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0 0 aa 9 mm 9 ma ? aw cm 9 ma 9 9 < |^ ei rgjTHECANO ! I I ? OR 4 TALE OF Bv JAME |?8 99 soBBionetai aiaa?9CB*?tiBti CHAPTER VI. 6 Continued. "Well, there would be a row, of course; but he would say, like a wise man, 'There's no use in crying over spilt miiK. remaps i um uui mc sort of man that be would bave chosen for you. He would have preferred some bookish sneak like Adair, or some old fogy like Mayors; but since we are married he will bave to make the best of it and give us an allowance till you come of ago." "That, I am well convinced, he never, never will," said Sophy, firmly. "And what does it matter if he doesn't? I can borrow money on your expectations for twelve * months." "I have no expectations, Herbert; lhat is, I mean, I shall have none if you insist on acting in this mad way. I am entirely dependent upon my guardian. If I marry while under age, without his consent, my forif. It crn*ac into ntbpr IUUC XO lUiltUVU, .IV QVVW vw V?MV. hands." "I don't believe a word of it." "Thank yqji; it is true, nevertheless." "If it were true, it would only show how thoroughly well your people must have understood you and what a slippery fish you always were; but it is most unlikely. I can find the truth out for myself, however, by going up to Doctors' Commons and looking at your father's will. You are changing color, I see; your story Is false. You had better not send me on a fool's errand to town, young woman." "Herbert! Herbert! listen to me," cried the girl, passionately. "You flon't know my guardian. If he ever finds out I have deceived him, he will never forgive me. And if I am" not quite correct as to the " "Ha", ha!" he put in. I thought 60. Now for another." "I say that I am quite certain that the will leaves a great deal to his discretion. He can make us a handsome allowance when I come of age, or a poor one; he can advance us money, or withhold it. Go up to Doctors' Common, if you doubt me; and you will find it is so. You don't know your danger." "Nor do you know yours, Sophy. Suppose for a moment that I accede to this Australian scheme ? than which nothing is further from my intention?and if, when you were left behind in England, things should be said to your disadvantage. That man Adair, for example, knows enough; and, if I were not here to wring his neck, might use his knowledge to take away your character. That would be very awkward?I mean for you." me register 01 our marriage is in St. Anne's Church," said Sophy, slowly. "You'd refer to that, would you? Upon my life, you take things very coolly," returned the other, grimly. 'The contingency of which you speak," she said, "would, at all events, place me in no worse position than your rashness and impatience place me now. Oh, Herbert, 1 have given up everything for you. You promised me, upon your word of honor, to keep our marriage secret until I came of age." Her voice was piteous, and her pretty face so appealing that even the selfish heart of Herbert Perry was touched; unhapily, however, they also revived the cold embers of his love. "But, Sophy, dear, you seem to forget that you and I are one. Is it nnthinc tn vrm that T am conorotoH from you, and only now and then have a chance of getting a word with you, even like this? And now you say that you are forbidden even to Bee me at all." The argument had force in it, and there had been a time when it would have succeeded with her; but now she could not even bring herself to "say, "And do I not suffer too?" In her heart of hearts she loathed and feared him. "It is only for twelve months," ehe said. .? "Only for twelve months," he answered, angrily. "A pretty thing for a girl to say to her husband?well, for certain that is not my view, at all events. I shall write to my father and tell him how matters stand, and then let the old folks fight it out between them. And so, good-evening to you." He turned from her with fierce abruptness, and, stepping into his canoe, was out of arm-reach, or she would have clung to him in one last agonized appeal. CHAPTER VII. Sad News. Upon the whole, however we men may complain of the hardness of our lives, man's lot is free from the catastrophes to which that of woman Is liable. He may stoop low, and live to stoop again, but she never. She only too literally "falls to rise no more." Sophy Gilbert, or to give her her proper title, Sophy Perry, of course, was in no such terrible plight ms that. To some young ladies, had they been in Sophy's position, it may have seemed a not very difficult task, though an unpleasant one, ta make confession of the weakness that hsd led them into it. "I was iu love with Mr. Herbert Perry, dear guard, lan; and since I knew I should not obtain your consent to our union, we married without it." But Sophy knew that the canon, with all his kindness, was not a man to be mollified where duplicity and double dealing were concerned; he had always treated her with so much trust and affection, and she had shown herself so utterly unworthy of trust. Against Miss Aldred her transgression was still graver, for the very liberty Aunt Maria had allowed her, contrary to her own better judgment, she had clandestinely abused. . & - poccsa#i?e???cs?as??E3? 