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^ ^ ^ ISSUED SEMI-WEEKL^ ^ ^ ^ " L. K. GBIST'S sows, Pobu.her., I % ^amitj) gtnugagtr: Jar the {promotion af the jpoiitital, gotial, ^gritttllural, and Commectial gntarests o?tlt? ftojlt. {TER*Swa^#2oiY,!8^5ilo^!S?,ICS' ESTABLISHED 1855. YOEKVILLE, S. C., TUESDAY, AUGUST 16, 1904. NO. 66. - - i i I The Substi Cspjrrlfhl, 1903, by CHAPTER X. mHE next morning Kenner came Into the office and greeted Hillyer and George with a smile. "I'll be hanged ef I don't believe Bob Harfks has struck his proper element," he said. "He's turned that old store upside down already. Seed 'lm burnln' a half bushel measure </ live cockroaches Jest now. Stores all bout had to shet tbe'r doors, thar was sech a stench. Bob's got his coat off hlo nn^lr in hllcinPQQ A fpl OAi Up IV/ Uio uwa *u www*M?wv. ler toW me Bob was tbar at 5 o'clock to open up an' swept out hisse'f. I sorter call that a good joke on Lib. He's always keepln' bis eye peeled fer somebody to lend money to an' overlooked his own boy." Half an hour later Hanks slouched in and sat down in bis accustomed place at the stove. Kenner was eying blm curiously, a quizzical smile playing on his face. Hanks swung his foot to and fro, his unlighted cigar in his hand, till he caught HUlyer's glance, then he grunted: "Thought you was powerful smart, didn't you?" he said dryly. "I don't know as I did," replied Hillyer, flushing a little. There was silence for a moment, then Hanks said, "\Vell, you'll see wharyore money's gone ef you'll keep a watch out" "If 11 be gone clean to the Indian Territory as soon as Sandford's packed up bis effects." Hanks grunted again. "You never'd 'a' done it ef you hadn't 'lowed I'd make it good, but I'll tell you now you'll never git a cent on that dratted note from me." "I never expect to," said Hlllyer, smiling agreeably. "Oh, that'll do to talk," answered Hanks. "You think, though, that I'd aever stand by an' set? a body lose by a child o' mine; but this Is different. I was fetchln' up that boy accordln' to my lights, an' you come in an' Interfered." "He told me he was twenty-one," said Hlllyer, still amused, "and 1 saw a chance to lend 'im some money. That's all there Is to It." "Oh, well, you kin afford a little loss like that," retorted Hanks, "an' when Bob's run through with the pile I kin show everybody I was right In the stand I tuck with 'im." As It was a busy hour, nothing more was said on the subject A ragged fanner in a slouched hat came in to talk to Hanks about mortgaging a mule and a milk cow for his next year's supplies, and Hanks went out. to see the mule and hear a minute description of the cow?her age, weight, progeny and habits. That afternoon, as George and the merchant were closing the warehouse to go to supper, Kenner came along on the way to his boarding house. "They say old Lib's been banglu' round Bob's store all day watehln' 'im like a hawk," be informed them, with a laugh. "He cayn't hide his interest. As soon as Bub ud make a sale the old man ud run up to the cash drawer an' count * the change an' ask the cost of the article. He's neglectln' his own matters. I'll swear it's funny. Ef he's talked with one man today be has with forty about Bob's venture. He wanted to find out what folks thinks, an' he's literally astonished to find so many believe Bob knows what he's a-aoin\ "I seed 'lm a-standln' In Bob's door watcbln' Bob an' Heneker Brothers biddln' agin one another to buy a load o' mountain chickens. I spoke to Lib, but he Jest kept chawln' his tobacco, so much absorbed he didn't hear me. Then we seed the feller start to drive up to Bob's door, an' old Lib clapped his hands together an' said: 'By gum! Bob got 'em!' But he sorter cooled down when the chickens was unloaded an' he heard Bob had bid 15 cents apiece all round. He grabbed Bob as he was passln' an' said, 'Say, don't you think you went too steep on that load?' Bob was purty red, anyway, from lifting at the coops?he was so anxious to get 'em In his shebang?an' he got redder, but he pulled the side o' his face down an' looked to see that the feller couldn't hear, an' said: 'Shi I've got 'em already sold In Atlanta at 20 cents apiece, an' that galoot's goln' to take his pay In coffee at 18 cents a pound?coffee that cost 10 in New Orleans. You see whar I come in, don't you?' " 'You better go It sorter slow at the start' Lib said, but he was simply tickled to death. I'll swear It was fun to watch 'lm! He'd rather see that boy learn how to bundle money than fer 'lm to be elected governor o' this state." Old Hanks seldom left his home after Bupper, but that evening he dropped In at Hlllyer's, finding the merchant and his wife before a cheerful fire in the sitting room. He came In awkwardly, but his self possession was a thing he always had with him. Kenner had once said that Hanks could sell scrap Iron In a