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per The king { ^chone A NOVEL OF AMERICAN LIFE rmz) U T IV* W a? CopxrtgLt, IfcPC toe im V CHAPTER XV. CONTINUED. f There is a great reserve in the Scotch physique as there is in the Scotch eharaoter. Mr. Burns was an extremo example, else how could ho have lain there on the wet soil of the woods for three days nud nights without so much ?* a sip of water aud with nothing to top the bleeding of ;his wound? Ho was but half conscious most of the time, and* yet he heard a panther creaming All through oue night, and oace a wolf barked aud bowled close , bj. There was nothing in these sounds to frighten him; they came to him as in a dream, appealing to no articular sense, touching no particn lar chord of consciousness, simply echoing through him. Slowly he saq k way, weaker and weaker, down into darkness. Every thought faded out bat oae?the thought of failure?the thought that he was dyiug without hope. Ou the third day, in the afternoon, aoute great black birds, evil-lookiug, with bare, congested heads and hungry eye*, oame sailing low round aid round above him. He saw ; them, aud thought: "They will eat me aw soon as I am dead!" But there was i mo horror conneoted with tho vision, j which went farther and displayed his ; scattered and clean-picked bones, i "What eould it matter to him, old, de- j feated, abaudoned, dying, if valtares began their Work at once? Could : their beaks add one pang to bis tor- j tare? I With singular minuteness, for his Seisare was ample, he reviewed his religions life, seeking for some justi- j Jtaation of the aot of Divine Provi- ; deace in thus casting him aside like ' a bit of old rubbish after all this ' wearying and fruitless effort?after all ' his trust and prayer. And little Margaret?what of her? ' Beautiful, yonug, pure, with every 1 Bad of tender promise just showing , the pink?why should she have been I made the playthiflg of an enormous j i wiong, the helpless victim of an ac- ! , trocious fate? He saw her as she was | when she left him, fair, bright, lov- ' . Ing, the idol of his widowed heart, ( < and he followed her, step by step, j 1 through the cruel descent, till she lay j x in her coffin, murdered by that man. j By some mysterious oerobal action, | t Be was able to note the correlation of | Bis -own experience with the girl's, ] and is fix, as by a flash, the meet- i iag of his prayers with the sncces- j stive downward rashes of her miser- t ah1? career. \ At every point where he sought t Iter with utmost confidence and be- : t sought heaven with greatest faith, t there she had met with calamity or takes some desperate step in infamy. 1 t Aad whose was the fault? Surely t she had not been born with the taint J* f >*ril in her blood. 1 f luii ?irk MacCollongh! The name j ' r rang through the old man's fevered . jboaia, and the tall, dark outlaw j i satalked across his vision liko au actor < across the stage of melodrama. What l health, what strength, what immunity G ft-om the physical effects of moral recklessness! tn the pursuit of this i Burns had wasted himself, his | f<?Vn^n !>! navaor . bin nr.ivftrs. his c ?UA iUUO| UIO VW4 WW. , J. - , s Jife, while not a drop of desire (hid been lost by the outlaw. It -was bitter food for reflection for the aged preacher as he lay on the .fjrtrund, his withered limbs outstretched and tho weakness of death in his nerves. Slowly his mtnd worked its way down to that last scene and began to take up the details oue by one, analyzing them with merciless exactness. Meanwhile, hy 'that carious power of the brain which enables it when abnormally stimulated , to follow two linos of thought at once, lie was reviewing Kirk Mac- s Coliough's origin and accounting . *? '- ------ K?? mfnT,inii nil his , "or uis utucci vj ? v,. v.. ?.?.. ^ darker charscterists to inheritance from his father, Thomas MacCoilough, ] who committed a great political crime | and was transported therefor in the . first prime of his manhood while Kirk , oras yet a mere boy. Burns had never j seen Thomas MacCoilough, nor hail \ be known much of the family before iKixk began to pay attention to Margaret; but since theu he had fouud out ( the history which now seemed to ac- , count fitly for the young mau's nn- , paralleled course of evil. From father , to son had descended the curse of oat- i la wry. Bat it was natural that Barus's mind, even in th9 last extremity of despair, ahould turn with all its Scotch stubboranes3 aud teuacity to take a religious survey,so to call it, of the situation. Perhaps it would be better to say that his thoughts were not driven at once, even by direst calamity, out " * * * * * 1 Al 1 1' ?l tue groove in wnicu vucy uuu uccu running since first he began to be a, preacher. It had been his rule to measure everything by the staudard disclosed to him iu the Bible. "Tims saith tlie Word" had been his hobby, ltis guide, his comfort. Never duriag his long, absorbing chaso after his child and her atrocious lover, had he forgotten the Sabbath cr failed to keep it holy; never had he neglected the simple forms of worship and of yrayer to which his aastere conscience aud the obligations cf his church bound him. He had lived unspotted, and now death hovered over him iu that lonely place, with none to lift his | i f O :v ict AMn 1 ivJLLJ ^ : DURING THE WAR OF 1812. srrr THOMPSON, 7 r.ciert Eocaer't Sons. head, speak a word of comfort to him or to touch his lips with water. Upon his soul the bitterness of all this settled, as his braiu drew it in and analyzed it. Suddenly there was a revnision, and it was as if the poles of his nature had been reversed on the instant. From some source he gathered strength to lift his head and shoulders; then, leaning on one arm, he gazed wildly around. There was a terrible look in his face. He almost bounded to his feet and stood swaying and trembling, his long legs far apart, and one hand raised far above his disheveled head. A dying tiger might have glared as did he, and it was with a wild beast's voice that he cried alond: "I will not rtie?I will not die?I canuot die, Kirk MacCollough, while while you live!" It was a grand theatre in which to nail, iaae my uai lur u oubjcmile!" exclaimed the observer, resting be batt of his long rifle on his foot. "W'y, tv'at's the matter, parson? iV'at iu ail cren ion air ye a-doing* rer?" Barns started at the sound of the roice, aud half turned to look. The sffort lost him his balance, and down le fell again, his arm still outitretohed. "Hello! Hello!" shouted the man, nnniug forward as rapidly as a crooked eg would permit, "air ye ailin' parion?" He half recoiled at the sight of the >lood ou the Burus's clothes, and his ough face showed surprise and quick lympathy. He had been accustomed o open-air tragedies, had, indeed, >een a star performer in not a few; but jere was a mystery as well as a catas,rophe. For lack of other vent to reieve his feehngs withal he began to iwear disapprovingly, iutimating hrough his oaths that it would please iim t,o hew limb from limb the raau ,vh o hart Parsons Burns. "Parson, parsonl'Yhe exclaimed, itooping over him and touching bis shonlder. "Wat's the matter of ye, parson?" "Then, as he received no answer, le straightened himself up, leaned on lis gan nud scratched his head with lu air of contemplative confusion. Tust then, a horse gave forth one o/ those casual snorts characteristic of tue genus. It was the animal that Burns had ridden. Not far away it was browsing dolefully, with a melausholy twist iu its cadaverous neck and switching its tail this way and that more by force of habit than in response to the attack of one or two thriftless flies which were content to worry a Bkin too tough for their tiny jpeai s. "Yer, yer, parson! Wat's this mean?" he weut on, blustering a trifle aud shaking the old man's shoulder. "Can't ye speak to a feller? Air yo bad hurt?" Burns writhed about, turning his grimy face full upon his interrogator. The stare he gave the maa fairly chilled him. "Pierre Ramoau?that'syonr rfame, eh?" ho gurgled harshly. "Pierre llameau, I will kill you?ki-i-ill you!'" He tried with desperate energy to gain his feet, but he faltered and fell. "Kill! Kill!" he moaned. "I cannot?t will not die till I have kille-" yon!" The incomparable strangeness of hi? voice and the awful expression of hi* couu^usnce eaunot be indicated; noi can m^ro words give any adequate im presaioa of the man, old, withered, ill-clad, groveling in the wet, sand; soil, soaked in biood aud panting fortu make saoh a speech. Tlio dusky trees and the larkiug wild tbiugs were titting audience. The realism of the acting was .superhuman, and it was also superhumanly romantic. The stage accessories were in perfect harmony with it. Loneliness, grimuoss, solemnity brooded there, and the wide silence was fitting applause. Two of the evil birds took wing with loud flapping and sailed away from the dead bough on which they had been sttting so patiently. Burns was indirectly aware of them, as he rolled his bloodshot eyes and shook his head till the tangled hair fell over his forehead and temples. His sfcrAnctli was but snasmodic. The next moment he tumbled djwu motionless. Slowly the snn passed on to the western slope of the sky. The hideous vultures returned to circle round and round, lower and lower; but they did not dare make the attack. They might have done it soon, however, had they been left to their will. Once more the old man roused himself and struggled to his feet. The pallor of death flared out of his face, the frenzy of death glittered in his eyes. There were fragments of dead leaves and clot3 of earth in his liair and beard. Again he ilung his hand an high aud stood wavering and trembling, while his voice broke forth with awful sonorousness: "Vengeance! 