1 If 0tt ft* | N'S WARDpal I OOBM9SBB* | MONEY MADNESS. 81 8 *i ia?v | 9j S PAYN. laiiimtw f? | (( itHitaiaa**** Once let her be discovered, and all j confidence?and, it was only too like- ? ly all affection, too?would be with- ] drawn from her; and besides the { canon and his sister there were few who loved her. Yet hard as all this c was, there were worse features in the \ case. If Mr. Herbert Perry had been an eligible suitor, forgiveness, after c a time, at all events, might have been Jooked for; but he was no favorite of : Aunt Maria's, and in the canon's eyes ( he was, as we know, utterly worth- \ less as well as objectionable. Worse j than all, she had by this time, not- ( withstanding her lack of opportunities, found this out for herself. She < knew him to be coarse, selfish and ( wrapped up in his own pleasure; and ( if his coltish nature broke through i such a gilded pale as at present sur- i rounded him?a husband of a few t months, bound by every tie of honor j and even of self-interest to behave < himself with decency and circumspec- 1 tion?what was to be looked for ^ when these restraints should be re- t moved from him, and she became his indeed? A bitter task to plead for ( nardnn wlipn pvpti if p-rnnterl if- miist needs be followed by life-long pun- <= ishment! c Before the blow fell on her, which j she knew would shatter so much, it \ behooved her to do her best to con- i ciliate the canon and turn his heart j toward her. Perhaps if she were to please him very much an opportunity might offer itself to confess all and implore his forgiveness before necessity compelled her to do so. When, , therefore, on reaching home, Miss Aldred informed her that her brother ' had asked a friend that evening, and c hoped she would feel herself well ~ enough to come down to dinner, she * answered cheerfully in the affirma- f tive. And when Aunt Maria, noticing how unlike herself she looked, ob- t served, "but not if it would distress you, darling," she replied, "It can c never distress me to please the can- c ?n" I The canon was really pleased; for under the circumstances, he had felt that so far as Sophy's company was j concerned he had invited Adair to the Laurels in vain. His mind being set at rest on this point, this wily man bethought him of asking Mr. 1 Mavors likewise. Not that he feared, 6 as some men would have done, a g tete-a-tete with the youn& scholar after dinner. His mind was of that V sort which accommodates Itself to all C ages or conditions of men, even if v the talk should languish upon other ? topics, there was a common subject, Miltrtn fnr tham tn foil hoot nnr>n ? He asked the tutor purely for Sophy's sake, since his presence would leave . the young people more to themselves. . It did not enter his head that the stu- . dent and exponent of Plato could find any attraction in his ward, and took his ready acceptance of his invitation at such short notice as a per- . sonal compliment. . It was, as we have said, Sophy's . fixed resolve to please the canon, and without much thought beyond it she welcomed Mr. John Adair with a graciousness beyond his hopes. It did E not strike her that, in case she showed signs of encouraging his attentions, the displeasure of her guardian would be all the greater when he came to know the real state of af- , fairs. It was not her nature?when e the consideration was not forced j upon her?to think of the morrow; and, moreover, it is possible that her j husband's evil behavior caused her to ^ regard with less disfavor than heretofore the man he has described as a "dried herring." He was certainly thin, thinner in his suit of evening clothes than usual, and still thinner by comparison with Mr. Mavors, who Anlif +AT?A*?A/1 n " xiui vuij iu??cj cva auuYc umi, as nt; stood behind him, but appeared on J either side of him, giving the young r scholar, for the moment, the remark- j able appearance of having four arms. . But when one looked at the latter's c keen face and speaking eyes one for-got that he was thin, as men forgot it in Pagacini's playing. Mr. Mavors certainly did net remark that he was so thin, but (with regret and envy) that he was so young. From the canon's note he had gathered that he * was to be the only guest that even- ^ ing, and he wus by no means pleased 1 to find that the same young gentle- v %nan who had monopolized so much r of Miss Sophy's conversation the previous evening had also been in- ? vited. In other matters he was by q no means diffident; it was not likely v tn ho thp rasp with a eentlomnn who * had been reported to say of himself, s "I'm not a conceited man, but I believe I know everything but botany," but in affairs of the heart he felt * that he was a freshman, though (unhappily) not in his first year. 3 After his salutation