pigeon tailed coat and on/1 noi'or roHliTP thp odd ity of lils appearance. His brogan slioes were untied, as If he had started to go to bed and changed his mind. "I see Bob's got that store to goin\" he said dryly. "I've been sorter watchin' 'lin today. I hardly know what to make of Mm." Hillyer looked knowingly at his smiling wife and replied; =y y WILL N. HARBEN, Author of "Abner Daniel. "The . Land of the LfTA Changing I 1 I TfJi Sun." "The lUlv North Walk Mystery," Etc. HARPER ? BROTHERS I " o he's got opened up, has he?" "Jpeued up? I reckon be has; tuck lo ninety odd dollars today, an' the Lord only knows what profit he'll average. I don't reckon Bob does, from what I observed, though he ain't losin' so fur." "Oh, he'll hold Sandford's trade," said Hillyer. "You kin count on that" "Well, I reckon he will," said Mrs. Hillyer. "I've changed my account to him from Waters & Co. An' why shouldn't I? Do you reckon I'm not goln' to encourage 'rail enterprlsa? Jes: the minute be told me he was a-goln' to run a free delivery wagon to take orders an' deliver goods twice a day I put my name down. The idea o' them old fogies waltln' for young Bob Hanks to start a free delivery! Why, the minute I told Mrs. Dugan about it she mighty nigh had a spasm, she was so glad. I seed her ag*in jest before supper. She'd been down an' ordered a whole raft o' stuff she didn't need Jest to see 'em come up like tney do in cities. She's been trampln' from one end o' town to t'other tellin' folks they won't have to make a step either way to git what they want fer the table. Bob's boy '11 call the first thing in the mornln' an' write down what's wanted, an' up the stuff comes. He's fot some little?have you seed them little books he's glvln' away fer a body to write orders In? Oh, you have! Well, It's a powerful good Idea. Nobody kin dispute the'r account when it's writ In the'r own handwritln*. Mr. Hanks, as shore as yore a-settln' thar, Bob's goin' to succeed." Hanks looked at the tire. His eye, usually a dead thing, held a twinkle, or was It only the reflection of the flames in the chimney? "I sorter like his start," he admitted. "I was always afeard o' the Influence o' that trlflln' set o' boys he was runnin' with, but today Bill Bogle?the wust of the lot?drawed up a chair In front o' the door whar Sandford used to set an' whittle an* started to take a seat, but, bless you, Bob called 'lm to tawtold 'lin he wasn't a-goin' to have his friends settln' round the front o' the store that a-way?said it didn't look businesslike, an' he was goln' to start right an' sorter hew to the line. Then, ag'in, one o' the clerks that Sandford used to let do purty-much as he liked was startin' to light a cigar behind the Bhow case, an* Bob yanked Mm up too. 'Cayn't have no -smokin' in the house. Jim,' he said politely. 'We sell fire-' crackers an' gunpowder, an' have to be careful. Besides, it don't look right durin1 business hours, an' ef we was to ketch flre an' burn out we'd want to collect our Insurance without bein' accused o' carelessness.'" "Yes," Hillyer said, his amused glance on the face of his wife, "I believe Bob's goin' to do all right. My daddy used i 1 tvnc rionri \n7.v hpcn'se I I didn't like to chop sprouts in the middle o* August as well as I did to play ball twice as bard, but the sprouts was his fun an' the ball game mine. This here's Bob's fun, an' the only way to amount to a hill o' beans is to enjoy what yo're at. You think yo're a model business mun, Hunks, but thar's as i much fun at the job you have as pluyin' poker with a full hand. You'd go to sleep sellin' supplies on time fer I anybody but yoreself, but yo're wide awake as it is. The truth is, you never tried to find out whur Bob's talent lay." Hanks drew himself up. He had not i smiled during his visit, and be rarely made concessions. He did both now rather sheepishly. / "Well. I've come over to tell you that I'm goin' to take up that note," he said, i "What note is that?" "Why, the one Bob give you. I reckon I'm able to stand the?the resk as well as you are." "Well," and Hillyer smiled again at i his wife, "I think you've got a lot o' gall to come tell me a thing like that When did I ever ask you to give up a good loan to me?" "I think so myself," joined in Mrs. Hillyer, who had caught her husband's drift. "Why, Mr. Hillyer was Jest sayin' t'other day that it was mighty nigh impossible to put money out whar it ud be safe an' draw any sort o' internn' Knh'# cot a aood Davin' cash business." Hanks shrugged bis shoulders. His small smile had vanished; he looked shrewd. "I reckon I'll have to give Bob the money, then, an' tell 'lm to pay it off. I don't want 'lm to be owln' anybody." "Ob, that's entirely a different matter," smiled the merchant. "But you kin bet I ain't a-goln' to transfer any note without knowln* how It would suit my customer." "An' that's