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I / i[V? 1 *\ POIN | J&J&X _ ! \ C 1 BY ^ jj ANNIE J ^ EDWARDS. ^jr^f oc CHAPTER VII. 7 Continued. Mr. Clifliero bowed his bond, aud his lips just moved. "Ho died?on the hulks; I believe that is tbe propellent). Miss Grand, Ave have reason -4o ijelieve tiiat your father died repeutnnt for tbe great ivrong of bis life. 1 had a letter from the officer with bim at tbe last: and this niucb I kuow, that be died with tbe name of Jaue?bis little Jane upon bis lips." "A laugh?say rather a bitter, harsh i vrt.ii /)?Hit. ?rhnst thp ilrenrv nioekerv of all her new-slain youth anil happiness. broke from June Grand. 1 "He dill well to speak of me!?to leave me bis blessing, perhaps! To me, who bail better never br.ve lived? whose daily bread lias been sbame-*who can think of my father's name .sxnrt of myself, and of all belonging to <tUin and to me, oui.y with loathing! My G od! what can his repentance do for me?arid for Clifford?" With that last word her face turned livid white: her clinched hands dropped heavily in her lap. Mr. Clithero thought #be was goin to faint, and rose hastily to his feet: but she motioned.him to \"sit down. "I can hear it out. sir. I can hear it ??ut. Don't comfort me, please, only tell me the rest I've got to hear. Why <lid yon ever send me near Yatton? Why have 1 been brought up in- ignorance of all this? I should like to hear it at once, and then?then I will go home again, if you please. 1 shall have to speak -to?Mr. Mohun-at once, you know.'' "If Mr. Mohun is what I take him to be. lie will not alter, Miss Grand. You are not accountable for the errors of those who are dead and gone." "Ami you think I would uiarry (Jifford now? You think I would let hlui, even if he wished, sully his old name so??give his children such an inheritance as mine? Ah. well! that is a subject for him and me' alone, and ivk needn't speak of it any more. Tell me why I ever went near Yatton, sir. ' 'and why I have been kept in'ignoranee .' of what my father's life was? This all I want to hear. When I have heard it, I need trouble you no louger." But Mr. Clithero paused. In all his fifty years of practice he had never seen any overwhelming distress borne t>y a woman as Jane bore this. There are sOme few women who take grief hard and fearlessly, as most meu do; and to look at a girl's face, white and set, and rigid, is a sight to shock the least sensitive beholder, even more -than to see a. man's cheek wet with unaccustomed tears. a tlinimlit?in iiifniHrm it ix UUUllCli luvu^ui nil must have been?for what could be, a hard old bachelor London lawyer, know, either practicaily or theoretically, of love??made Mr. Clithero divine. ... through what channel the suddenlyfrozen heart miglit best be reached; and skilfully, and without seeming art. did lie contrive to bring in Gifford Mobun's name when he fulfilled the remainder of his task. He told Jane liow Miss Lynch had been led to take her to Chesterford (Miss flrand must try to remember all this, because, of <rourse, Mr. Mohun would wish to hear every detail connected with her early -life). Miss Lyuch had been led to take her to Cbeshterford by merest accident?Mr. Clithero having heard ' through a country client that the cottage was to be sold on advautageous terms, and Miss Lynch wishing to take her little drooping charge away from /*" London and bring her up in the pure, air and quiet of a country village. 4,It was your father's express wish," ? ? J.1 ,1 (UVini * rt?i Krt A/lirnnfn/1 ill i(T_ lit" Iiuiieu, lUiii j un hk.- rouwiin itorance of him, of his?history, of his name even, until you were twenty-one; auil Miss Lynch and I determined long rgo that no event except your marriage need induce us to depart from his v wishes, even after the age at which tie decided you should know all." "l'ou acted wrongly," said Jane, abruptly. "In tarrying out his wish, you faave ouly carried out the horrible evil he wrought nie when 1 was a child. If Gilford Mohnn had known what I was from the first, he would not have loved nie!" "There is some reason in what jon say, Miss Grand; but it was not for us -to know that yon would so early form a matrimonial engagement?above all, with a man in the position of Mr. Mo liun. We were led into a tacit deceit from the day when you no longer bore your father's name, and from tbat time till ibis we have seen no object that / could be fulfilled by telling you the truth." "Xo longer bore his nnme!"'repeated -Jane, but quite dully, mechanically, without interest, the moment she no longer thought of Gifford. "Ah! I go by a false name, too! Well, it doesn't matter?nothing will matter any more now." "Your mother's maiden name was Grandet. and when?when your father wffB about to leave England, he begged \hat you might be called by it instead ?T his own. We thought afterward that a foreign name might lead to suspicion if borne by an English child, and we resolved to alter it into Grand. This is important, also, for yon to remember and tell to Mr. Mohun. In drawing out marriage settlements it wouM. of course be necessary for you to be designated by your own?by your father's name." ' Tell it me;" He told her; a name unknown to her. but notorious, even to this day. as that of one of tho systematic, the respectable defrauders. to whose ranks so goodly an addition has been made within the last-few years. "I shall recollect,' she said (but slip refrained, as she had already don?, from using the word "father" to repeat it.j?'"1 shall recollect all t jU - : . _. 