'Vengeance is mine, and I will repay!' " This time the theatre held one lmuan auditor, who stopped short in his ivalk aud gazed with wide-open eyes it the towering actor in thf.i, wild icene. At tirst Burns looked almost wice his real 6tatare, so dilated was he expression of his form as seen igainst the dusky spaces and gloomy runks of the wood. unr.ti i.l.. u.i l..*4 * ' t. . .?/ _ "V ."""" % j '# *>?'"; ""**: intolerable p;ssion. Ht^ooked scarcely I human?more like a beast of prey, wounded to death, tearing madly, n blindly at whatever he could feel. His words soon became indistinguishable and ran together into a harsh, gut- ca tura! growl. Of Dick Beckett (doubtless the reader tk has recognized him) was at first too d.i much astonished to be at himself, th As soon as he began to pull his wits "pi together, however, the whole truth became more than a suspioion in his iSjj mind. |K "Who hurt ye, Daddy Burns?" ho n demanded in his natural tone of voice. 0]1 "War it that air Pierre Rameau?" ai] Perhaps hearing Burns repeat the .... i J ? 1 1 I. J 1L. great roo\>er a name nau Buggesiou me thought to Dick Beckett, or it may have risen out of the prevalent habit ra of laying everything cruel and otherwise unaccountable at the feet of ()f Rameau. so Dick knelt down beside the old jjj man, and, still holding his gun in one of hand, felt of tho wound, after pulliug ^ away the rent clothes from around it. In vain he tried to arouse him. "Well?well?tut, tut, tut!" ho j.'j spluttered. . R'siug agaiu to his-'oet and standing with meat or 111s weight on his w, crooked leg, ho contemplated the situa- j j;' tion, while with the lingers of his left baud he worried the frowzy red hair that hung uuder the brim of his bat- j ' tered cap. f 1 "Poor ole daddy!" he exclaimed, ? after a while. "He do seem to be 'bout done for!" ? Dick possessed executive ability of '' a sort, and when he got his faculties <a rightly put together tuere was no such a thing as his giving up to circum- " stances contrary to his wish. He examined Burns and found that he was , a not yet dying. The next thinR was to nii ?- -? mi:. j i J i;i.~ _ J HI save aim. xum iuu&uu uic a iuuum hope, bui he would try it at all events. 1,11 So he canght the lingering horse and ,(M with its aid bore Burns through the n:: wood to his cabin. ^0< Here I insert a short paragraph from 1 the "Honey Island Records." The cai reader will feel, in reading it, a waft ta' from the old reckless life of the fron- voi tier: mr 1 "Dick Beckett," it goes on to say, ea! ! "found the preacher in a sad condi- n<l ,, tiou when ho reached home with him, Th j which it was after dark at tho time, wu and he struck a light. Tho wound 1 was a tear in the side dug by a pistol bullet that had been amazingly flat- hoj teued on a silver watch afore doing it. ??n 'I will save him!' said Dick Beckett, kit who was a good nnrse besides a d'.s- | ed tracting fiddler: and, belike, be bud the original medicine?strange roots and tiia such. Some do say he did possess a coi root of the wau-plaut which he fro salved the hurt with. Sure enough,any of way he ctfbed him betimes. What they sir do say, also, is tlmt Dick Beckett did a < fiddle and play profane musik unto tali the preacher what time he oonva- wo j lesced, even such tunes as 'Sugar in nn< the Gourd* and "Riding on a Rail.' hui No doubt, however, this matters not, unseeing that the preacher survived and the at last went on his way." wb In the French version of the story mu there is a statement not to be found in reu the other accounts. "It cannot be denied," runs this Creole document, wbicu appears to oe | a a rough translation of some lost Eng- sou lish writing?"It cannot be denied er 1 i that Burns, the preacher, did swear da3 j vengeance on Pierre Raraeau, the rob- cloo | ber (forban is the French word used), ;oa, j and did express himself in language ju .? j dreadful in its nature. Some think Wo; , that this Dick Beckett had fiddled all con j the piety and tenderness of religion sun out of the old man's soul, for, after ten* this, he is mightily changed in his Wa: temper and disposition, and some des- 0f perate acts aro setdowutohis credit." ])rP Dick Beckett himself, in his extreme act ! old age, when his mind ran mostly on o things long since done, was sometimes ready to talk about Burns; bnt even voj( [ the garrulity of nearly a century of ti,a I years did not overcome a certain tau- tafr ; talizing discretion. The most that he would tell was to tho effect that Burns jv seemed a little "onsettledin 'is upper story w'en 'e got well." l1Pr "Yes," he would remark, "I 'mem- 8j?. . 