nothln' more'n fair," said Mrs. Hillyer as Hanks rose and started to leave. The uext morning at the warehouse Hanks seemed somewhat preoccupied. Presently In a lull In business and conversation he turned to Hillyer. "I?I mentioned that note to Bob this uornIn' at breakfast, an' what you reckon he said? Hub!" "HOW ao 1 snow: reputxi uie uiw chant. Hanks opened the door of the Btove, a cigar In lils hand, and began to look for u coal of Are. "It sorter flustered i 'lm, but he finally said that he believed he'd rather not take my offer; that he wanted to sorter work out his own salvation. What do you think o' that?" Hillyer shook his head, a pleased expression on his face. He made no reply, but Kenner spoke up. "The boy don't intend to ax you no odds, Lib," be said, "an' I glory in his spunk." CHAPTER XI. ^A-JOR CRANSTON lived in an old fashioned, roomy house at the end of the widest and longest street Darley afforded. The exterior of the house was not very attractive, though It stood on a spacious, well kept lawn, but It was equipped throughout with fine old furniture the Cranstons had brought from Virginia. There were rare pieces of solid mahogany In the big parlor, a piano which tvas a relic of the days of Washington, ana soras ana cnairs quire as auvmoc in appearance. On the white plastered walls hung family portraits in massive gilt frames. It was one Sunday night about the middle of November. Lydia had retired to her room and the major was reading a newspaper in the lamplight before a cheerful lire in the sitting room when Mrs. Cranston came in from the parlor. "Well, you may be satisfied, Major Cranston," she said, "but I'm not" "Oh, you are not! What's wrong now?" He put his paper down and looked up at her inquiringly. "Well, I don't like the way Lydia is doing at all," replied the lady. "What's she done now?" The major spoke with Just a little irritation, for he was interested in the political news he had been reading. "She hasn't done anything?that's the trouble," auswered Mrs. Cranston. "If she only would do and be like she was In Richmond I wouldn't care, but she's as different as can be." "Why, I'm sure the child seems well enough to me," grumbled the major. "Well enough? She's the picture of health. But are you blind? Cun't you see an Inch before your nose? Don't you remember how she cried when we moved away from Richmond, and all the visits she promised Kitty Cosby and the other girls back there? Then you remember how she moped about the first month down here, and the fun she made of this place and the people. But now look at her. She's tickled to death over everything here. What do you think It means, sir?" . ^ "Oh, she was sick and tired of that silly social set up there," said the major, "and this simple, healthy life here In the mountains agrees with her. as it has with me and you. I never knew what a good appetite or a pleasant night's sleep was till I"? "Oh, do dry up!" Mrs. Cranston sat down by him. "You are as blind as a bat. Don't you know Lydla never was that way till George Buckley got to coming here and bringing her books and papers and going out with her." "Stop!" Cranston's brow was clouded over. "Don't insult your own child." He stood up, Ills stiort legs quivering with excitement. "Do you think I'd let that man come here?he, a son of a convicted thief?if I dreamed?why, I'd shoot the top of his head off If he dared?oh!" "There is no use waking up the servants out in the yard," said Mrs. Cranston in a tone modulated to that she wanted liim to use. "We don't want any bloodshed; what we want is common sense. I <l>n't think there is much danger so far. Girls will often allow themselves to enjoy the admiration of men tliey would not dream of marrying, and Lydla has too much family pride to think of encouraging him to any serious extent, but it is well to take time by the forelock. I was aguinst letting liirn come here at all, you know, but you said It would shock the religious folks in the place for us to try to establish social lines when he stood so well, and"? "I'll send her off tomorrow!" cried the major, still excited, his voice rising high and cracking. "No, you won't unless you really want to drive her the wrong way," said Mrs. Cranston. "I've seen many unhappy, mlsmated marriuges made througli that stupid course, and I've always said I'd act differently if it came to me. Lydia would get as headi m ~1 K/sm + syong as a DUIJ 11 we bliuwtu UCI tuai, we were trying to drive her, and opposition naturally makes a girl think more of a man who Is unfortunate. No, we must simply go on as If we never imagined she could bemean us by marrying a man of that kind. She's not a fool; she may admire George Buckley and be sorry for him in his trouble, but she'll think several times before she marries him if we simply go on as If we are trusting her to protect our family name." The major sat