1 flns r- 1 - ."' )/ out OR., ? intt <>> FOR HER fe nev T SIN. I bui ?k % & J& 8 ren fcl? o, K rar f 1* ^ ? ilia HONOR.; \ j | \\ R 110\ me told mo,"sir. Is there anything more hai for me to bear?*' mil "Nothing, my dear Miss Grand. Any jar other particulars that you may wish to th0 learn Miss Lynch will, no doubt, tell bea you at some future time. I am sure |jec you have heard as much as you can jler bear, together with the fatigue of your hjs journey, upon one day." jj "Very"well, sir," she answered, mechanically. "I am much obliged to you for alj tbe trouble you have taken for g^e me; and 1 think .now, if you please, 1 Ben will get on my road again' 1 have something to do for Miss Lynch before I go fej\ back to Faddington." L01 She rose to her feet, and knew that aj01 it caused her a strange, unwonted ef- am l'ort to move. She was not faint, nor ten trembling, only her limbs felt heavy, nor inert, cold?as her brain, her heart felt mu ?as it seemed to her all her future life jn would be until she died. ' cou Mr. Clithero, at parting, lapsed once flia more into professional commonplace, par speaking still of her engagement to jjer Mohun as a matter of course, and al- 0WI iuding to what had formed the sub- ?> ject of their interview, just as he would pas have done to any other serious family jea, communication that he had. thought )t sat; necessary tot make. And Jane took ak0 leave of the ofd man with a feeling of aw. relief that he prpffered- no Geeper sympathy aud sought to offer her no con- in , doience. sue stoou in neeu ui su^uu exp that no words spoken by lips of flesli nev aiul blood could give her. It was some hours before the time jr which Miss Lynch had fixed for her to stn return; and at Mr. Clitliero'S wish, as j pooi- Jane allowed herself to be taken we upstairs by the housekeeper, and jtse promised, passively, to re^t and take as j some refreshments before starting on nCji her journey home. She waited, she rajS swallowed a few mouthfuls of the food twe that was Set before her?but the merest cari attempt at rest, or quiet tJbought, made stal her heartsick. Now that she was alone say and unconstrained, an irresistible fev- jay( erish desire to do "something, if only <jut to get upon her feet and pace restlessly to c up and down, fell upon her. 0f t The'-room into which she had been the shown was the one which Miss Lynch stra and she had always occupied when tim they visited Mr. Clithero, and every 0f ^ object it contained was like a familiar onj, face staring strangely at her in her jja," pain. The oltl print of Hogarth's above ber tlic chimney-piece. "The Antiquated ci, Lovers," who, when she was a child, siie she used to think were very like Mr. ^ Clithero and Miss Lynch?the very tea, grim, painted monsters upon the Chinose screen?the curves and twistings jiea In each old-fashioned piece of furni- fror tnre, seemed to look at her, and twit jja(j her with the past?the happy, uncon- |10n scions past?when from these windows jy( j she had used to look out and think < ] of London,.(<}veu such a London as the Upper floor in Russell Square com- u.0l mauds) as a kind of enchanted city, njg] ready to- yield up wonders, and pleas- see ure, and 'intoxicating delights to all ing such liappy people as had passed the ] barriers of manhoood and womanhood < > and might walk abroad, free and un- jn<r. fettered, beyond the rubicon to Tottenham Court road?a point at -which Miss ver Lynch always forced Jane's unwilling tall! feet to turn when they walked out ?0 j unescorted. wai Slie looked through these windows now, and she saw London as it is?a countless mass of streets and houses, holding a countless mass of human be- Tj ings?hundreds and thousands of them, Pre! no doubt, sick and bruised, and wear- rem ied of life like herself, and all callous to each other's misery and to hers. In this great Babylon who cared that she to i was to lose Gifford??that her whole boo life was dishonored??all ibe sweet and sad! innocent fountains of her former happi- the ness poisoned? clea Already the carriages of Mr. Cli- H tliero's clients were standing before Dui the house door; Mr. Clithero himself would be already deep in other busi- fi'oi ness, in other family histories, other As miserable, degrading histories like hers, boy perhaps; and would have ceased to think of her. Scarce another person in and all the rest of London knew her name, even, much less would care to hear by whether slie was in misery or in happiness. Wil And yet it seemed to her own con- to -* *? ?;tvnr sciousness as TUOUgii iier griei uiuai be greater than all other griefs; as though it were monstrous, almost impossible, that the rest of the world Ti could go on, quiet, and glib, and un- cov concerned, when she in an hour had On lost everything that made life worth cho: living for. What a mockery was the Pas summer sunshine streaming clear and Chi golden on the crowded streets! What swc i nin/?l"*irv \v?