he confined his attention to Miss Aldred, not be- 2 cause she was his hostess apd it was his duty, but from sheer bashfulness C and ignorance of what a young lady r like Miss Sophy would expect him to say. Adair, on the other hand, was F by no means bashful, and entered at t once into conversation with her. a Then Barclay, the butler, came to the rescue with his battle-cry, "Dinner is served," and Adair offered his n n n/1 nnlr Vior in Af r 1VT O VftrC Cflt I opposite to them. His duty to his neighbor and his hostess compelled him to converse with Miss Aldred, but his eyes often strayed over the way to Sophy. What could she find to say, he wondered, to this uninteresting youth devolod to the higher mathemathics? and what could have induced Aldred to ask such a fellow to dinner? It was not an Egyptian feast, that a skeleton should be any attraction to it. Adair was speaking with approval of the walks about Cambridge, with which, as a reading man, he was very e conversant, when a note was placed by tfle butler in tbt; tutor's hand, with a whispered "The bearer waits, ^ if you please, sir." c While thp canon was saying "Noth- t ? > * ng the matter, I hope, Mavora?" iii(l Miss Mildred expressing the ;ame sentiment by her anxious looks, 'I shall be staying up during the liong Vacation," went on Adair, in a * 44 "* i ,,,411 ?1_ ower lone, anu i nupe juu win or ow me sometimes to point out to fou?and to Miss Aldred, of course? yhat is most worth seeing in the leighborhood." "It will give us great pleasure." ;he said, "I'm sure." It was a bold reply; was it possible hat Mr. Mavors had heard it, since le threw such a quick, serious glance icross at her, and looked so grave? 3e had read the note, and was puting it carefully into his pocket. "Tell the messenger, Barclay," he laid, "that I shall be in my rooms in ;wenty minutes." "Must you leave us so soon?" inluired the hostess, sympathetically. "Why, yes, I am sorry to say I nust; it is a piece of rather pressing :ollege business. Prater?the other .utor?is away this week, so I have lis side to look after as well as my >wn." Miss Aldred, with womanly tact, at )nce perceived that something seri)us, but which was not to bo disposed at all events to ladies' ears, lad happened, and gave Sophy that nystic nod which is the blue-peter of he female fleet; the signal for sailng out of the room. As the door :losed behind them, Mr. Mavors, with lis hand upon his chair, observed vith emotion. "A sad calamity has aken place, Aldred." "Mnt T trust, of a Drivate nature?" ixclaimed the canon. "As regards myself, no; but from :omething that dropped from you the >ther day, I am afraid it may affect rou somewhat. Mr. Herbert Perry vas, I believe, a visitor at the Lau els. He is drowned. His body has ust been found in the river." CHAPTER VIII. The Fatal Letter. The news of death, especially if it >e sudden and violent, will sober a Irunken man; even those who "play it the game whose moves are death" ?seasoned old soldiers?feel some ihock when a comrade is snatched iway from them by other than proessional means?shot, shell or steel, n civil life, for th<> moment, it creites a-stir with which no other catasrophe?bankruptcy, an elopement, >r even being raised to the peerage? ;an compare. No man is so lethargic, >r so immersed in greed or pleasure, >ut that at those terrible tidings a iecret door is opened in his own soul, md he looks forth, if it is but for an nstant, upon the dark unfathomed roid that is awaiting him also. When he awful summons has been served ipon one in youth and strength its iffect upon the bystanders is Btill greater. In the present case Mr. Mavors vas, as was natural, the least moved if all those present. The dead man vas personally unknown to him. He ould only call to remembrance the all, handsome young fellow that had tood up (from various causes) with ome difficulty in the boat only last ivening to drink Miss Gilbert s lealtb, and was now nerveless, iloodless, breathless. Not for one nstant did it enter into his mind hat since the unworthy object of her iffection was removed the girl for vhom he had himself begun to enertain "the low beginnings" of love iad been rendered more accessible o him. Nor, at all events for the present, lid it occur to the canon to congratulate himself upon the trouble !nded?a domestic knot thus opporunely severed by the hand of Fate." "Poor fellow, poor fellow," he nurmured softly. These men were both by nature gentlemen. Adair, too, was not unmoved. Death was no more familiar to him han to the other two, but he felt ess of horror. There was somehing in his heart, though not in his oice, that smacked of hesitating atisfaction as he inquired, "Are you [uite sure of this, Mr. Mavors?" "Only too sure." "How did it happen?" inquired the :anon. "How could it have hap* jened?" meaning that to the dead nan water had been the natural elenent. If. the paisfortune had been ess tremendous he would have said, 'Why, he could swim like a fish." In :atastrophes we do not use