"PAtACWS "OB 1 INDIA." bfi. tALMAGfe OK ttffi TMfe- OfciEB OP f . Nicholson'* Slepo of the IVtUied tilled with ixstlls—the trneqtt a feetttcen JBrlton rind &tpoy — ot God'* Tfntt). KOOKLYN, Dec. 30.— ^Continuing his series of 'round the world ser- \mons, through the 'press, Rtfv. tfr'. tfaltnage \1 o-day chose forhissub- jjject,"Palaces in India," Jthe test being: Amos 3:x, i'WHp store up violence and robbery itt their palace-." In this day when vast sums of money are being 1 given for the redemption of India, I uope to increase the interest in that great country, and at the same time draw for all classes of our people prac* tical lessotts, and so I pi-esetttthis fifth sermon in the '"round the World * series. We step into the ancient capital of India, the mere pronunciation of its name sending a thrill through the body, mind and soul of all those who have ever read its stories of splendor, and disaster, and prowess—Delhi. Before the first historian impressed his first word in clay, or cut his first word on marble, or wrote his first word on papyrus, Delhi stood in India, a contemporary of Babylon and Nineveh. We know that Delhi existed longer before Christ's time than we live after his time. Delhi is btiilt on the ruins of seven cities, which ruins cover forty miles with wrecked temples, broken fortresses, split tombs, tumble down palaces, and the debris of centuries. An archroologist could profitably spend his life here talking with the past through its lips of venerable masonry. 2?here are a hundred things here you ought to see in this city of Delhi, but three things youv must see. The first thing that I wanted to see was the Cashmere gate, for that was the point at which the most wonderful deed of daring which the world has ever seen was done. That was the turning point of the mutiny of 1857. A lady at Delhi put into my hand an oil painting of about eighteen inches square, a picture well executed, but chiefly valuable for what it represented. It was a scene from the time of mutiny; two horses at full run, harnessed to a carriage in which were four persons. She said: "Those persons on the front side are my father and mother. The young lady on the back seat holding in her arms a baby of a year was my eldest sister and tb,e baby was myself. My mother, who is down with a fever in the next room, painted that years ago. The horses are in full run because we are fleeing for our lives. My mother is driving, for the reason that father, standing up in the .front of his car- "riage, had to defend lis with his gun, as you there see. He fought our way out and on for many a mile, shooting down the Sepoys as we went. We had somewhat suspected trouble and become suspicious of our servants. A prince ha'd requested a private interview with my father, who was editor of the Delhi Gazette. The prince proposed to come veiled, so that no one might recognize him, but my mother insisted on being present, and the interview did not take, place. A large fish had been sent to' bur family, and four other families, the present an. offering of thanks for thp king's recovery from a recent sickness. But we suspected poison and did not eat the fish. One day all our servants came up and said they must go and see what was the matter. We saw what was intended and knew that if the servants returned they would murder all of us. Things grew worse and worse until this scene of flight shown you in the picture took pl_ce. You see the horses were wild with fright. This was not only because of the discharge of guns, but the horses were struck and pounded by Sepoys, and ropes were tied across the way, and the savage halloo, and the shont of revenge made all the way of our flight a horror, The books have fully recorded the heroism displayed at Delhi and approximate regions, but make no mention pf this family of Wagentreibers whose flight I am mentioning. But the Madras "Atheneum" printed this: "And now! Are not the deeds of the Wagentreibers, thpugh he Wore a round bat and she a crinoline, as worthy of Imperishable verse as those of the heroic pair whose nuptials graced the court of Qharlemagne? A more touching picture than that of brave men cpn. tending with well nerved arm against the black and threatening fate impending pyer his wife and child, we have never seen Here was no strife for the glory of physical prowess, or the spoil of shining arms, but a conquest of the human mind, an assertipn of the pow era of intellect over the most appalling 1 array of circumstances that cpuld as$ail a. human being. Men have