>rr> tlmsp r-ltilrirPn's Voices wit! rising happy from their play upon the squ grass within Ihe square! The familiar of 1 furniture of the silent room; the sun- fort shine; the children's voices?all be- tion longed to something gone; and fevered 190: her. while they possessed not Ihe exact cori degree of pathos that could melt her for into tears. eigl She felt as though her brain must eroj turn if she remained longer inert. She or : must get into the streets; must feel, at croi least, the stimulus of bodily exertion; must go to do Miss Lynch's shopping; drive to the station; walk about the 0 A 1.1?IVi.i.i nmrHiip tiinn nriil (VinQpinilS- t])H ness by strong physical effort, until ing ?until the hour when she should be win back at home, and could rest her head bro for once?for the first and last time in stai her life?on Clifford's breast. "< (Clifford! How would he receive her? out What would he think of her? Had she you changed? Had she hardened? Had the she grown plain and haggard in this "I last hour, which seemed already as ofti< distant and seVered a period as though Yov it could be reckoned by years aud not by by minutes? She walked to the looking-glass, and at the sight of her own TJ image there she almost started. Her cas: ej .-a iooked dark and lustrous, a rich at C ill tvas on her cheek, the fragile line ol' lier face seemed softened ? ) fuller and more rounded lines than r lal. She knew?she felt as she had \ cr felt before?that she was beait- | il, and she sickened at the thought. he looked down at her hands?the oly drooping hands in which every e vein was showing in sneh distinct- ^ s upon the perfect skin?and she ^ leiubered whose blood it was that ^ i there! Were these-hands of hers, t Gifford had kissed so reverently, nied on the likeness of her mother's, uarueless French actress, or?but m that darker thought her sokI reted with a loathing that you and I, der, may feel thankful we shall ^ or ue a Die quite to iHtuom: iv jw e, to pity, well-nigh to Jove, llie mory of tlie man who in his crimes j. 1 not forgotten her, was a state of' id to which after-years did bring f ie Grand. Row .she hated the ^ tight of her own life, of her own j lUty, of the very blood of lier veins ause she tyas his?his child, the in- . itor of his money, of his nature, of shame. ligid and hardened, even bey.oud t at she had been at first, she left Mr. thero's house. Rigid and hardened went through all she had set her- J " to do during the remainder of the { r. At another time she might have * : shy at going alone into a great idon shop, and making her way ( ne through London streets, and r idst the crowd and din of a London ' minus. But she felt neither shyness ^ loneliness now. She seemed not so eh to be acting in her own person? the person of the happy blushing ntry girl who had come up to town t day?as to be going through a t in some dreary life remote from s, and disconnected alike from her :i past and future. rbat was a handsome woman," one senger remarked to another, after { ring the carriage where Jane Grand ;,"Ueaiitifu],' but witn a, narci iooK ut her eyes and mouth, that took iy nil the charm of her good looks." ^-phlegmatic,-stolid young person, spite of her bloom and youth. An ressionless, apathetic face, that er changed a muscle during all the e T looked at her," was the reply, or of the soul in its fiercest crises, tngers read just as much?and just little, alas!?as the nearest relations have upon the earth, and the soul 1 If is closed, sealed to all. In moral n physical death we are alone; and ther strange nor loving hands can a e by an inch the veil that is be- , en us and them. The vicar's little riage met her at the Houghton , tion, with a message to Miss Grand, ing that Mr. Follett was still de?d by close attention to his parochial , ies,* but-that'he .hoped to be able t rail round and see her in the course he next day. And Jane did not feel f 'Vicar's defection as unkind or inge or characteristic (as at another e she would certainly have decided) lis want of moral courage. She was f relieved to be alone, and not to ' e to speaK during uie remuinuer m journey home. Wlicn she got in fSterford parish, where every face saw was a familiar one, she felthat -jvas possible?more frozen and 'less than she had done during all preceding part of the day. Ker rt quickened not by a single stroke n its heavy lethargy, even when she stopped at the garden gate of le, and felt poor Miss Lynch's kindLrembling hands clasping hers, s Gilford here?" \To,.Jane, dearest. I thought you ild be too tired to meet him toit. He has promised to come and you the first thing to-morrow morn* i lave you told him anything?" <o, my child, I have told him noth- , ?