meta>hors or commonplaces. To be Continued. A Deadhead. Francis Wilson was talking at the Mayers' Club about the ignorance of tramatic literature that is too prevaent in America, according to a writer in the Springfield (Mo.) Republican. "Why," said Mr. Wilson, "a comiany was playing "She Stoops to Conluer' in a small Western town last /inter when a man without any noney, wishing to see the show, tepped up to the box office and said: " 'Pass me in, please.' "The box office man gave a loud, iarsh laugh. " fass you in: wiiai lor: ue eked. "The applicant drew himself up nd answered haughtily: " 'What for? Why, because I am )liver Goldsmith, author of the ilay.' " 'Oh, I bee your pardon, sir,' reilied the other in a shockcd voice, : s le hurriedly wrote out an order for l box." The Rabbit Welched. One day Willie's mother found her 'oung hopeful holding his pet rabbit iv the ears. From time to time he vould give Bunny a violent shake ind demand sharply, "Two plus wo? Two plus two?" or "Three plus hree? Three plus three?" "Why, Willie," asked his mother vith deep concern, "what makes you reat your poor little Buuny that vay?" "Well," replied Willie, greatly diEippointed, "teacher told us in school o-day that rabbits multiplied very 'ast, but this dummy can't even idd."?Everybody's. Fish dealers in European ernes vhen their salmon becomes stale and lull in color impart a healthful tint o the fish by uBlng cochineal. i Household Matters. 1 " s The Uses of an Edge Bone. Purchase an edge bone, varying g, from eleven to fifteen pounds, at from four to six cents a pound; the larger it is the more steak on it. Have the butcher break the bone twice, but not cut tne meat, biice off a good meal of steak, then cut a a: fine pot roast from the thick part. Next trim off all the surplus fat and try it out for drippings. The remain- n der may be cut off for a smothered y beef and use the bone for'a vegetable d soup. This makes five good dinners, w with the addition of a vegetable and w a fcalad for five in family at a total ?' cost of from fifty to eighty cents.? " New York Globe. ^ tv For a Cooking Novelty, Try This. m Mr. Harben prefers a plain sweet ai potato pie, which be makes after this . fashion: J j., Take several sweet potatoes, and, q when they have boiled themselves ai tender, peel and slice them. Line the m bottom and sides of a deep dish with ei crust?the dish must be fully three Inches in depth?and upon this str- j range a layer of the potatoes, butter- * ing them liberally, sugaring them Sf freely and sprinkling them with nut- hi meg. Add next a layer of very thin st slices of dough; sprinkle with hot ic water; then follow with another lay- se er of sliced potatoes, and repeat until the pan is full. The top crust follows and the pie must then be baked for ^ an hour or more.?From "The Apoth- st Sosis of the Pie," by Miles Bradford, p, in the Bohemian. bl cl Peanut Wafers. sc For peanut jumbles 01 wafers tc grind a cupful of roasted and shelled p] peanuts until fine. Cream a rather w liberal fourth of a cup of butter, add half a cupful of sugar, using likewise P: i liberal measure of sifted flour. Moisten the mixture with a scant cupful j of milk, or enough to make a stiff dough, about like pie crust. Flour a board and rolling pin, then roll out pi the dough until of waferlike thinness, di These jumbles should be so thin af- D ter rolling and cutting out, that one 1* :an almost see through them. Bake on buttered pans in a brisk oven, tak- ^ ing care that they do not burn. They it should bake until a nice brown and n( should when served be crisp like tc "snaps. *' They are delicious with a. tl cup of freshed "brewed" tea and a r< slice of cream cheese.?Florida Agriculturist. ai ri Leek-and-Potato Soap Is inexpensive and is an agreeable d] change from the ordinary potato Ji soup. Cut one bunch of leeks In thin T slices crosswiss. Wash and scrape r? celery, and cut the stalks in thin slices crosswise; there should be one cupful. Cook the vegetables ten min- ni utes in two and one-half tablespoon- p. fuls of butter, stirring constantly, m Add one quart of milk, and cook in M a double boiler forty minutes. Wash w and pare potatoes, and cut in slices ?c crosswise, then cut the slices in small J?' pieces; or if one has at hand the fancy slicer use it by all means; tliere o] should be two and one-half cupfuls. ni Cook potatoes in boiling salted water a: ten minutes, then drain. Melt two p< tablespoonfuls of butter, add two ta- si blespoonfuls of flour, and when well a] blended add milk with the vegetables and potatoes. Cook until the pota- Cj toes are soft, and season with salt, ^ pepper and cayenne.?Woman's Home ai Companion. . . ol tc a, I Hints for the/ t ('Housekeeper^ 2 Celery sandwica filling blends mayonnaise and finely minced, ten- s1 der celery. Beef or mutton reheated in a dou- p ble boiler is a vast improvement over tl the ordinary stew. P TTnr tho romnval nf cruaQO cnnts . . v,? (,. ~ d from woolen dresses salt dissolved in ^ alcohol