and woes in Eternity.

THE FORCE OF ATOMS.

Sitting by the fireside one winter morning, I was led into a long train of thought on the force of minute influences. The wonderful work done by minute particles of sand and debris in the great laboratory of Nature first engaged my attention; thence, passing from the physical into the moral world, I was carried over such a wide region that were I to record the whole I should perhaps be considered more discursive than wise. Then, curiously tracing backward, link by link, through this reverie, I find my starting point to have been some specimens of the action of the sand. blast on little pieces of glass brought from the Vienna Exhibition.

The powerful action of fine particles of sand is shown to advantage by General Tilghman's invention of the sand-blast, which has now for some years been turned to account in works of ornamentation, etc., throughout the United States. This invention is thus described by Professor Tyndall: "A kind of hopper, containing the silicious sand, is connected with a reservoir of compressed air; the hopper ends in a long slit, through which the sand is blown: a plate of glass placed beneath this slit, and passing slowly under it,

comes out perfectly depolished, with a bright opalescent glimmer, such as could only be produced by the most careful grinding. But this is not all: by protecting certain portions of the surface, and exposing others, fig. ures and tracery of any required form can be etched on the glass-figures of open iron-work can thus be copied; patterns of fine lace reproduced. A short space of time suffices to etch on glass a rich and beautiful lace pattern; any yielding substance may be employed to protect the glass. And while thus the delicate filaments of lace can be impressed on the glass, the strength of the blast is shown in the perforation of a plate of glass seven-eighths of an inch thick, and also in the action of the blast on a plate of marble half an inch thick, in which open-work of the most intricate and elaborate description has been executed. By any ordinary process it would take days t perform work that here is accomplished in an hour."

While in this modern invention we see what is done by an intense force acting through a brief period, many facts written on the stony pages of the past teach us that a feeble force acting through long periods of time will produce similar results. Stones picked up on the shores of Lyell's Bay, New Zealand, "resemble flint knives and spear-heads, being ap parently chiselled off into facets with as much symmetry as if a tool guided by human intelligence had passed over them; but no human instrument has been brought to bear on these stones; they have been wrought into their present shape by the windblown sands of Lyell's Bay. Two winds are dominant here, and, they in succession urged the sand against opposite sides of the stone. Every little particle of sand chipped away its infiniteismal bit of stone, and in the

end produced these singular forms."

If such be the effect of sand when urged only by the action of air, it is not difficult to imagine how much this power is increased by the action of water. Under the pressure of such an agency, the sand and debris in time wear away the hardest rock, producing wonderful physical chang

es.

On an examination of the Falls of Niagara, men of science have come to the conclusion that that magnificent cascade has even within historic times sensibly receded. This enor

mous volume of water is thrown over a mass of limestone rock, which lies in horizontal strata; below the limestone there is a thick mass of soft shale, which crumbles away rapidly, so that the limestone above overhangs it forty feet or more, and from time to time fragments of the superior rock are carried down. Prof. Henry, of the Smithsonian Institution, says: "In viewing the position of the Falls, and the features of the country round, it is impossible not to be impressed with the idea that this great natural raceway has been formed by the continued action of the irresistible Niagara; and that the Falls, beginning at Lewiston, have in the course of ages worn back the rocky strata to their present site." The same view is taken by Sir Charles Lyell, M. Agassiz, Professor Ramsay, and Professor Tyndall.

I remember once seeing an alabaster statue of Queen Zenobia, brought from the city of Palmyra, the old "Tadmor of the Desert,' founded by King Solomon. It stood within the walls of a mausoleum, the burial-place of one of the patrician families of our land. Round the walls of this necropolis were niches with statues, etc., collected by successive members of the family, who from time to time had enriched the city of the dead with contributions

from many lands-relics from Rome, from Thebes, from classic Athensurns and pillars, marbles and brasses, the torso and the full-length statue.

The contour of the alabaster figure above spoken of was noble and dignified; but all the finer touches of the chisel, all the delicate outlines of grace and beauty, both as regards features and drapery, which th sculptor's art had bestowed, were, by the action of the sand of the desert through long ages all but obliterated.

LOSSES.

Upon the white sea-sand
There sat a pilgrim band,

Telling the losses their lives had known,
While evening waned away

From breezy cliff and bay, And the strong tide went out with a weary

moan.

One spake, with quivering lip,
Of a fair freighted ship,

With all his household to the deep gone down.

But one had wilder woe,

For a fair face long ago

Lost in the darker depths of a great town. There were some who mourned their youth

With a most loving truth,

For its brave hopes and memories ever green;

And one upon the west

Turned an eye that would not rest,
For far-off hills whereon its joys had been.
Some talked of vanished gold;
Some of proud honors told;
Some spake of friends that were their
trust no more;

And one of a green grave
Beside a foreign wave,

AUNT LOIS AND HER FAMILY. A SERIAL STORY FOR GIRLS.

BY REV. MARY C. BILLINGS.

CHAPTER VII.

"Oh, Auntie!" I exclaimed, as I hurried to the kitchen, "a gentleman in the parlor wants to see you. He has sent out his card; look at it! I believe he is some relative." She stood at the sink washing her hands, and I held it up before her. "He is the strange gentleman the girls spoke about yesterday I know, for he has a silvery beard and pleasant blue eyes as they described."

on the

The looked at the name card without speaking; then, wiping her hands, hastily took off her apron and started for the parlor. Before shutting the kitchen door she turned and said:

"You look at the pies in the oven and take them out when done."

I knew she was excited, but had, as was her way, put a constraint upon herself. As for myself, I was all in a flutter of expectancy, but turned my attention to the unfinished kitchen work, thinking as I did so, "well, Auntie is always in a neat costume. Whatever she is doing she looks respectable."

The rest of the family were out of doors, and as there was work needing immediate attention, I applied myself to that, and refrained from calling them to tell the news, as I would have been glad to have done.

Presently Aunt Lois appeared, saying in a hurried voice,

"Mr. Harcourt is a distant relative from England, and wants to see you all. Go out and call the girls and 'Roy, and I'll take the baking out of the oven."

I ran down to the garden, and told Janet and 'Roy, they were wanted in the house immediately;" then over to the hennery where Luella was

"What's the matter, Sis? you are all out of breath;" Lu' said, as basket in hand, she followed me back to the house.

"O, nothing, only there's some one in the parlor who wants to see the entire clan of Foresters."

"Who is it?" she queried.

I did not enlighten her, only replying, "Some stranger, I believe."

"These are my cousins, Miss Janet, Luella, Grace, and Master El Roy Forester," Lois said somewhat formally, as she introduced us to Mr. Harcourt.

What a sweet smile he gave us as he greeted us in a cordial, yet somewhat courtly manner. When 'Roy was presented, Mr. Harcourt exclaimed with animation. "Ah, my dear boy; I am truly delighted to meet you!" Turning to Aunt Lois whose face was lighted up with a happy smile, showing to us who knew her, unmistakable signs of pride in her young family.

He said, "This little cousin is wonderfully like my son, who is now out in Denver finishing the business which I left for him to attend to. I think I can see the Deadwood looks in you all. I believe we are a peculiar family about that; certain especial traits marking them all in some distinguishable manner."

How cordial and agreeable he was! Aunt Lois exerted herself to the utmost to do proper honors for her guest; and he reciprocated her hospitable intent, by interesting himself in the old house and all its belongings, including the then present occupants. He had come to the village expressly to visit the old home of Sir Fletcher Deadwood and his descendants, whose history he knew from records kept in his own family