> i l'ovi have done right. Auntie, I am ^ y tired; I -will go to my room and ; no more to-night. I don't want to J into the parlor, please, and I don't ]t Grace to see me." (To be continued.) When Man in in the Kitchen. be helplessness of mere man in the 1 ence of ordinary domestic tasks, i arks the Youth's Companion, was s strated in the case of the old miner, < > explained that Jie had once tried < mprovc his cooking by studying a li of recipes. "It was no use," he ly confessed, "because every one of recipes starts off with 'take a 1 ,n dish.'" e was kia to cne of the sons of Mrs. 1 ismuir, a Scotchwoman living in J nsylvania. She was called away n home one day just after dinner. ^ she was leaving she said to the 1 s: 1 ~ mlll'f' Tfoeh +ho iUehf>? I 1 J11V KJL } VU uiki HUOJ the other wipe them and put them ^ ly, so that everything will be tidy f tbe time I net back." HI right, mother," said Jack, "but 1 l's got to wipe them. I'm willing wash, but wipiu~ is such greasy 1 k!" 1 ] A Wonderful Western Rcilroad. be Rock Island system of roads ' ers the West like a giunt cobweb. , its perimeter the threads are anred at New Orleans, Galveston, El o, Denver, Watertown, St. Paul, cago and Birmingham. Within the ep of its arras lie nineteen States, li an aggregate area of 1,385,000 arc miles; nearly forty per cent, i the eutire area of the Union, and \ y cities and towns with a popula- t i of more than 25,000 people. In i L these nineteen States produced l i worth $G20,000,000 out of a total s the country of $750,000,000, or j ltv-tliree ner cent, of the entire ); and wheat worth $170,000,000, j forty-eight per cent, of the entire i d.?World's Work. < ii Kasy to Tell Hi? Auto. I ne of the numerous commodores of < New York Yacht Club was stand- ] in the entrance hall the other day ?n two young men in blue serge and 1 wn boots came down the marble l rwny. i jood morning, Commodore," sang r oDe of the young men; "was that ] r new automobile I saw in front of Grand Central this morning?" )id it have a busted tire?'* asked the ?er in reply. "If it did it was mine. * i can always tell if a car is mine * noticing if the tire is busted." be modern bullet will pierce the car- j ses of three horses in succession t >50 yards. r^FOPULAR^V^. ^ ft SCIENCE ^ m One of the machines exhibited at he dairy show recently held in Lon011 was a neat contrivance by which utter could be made out of fresh milk a sixty seconds at the tea table. A 22,000-pound blast of dynamite ras exploded at the Cherokee mine, lear Chico. Cal., and blew down a ocky precipice 400 feet high. This pas done to expose pay dirt behind he rock. Traveling kitchens, which have long teen in use in the Russian Amy and vhich did much to increase the contort of the soldiers during the long tattles of the recent war, are now beng tried in the French maneuvres, vith a view to their introduction into be'French Army. Attention lias once more been called o the geological indications that dianond drifts may exist in the northern >art of Canada. This idea, t<? which ->r Ami of tliA Canadian Geological survey, referred in a recent lecture, s based upon the known discovery of 'ight diamonds in tbe glacial deposits if Wisconsin, Illinois and Michigan. The glacial drift in which the dianonds were found is believed to have jeen carried down from Canadian ter itory in the ice age. If electric phenomena are different 'roin gravitative or thermal or lumin>us phenomena it does not follow that electricity is miraculous or that it is i substance. We know pretty thorjughly what to expect from it, for it is ts quantitatively related to mechanical md thermal and luminous phenomena is they are to each other; so if they ire conditions of matter, the presump:ion would be strongly in favor of eiecricity being a condition or property of natter, and the question, "What is electricity?" would then be answered n a way by saying so, but such an answer would not be the answer appar;ntly expected to the question. A LIVING OR A LIFE fbe Difference Between Making and J ust ltemo There's a mighty big difference be;ween making a living and making a ife. Almost any *>ne can make a living. \*ot every one can make a life. In making a living one may or may lot have to work hard. In making a ife?building character?one must do he hardest kind of wbrk. Some men have their living made "or .them. But their lives cannot be nade for them. He whose living is made for him by mother usually makes a poor business it making a life. He is not used to vorking at anything. The canoeist must paddle lard gong up stream. He can drift down stream. So it is easy to drift along making a iving and failing to make a life. It Is ;asy to lie ahd to deceive. It is easy :o go with the current. It is easy to rive way to temptation. It takes uoral fibre to tell the truth and to :urn down temptation. Take lying, for instance. '* A man can make himself believe hat a lie can be told with good intenlons, that thetfe is such a thing as a 'lie of necessity." Once a man adnits that to himself he is subtly, joisonously-deceived. The belief gets nto practice. And the practice is a joomerang. It reacts on the man's life, [t weakens his character. Somebody jas said that even God cannot afford :o lie in order that good may come. \nd what God Almighty cannot do a nan had better not try, A man deserves no credit for making i living. He deserves great credit for naKing a me. The only thing on earth any man las a right to be proud of is his charictcr. It represents something. It .tands for striving, deprivation, ;leuched teeth, will power?the labor )f