is recommended. S1 Stoves may look nice for some time a by rubbing them thoroughly with a *1 newspaper every morning. ^ If gilt frames, when new, are cov- 0 ered with a coat of white varnish, all ft specks can then be washed off with water without harm. To improve the flavor of roast beef h and give a rich brown color add a fi tablespoonful of sugar to the water ^ for basting the meat. j? A piece of coarse net sewed over q an extra large hole in a stocking will a make it easier to darn, and will make w the darn morg lasting. e Thin cucumber slices with a lettuce leaf and mayonnaise make a sand- c wich filling that men who scorn sand- 0 wiches the most can seldom resist. w A popular sandwich combines 1 olives and cream cheese. Spread one P buttered slice with the former, and ? the other with the latter, and press c them together. b If a bedstead creaks at each move- C ment of the sleeper, remove the slats and wrap the ends of each in old newspapers. This will prove a complete silencer. u A small paint brush with long, t strong, supple bristles is the best thing with which to keep cut glass clean. It is the only means of reaching the dust which lodges in the * small carvings. c Copperware may be brightened by rubbing with a piece of flannel that has been wrung out of hot water, well soaked and dusted with borax. ]( Rinsing and a polish should follow the rubbing. If you wish to use quinine as a hair grower put it up in this form: One ii dram of bisulphate of quinine, onehalf ounce of tincture of cantharides, seven ounces of listerine. Apply to the scalp twice a day. n Olives and Spanish red peppers ii (the pimolas that are to be had in ^ cans or the fresh sweet red pepper)' 0 chopped fine, moistened with mayonnaise and spread on buttered bread make toothsome sandwiches. Olives o alone also make an excellent filling. * a TE? GREAT DESTROYED OME STARTLING FAC/S ABOD1 T5LE VICE OF INTEML'ElI AHCE. irons i?rmii a uurse?it jions a Man of .111 Which Makes Him a Man in Contrast With a Beast? Builds Moral Monsters. The heart, according to the dictionry, is "the inner part of anything; le chief or vital part; the seat of the Sections and the passions; the seal [ the understanding and will; the loral sense; love; courage; disposion of mind.'' And immorality and runkenness rob man of all this hich makes him a man in contrast ith a beast. What is a man withat the inner part, "the inner man oJ le heart in that which is not corlptible?'' He is a beast and worse; i >r a living creature which is destiite of this inner consciousness, take? d high place in the animal world; ad such is the miserable drunkard. A man destitute of his "chief and ital part"?that part which can now, understand and respond tc od, and which can edify, help, love, ad serve his fellow-creatures?is a [oral monster; and such is the mis able drunkard or onium slave. A ian without this vital part, is a maD alf dead, a blighted creature; his lections are paralyzed; he treads i wife and children to gratify his ilf-indulgence, the man is without eart. And he is without underanding. Again and again the physal suffering which is caused by his ilf-indulgence in strong drink, has >ld him the effect which intoxicating quors have upon him. But the comiratively short time of pleasure i9 1 he thinks of; he is without under* anding even of that which his exsrience teaches him; he is befooled indfolded, by the demon into whose large the devil has committed him. 3d he cannot help himself. He has >ld his will and his understanding ? his greatest enemy for short-lived easure?the miserable creature is ithout heart. Who knows how many may hav* issed out of this world into a hopess eternity with a heart taken awa? 7 God's great enemy, whom they did 3t resist that he might flee from lem! And they have chosen an unjeakably terrible hereafter, a lot repared, not for them, but "for the evil and his angels" (Matt. 25:41). runkards and sorcerers are ofteD nked together in Scriptures. And [finkenness, including slavery to ?ium and other sedatives, immoraly, in all its terrible forms, and spirualism, which is a mental drunkeness, make men heartless and cruel wards their fellow-creatures, as ley are wicked towards God, In theii ejection of and disobedience to Him. In the days of the prophet Isaiah, ad of Hezekiah. king of Judah, Ephlim, which stood for the ten tribes t Israel as distinct from Judah, had :tained an unenviable reputation for runkenness. Woe to the crown of udah, to the drunkards of Ephraim. he state religion of Israel or Ephlim was the worship of the golden lives of Bethel and of Dan, instiled by "Jereboam, son of Nebat, ho made Israel to sin." Drunkeness and immorality are the accominiments of idolatry. When Aaron lade the golden calf, and God told oses, who was on the mount, alone ith him, about it, Moses went down ) find his people engaged in the arrible rites of immorality and runkenness which always attend an lol feast. It almost broke the heart C Moses. On the one hand, the ame of his God