down. "I guess you are right," he said more calmly, "and I'm not really afraid when I think about her pride and all she has In her favor. Why. she could take her pick of the whole country. Governor Telfare Is simply crazy about her an' has plenty of money. Do you suppose Lydiu?or any girl, as for that?could resist the temptation to be the mistress of the executive mansion on Peachtree street and lead the society of Atlanta to marry a penniless bookkeeper In a grain warehouse and the son of ? Shucks, if she had It in her, I'd disown her!" "Oh, she's all right," smiled Mrs. Cranston, as if he had forced the absurdity of her fears down upon her by his warm words, "but we must handle her most carefully. I've tried making fun of her 'country beau,' as I always call him to her, but I've never been able to make out how she took It Bhe'd die before she'd let anybody know how she felt about a matter of that kind. I'll tell you what I'm going to do. She has invited Kitty Cosby to pay her a visit, and when Kitty comes I'm going to get her to help me. She's always had great influence over Lydia, an' Kitty 1b blue blooded to th? bone. I'll coach her how to act, and she will hold Lydia in check an' keep me posted." The major took up his paper. "I rather admire the fellow's way," he said frankly. "I'm sure he doesn't overstep nimseir; ne Hasn't Deen here so often since his trouble, and that looks like he had some idea of the eternal fitness of things." "No, that's true," admitted Mrs. Cranston, "and, really, I'm quite sure there has never been an Intimate understanding between them, and If we flay our cards right there won't be." The major resumed his reading, and Mrs. Cranston went up the smooth, winding stairs to her daughter's room. Lydla was seated before the fire, her beautiful and abundant hair banging loose over her shapely shoulders. "I thought I'd see if Tom had made you a good fire, dear," Mrs. Cranston said gently. "Ob, yes; -it's all right, mamma, thank you," Lydla returned, with a smile. Mrs. Cranston hesitated. "When do you look for Kitty to come?" she asked. "Next week, toward the end, I think, mamma. She wanted to stay over for the guards' ball. Then she'll be ready for a rest here." Mrs. Cranston pinched Lydla's fire reddened cheek caressingly. "Don't you miss all those things, dearest?" "Not one bit, mamma." Lydla gave her mother her eyes trustingly. "In fact, sometimes I'm just a little ashamed of all I went through since I realize the beauty of this full, vigorous life here in the mountains. Mother, I can have a better time on Prince, galloping belter skelter over these roads and fields, than I ever had vying with other girls for the most dances and favors In the german with a lot of boys. Oh, mamma," Lydla laughed, "sometimes I'm awfully ashamed of having done all that when?when"? "When what, darling?" Mrs. Cranston's Hds were compressed, her eyes fixed half fearfully on the speaking countenance. "When there are so many of God's creatures here In their shells of poverty and misery trying to rise, trying to grow out Into the sunshine of life. 1 think I could be perfectly happy If I could only help those people In some way. I want to teach them, to encourage them, not to believe In their degradation. Mamma, Just the other day I saw an old woman selling eggs from a wagon at the gate, and In the wagon was her daughter, poorly dressed, but her features were finely drawn, and when I stopped to speak to them the girl looked at me as If I were a princess. Olr, mamma, that sort of thing cuts me. I have not done anything to deserve that, and, poor thing, what has she in store for her? Nothing but to fall into the sort of life her mother is leading." "That's all true," agreed Mrs. Cranston, "but there are different grades of society, and we can't alter the condition." Then the speaker's face be came more rigid, ner tone tenue uuu tentative. "And the mixing of the elements, my dear," she put in guardedly, "sometimes produces sad complications. You remember bow Hallle Dunwoody married beneath her in Lexington and that It actually killed her father and broke up a happy home?" "That was awful, simply awful 1" remarked Lydia. "You know I saw her two months afterward, and the poor thing tried to keep me from recognizing her. She told me she was trying to adapt herself to the ways of her husband's family, but could not do it Her husband meant well enough, but even he seemed unable to make it bearable for her." Mrs. Cranston sat perfectly still; she seemed hardly breathing. She was very anxious to have her next remark seem casual. "I have never beard you say before what you thought about that marriage, dear, but I never thought Hallle treated her father and mother right." "No, she didn't," answered Lydia. "Hallle knew the extent of her father and mother's pride, and she had no right to crush it for her own selfish