become gray in front of sudden and unexpected peril, and in ancient days SP much was courage a piatter pf .heroics and, were instinct thai we read in immortal verse pf heroes struck with panic and fleeing- before the enemy. JJut the Sepoys, with their hoarae war cry, &warroing like wasps around the Wsgentreibers.struck po terror into the brave man's heart, JJis herpisw »pt the were ebullition of despair, Ufee that of hie wife, oaljft and wise; ttapdjng upright that he might use i better." indent will sometimes i»pre o»e than a generality | present the flight of " I merely 04 the W&sthftt the p$ the .cjty • jyerf, with ftll' ifeeir fighting back thfe fcfirbfJfe'ans', ^he- were on the outside. The city of las acrenttlated wall on three i a v?all five and one half miles arid the fourth side "of the city is defended by the Rivfer Jumna. In acrai- iion to these two defenses of wail a'fad wa er, there wefe 40,000 Sepoys, all armed. Twelve hundred British S;ol* diers were to take that city. &ichoU son, the immortal general, commanded them, and you must visit his gr • ve before you leave Delhi. He fell leading bis troops. He coirimanded them even after beihg mortally wounded. You will read this inscription on his tomb; John Nicholson,"who led the assault of Delhi, bub fell in the hour of victory, mortally wounded ( and died 23d September, 1857. Aged 35 years." With what guns attd men Gen. Nidi* olson could muster he had laid siege to this walled city filled with devils. What fearful odds! Twelve hundred British troops uncovered by any military works, to take a city surrounded by firm and high masonry, on the top of which were 114 guns and defended by 40,000 foaming Sepoys. A larger percentage of troops fell here than in any great battle I happen to know of The Crimean percentage of the. fallen was 17.48, but the percentage of Delhi was 37.9. Yet that city must be taken, and it can only be taken by such courage as had never been recorded in all the annals of bloodshed. Every charge of the British regiments against the walls and gates had been beaten back. The hyenas of Hindooism and Mohammedanism howled over the walls, and the English army could do nothing but bury their own dead. But at this pate I stand and watch an exploit that makes the page of history tremble with agitation. This city has ten gates, but the most famous is the one before which we now stand, and it is called Cashmere gate. Write the words in red ink, because of the carnage! Write them in letters of light, for the illustrious deeds! Write them in letters of black, for the bereft and the dead. Will the world ever forget that Cashmere gate? Lieutenants Salkeld and Home and Sergeants Burgess, Carmichael and Smith offered to take bags of powder to the foot of that gate and set them on fire, blowing open the gate, although they must die in doing it. There they yo, just after sunrise, each one carrying a sack containing twenty- four pounds of powder, and doing this under the fire of the enemy. Lieut. Home was the first to jump into the ditch, which still remains before the gate. As they go, one by one falls under the shot and shell. One of Hie mortally wounded, as he falls, hands his sack of powder with a box of luci- fer matches to another, telling him to fire the sack; when with an explosion that shook the earth for twenty miles around, part of the Cashmere gate was blown into fragments, and the bodies of some of these heroes were so scattered that, they were never gathered for funeral, or grave, or monument. The British army rushed in through the broken gate, and although six days of hard fighting were necessary before the city was in complete possession, the crisis was past. The Cashmere gate open, the capture of Delhi and all it contained of palaces, and mosques, and treasures was possible. Lord Napier of Magdala, of whom Mr. Gladstone spoke to me so affectionately when I was his guest at Hawarden, England, has lifted a monument near this Cashmere gate with the names of the men who there fell inscribed thereon. That English lord, who has seen courage on many a battlefield, visited the Cashmere gate, and felt that the men who opened it with the loss of their own lives ought to be commemorated, and hence this "cenotaph. But, after all, the beat monument is the gate itself, with the deep gouges in the brick wall on the left side, made by two bombshells, and the wall above, torn by ten bomb-shells, and the Wall on the right side, defaced, and" scraped, and plowed, and gullied by all styles of long reaching