was compromised nd dishonored, and on the other, his eople had deeply fallen, and these ns of immorality and drunkenness tnong the people whom God had ected to be His special treasure, so urdened this man of God that he ied in his agony of soul: "Now, ord, if Thou wilt, forgive their sin, nd if nnt. blot me. I nrav Thee, out [ Thy book which Thou hast writ:n" (Exodus 32:22). And drunkenness and immorality re the essence of selfishness. The runkard, maddened by the thirst of ell, which Satan has made to burn 1 his body, will leave wife and chilren, or husband and children, unired for, without food or fire, beding or proper clothing, to indulge in le temporary satisfaction which the tupefaction of intoxication brings ith it. Oh,- how truly, "wine and ew wine take away the heart!" The ower to reason, the power to reflect, ae power to have compassion, the ower to consider responsibility?all ; gone, drowned by the miserable i rink, the horrible, devilish self-in- j ulgence, regardless of what others I uffer. And truth, honor, honesty? j 11 which raises a man?depart when [ lie drink, or opium, or immorality ] ly hold of him; he has, like Ahab, old "himself to the devil in the sight ? the Lord" (I. Kings, 21:25).? [rs. M. Baxter, in Christian Herald. North Carolina Logic. "The liquor traffic is a giant and as walled cities within which to ght, but if we would possess the rhole land of North Carolina, we lust drive them from these cities, .et the good country people of North larolina get at it at the ballot box, nd it will be 'good-bye' saloon. And rhy not? Shall we fear to fight this nemy of ours? "To license, the saloon is wrong, rhether by high license or low li- j ense, legislative enactment or local ption. A thing that is inherently rrong cannot be consistently licensed, 'herefore, the State does wrong to rovide for the license of the liquor raffic in any form. The only proper ourse is State prohibition. This lasses the traffic where it ought to e. This is consistent."?The North ,'arolina Baptisn. A Danish Poster. Here is a copy of a poster drawn p by a number of Danish physicians nd put up in all railway stations hroughout the country: "To the Danish people: "Alcohol is a stupefying poison. "Alcohol is the cause of many menal diseases and of most of the rimes." Bishop Fighting Ram. Bishop Wilson has been re-elected resident of the National Anti-Saaon League. Liquor Situation in England. The number of retail liquor places n Great Britain is less to-day than a 1880. though the quantity of iquor sold is much greater. The olicy of limiting the number of pubKnutflt ViOC in PTPJ11 i n O* IU 1IUU2CO UOO 1 WU1VVU >u vt ? aonopoly of the liquor traffic and has ncreased enormously license values, ithout a similar increase in the scale f taxation. Both alcoholism and tuberculosis, ne the "Great White Plague" and he other the "Great Black One," are menace to civilization. I THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. INTERN ATK)\AL LESSON COMMENTS FOR MAY 5 BY THE REV. I. W. HENDERSON. Subject: Joseph the Wise Ruler in Kj gypi, uen. -41 uuiucl Text, Jamrt 1:5 ? Memory Verses, 38-40. Two years have passed, as we are told in Gen. 41:1, between the events which are chronicled in the Scripture that we studied last week and those that are recorded in our lesson for to-day. With Joseph they have beeE years of confinement in an Egyptian prison. To be sure, he was a man ol importance above the men who were jailed with him, he was a favorite and trusted lieutenant of the warder9 of the dungeons; but he was nevertheless a prisoner. A good life in a prison is still a prison life. Joseph was a prisoner under the dominion of Pharaoh. He was also a prisoner for God. He could unite to-day with Paul in the declaration, "I am in chains for God." Joseph's only crime had been his desire to serve God and be faithful to the social obligations of his surroundings and his manhood. He went to prison because he would rather be obedient to the vision and the call of God than to bartei his character and the favor of the Almighty for a mess of pottage/ That which appeared to man, perhaps, to be disadvantageous to the future success and prosperity of Joseph, however, in the providence of God was working and did work out most splendidly and marvellously for his enduring fame. His wisdom as a diviner to the baker and the butler of Pharaoh in the prison leads him directly into the court of the emperor. His explanation of the meaning and application of the queer dreams the Pharaoh had had about the cows and the ears made him a marked man in the estimation of the king. It was the means, for him, of entrance into vice-regal power. One thing noticeable about Joseph, first, is this, that he gave substantial evidence of his nearness to God. Of course in those days among the nobles of the Egyptian court a man would perhaps be noted as a companion of' God for different reasons, so far as outward expression is concerned, than would impress us of this day and generation. The