love. If she had sacrificed her own desires, and even those of ber husband, she would have been happier In the consciousness of having done her duty. I don't think self sacrifice has ever brought about bad results? in the long run." Mrs. Cranston breathed freely. She was all aglow as she bent and kissed Lydia good night. Going down to the major, she said: "I've had a very, very satisfactory talk with i,yaia?on, no, not openiy on uiai subject!" she hastened to correct as he raised his brows In surprise, "but In a roundabout way. We need not be afraid of her. If she cares particularly for George Buckley she doesn't know It, and If she should realize that she was drifting In that direction she would pull herself up." "Well. I'm glad she's that sensible," said the major as his eye fell to the paper and began to search for a remembered paragraph. "I didn't think she was a fool." to be oontinued. Frans Hai.s* Visitor.?A story is told of a visit paid to Frans Hals, the famous old Dutch painter, by Vandyke. The latter was then twenty-two, Hals I fifteen years his senior. As a pleasanttry Vandyke suppressed his name, announcing himself as a wealthy stranger who wished to sit for his portrait, but who had only a couple of hours to spare. Hals fell to with his usual impetouslty and completed a portrait for the sitter's Inspection in even less than the limited time, much to the satisfaction of the latter, who expressed an astonishment not altogether feigned at the speed of its execution. l? onbl ka "nninttnir iq jin OUieiy, oaiu n\.t puiiiw..Q ? easier thing than I thought. Suppose we change places and see what I can do." The exchange was made. Hals instantly detected that the person before him was no stranger to the brush. He speculated in vain as to who he might be. But when the second portrait was finished in still less time than the first the mystery was solved. Rushing to his guest, he clasped him in a fraternal embrace. "The man who can do that," he cried, "must be either Vandyke or the devil!" MAGNIFICENT PARIS, Wonderful Attractions of a Famous City. WHERE PEOPLE SEEK ONLY PLEASURE. Wide Streets and Low Buildings? Grandeur of Versailles?The Memory of Napoleon?Relics of the Old Monarchist Days?No Regard For Sunday?Personal and Other Notes. Correspondence of the Yorkrllle Enquirer. Paris, August 1.?I am now in this beautiful city. Some think it the most beautiful city in the world. For a little while after we reached this place. I was UlSapiJUIilLCU, UU1 ll giuna U1I you and it is certainly a place of beauty. It is so different from London. The latter place has many parks, but her streets are narrow and consequently crowded with people. Some of the streets in Paris are narrow, of course, but a great many of them are wide, very wide, t don't suppose there is any city in the world that has anything in the way of streets that can equal some of the boulevards in Paris. The pavements on some of these avenues are twice as wide as many of the Important streets in other cities. Some of these pavements are twice as wide, I should say, as Broadway, N. Y. These streets are perfectly clean and almost as smooth, as a floor. All along the sides of tljese streets are beautiful flower beds and groves of of thriving trees. The houses in Paris are not very high compared with our sky-scrapers in America, and this no doubt is one reason why the city did not make a very favorable impression on me at first. Many of her churches and public buildings are of the Grecian style and architecture which is not so conspicuous as the Gothic; but when you enter these buildings, they show off to great advantage. Some of these buildings are among the finest in the world. They are simply grand, gorgeous and beautiful. I visited several of these buildings, among them the Madeleine church, the NotreDame Cathedral, the Pantheon, Egllse 3es Invalldes (Napoleon's tomb is here), the Grand opera house, the Louvre, etc. One who has never seen these large buildings, or others like them, can have no conception of their symmetry, greatness and grandeur. Some of them cost millions of dollars and were ages In building. Everywhere there are signs of the people's devotion to Napoleon and to I the glory of warlike achievements, monuments commemorating the great victories of the illustrious general. This spirit seems to have dominated France and her people entirely too much, and she has been reaping the harvest of her own sowing. I understand her public debt is five times as large as that of the United States, and that the interest on her debt is ten times as much as that of our country. The people have suffered on account of the extravagant and luxurious living of the kings and other celebrities In the past. After visiting Versailles and witnessing the evidence of these things, It Is not surprising that the great Revolution came. Our party spent the good