Hercules.?Milwaukee Journal. Southern Hospitality. Some years ago one B , of Keokuk bounty, Iowa, made a wagon trip :lirough adjacent Southern States. On lis return, he recounted to his friends lis impressions of his journey. "Now, for instance," said he, "I went. :o a farmer to ask him the way to the nearest town. It was about 11.30 a. n., and I wanted to push on; but these iere Southern fellows is so hospitable ie would not let me. He says, * 'Light, itranger, an' come to dinner.' So I 'lit.' "They had a great big dish of fried potatoes in the middle of the table, rhe host pushed the dish towards me in' says, 'Have some, stranger.' I :ook a spoonful an' pushed 'em back. Hie pushed 'em over again an' says, Have some more, stranger.' I took mother.spoonftil an' pushed 'em back. Fie says. 'Take a whole lot, stranger.' 5o I took another spoonful an' pushed hint Tlinn Iip nnshed 'em over igain, an' says, 'Take nearly all cf 'em, stranger.' "?Harper's Weekly. Tieht Clothes the Fashion. '"Slimness is the effect that our new 'all and winter fashions aim at," said :he tailor. "Tight clothes for women ind tight clothes for men prevail. A ivoman in a sack-like suit, a man in lags?when you see such persons oe sure that they are heckers, pikers, scads. "Women must now go well-corseted md their bodices must fit like a good vall-paper. Men must hold iktmselves ?re?t, with the stomach in, and their single-breasted coats must stick to hem like a plaster, buttoning only at )iie button, the second, and showing a ligh-cut waistcoat of flannel. "Women's skirts must be plain, with ong, revere lines. Men's trousers must )e tight enough almost to cause the evival of the old joke about melting md pouring the owner in."?New York Press. His Duty Done. A British army officer in India was iwakened one morning by feeling the lative servant of a brother officer puling at his foot. "Sahib," whispered he man, "sahib, what am I to do? dy master told me to wnke him at lalf-past six, but lie did not so to bed j ill seven." j ? I f * THE GREAT DESTROYER i SOME STARTLING FACTS /ABOUT THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE. ~ Why YVe Shonlri Hot Drink in Moderation ?By Doing: So Wo Knn the Rink ol Becoming Sotg ? Snperior Concevity ol Abstainers. "tVe ought not to drink in moderation, because no human being enn be absolutely certain tbat be will be able to long remain a "moderate" drinker. Of the many young men whom 1 have known, "those who have "done we"-" sis well as those "who bare "done badly," as the world goes. I have never yet known one who set out as a "moderate drinker" with any intention to become or fear of becoming a drunkard. Every man of them began to drink with a strong determination to continue a "moderate" drinker as long as lie lived. Many of the world's grey father?, like Noah and Lot, did their best to be "moderate." but sadlv failed in their vendtfavor... Yet in par day it is immeasurably more difficult to preserve strict moderation than it was in our race's early history. We ought not to drink in moderation, therefore, because we thereby, incur a risk of becoming intemperate. We ought not to drink in moderation, therefore, because even if we were absolutely certain that we would' never outstep the bounds of moderation our, selves, there are all round us in life young men and maidens, joyously or timidly engaging in the struggle for existence, who, whether from inebriate inheritance or from some other nervous defect of constitution, are totally unable (from no misdoing of theirs) to drink in moderation. They can abstain and they can drink to excess, but to drink "moderately" io beyoud their power. Such handicapped ones are the very persons generally whose menial' balance is so delicate, and whose resisting power is so defective that they are often the least able to restrain altogether. If they try to follow your apparently , safe practice of "moderation" they cannot continue "moderate" to the end. We ought not to dripk ip? moderation, because this sample is unsafe for a very large number of persons, who Citner are oy mneritance or otnerwise in danger of falling. . We ought not to drink in moderation, because intoxicating drinks arc unnecessary and useless in health. We need, to live at all. well or ill, fresh supplies of certain things to repair the waste of substance, beat, fluid and energy, which is constantly going on in body and brain. Does alcohol meet any or all of these wants? It does not, nefther does it give healthy tissue nor internal vital heat (though it makes our skin hoi) nor any innocent liquid, not even in force. Alcohol cannot build up a sound frame. Although it makes ns feel warm, it robs us of our very life's heat, and if too much withdrawn from us, leaves us?too cold to live. Wo are practically two-rthirds water, which conveys the nourishing matter over tne system, cleanses :our bod es and pre-, serves our personal identity like a liquid paste or glue. Every addition of alcohol impairs this threefold benefi cent capacity or nature s Deverage, "honest water that left no sinner i' the mire." Therefore moderate drinking is extravagance alike for body and for purse. What we pay for our liquor, if