1 ? ' I oer UOW O lUUaeu ? cu o uy B.U iue good-bye an* wont oft to s'arcb for ?.] Pierre llatneau. 'Twas ob a Thurs- Ma day moruiti' an' 'e Jaid: yon " Farewell Dick. I go unto Honey On< Island an' woe be upon that infernal tioi darn rascal what stole my chile!"' "th Doubtless this seemed to the aged shri fiddler the exact language of Burns; gtrt bnt it does not sound liko him. If we 4?; cannot wholly believe that there could liavo been a change so sudden and ho \ye radical in the character of one who m had been for so many years a sincere Jng and singularlyhninblc-minded preach- Phe er, we must, at least, give due weight siXIj to the cvideuce tending to prove it. onl; One thiug is pretty conclusively set- Yoi tied: Burns did penetrate to the innermost fastnesses of Honey Island, and, not linding Pierre Bameau there, >J made his way, by what route is not cal known, to New Orleans, where for Ev< sonic time he attracted little attention, ma; though he wandered about by night sou aud by day, going into all soit of boil places, his eyes full of a half-smolder- una ing fire and glancing keenly into the of 1 ~nfti-cAn lio met. fra iU'JC Ul C > CI J j^/wiowu -V He had no mouey, and how he lived chil lias never been found oat, though dru after a time ho met Vasseur, who nm] thenceforward took such care of him rati as circumstances permitted. ran Ho bad but one thought and that ?ac thought was Pierre Ramcau. eigl (to be continued.) cro lnsl Kleclrlc Light a By-Product. ^ro' It is stated that the plate glass works at Elwood, Ind., which oper- me]' ates an up-to date electric light sta- nj(j tion as part of its plaat to supply it3 QUt own light, intends to enter into com* au petition with the local lighting company to supply the city with lights. This is a unique b)-product of a glass n manufacturing establishment. am Tr.M KEM REASC^ KITTENS. ?e Letter In Turn Adojywd Trail* of tli? lieu. Some yours ngo ti* a (lent ion was lied to a hen (hat had adopted a lit u*i kitteus. Wlrn 1 first saw them e.v had sot their eyes open. Every i.v I spent an hour or more watching e old hen and her strange family. ho lieu would lot the cur suckle flic ttens, but when t hoy were through e would drive the ear away and iver over the family. The cat was tramp that fed with several others i swill brought from the city for lions id hogs. As far as I could sec, the t was willing to let the hen rear r kittens. The whole affair seemed iturnl, and was as intelligently arnged as if it had happened to human ilngs. I carefully noted I he anions the old hen and kitleus. The kittens on learned the calls of the hen. and e hen certainly understood the calls the kittens. The hen would wander to 1 lit- hushes, scratching for insects, hich she ate without offering them her adopted family. When tne iteus wanted rest and sleep they ado a thin cry. and the hen would imedlftlely hover tiiem. If .hoy lilted food tlu ir cries sounded to me :e the call to hover, but the hen idcrstood and she led them to the ilk dish. If the dish was empty, she I them to the i:en yard and looxou r bits of moat or broad. If she failed find food, she went to tho house or and called until some one of tho inily brought out milk. Before the t deserted her family, the hen would id the kittens to a flat ledge, where e cats sutiued themselves The eat ually huuted up tho hen in the early ys for a relief from an overflow of ilk. Several times I saw the hen nt for the cat when the kiticus were ngry. When the eat weaned the kiris, tho lieu seemed to understand it she must look to tho family for )d. noticed that tho kittens as they heme older failed to play like kltious ight by. a mother oat. and their ices remained weak and thin. In my ways they showed a lack of teaching. On the other hand, they opted some of the ways of the hen. ey would scatter like chickens, ami mid scratch in imitation of the hen. diil not sec tliein oat tho inserts iioh thev found, excepting grassopers. Mr. Parsons was a practical ;i and wan toil eggs, so ii" killed the tens. If I had known what he intendto do I should have offered to buy lot for further study. I remember it I sent Forest and Stream a:i acmt cf this ca-e?I think a clipping nt a local