The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1901-1982, February 15, 1905, Image 2
THE RUNNERS.
* For I run not alone,
There run with me the Silent Three,
Through fields the dead have sown.
One with a sweet and piteous smile
The tireless Past-ah, he vill last
Yor many a foctsore mile.
Andone-the Now-with sterr..white gaze
Who gives no heed though I do b'ecd
Along the thorny ways.
One with a masked face. lin: dumb.
Beckons my soul to some biind goal
The wraith of Things to Come.
S* * Nay. I run not alone.
There run with me the Silent Three,
Through ieids the (lead have sown.
-Emery Pottle, in Everybody's Magazine.
COLLABORATION,
"I want to know exactly how t<
write this story." began the Girl. The
Author regarded her a moment medi
tatively, with the tips of his tingre
pressed lightly together. after the man
ner of Snerinc'k Holmes. lie was tal
a n d t h in . y e (w h ic h Fe e 'i s s tr a ng
in an authori 'legantly attired. IH
face was ei'an-shiaven and1( of a cla5siC
interecting tylpe-the forehead broad
the nose strin zt. the eyes deepset amn
fathomless. th- mouth sensitively cut
yet firm. The Girl was inclined to
think him handsome: she knew he was
successful. She con'cived him to be
clever. The last of the three charac
teristics appealed to her the least
The Author !in his profound way) was
not thinking of the Girl's story, but
of the Girl. The Girl, he suspected
was interesting; the story he was no
so sure of. Besides, lie had twenty
guineas per thousand words, so that
naturally, he came to be rather sparini
of words--except, of course, in hih
stories.
"Before writing a story," he said
after a moment's thoughtful pause
"there are two things for the writet
to determine."
"Only two?" said the Gir:, in a
tone of relief.
"Well, two main things " he correct
ed, gently. "One is, whether his story
is worth writing."
"Mine is certainly worth writing,'
broke in the Girl, impatiently.
The Author waved his hand with a
mild, protesting gesture.
"Of course." he observed. "The
other is, whether the writer can write
it."
"But," said the Girl. drawing her eye
brows together. "that is just what I
have come to you for."
"What-to ask me to write it?" ex
claimed the Author, in some perturba
tion.
"Dear. no!-that is, not exactly. but
to find out how it ought to be written
And then-"
"And then?" he inquired.
"Well, if you like." she remarked
kindly, "I don't mind if we write it to
geth'er."
"But," objected the author, "I havt
i1ever collaborated!"
"Nor have I," said the Girl, prouidly
"Yet you propose-" he began.
"No!" she interrupted, hastily, "1
should leave that entirely to you."
"Leave what?" asked the Author
'pleased to find his original suspicior
-verified, for the Girl was certainly in
teresting, and remarkably pretty.
"The - the collaboration, I sup
poe-" she explained.
"Ah, the collaboration! But th(
story?"
."Is gli about a girl," she said.
"So far, then, it is likely to be good.'
'remarked the Author judicially. (I1
was odd, he mused, that lie had nevei
before noticed the wonderful delicacy
of the Girl's complexion.) "All abou1
a girl," he repeated, mechanically
"embracing no other character?"
"She might be made to erabrace som<(
one," replie~d the Girl. reflectively.
"She--? But I mean the story,'
the Author correctedi.
"Oh, the sto:y! I was thinking o1
the girl."
"And so am I," said the Author.
"You see, she ran away," explaine(
the Girl. leaning forward on her el
bows and speaking in a confidentia
tone.
"Oh! She ran away? From school?'
"No. From her husband!"
"Bless me," said the Author. "whai
a very wicked young lady!"
"She merely did it for a-well, a kini
of lark," explained the Girl, apologet
ically.
"That is some slight condonation
of course," admit ted the Author.
"Then." went on the Girl, "there wa:
the Other Man."
"Naturally." sighed the Author. witl
weary recollections of Adelphi melo
dramas. "She ran to him?"
"Nothing of the sort:" exclaimed th<
Girl. "The Other Man didn't ever
know her."
"That seems to simplify matters at
far as the gir'l is concerned."
"But she knew him." wen~ft On th<
Girl, itodding her head sagely at th<
author.
"How' long had she known him?'
asked the Author, with resignation.
"Oh. ever so lonz: You see. hec
schiool i'end's cousina h:al in tr'odni''
her to h::n when she still had ion~
har
"You mean Erfor'e it wans cut off?"
"No, no. wh~en it was dow'n her back:
'The man was th:e sAmhool fr'ien''
cou'si n's hrmherc:-i n-U:w. and, natunrally
wvouldn't remm"r her."
"Na turally."---i---d the Autlhm
ag'em.
h', "'saT remiqwhe. I i: W\hat d<
y'ou think of tht?
"I think it d'o"s h'r zreat credit'
repulie<i tihe Author, d!tIl:ent:y. "'Ant
"And so, in her hour of need, the
girl--"
"Exenso me, but what was she it
need of?~"
"Oh. tihat dloesn't matter! W" eai
settle all minor details after the stor.,
is written. A\s I was sayinz. in hec
hor' of recd she bethought her of he
old fr ien d."
"Yes. 1Her old school friend.
see."
"No. In: The M:in. But on her wa'i
to him she met the Man's sis ter-in-Ilav
--thie cousin of the sc'hool friend--am
sh" toi her that her schPool friend wa
dead:"
that dt cided her to return home to her
husbai.d. of course?"
"Really," exclaimed the Girl, "I
think you have a very poor idea of
I plots, considering you write stories
yoursef-"
"Occasionally." admitted the Author.
"But I'm sure I beg your pardon if I
anticipated your climax. What did
she (o. then?"