intoxicating, is simply wasted, wasted as if we threw our money into the ocean. We ought not, therefore, to drink in moderation, because moderation is wasteful, extravagant and uneconomical physically and financially. We ought not to drink in moderation, because this is a practice injurious to health. Alcohol Is an irritant poison. It irritates and inflames the stomach, liver, kidneys and other vital organs, overworks the heart and disturbs the brain; not much, perhaps, at first, but certainly in the long run. Of drunkenness-1 do not speak. No one defends that nowadays. I limit what I say to' so-called "moderate" steady drinking. We ought not to drink in moderation. Decause mereuy we ujuuimsu uui chances of long life. Superficial or unskilled observers do not' see beneath the surface. The moderate drinker often looks ruddy and robust, the teetotaler pale and shrinking. But the battle is not always lo the flushed in face. I have known "moderate" people die unexpectedly and quickly fifteen and twenty years before the average term of life. The seeming mystery'was repealed when their bodies were opened after death. As one, so many, he died in twenty minutes after a little extra exertion. Though there had never been a suspicion of his temperance, his liver and heart were found pierced with fatty degeneration. The irrefragable, proof of the.superior longevity of abstainers lies in the records of various insurance societies. The abstainers have a higher bonus because they live from Solhe fifteen to twenty pet cent, longer than the non-;ibstainers, drunken lives Being, of course, excluded. ' We should not drink in moderation, therefore, because we would thereby tend to shorten our lives. There are many good reasons why we should avoid drinking entirely. I will add only one more. Alcohol, in any appreciable quantity, reduces muscular force and lessens mental sharpness. Carefully conducted experiments have shown this. Other conditions being equal, alcohol takes the keen edge off our perceptive faculties, so that we take some seconds longer to see an object. while it mocks us by causing us to think that we have seen it sooner. So with thought. Thus is it that an abstainer can often do business more to his own advantage when the person with whom he is dealing ban taken a glass of wine or spirits. Alcohol is a reducer, a blinder, a paralyser.?Dr. Norman Kerr. A Temperance Straw. Hon. William S. Caine. M. P.. of England, at a reception in New York I r-i+t. /-.ii n^fnhcv oo TSflS stated that Lord Roberts, Commander-in-Chief, bad said to bim tbat one-tbird of tbe British Army jn India, 24,800 out of 75,000. furnish 2000 more effective troops than tbe other twc-tbjrds, who are not abstainers. German .Student* Interested. Tbe temperance movement is making considerable progress amoug German students. A Dint to Rockefeller. Mr. Rockefeller's vigorous crusade against tbe drink habit might be carried on in a more practical way. There are plenty of preachers against rum. Let tlie multi-miilionaire buy the Whisky Trust and all tbe breweries, and then put the price so high that nobody can afford to buy.?New York Press. An Active Crtwsrier. A. E. Eccles. of Chorley, England, has distributed 40.000,OU!) publications relating to temperance, hygiene, poiilics and leMcioii. / - - - ' A MORNINC SONG. I Tvake this morn, and all my life Is freshly mine to live; The future with sweet promise rife, And crowns of joy to giv?. ?? y\ .New words to speak, new thought* to hear, New love to give and taJce; Perchance new burdens I may "bear, For love's own sweetest sake. New hopes to open in the sun, New efforts worth the will, Or tasks with yesterday begun More bravely to fulfill. fresh seeds for all the time to be Are in my hand, to sow, , IT/UamaUx AfliAM Qn/1 fnr ma ' T IJCi CUJ . 1U1 UHIVIC UUU iUi M1V; Undreamed of fruit may grow. In each wbtte daisy'"mid the grass That turns thy foot aside. In each uncurling fern I pa??. Some sweetesUjoy may hide. And if whei eventide shall fall In shade across my way, It seems that naught my thoughts recall But life of every day. Yet if each step in shine or shower Be where Thy footsteps trod, ' Then blest be every happy hour , , That leads me nearer God. ?Chambers' Journal. Where Shall We Find Happineert Vanity of vanities; all is vanity.? Eeclesiastes, i., 2. Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole duty of man?Ecclesiastes, xii., 33. These are the opening and dosing words of one of the most remarkable books of tbe Old Testament. Tbfe book is not only melancholy, but also pessimistic, written by the Wealthiest, wisest'mag o? ancient times. Without taking the time to review the history of King Solomon, the acknowledged author of these words, we may say that probably no man was ever more favorably circumstanced for testing the power of mere earthly things to confer happiness on the soul. He had great wealth, position, power, learning, fame?all those things ordfnari'.y regarded as essential to happiness. And yet he describes himself as the unhappiest of mortals. The wottd came to him with its best, and he knew and appreciated, too, what was best in that which he sought, and yet he cried, "Vanity!" .' ? Nor