pappr. The intelligence the cat. lien and kittens, r.r.d; r :inge conditions, was so evident that lull observer conld tlot makV a mis;e. The car reasoned that the hen uUl take good care of her family 1 she was contented. like some man mothers that give tliPir ha hies ay. The lion understood fuil.v that 1 kittens would not est the insects h-h she found and reasoned that she st look for food In another direction soiling.?Forest and Stream. ITIiy Ury Did Not Sin;. n able, nut easily embarrassed and lewbat absent-minded young teaehivas about to begin a singing lesson r when a knock at the schoolroom r interrupted proceedings. The cher went to the door and ushered i delegation from a prominent local man's club. When the ladies were ifortably sealed aud each had asaed a critical, listening attitude the rlier resumed the singing lesson. It 3 one of her most stringent rules actfon that when company was sent everything should go on ex ly as usual. ne of her pupils. Mary Holmes, a lewliat shy girl, hud a good alio re. and the teacher was anxious t she should-display it to advane. N'ow. M>.ry." she said eneouraging"wheu I count four you be sure t( Attention. children:" raising! baton. "One. two. three?ready? ! The children sang lustily, but ry's alto voice was missiug. [ dion't hear your voice that time, ry. Remember. when I count four i are to sing. Next verse, children! \ two " Mary watched tlie mot of the teacher's lips anxiously? | ree! Ready?sing!" The children's ill treble rang out unaided by Mary's >ng alto. Don't you feel like singing, Mary? this verse, now?one. two, three. II. what is it?" ary had risen and was shyly twisther Angers. "Please. Miss Brooks." said breathlessly, "you told me to ; when you counted four, and you r count just to three every time!"? itu's Companion. Mnsic Heard In Moro. ioro music is strangely unrbythmito European ears, says a writer in ?rybody's Magazine. It consists inlv nf ;i monnrrmrms reiteration of ml, even a supposed change of air iig almost imperceptible to an car [( customed to the barbarous lack tone. The Moro piano is a wooden me shaped like the runners of a Id's sled, on which small kettlems are balanced by means of cords 1 sticks laid horizontally. These tier resemble pots for the kitchen ge than musical instruments, but li is roughly tuned, forming the lit notes of the scale. Women aching on the ground before this trument beat out a wailing sound oi it with shaped sticks, while from ?er kettle-drums, hung by ropes iu a wooden railing at one side, two a accompanied the piano, and one woman Iu the background drummed an independent air of her own on empty iin pan. Honentr. [oncsty doesn't really amount to ch until it has been tried out. ? B J SWEET STORY.! OlIR REGULAR SUNDAY SERMON. < c The Beautiful Story of Esther j Delineated in An Attractive Style : By An Eloquent Preacher. New York City.?Sunday morning the a Rev. Cornelius Woelfkin. minister of Mhe \ Greene Avenue Baptist Church, had for his i subject "A Supreme Opportunity." He i ~l u:_ vuusc a.i no icai i\ . it. ti nv knowetn whether thou art eome to the t kingdom for such a time as this?" Mr. i Woelfkin said: g The history of Esther is a fascinating c romance. Every changing scene in the 3 panorama is a graphic illuc ..ration of the n providence of God. It traces the transi- v tion from obscurity to prominence; from c weakness to power. The scene opens P showing Esther an orphan girl belonging ? to a captive and despised race. Naturally, * every door of influence wouid be closed to 3 her. Alone in the world, dependent upon 0 a cousin's bounty, the horizon of ner life ? was limited. Iier chief endowment was b beauty, and that, as the world goes, is more likely to become a snare of evil than 11 a benediction of good. Yet, behind this e] humble, modest life there is working the tl might, wisdom and low or God. The " Queen's throne is empty. The royal crown -s; is waiting some one who may piease the t< mood of the King. Thousands of gentle * blood dream of the Queen's place as the h acme of all ambition. But the providence ' of Jehovah has reserved the place for n Esther, the orphaned Jewish girl. c-< This same divine power seeks to mold ai every life. The circumstances and conditions that environ us may not seem promising. But what are these with God? His ir strength is made perfect in weakness. The ai vast majority of men and women who have SJ made tne molds of history were those SI whom God's providence brought from ob- w scurity and lowly conditions. Your way is not hid from the Almighty. There is a J11 place held vacant for your tilling. That hl place is as honored and dignified as any