weaponry. Let the words "Cashmere gate," as a synonym for patriotism, and fearlessness, and self sacrifice, go into all history, all art, all literature, all time, all eternity! My friends, that kind of courage sanctified will yet take the whole earth for God. Indeed, the missionaries now at Delhi, toiling amid heathenism, and fever, and cholera, and far away from home and comfort, and staying there until they drop into their graves, are just as bra vein taking Delhi for Christ as were Nicholson, and .Home,, and Carmichael in taking Delhi/for •Great Britain. Take this for the first sermonic lessor). As that night we took;tho railroad train from the Delhi station and rolled out through the city now living, over the vaster pities buried under this ancient capital, cities under cities, and our traveling servant had'unrolled our bed, which consisted of a rug and twp blankets and a pjlldwj and as we were worn out with the sightseeing of the day, and were roughly tossed on that uneven Indian railway, I sopn fell into a troubled sleep, in which I saw and heard in a confused way the scenes and sounds of , the mutiny of Io57, which at Delhi we had been recount* ing; and npw the rattle pf the train seemed tp turn into the rattle of mus fcetryj and now the light at the top pf tne car deluded me with, the idea pf a burning city; and then the ip th,ump pf the railroad brake was dream mistaken fpr a bo'eming bat* teryi, and the voices at the different stations made me think I heard the lp\id cheer pf the British at the taking pf the Cashmere gate; and as we rpUed pver bridges the battles before Delhi seemed going °ft» & n( i as we went thrpugh dark tunnels I seemed to eee the tomb of JJnmayun ia which the king Pf Pelhi was hidd-gsi and in, my dyeamj I gavy J4euV Benny, of the artmery, throwing shells' which were handed JJJJR, their fws.es jn,pb,eU ( ajjd J&e pP.Yered, lyftfc fela^S Soil falling while rtliyifctf nlS tro'pfjs; and 1 sSW dead f@£im«nl ffttleii aertissdead feginient, &n v d hfs'ifd ,tn6 rataplftfi of the hoofs bl Mbd'gSon'S horse. And the dash of the feengal Ar- tilleryj and the storming of th ( 6 im-> mortal Fourth column i and the roughs* the Indian railway became, and the darker the night grew, the mofe the scenes that I had been studying at Delhi came on me like an incublis. Bttt the moftiihg began to look through the window of our jolting ear, and the' sunlight pouted in on my pillow, and in my dream I saw the bright colors ol the English flag hoisted over Delhi, wlief e the green banner of the Moslem had waved, and the voices of the 1 wounded and dying seemed to be ex- hanged for the voices that Welcomed soldiers home agaiii. Atid as the morning light got brighter and bright* er, and in my dream I mistook the bells at a station for a church bell hanging in a minaret, whef'ea Mohain* medan priest had mumbled his call to Draper, I seemed to lieat' a chant, Whether by human or angelic Voiees itt my dreain I could not tell, but it was a chant about "JPeace and good will to men." And as the speed of the rail- train slackened the motion of the car became so easy as we rolled along the track that it seemed to mo that all the distress, and controversy, and jolt* ing, and wars of the world had ceased; and in my dream I thought We had come to the time when "The ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads; and sorrow and sighing shall flee away." Halt here at what you have never seen before, a depopulated city, the city of Amber, India. The strange fact is that a ruler abandoned his palaces at Amber and moved to Jeypore, and all the inhabitants of the city followed. Except here and there a house in Amber occupied by a hermit, the city is as silent a population as Pompeii or Herculaneum ; but those cities were emptied by volcanic disaster, while this city of Amber was vacated because Prince Joy Singh was told by a Hindoo priest that no city should be inhabited more than a thousand years, and so the ruler 170 years ago moved out himself, and all his people moved with him. . I will not go far into a description of brazen doorway after brazen doorway, and carved room, after carved room, and lead you under embellished ceiling after embellished ceiling, and through halls precious stoned into wider halls precious stoned. Why tire out your imagination with the particulars, when you may sum up all by saying that on the slopes of that hill of India are pavilions deeply dyed, tasseled and arched; the fire of colored gardens cooled by the snow of white architecture; bath rooms