court and the emperor were impressed with the godliness of Joseph because he was an informing oracle of God. "Can we," sayB Pharaoh, "find such a one as this is, a man in whom the Spirit of God is?" Pharaoh saw in Joseph the lineaments and the movings of the Spirit of God because Joseph declared the implications of his dreams with courage, with sense, with conviction. He was impressed with the soothsaying powers of Joseph. His gift for accurate divination caught his fancy and fixed his attention. That which Pharaoh saw in Joseph and honored with vice-regal favor the captain of the guard had discerned from quite another point of view. That which attracted the attention of Potiphar and gave him confidence in Joseph also influenced the minds of the keepers of the prison and led them lighten the burdens of Joseph and to install him in a place of rSsponsibility and authority among the men with whom he was incarcerated. And that which they all saw we, too. see to-day as we gaze down the perspective of the centuries. Joseph was faithful to Potiphar because he was the child of God. He was trustworthy in prison because he was in right relations constantly with God. He was able to interpret J ??J Ia f Vtom with UlCdUiS aau iv uuiviu vuvm ???u . prophetic power and more than common accuracy because he kept his senses alert and his whole manhood alive to the ministrations of the,living God. Pharaoh was right. Joseph was a man tn whom the Spirit of God abode with power. If God had not been with him he would have been overwhelmed with the insistency of the importunate invitations of Potiphar's wife. If God had not given him grace he might have used his liberty in the prison to have escaped to a more hospitable soil. If Jehovah had noi: vouchsafed to him a more than ccmmon ability to understand the mind of God he never would have been* able to have predicted the famine that with such exactness came to pass. The power that came to Joseph in a material way was a tribute not to him, but to the God through whom | he was strengthened and his vision j was clarified. Pharaoh was no fool, j He saw with precision the God behind the man. And so he says, with a I philosophy that is beyond question and an :insight that is altogether commendable, "None so discreet and wise j ? " ris\A "ho*? cri-vrnn TnCAnh I as IliU U. rui uuu uau . V..r^ the vision. Another thing that is noticeable is that Joseph was not unduly puffed up by the unexpected and unprecedented influence that was so suddenly thrust into his grasp. It might easily have turned his head But tbe impetuous dreamy youth of yesterday is now a mau. He has seen much of the world and he is cautious. Called to a special work he keeps to that work. He offends none by any exhibition of pride of position. He | uses his immense authority for the future welfare of the people. In the days of prosperity he prepares for thf coming days of adversity. He shepherd's, s.s God would have him to do. the people under his rule. The lesson ought to teach us that nothing is impossible to the man whc lives near to God. It should make us humble, regardless of the heights to which we may gradually or suddenly attain. Switzerland's Railways. Switzerland has developed its railway systems extensively. This is particularly true of its electric lines; the length, now open to traffic, of such lines already amounts to 15.6 per cent, of the total length of the Swiss railways?as against 6.8 per cent, in Germany. There are two I principal reasons for this?the large number of tourists and the great water power available among the mountains. A high percentage of the electric railway could never have been built had it not been for the tourist traffic. Game Birds For Vermont. Some of the wealthiest sportsmen of Vermont are trying to stock the j coverts of Vermont with foreign game birds. Among the birds introduced into the State are the daleypa, < which is native to Norway; the capercailzie. which is found in the high| lands of Scotland; black cock and ring-necked pheasants. t anrornia s savings Greater. California has 129 savings banks. I Between August 15 and December | 31, 1906, their deposits increased by $12,217,771- - -J fl h\/i fanrnA fnt* hhc v Hi JogmrHooRi V . THE SECRET OF A HAPPY UFE+ I say to thee: do thou repeat To the first man thou may'st meet In lane, highway, or open street? That he, and we, and all men, move Under a canopy of love As broad as the blue sky above; That doubt and trouble, fear and pain, ' And anguish, all are Borrows vain; That death itself shall not remain^ V" ;v That weary deserts we may tread, r"l A dreary labyrinth may thread, Through dark ways underground be led; Yet, if we will our Guide, obey, The dreariest path, the darkest way, Shall issue out in heavenly day. And we, on divers shores now cast, Shall meet, our perilous voyage past, ' "V All in our Father's home at last. And ere thou leave him, say thou thigj. Yet one word more? they only miss , j.ne winning 01 mat nnai dusb Who will not count