K* royal throne, because it is divinely ap- m pointed. The steps leading thereto may n' seem to be contingencies, accidents, for- * tuitous chances, and through the moods of other persons. But if there be the spirit P< of faitn to trust Him. diligence to discover His will and readiness to obey. He will o* bring us to the place and position most " suited for our eternal profit and glory. No *v ! one else may step into our place, until we, jjl j through unbelief and disobedience, have I forfeited the privilege of its occupancy. Every life has its own unique endow| ment. Success or failure depends upon the J"1 manner in which we holn these possessions. If we hold them selfishly to profit ourselves withal, thev turn into corrup tion. But if they be held in trust as a sa- -* ' cred stewardship, used for the furtherance of His purposes and the bringing of His '< kingdom, they will turn out eternal treas- y1 urea. Our temptation is to discredit our possessions and opportunities. But we may ar I not despise the day of small things. ar i Esther had only personal beauty to commend her at first. This is not a gift de- "c spi.sed by Satan in.his attempt to ruin a a ; soul; then why should it be discredited as W1 ia power for good* The lad had only five ! loaves and two fishes, but, con.-ecrated to j His service, they fed the multitude and more. It all turns upon whether we are ! using our endowments in the interest of a'' I seif and by the cuergy of self, or whether np | we aro living and working in co-operation ! with Hun and lor His glory, lite lorm ot *' a life will vary. God does not duplicate j and make all lives to conform to a like pat- l)r I' tern. There wr% x vast difference between c<? the captive maid that served in Naaman's home and the orphan captive who mounted ' a I the Persian throne, but it was the same I God who worked in each. ?* The orpltan girl became the bounteous kri i queen. .She enjoys the honors and emoluments of royalty. Banquets are held in her lh' honor and a retinue of servants minister ??; to her continually. Can she support the . dignity thus thrust upon her? Will adn- j* lation, flattery and vanity enervate her j-"' soul's ability, or will she grow strong and j}a notonf fai? rrnA/l <inni4 AiitiAPtiinitinc ^ Attlv jnnriit avjl ^vn/u aiiuu up|ivi biiuiu^i . vu?? tt | trial can answer such queries, and that *ln I comes soon enough. From the outer world ,s j she hears the lamentation of her kindred 9P people. Mordecai. her cousin, is in sack "u I cloth and mourning and would not be "J? comforted. All the captires are wailing , with fear. What could it mean? If she had onlv been party to the conference be- ? tween her royal husband and the prime PC! minister prince she would have understood. m If she could see all the clerks writing the >ef sentences of death which were being hur- j"! ried throughout the empire she would have lr1' known. She seems to be exempt. Does she not dwell in the palace? But the }1C blackness overshadows her even there. *?r No circumstance or condition can shut it tn< out. The court of Persia permitted no one me wearing sack cloth, that symbol of sorrow f J and mounting, to enter the royal pre- l?ft cincts. They would not be disturbed bv w . painful reminders of life's sorrows. But V." even the roval purple can neither ignore J' nor escape them. The tragedies of life are , not shut our by hiding and ignoring them. * We can build no barrier that will prevent their invasion. The Redeemer of the world did not iff- an nore fhcni. He did not isolate Himself rPr from human woe. but through suffering s T became a Saviour, forgiving sin. bringing glory out of the crucible of suffering and .. planting the iight of hope amid the fu shadows of death. If Ksther seeks to save her life alone she will lose it. But if in co' seeking to save others she lose it. she shall ,in save it. We cannot in a time of epidemic " think of ourselves alone. Individual care- iy, fu'vess will prove fatal. There came a moment of despair to IV Esther. What can she do more than oth- ' ers. She had not been called into the j1 ' King's presence for a whole month. And "V to venture unbidden might mean death. She had her limitations. Even her position " r seemed unequal to the need. Her privil- . eges feil short. It i9 always so. A grave 11-. crisis ever brings the shadew of despair. * There arc problems that confront every jj Seneration that seem insoluble. We become ewildered and perplexed: we feel our inadequacy and despair. This perplexity and , V despair is purely human. Its shadow never .1? ians unon me inrone or lion, ne snan not fail nor br discouraged till He hath e:t jjudgment