are we to understand that the things to which, he gave himself with such passionate devotion were all improper or useless. Some of them were highly improper, but,others, in.their own place, were of great importance and value.' To be Hcli, to be learned, to be powerful, ..were in themselves ambitions not to be ignored. His quest for happiness in itself was not to be TJi? nnssinn fnr Tlleasure was wholly legitimate, but the principle or method of its gratification was erroneous; consequently, he was doomed to disappointment. Solomon failed to realize that happiness is a thing of the soul, and that the soul is infinitely greater than any or all of the things of the world, and carries a potency of seemingly infinite development. .Toward the end of his checkered and embittered career he realized his mistake and made the discoverey that the spiritual transcends the material; that only as the human soul seeks to live in tlie fear?which really means the favor?of God and keeps His commandments can the soul possess triumphant peace and overflowing ioy. The closing words of the foregoing paragraph are among the tritest utterances of the modern preacher. But they need to be repeated over and over again to the weary, disappointed, dejected multitudes of pleasure seekers of our day. As old Froissart said, we take our pleasures too sadly, aye, too ignorantly. Not work, not religion, but enjoyment is the business of the bour. That much of it is frivolous and harmful makes little difference; people will be frivolously and perniciously happy rather than not be happy at all. If happiness cannot be obtained in a wholesome and helpful way it will be sought in ways that injure and demoralize. And this passion for-happiness is a God created instinct. It exists just as truly in the bosom of the ascetic as in the bosom of the socalled man of pleasure. But the way in which happiness is found?that is the question. One man,. as a worldling, finds it in "agreeable sentiments and sensations;" another, as a patriot, in dying for his country; another, as a martyr, at the burning stake, in his witness for the truth. But do not these men illustrate for us the great psychological fact that human happiness varies according to the different stnges in the evolution of the soul? Differing in their conceptions of happiness, they are one in this, that happiness is essentially a good. The difference is in the kind of happiness and the kind of good. The trouble with Solomon and all other men who have sought happiness as he did has been their failure to enter this clearer, upper region, where all lewer pleasures tire sublimated into holier, diviner forms. Other men have hppn striDned of all outer good,' of every comfort of the body nnd of every enjoyment of the senses, but they have entered into joys so sublime, so transcendant. that all other pleasures become insignificant in comparison.?Rev. William C. Stinsou, D. D.. Bloomingdale Reformed Church, Manhattan, in the New York Sunday Herald. "Grace Ever Gntntrlps Prayer." I would have everyone carefully consider whether he has ever found God M V?Je nirn lioarf iaiJ XI 111 J 111 UJill nucu 1.1c v.. u uvm.. had not failed him: and whether he has not found strength greater and greater given him according to his day: whether he has not gained clear proof on trial, that he has a divine power lodged within him, and a certain conviction withal that he has not made extreme trial of it or reached its limits. Grace ever outstrips prayer.? Ne-ivman. Hat* Precipitate a Itiot. The objection of some women in Berne, Switzerland, to removing their hats caused a riot in a theatre. The women paid no attention to the shouts of the crowd back of them, and finally one of the attendants forcibly removed some of the offending headgear. A riot ensued, and the management put out the lights. The place was soon emptied, but the fight continued for some time in the street. New Submarine# Bulldlnc. A large number of submersiblcs are being bfilt in Cherbourg. ^ ' % THE SUNDAY SCHOO: j ????? INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENT FOR DECEMBER 10. Subject: Reading and Obeying the Utl Neb. vlli., 8-18?Golden Text, In? *1., 88? Memory Verm, IT, 18- Com mentary on the Day's LewonI. Studying God's word (vs. 1-8 The people were gathered in this grei meeting from the surrounding countr from 20,000 to 50,000 in number. ] was the time of the feast of Trumpeti Trumpets were blown everywher They proclaimed a day of rejoicinj The people called for Ezra, the scrib to bring out the book of the lata an read to them. Here is the first mei tion of Ezra's name in the book of N< hemiah. It is thought that he ha been absent during the past thirtee years, "perhaps working as a scribe i copying and studying, and perhaps pu ting in shape the book of the law. H seems to have returned at the oppo: tune moment. This great compan had gathered on purpose to he?r. 3$ words of the book he had copied An probably edited." 