that refresh before your feet touch the marble; birds in arabesque so natural to life, that while you can not hear their voices, you imagine you see the flutter of their wings as you are passing; stoneware translucent; walls pictured with hunting scene, and triumphal procession, and jousting party; rooms that were called "Alcove of Light," and "Court of Honor," and "Hall of Victory;" marble, white and black, like a mixture of morning and night; alabaster, and lacquer work, and mother of pearl; all that architecture, and sculpture, and painting, and horticulture can do when they put their genius together was done here in ages past, and much of their work still stands to absorb and entrance archaeologist and sight seer. But what a solemn and stupendous thing is an abandoned city. While many of the peoples of the earth have no roof for their head, here is a whole city of roofs rejected. The sand of the desert was sufficient excuse for the disappearance of Heliopolis, and the waters of the Mediterranean sea for the engulfment of Tyre', and the lava of Mount Vesuvius for the obliteration of Herculaneum; but for the sake of nothing but a superstitious whim the city of Amber is abandoned forever. 0, wondrous India! The city of Amber is only one of the marvels which compel the uplifted hand of surprise from the day you enter India until you leave it. Its flora is c so flamboyant; its fauna so monstrous and savage; its ruins so suggestive; its idolatry so horrible; its degradation so sickening; its mineralogy so brilliant; its splendors so uplifting; its architecture so old, so grand, so edu<?a-> tional, sp multipotent, that India wii] not be fully comprehended xintil science has made its last experiment, and exploration has ended its lasl journey, and the library of the world's literature has clpsed its last dppr, and Christianity has made its last achieve' ment, and the clock pf time has struck its last hour, A. Ba,»»y Prince's Elaborate Prince Edward of York, the rpyai babe who will in the Ipng future be the head of the British empire, shortly have his first English made carriage. It consists pf a perambula» tor of highest class workmanship o: the "Princess Jrene" barouche patteyn, is fitted with npn. vibrating, l hung cee springs and silent oyce wheels, with hollpw rubber The vehicle is upholstered io dark green mprocoQ leather, softly padded with horsehair cushions, §p cpnstraoted that the infant can recline qr ride with face $r to the, n,u,r&e- The visage i§ prQteo|Je« from the ram by a <?pwhi4e h,o,p4 adj»§ta4 to any position^ &M shine \Jb^ c^u be removed, prince, ghajed, frqp heat by an of tussore sjik., imed to match the , and trimmed, with delicate of -a have, been, at Plottage forties Id Wift* fi ft — the ifc&d He We- i>l6tflt'« The cost of framing piciufes tnakea fames almost prohibited in som6 households. Yet the making of thght, es, etett th<5 plain foundation, is ttbt mpossible, for any womati who catt lit a nail squarely, atid who possesses ,he initefiflg 1 box from a set of child's ools, a small saw, a hammer, some 3f ads and a glue pot, can make her Plain, lat pine moulding costs from bwo to four cents a foot, according to A\e width. Mitre this, join neatly at the corners ttttd glue firmly, giving dditiottal strength by a brad Or two n each corner. With a pen knife you can cut a groove to lay the glass •gainst, or you can get a very narrow beading and fasten it on the buck of ,he moulding with glue or brads. For the Covering of this frame, call upon your ingenuity and your scraps of odds and'ends. Ribbon, silk, grass inen,ittpusquetaire glove tops,manilla •ope, tea matting, shells, lichen and mosses, velvet, Japanese crepe, crepe japer, enamel paints, lace*—there's a ong list to choose from. Lay a thick* ness of wadding over the framo to rive it a raised look, and then put on rhe goods slightly shirred, or plain if lie material is figured. Overagilded or enamelled frame ace may be fastened, then pasted on, ind when dry gilded or enamelled,.or f black upon gilt, upon white or pale tints it may bo left as it is. When the mats of pictures get old ,nd discplpred, put a layer of wadding over them, and cover with folds of soft-tinted crepe, crepe paper or cheese cloth. This is particularly ar- istic for lithographs, photographs or etchings. For one inexpensive marine watercolor sketch the mat was cut from icavy bristol bpard and tinted a 'aint blue, putting pn what is called a "wash." The four-inch frame of pine was covered with Japanese repe, croam splashed with