in the earth. All that He requirp.s is .an instrument that will not balk at the cost, and He brings snoedv relief. Let us fling the sacrifice of life into the ' situation, and nothing shall be impossible to us. It is this desire to keep our skins ?: whole, and to conserve our personal ease ^ and comfort that makes situations difficult. r^j Paul was an ontimisv. because he threw jnrr his life into the crisis. Comfort, ease, rj?j~ auiet. pleasure, were not aimed at by him. )(1'a therefore he could confidently write: "I am tl)'c pressed on every side yet not straitened; ^ perplexed. yet not unto despair; pursued, yet not forsaken: smitten down, yet not destroyed." Selfishness brings the mid- ? niirht. self-sacrifice the dawn. ,, Then followed Esther's heroic resolve. abl A crisis always develops the character. In .rnil a moment she read the meaning of her p-v providential experiences. She saw some- ^ thinas'of God's plan in her life. Why had : site been exalted from the lowly position ,'<J of an orphan to the regal dignity of n *l''? queen? Why had she been preferred above tnc all others for this great place? The mean- v']1 ing begins to crystalize. (lod foresaw this v'" crisis, anticipated the need, and for such a AYa time as this was Esther come to the king- 'be doin. It) the very heart of that gravest difficulty lay her supreme opportunity. Our *"e greatest ftioinents are often set in darkest circumstances. The providences of tied " have shaped our course, and there is a purpose and end as definite as that of Esther's in our lives. The hand that guides may be 1 invisible, and the light may not always illu- tru mine the meaning. But if we are faithful nes in truat and obedience to every issuing op- 1.1 sortunity, we shall some tune understand that we, too. are come to the kingdom for i specific end. To seize this supreme opportunity involved a risk. She dare not wait to weigu ;he chances too minutely. Life itself is a stewardship Duty constrains us to j)ay >ut its energies in proportion to obligation^ ind opportunities. Sometimes the whole irice must be paid down at once. But if ife be held at the disposal of Uod it will r.ake little difference whether it be paid n installments or at one payment. Lite is l possession that we must surrender anyvay, but we may elect whether it shall be nvestcd in eternal treasure or squandered n temporal gratification. Esther wes shut up to two courses, and 10th threatened death. Silence and inertiess would mean to be overtaken in the :eneral massacre. Attempt at salvation ould but anticipate death by a tew days, nd had the chance of success. There is lot much room for choice. Death is the corst that can come, and that will come ither way. Esther said, '"If I perish. I erish." This is synonymous with those xpressions made by the martyr spirits of istory. It is the only attitude and expression that will fit the supreme crisis and pportunity. In just such situations Mo?es aid, "'Blot me, I pray thee, out ;>f the ook which thou hast written." Jesus said, I hold not My life of any account as dear nto Myself. 1 am ready to die." Whover goes upon a great mission must, like he earlv Christians, take his iiie in Ins ands. It is only along that pathway that " llvation lies. It is a great price, but of?u paid for an inferior purpose. Heroism <ks for life as the price of patriotism, ome and freedom. Ambition demands fe for reputation and honor. Convelence and progress do not hesitate to ae?pt life as a price. Our bridges, buildings ad tunnels are built with the co<t of life, hall we. then, murmur at thp missionary bo is willing to risk fever and riot in the iterests of eternal salvation? When exnples of self-devotion fall into the perjeetive of history we applaud the martyr urit. God help us to value and covet it hen near at hand. Esther went with fear and trembling, at not cowardice. Heroism is not fooi iiruv. io go torward in tne .ace 01 aan;r, despite tear, is true courage. Paul iuistered in Corinth with much weaksss. fear and trembling, but beneath all as the splendid heroism of se'f^devotion. If I perish"?but such a spirit cannot sriah. It may seem to fall in sell'-saq^U *e. but it does not perish. Some heroes ; faith come out unscathed from conflict, ley are delivered from the edge of the rord. the force of violence and power of re. Others are stoned, sawn asunder and lied. But they do not perish. The marrs torn by lions on tne Roman arena ere as victorious as Daniel who was derered. The witnesses who burned at nithfield were as triumphant as the three en who could not be burned by the seven Id heat of Nebuchadnezzar's furnace, he Huguenots who fell on