it true that Love, Blessing, not cursing, rules above And that in it we live and move. I . # 'And one thing further make him know;. That to believe these things are so, (? This firm faith never to forego? Despite of all that seems at strife Witn blessing, and with curses rife? , -r That this is blessing, this is life. , ' ?Archbishop Trench. Helpfulness. They helped every one ma nieghbor, and every one said to his brother, Be of good courage, -r- Isaiah xii., 6. . This Is the secret of Christ's instil tution of the church. It was that in its fellowship His disciples might aid one another in holy living. Certainly this mutual helpfulness of the communion of saints is one of' the incalculable blessings - of,,' the Christian church. And it should, show those their error who think that they can be religious as well without as within the church.v For religion, above everything else,'needs.' the strengthening and nurture that, come from Christian fellowship and demands that self-sacrifice be shows for the good of our fellows. The befct defense of Christianity is to practice it. The surest way to silence scepticism is not by an argument, but by a man. The atheist who spent a few days with the saintly Fenelon said: "If I stay here a. fow rinvo Inncpr T Rhn.11 hpr.amA fL Christian in spite of myself." Fene^ Ion was too meek and gentle for polemics and had not uttered a word of controversy or of appeal. He simply presented the quiet, convincing argument gf a beautifal, unselfish, holy; life. But helpfulness can be shown di-rectly by kindly feeling, by proofs Qf disinterested friendship, by the assurance that our heart warms toward^ our brother. In the Intercourses' of life it can easily be seen whether one is wholly self-centred or whether hehas a heart for the welfare of others. And if an associate shows that hecan forget himself in his eager Interest in our handicaps or successes, in our sorrows or joys, it heartens uslike the fresh morning breeze, and drives weariness and care from our brows. Most especially can the grace of helpfulness be exemplified in the hour of need. Crises come in life, critical > junctures arise. Such epochs are often turning points in one's personal fate. One path leads to success, the * UIUC1 Will Ui 1115 iu.ii u* vi ? now our whole future shall be shaped to our honor or regret, to our joy er pain. And then is ?he hour whenhelpfulness is most precious. One little deed of uplift, one mite of aid,, one act of kindness will bear fruit a thousand fold. Aye, it is in the time of need that sincerity is tested, and that it ?pme? out whether helpfulness is genuine or shallow pretense! He who then drawe near, shares his neighbor's sorrow, puts his own shoulder under the burden, assists the struggler to his. feet, stands by him until the storm's fierce blast is over, proves that he has the Christian ?pirit, whatever name he bears. In the stress and rivalries of mod-* prn life no duty is more, apt to be neglected than this to "help every one his neighbor, and to say every one to his brother, Be of good courage." And this neglect is to our neighbor's hurt, and none the less to our own. For the bearing of others' J burdens is the secret by which w? find our own lives. For thereby we ! are led to higher ideals and to place our happiness not in fitful fortune, but in acts of brotherly love. And its rare fruitage will be growth in character, strength in our own hour of need, and, above all, the blessing of our Father above, which is unto eternal life.?Junius B. Remensnyder, Pastor St. James' Lutheran :t Church, in the New York Sunday Herald. Divest Self of Self. A heated imagination, vehement feeling, hosts of reasons, and volleyB of words effect nothing. The right way to act is as in the presence of God, wholly divested of self, doing what we can by God's light, and b?ing content with such success as He gives. Working With God. n It I can put one touch of a rosy j i ii#A nf onv mart or t sunsei iuiu me me ui auj w woman, I shall feel that I have j rorked with God.?G. Macdonald. Only a False Peace. ' - V It is far better to enter the Kingdom of Heaven through much tribulation than to acquire a carnal security by the consolations of a false peace.?Luther. He Can Help. Thank God that He who alone can > know our innermost longings and aspirations for the better life is also the One who can help us in the struggle. I Twenty-Ton Bell Now in Place. The big bell known as "The Savo* yarde," presented a number of years ago to the Church of the Sacre Coeur * In Paris, has at last been placed in position in the belfry. It arrived at the church twelve years ago, but haa 4 been housed in a wooden structure nearby and was rung by hand on rare occasions, sixteen men being required for the operation. The bell was raised to its position, eighteen men turning the windlass. Architects were afraid to use electric force 4 for fear it might fall at a critical mo- \ paont. The bell weighs 41,43" pounds - * ^ ' ?L.. ' i j - - -i?,.x 1^, >/ .Vi 'f? _-v3