part of a day at Versailles, twelve miles from Paris. This was at one time the home of the kings of France, and the public* buildings which we visited while there give us some conception of how luxuriously the kings lived. There are some of the finest paintings in these buildings I ever saw. In the building called the Faiaee mere are m?ea ui pictures and other things to Interest us. The Salon des Glaces. or grand ball room, In the building, la considered one of the finest In the world. It Is 239 feet long. 36 feet wide and 43 feet high. It is lighted on one side by seventeen large arched windows that correspond with arches on the opposite side filled with large mirrors. This arrangement gives to the room a splendid effect. There is still another room In this building larger than this. It is the Grande Galerle des Batailles, which is 393 feet long, 43 feet wide and 43 feet high. This room contains magnificent paintings illustrating military triumphs. Some of the carriages of former rulers of France are on exhibition at Versailles. Among them are the wedding carriages of Napoleon I and Napoleon III. These are magnificent: but the most magnificent in this lot is the coronation carriage of Charles X. This carriage is said to have cost over two hundred thousand dollars, and is no doubt the most costly carriage that has ever been built to hold only four persons. While at Versailles I visited the private rooms of Napoleon, with furniture, bed and bath all intact. These rooms are in the building called the firand Trianon. The word "grand" is a great word in this country. In this building are rooms which were prepared for the reception of Queen Victoria in 1846, and which she was to occupy during her stay there. The bed-hangings are of the richest Lyons silk. For some reason, the good queen did not see fit to avail herself of these rooms. There are many other things of interest to be seen in these buildings at Versailles; but I will not dwell on them. I The ride to Versailles was through a most beautiful wood-land, one of the prettiest I ever saw, where nature and art have united their forces in making this way attractive. We rode to Versailles in a coach over the splendid macadam road. I wish our people could see some of these roads over here. They are Just about perfect. They speak well for the country. I found these fine roads in all the coun tries I have visited. Some are better than others; but they all are good. When our country gets as old as these and as thickly settled, no doubt she will have these good roads too. I visited the tomb of Napoleon In the building already mentioned. I don't suppose there Is a more costly tomb In the world, nor a finer one. The tomb consists of an immense monolith of Finland porphyry, weighing 135,000 pounds and cost about three hundred thousand dollars. I also saw In the Louvre Palace, Napoleon's sword, with Its multitude of diamonds studding the handle. It is in a glass case surrounding by a railing. Within the railing there is a soldier who guards the case. In the case is a magnificent diamond which is said to be worth three million dollars. It may be so, but I am sure I would not give this amount for it. There is also here a representation of the original crown of Napoleon which was sold for a large amount, the interest of which is used I believe to keep up this great building which covers acres of ground and which has thousands of the finest paintings in it, some of the finest in the world. But there is nothing I have seen that can come up to .the British Museum in its wealth of collections. England seems to have drawn from every age and country to fill her great museum with objects of interest. What about the people in Paris? I was surprised to find them so democratic in their dress and looks. I imagined that every other man would have on a silk hat and a dress suit; but I don't think I have seen as much of this in Paris as in London. The people in Paris are very polite; but they will get the best end of a bargain if you are not careful. They don't seem to have any standard of right and wrong. Signs of this are seen all around. The difference between the people here and in London, or New York, is this, or at least this seems to be one difference: the people In Paris have no Ideal, no standard of morality, while the other two cities have. You will And the same kinds of sin in London that you do in Paris, but the public mind In London recognizes a standard and has an ideal, while it does not seem to be so In Paris. There seems to be no public conscience In the latter place?sin is popular and open' faced. There Is practically no Sabbath in Paris. The stores are open and doing business, people are engaged In all kinds of work, and those who recognize Sunday look upon it as a day of recreation and worldly pleasure. A few people go to church in the morning and confess their