gilt, put on smopttily over a layer of wadding. Outside of this is a manilla rope as ihick as a lady's thumb, which is lacked pn with brads and then gilded. A simple outline of manilla rope is jretty, with shells seeming' to con- ine the sailor's knots at the corners, and the picture may be suspended by a smaller manilla cord or a strand of ;he large one. What Is a Woman's Woman? This is an age of definitions. What s a woman's woman? is a question often asked, and varied have been the answers to that question. It is- safe to say that she who is a favorite with her own sex is never a coquette, aor does her popularity depend upon uer personal beauty. She is broadminded, sympathetic, frank and friendly with men and with women. She is unselfish and takes an interest in what interests others. She does not imagine that every man who shows her a polite attention is in love with her. She is not always trying to enlarge her circle of acquaintances among men. She will not cultivate other girls just for the sake of their brothers or their friends. She will not try to take away another girl's admirer "just fpr the fun of the thing." She will not be jealous when a man she knows is polite to another lady. She will not imagine that she can gain the friendship of any man by telling him all the mean little things she knows abo.utother girls. She will not gossip about men to her girl friends. S,he will not claim every man who ever danced with her, or served her with an ice, or called upon her, as, "an pld beaux pf mine." Neither will she remark "that man pnce wanted to marry me," nor will she enumerate the conquests she has made and the eligible offers she has refused. The woman's woman will be willing to entertain women, and npt want to monopolize a notable guest, be that guest man or woman, She. will be able to entertain more than one person at a time, She will npt be afraid to introduce her friends to each other, and she will not be envi- pus pf those who are more liberally endowed with this wprld's goods than she is herself. She will bj amiable, although npt without spirit, Her friends will feel that they can trust her; that she will not throw them over for the sake of gaining some man's attentions, ifffifl4«g8 vHtk it is fill, tsf »etntifd& 0* discipline" faulty* of false', Thet-B is hardl? ft feby Ivfrifig who" b© kef>£ iti the fight *tft ii f cat-a ia takefi. Tlifi feforta seficrol, &# ftfty plads'6 dl thftt ilk f iS IM tetf Iffcst fe-febti %iplaee Stifeh ft' b*afcd tipdtt the 4 life 0< afty yotttk, ttnlgsS ft® fa really criminal* £e&ms to ine td be absolutely One is really spmetimes led to WPB* der what men really do denire and ex« pect pf the pther sex, Man admires helplessness and declares it ruing him, decries frivolity and' 'ehuns i»tel« leptuality, is fprever lauding his mother, who made such unapprpaeha* ble pies, and yet continues t» »p.rry & pair of white hands that eaanpji dp anything of the. kind, He moans fiefiutif al GiHs 6f Of dpufse* they have always besti fatnoas fof loveliness all ove"? the woi-ldf yet frothing in othet parts of the WoAA will have helped jrdu to imagine theta. "The type is to Prpvenee^nilich Jttofe tliaii Itaiifttt .types, the V6?y daf k eyes and hail? dOiltfasting Witb tnd whitest of skins; a Spirited and yet an Ox" treineiy poetid type, aad so refined, so aristocratic, that its Charm Is not lost la eld age* jSeve^theless, not the type itself, but the frequency of its pef feet presentation, is the most stir- pi'Jsing, the most delightful fadt. H«i*e an ugly woman, a comnipiiplaee looking girl, is the exception; where five or six are gathered together, three at least will be beauties and the others will be comely. "Surely, if these people are as Greek as they like to think, the sculptors of ancient Greece needed their imagination less than we are accustomed to think. Scores of times I cried to myself. "This one is the most beautiful of all." But best pf all I npw remember a girl who, with the true Arlesian face, had unbelievable riches of red hair. She was more beautiful than, in our unequal wprld, any woman has any right to be.. It was bearable tp . look at her Only because one felt that, very likely, every man and woman in Aries, « including her splendid self, thought the redness of her hair distressingly unfortunate. — Century. Boast Goose With Apple Sauce. The flavor of the tender roasting goose is intensified by the tart apple stuffing. After the bird has been carefully cleaned, fill its entire body and crop with apples quartered and cored: they maybe peeled or not, as one desires. Salt, pepper, sage and butter should be used for dressing, and a little fried onion, at discretion. Sew the cuts in the skin of the bird to secure the stuffing, and roast it brown, with occasional basting and dredging with flour; no water in the pan, the drippings will be sufficient. The goose needs thorough cooking—about fifteen minutes to the pound — until a fork thrust into the thigh joints draws only a little clear gravy, and the flesh is cracking beneath the drumsticks with a rich brown color. Boiling water stirred into the dripping pan after the goose is taken up, and a pleasant seasoning of salt and pepper, will make a good gravy. All the brown upon the pan should b» scraped into the gravy for -its sa,vory flavor. The giblets can either j;.be) chopped and fried to .mix 'with the dressing or with the gravy, as preferred, and a dish of apple-sauce go to the table 'with it. The Dead Babe. Last ni;ht, as my dear babe lay dead In a?ony I knelt and said: "O, Godl what have I done, - ; Or in what wise offended thee, That thou should'st take away from ma Mylittla son?" "Upon the thousand useless lives— Upon the Kuilt that vaunting thrives, Thy wt/ith were bettor spontl Why should'st thou taka my little son? Why ahould'st thou vent thy wrath upon This innocent?" Last nlilit, as my dear babe lay dead, Before mine eyes the vision spread Of things thatmUht have been; Licentious riot, crual strife, Forgotten prayers, a wasted life Dark red with slat Then, with soft music in the air, I saw ano'ther vision there; A. shepherd, In whose keep A little lamb-my little child— Of worldly wisdom undented, Lay fast asleep! Last nl?ht, as my dear babe lay dead, In those two messes I read A wisdom manifest And, though my arms be childless now, I am content— to him I bow Who Unowetli best —Chicago Record A Boasted Loin of pork, First trimming and cutting out a.11 the bones, the skin was scored in little squares and the bpnes replaced with the tart_ apples, pared " and quartered, well seasoned with salt, pepper and sage, and tied around to secure, the apples, The loin was then, roasted brown, vfithnojwater, basted only with its pwn drippings; as it brpwned it was. dusted vyith fl'our, and that basted in turn? <pite well done,-it was kept warm \vbile ^ grayy was made by stirring cider into, the pan, where enough flqup bad ' *aWe.a tp make a thick sauce, which was well belied, and prpperty and whteh, giving lorth its hot apple ' stuffing, wa? a feast for the hungry folk pf fteld and wool. Serving it with bafted, eweet pQtatPes, 0p even with plain Ml§& M«vpby§« ws'U wfHTsrat you will fi »d &» P§«te to fit Hit! belief, t ftin. . that if lieS hS Would* sOoit lug. ta 'that so? MR so. Many a mftfi haS gdj> the city council by* telltef "y§S| Said tliS Jjlfl wait nift, lections, "it is oflS of, Iks fcelv "But' af8 y'tfll SUfiS ifc' Is* "Positive, 1 Bttt 'H fltolft that his wife received from him my own hands, M Thd lady was making, marks about the kind d! sonte other ladles at chui-ct "The finest garment a w said her husband* d' snapped, "and it's about the some husbands want their wear." . . - ,.,-,., The journalistic eye may be truly 86% sidered as the one that never sleeps, * -<»* Lawyers were first 1 alrtowed to B; court for their client ia 788. The Chinese wall appears to ,be wrong side of the empire. - - *¥ 6n\tB»;- A ,?'V*3 Pains in the Back "I had been afflicted for several yeiiri'wtt what the doctors called Diabetes, and'"6uf-'' f fcred terribly. The paiti in ray back wal lijf*. onizlng in the extreme. Hood's Sarsaparllla.' |, and Hood's rPhi£ & *1 cured mo. I can go tp ChUrc®|i* and attend 'otherjC meetings jwfti'^; pleasure. 'I,*ifiV%I ways keep Hoc Pills by me.' my never mot thing that did'jaie!'^ so much good'.ts'l^j^S John Sranaton Hood's SnViAnnivMM rilla. ' Experience teaches a fools will learn by no other, ish enough to listen to a druggist wh< to have something superior tp Iloodty'i" took another medicine. If I dollar in the street I would have S a dear school, DUti^'l^' >.' I was. once f ooPjt v|| •uggist who clai$ejiji>,jik tn« +« TTnn^ta }f «»irl tt*$ l.trtl "Wellington, Ohio. Get HOOD'S because Hood's Pills cure Constipationbyrestoriis, the peristaltic action of the alimentary c Whydon't you use "Schrage's ji.OOO.C Rheumatic Cure" ; and not groan around all Winter? Cures Gput,\ Rheurnatisf 'and Neiiralgiar' ,Theta,b'e'st» r riie4M Harmless, palatable ancTpotent,, -.--«„ Genuine. 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