St. Bartholoew's Day were no less conquerors than ishua's army. Christ did not perish on e cross. Paul did not perish in Rome, lemachus did not perish in the Roman ena. Such dying is the highway to life id power. The Queen asked the forfeited lives o: T ueoiile. She was related to them and sufferer with them. From their side she is moved with compassion. From her leenly position she obtained deliverance, lis is the object of all mediation. Our .viour as the man Jesus is touched with e feeling of our infirmities. .As the exted Lord He intercedes to supply our ed according to His riches in glory. The iviiege of prayer is granted to us. that mi the human side we may feel the ourn of human sorrow and woe. and so be essed into an intercession for divine sucr. In onr weakness we are tenanted to use this great carte blanche of our Lord, lome. who received the same overture im a king as did Esther, asked the death John the Baptist. Many a petition of -> lyer would end in death if granted. But cr. nal. selfish supplication will receive e indorsement of the Lord Christ, and a sequent]}' fails. fhen we come to the banquet scene. It most suggestive. Only the hostess and o guests, but what issues tremble iu the lances. Esther is under sentence of ith. The dark hour is drawing nigh, iman, the prime minister, is in gVe; he succeeding most marvelously. Yet in e day all is suddenly reversed. The een becomes the author of life and Hain is sent to the gallows buPt for anler. Success may be upon us in the very rkest hour, wbfte failure may be dogtg the tracks of the most lightsome irt. Righteousness seems to he worsted the conflict with evil. Good measures in to fail, evil ones to triumph. Scrulous houestv goes to the wall, while ckerv and fraud are- crowned with suc;s. Virtue i? seeminelv stranded and * iff robed with royalty. And we are npted to be envious at the prosperity of ? wicked. But we may not pas-* judgnt until the issue is seen. There will ne a dav when righteousness shall ftourand evil perish. The plots of the rld's Ramans. Ferods and .fudasea all marry. Sin and evil rot at the core, rhteonsness and truth have the quality immortality. / Vt the right moment Esther not only ted the plot, but named the adversary 1 enemy?this wicked Hainan. Tt was awful crisis. It is always a crisis when itending principles come to the decisive uggle. In every sonl there is a Haman 0 seeks the betrayal and destruction of > spiritual life. In our conflict with this 1 self there comes a time when we must specific in naming the foe. No salvation nes from generalities. This adversary 1 enemy may wear different names in disposition. Tt may be pride, envy, lousy, bitterness, worldliness, etc. iatever it may lie. it has planned our n and waits the moment of execution, we would save our lives, families, cities I the world we must deal uncompromis;Iv witli the particular Haman who is rking destruction. Not until Haman s to the gallows can life stand secure, laving seized riie supreme opportunity great risk. Esther finds a great reward, c clerks write the message of life more idly than thev wrote the sentence of ith. The good work is hastened with re speed than the message of woe. Joy plants sorrow and life comes in the ce of death. The harvest of sacrifice is . We sow in tears, we reap in joy. In s successful mission of Esther the metrix we have an adumbration of the salion wrought out by Jesus Christ. lie k His life in His hands. He died and c again from the dead. He secured & ersal of the sentence of death written inst us and proclaims forgiveness of s and the gift of eternal life. Ours is privilege first to receive and reioice in s truth, and then to speed the glad tids to every creature in all the world, ese are our supreme opportunities. Ther y be shadowed with self-sacrifice, but if y are resolutely seized they will issue in ! morning of joy. Victories Won. It is not by regretting what is irrepar e that true work is to be done, but by king the best of what we are. It" is not complnining that we have not the right Is. but by using well the tools wc have, 'at we are, and where we are. is God's ividontial arrangement?God's doing, nigh it may be a man's misdoing; and i manly and the wise way is to look ir disadvantages in the face, and see at can be made out of them. Life, b'ke r, is a series of mistakes, and he is not bent Christian nor the best general o makes the fewest false steps. He is best who wins the most splendid vie? ies by the retrieval of mistakes."?F, lioberlson. _ , Makes One Charitable. 'rue religion will make its possessor ly charitable in dealing with nis busiis associates and competitors.?Bev Q. stair. _