sins, but they go right back to their evil ways. I had a pretty good opportunity yesterday to see how little the Sabbath is recognized and observed In Paris. The devil seems to have his own way. What a difference there Is between London and Paris in the matter of Sabbath observance! They seem to be in different worlds. I attended church yesterday morning in the American church and enjoyed the service very much. This church is non-denominational. Something like the church of the Strangers in New York. I was agreeably surprised to see as good a church as they have. It Is a fine church. Of course, It does not come up to one of the big cathedrals; but it reflects credit on the American congregation that worship there. Dr. Thrusher, the pastor, preached a good sermon, full of gospel truth, on the text, "One thing thou lackest." There are a great many Americans in Paris all the time and this church furnishes them a place for worship. The congregation was composed of good looking and well to do looking people. Last night I attended the McCall mission. The service was conducted In the French lan guage wnicii, ul uuui ac, ? luuiu ??,. understand. But having heard so much of this mission and the work done by it, I was anxious to attend one of their services. I was disappointed in the congregation?it was very small?only a prayer-meeting attendance. But the minister who conducted the service seemed to be very much In earnest. After I finished my last letter, and before I left Geneva, I visited the church in which John Calvin preached and sat in his chair. I also visited his grave, over which a spruce pine casts its shadow. There is a simple stone there about a foot square, projecting itself a few inches above the ground, with the letters J. C. on top of it. What a humble monument to such a great man! But is it not fortunate after all? He needs no monument of granite, or marble, or brass to perpetuate his character and life. He erected his own monument while he lived and this monument has been growing ever since and will continue to grow till the end of time. Our ride from Geneva to Paris was the longest we have had on the railway on this side. We were on a fast train and it took us nearly ten hours to make the Journey. The lands through France do not seem to be as good as those in England, Germany and Scotland, and you don't see the beautiful and magnificent scenery here that you do in the other countries. I hated very much to leave Switzerland. There is something veryattractive to me about this country and always has been since I have known anything about it. I don't believe I saw a single flock of sheep in France. I reckon this is the reason why her people eat horse flesh. There are places in Paris where horse steak is Kept tor saie. i nope i nnvcu i mien any since I came here. I would almost as soon eat human flesh. I commenced this letter in Paris;' but I am now in London, having come over today. We came by Calais, where we took a steamer and sailed across the English channel to Dover. This is the shortest route across the Channel?about fifteen miles. The Channel was smooth today, as it was when we went over on the 14th ult. When .ve got into England today we saw hundreds of sheep and cattle grazing in the pastures. We took a through train at Dover and I don't think it stopped till it got to London. These through trains over here make splendid time and they are nearly always on time. When I reached London this afternoon, I was glad to get three letters from home and also a bundle of The Yorkvilij? Enquirers. I also received some Enquirers in Paris and felt very much at home when I was reading them in that gay, beautiful and wicked city. I am stopping at the St. Ermln hotel in London this time, a wen equippeu nuici, i^m Westminster Abbey, with all the modern conveniences, each room having telephone, etc. My room Is 555. This gives you some idea of the size of the hotel. I was grieved to hear of the death of my friend and near neighbor, Mr. W. B. Williams. I wondered when I left Yorkville if any of my friends would be callpd away while I was gone and my hope was that they all would be spared till I could see them again in the flesh. But the Lord knows best and He never makes a mistake. I expect to sail from Glasgow on the 6th instant for New York. I will be so glad when I reach dear old Yorkville, though It would be pleasant to prolong my visit abroad. W. G. Neville. Religious heading. Conducted By Rev. J. K. Hall. LYING. A Habit Baaed on Fear, Cupidity and Malice. The word at the head of this article Is an unpleasant word. However, the thing itself Is unpleasant, and It would be Impossible to find pleasant words that would accurately describe 1L In this shoit article it will be pos- ' slble to do little more than describe some of the many forms of deception. The most obvious form Is down right lying. Men