8. ,"So they read." Ezra and thii teen representative men from Jerdsi lem, standing upon an elevated pte form, read the Scriptures, in turn, f< six hours or more. "In the book. Books in those days were wide strip of parchment rolled upon sticks, one c either end, so that one side was rolle up as the other was unrolled to rea< The writing was in parallel column across the strip and read from right t left "Distinctly." So that every wor could be distinctly heard. This ws the first way in which they caused th people to understand. "Gave th sense." The Israelites having bee lately brought out of Babylonish C?] tivity, ib which they had continue seventy years, were not only corrup bat they tad In general lost the know edge of the ancient Hebrew to such degree that when the book of the la1 was read they did not understand S Therefore the Levites translated it to' the Chaldean, dialect.: "Cm^eti/the to understand." . They gare bptbv translation of tli?. Hebrew wordstaj . the Cbaldee'aiid?an ejpoBitlpn^of'Jvi things contained in them, and of til dnty incumbent upon them. II. A day of rejoicing proclaims (vs. 0-12). , 9. "Nehemiah ? the Tirshatha Hitherto Nehemiab has called himse pechah?the ordinary word for "go ernor." Now be is called Tirshatha, more honorable and reverential 1 tie for governor. The new .title among tbe indications that this po tion of the book is written by ip other. "This day is holy." Mournln was unsuitable for a day of high fe tivity, tbe opening day of the elvfij year and of the sabbatical mosth, ifl self a sabbath or day of rest, and oil to be kept by blowing of trumpefl (Lev. 23:24, 25; Num. 29:1-6). It n| pears that the people were not oniyi j norant. of their ancient language,, bt liso of the rites and ceremonies of tlie religion, not being permitted to obsert them in Babylon.. "All the 'peo# wept." They realized how differs their lives had been from the lives con mnnded by God: They had failed 1 personal duty. They had failed In tt public worship of God. They, ht failed as a nation. 10. "Eat and drink." Observe God appointment. They should testify tl genuineness of their repentance by tl faithfulness with which they kept tt feast. "Send portions." It was an o dinance of God that In these feasts tl poor should be specially and liberal provided for (Deut. 15:7-11; 16:11-18 "Neither be ye sorry." We must n be merry when God calls us to movi Ing. We must not afflict ourselvi when God has given us occasion to r joiee. Even our sorrow for slnne must not hinder our joy in God'fl Be vice. "Joy. of the Lord." A constfou ness of God's favor, mercy and loi suffering. 11. "Levltes stilled all tl oeoole." Hushed their loud lamen$ tion. Emotion needs control wtoen Is in danger of running into mere*ph! sical excitement. . 12. "Because they ? understood! They now knew God's will and the! own duty, which they resolved to prfll tiee. This gave them ground of hod and trust in God's mercy, and therfl fore gave them great Joy. H III. Directions concerning the feafl of the tabernacles (vs. 13-18). Durlifl the reading of the law the people s&H how they had neglected to keep t* feasts as they ought and they imni&fl ately proceeded to observe the feast^ the tabernacles. H 14. "Found written." See Lev. 2H 33-44. "Booths." The people wefl commanded to leave their houses an dwell in tents or booths made of tjlH branches of "thick trees." "SeveoS month." The month Tishri or EtfeH nlm. This was the seventh month fl the sacred or ecclesiastical .year aaH the first month in the civil year, fl 15. "Should publish." The meanhfl here is that they found it written ihfl they should do ttie Tilings meuuuu? in this verse. "The -mount" TB mount of 01ive3 which was near H where were many olive trees and prqH ably tbe other trees bere mention** 16. "The roof." The roofs of tH houses were flat and easy of acce^J "In their courts," etc. There weH booths everywhere; the city was fillH with them. 17. "Sat under ? tl booths." They were to dwell in bootH seven, days, from the 15th to the 2fl of the month. Their dwelling in bootM commemorated their forty years' journ in the wilderness when they hS do fixed habitations. "Since the dayfl etc. The meaning cannot be that tlH feast had not been observed since tH time of Joshua, for il was kept at th^H return from Babylon (Ezra 3:4), bH since Joshua's time the joy had uev* been so great as now. 18. "SoleiH assembly." The first and last days H ihe feast were kept as sabbaths. H Tfouiau Kan* an Engine. Mrs. G. AV. Manning, who lives en miles south of Monroe, Mo., is pr^H ably the only woman engineer in Mifl ouri. Her husband operates a sawml and for two years Mrs. Manning In acted as engineer. Mr. Manning sa^| L nui IV IUU J cuio Ue,v *men at different times. as engineH all of -whom were more or less unsa^H factory. Upon one occasion tbe fi>H neer did not sbow up. My wife t^J mn in 4utn? ortcinp AVPr to my surprise she bandied the engine H right and we did one of the best da^| work of the season. For two ye^f she has run the eugiue with little pense for repairs." Two-Headed Snake. H One of the oddest freaks of rept^| life ever seen in Danbury, Conn.. w^E killed by William Bigbnni. It wan^B snake witli two distinct beads aflfl was sunnii;? itself on a West Sl?*^? sidewalk when Mr. Higfcnm disc<^H Fined Because of Its Scslcif 01 A coal company at Aberdare. SonH Wales, was fined recently for havflj incorrect scales.