will lie for money. Others like Peter, who denied his Master, will lie from fear. Still others will lie for show. Ananias and Sapphira belonged to this class. They wished to be thought very benevolent. Political campaigns are most fruitful sources of this sin. The friends of a candidate paint him altogether in bright colors, whereas his opponents picture him altogether In dark colors. Both pictures cannot be true. There is falsehood somewhere. But these exaggerations are not so bad as the falsehoods that are circulated for the purpose of injuring an opposing candidate. This practice cannot be too severely denounced. A man who will purposely circulate false reports about his opponent, or whose friends do it with his sanction, Is not worthy of the votes of his fellow-citizens, and he should be left in private life. Another form of this sin Is making false returns of property. That this Is done is notorious. In one of the counties In the upper part of the state an investigation was made, a few years ago. It was found that the .real estate that had been bought in the past ten years had been returned on an average at just about one fourth what was paid for It. Many people never think of returning money at all. A substantial citizen In one of the beet counties of the state told the writer that it was currently reported In his county mat omy two perouiis m uic whole county returned money. I cannot think that this report was altogether true, yet the practice of not returning money Is far too common. That, too, after an oath has been signed that all property, money included, had been properly returned. This sin like Cain's cries unto the Lord for vengeance. Another form of the sin consists in assigning a probable reason for the true reason. One neighbor excuses himself from visiting on the ground that he did not have time. Now, in all probability, this was not the true reason. The true reason was that he did not wish to make the visit. This was a plain falsehood. He declared that one thing kept him from visiting whereas wholly a different thing was the cause. Our artificial society is a fruitful source of insincerity. Two deadly enemies meet at the home of a mutual friend and they must profess to be very much delighted to see each other. A caller is announced, and one sees a wry face. But in the parlor onlv extravagant expressions of de light are heard. It Is very Important to be polite, but it is of more importance to be true. Many people would not think of being untrue in matters of importance, yet In smaller matters they do not hesitate to deceive. They call these falsehoods "fibs" and "white lies." Cir* cumstance makes one lie worse than another, but all are wrong; all are contrary to the law of God; all do harm. The liar is not only displeasing to God, but Is an enemy to all society. Every lie tends to destroy confidence, and want of confidence makes society Impossible. Says Dr. R. L. Dabney: "If you cannot trust the postman who engages to carry your letters, the conductor who guides the vehicle in which you ride, the pilot who guides your ship, the cook who engages to dress your food, the agent who transacts your business, you can neither, write, ride, sail, eat, nor transact any business." All business would be stopped because of mutual distrust between employer and employee. Education would be impossible, because the pupil could not trust his instructor. Love would be impossible, because one cannot love where he can not trust. The home with all Its blessings would vanish, because without love and trust the members of the family would be driven apart. Every man would become a solitary IshmaelIte, his hand against every other man's hand, and every other man's hand against his. Every falsehood tends to bring about Just this state of things. Men can never be too careful to tell always the exact truth. J. K. Hall. A Good Servant.?At the centenary anniversary of Hawthorne's birth In Salem. Dr. Edward Waldo Emerson of Concord, said, apropos of sympathy and compassion: "I used to know an aged man servant whose heart was singularly kind. In him the quality of compassion, of sympathy, of pity, was brought to nearly perfect development. "This man was driving his master and me through the country on a certain winter day. "As we approached a new house that the master was building we saw an aged and bent woman peep forth at us from an unfinished window. She recognized us, and in a shame-faced way went slinking off. She had been taking a little wood. There was a bundle of wood under her old shawl. "The master tugged excitedly at his servant's sleeve. " 'Jabez, Jabez,' he cried, 'do you see that old woman taking my wood? t, "Jabez looked with pity first at the old woman, and then with scorn at his master. " 'No, sir,' he said, stoutly, 'I don't see her; and, what's more, I didn't think that you would see her, either."'