"Why." said the Girl. "she put her
self in her school friend's place:"
"Great heavens:"' cried the Author.
"Do you mean in the,coffin?"
"Of course not! I mean she as
sumed her dead friend's name and
and personality. I think you cal it?
and pretended she was her."
"She," suggested the Author. "With
the connivance of the co:sn':"
"No. She to' i the cousin nothing
about it. She .ft the omnibus and
drove straight to the 'Man's house in
a cab. and rang the bell and walked
in. The Man was standing on th'e
hearth-rug alone in the room. aid she
ran up to him-remember. she ha dn't
seen him for ten years-and. with a
wild g:stulrC, exclaimed, 'Save ne' "
"Yes," olserved the Author. "you
have hit upon a strong dra,uitic situa
tion there. What does the MIan say.
thau_1h?"
'The 1an replies. 'I will prcaim
your innocence with my last breath
or something of that sort-and she falls
into his armsi1. After soothing her for
a few moments, he inquire- who rhi' is.
She tells him that she is her dead
friend. his sister-in-l:w's cousin: but
the Man replies that there must be
some mniktake. as lie has no sister-in
law. Ti:e girl fixes her eyes upon his
face intently for several minutes be
fore remarking. 'Then you are not
James de Vere?' The Man answers.
'No; my name is Jones'-and the girl
discovers that she has come to the
wrong house."
"Alh: that, too, is a fine situation."
murmured the Author-"for the gir;."
"Yes, I do not think it is bad. But
the strange part is that Jones and De
Vere are both members of a club where
ladies can be taken as guests. you
know--there are such clubs in London,
ain't tbere?"
"Oh. yes, several," said the Author.
"So Jones offers to conduct the girl
to this club and hand her over to De
Vere, and they drove off together.
Meantime, the girl's husband has dis
covered her flight and starts in pursuit.
Having heard her once mention the
name of her dead school friend's
cousin. lie first seeks out this lady.
and from her learns that his wife and
she met that very morning in an omni
bus. This reassures him, and he goes
home to dinner. Jones and the girl
reach the club, and Jones finds I)e
Vere taking afternoon tea with-whcm
do you think?"
"I am at a loss to conjecture." said
the Author, permitting his eyes to
dwvell dreamily on the Girl's tiushed
face.
"W1.y, with the school friend!" ex
claimed the Girl, clapping her hands.
"The~ school friend?"
"Yes. She wasn't dead, after all.
It tur:ed out to be merely a malieious
and unfounded report. On the con
trary, she was engaged to be marr'ied
to De Vere."
"Ah! Lucky De Vere. And is that
all?"
"No. That concludes the first half of
the story. The rest is principally ex
planations. I want to know how it
ought to be written?" said the Girl.
"It's too exciting for me to give an
opinicn straight off," rejoined the Au
thor. "You say the girl knew the M1an
for ten years?"
"Ye C."
"But the Mian didn't know the girl?"
"No "
"It ,vas his loss!" murmured the Au
thor., "Pray, how long have you knowa
"Oh, ever since I was fifteen-or
thereLbout." a nswer-ed the Girl, exa m
ining the pattern of the Author's ear
pet.
"AnlI it seems only within the last
half .iour that I have known youi
ejaculated the Author, rising from his
cair.
"Witat on earth do you mean?" de
mandd the Girl.
"I mean," said the Author. "that we
will write your story to.:'ther. if you
will: but on one condition."
"And what is the condition?"
"That, unlike the girl in the story.
you w"ill promise never, never to run
away from me-not even for a lark!"
"oh:" said the Girl,
And
"Ah," said the Author. putting h's
arm round the Girl's waist. "but I love
you. I love you, I love you:"
And the Girl didn't run away.-Em
eric flulme-Beaman, in the Sketch.
An Unexplained Distinxction.
The pr-esent Chinese Miinister. Sir
Chentang Liang Cheng, K. C'. M1. G.,
is :is witty as his wcll known predec
essor, Wu Ting-fang. In June last
Sir 'li entung was an interested specta
tor of the mariiriage ceremony of certain
young friends in Washington. At the
conlusion of the wedding. as the min
iser was leaving the house, lie made
some inquiries of a frier.d with respect
to the origin of the custom of throwing
rice after the newly joined c'ouple.
"O' '' replied the f'riendl, "that's by
way~ of~ wihi:n; them g, odJ luck- I su"
In tht case," su:rgCsted the, O'i'T
M. with just a suspicion of a smlme,
"whyi is it not the cuJstomi to throwv
rice afterta the he:u'se at a funera!:"
ollher's Wecekiy.
The Capture of' Dewey.
'Admi"al Dewey's peace of mnid ha's
'en'grea thy dIisi2ee :tely. by"ih
thry : or'ty pe'opC 'le,wich ston ini
f r'r cf his ho:ne t hr'' times a day,i
the' eor to get a glimnpse of the .\d
ni 'l or 'Ir's. IDewey. Even more n
'oying than the ste re of forty' pairs
of eves is the witticism of the guide,
who shouts through the megaphone
n a voice than enn be heard am bluk
away: "'The red house to your right
vn by the Anierican people to Ad
muira! D)ee, 'who destroyed the Span
ishi tleet in MIanila Bay and came to
Washington to be captured by a
woman"-Saturday Evening P'ost.
Tibet Snow-Ehndness.
To prevent snow blindiiess the na
tives of Tibet grease their faces and
then blacken the skin all around their
ees with burnt sticks. MIost foreign
Iers when exposed to the snow in Tibet
wear colored glasses.
Changing Its Nature.
A rather surprising experiment is re
ported as mua(le at the Paris Academy
of S.ieu(e. Young radishes were cul
tivated in a glass retort after a pcul
lar process. using a eonc'entrated solu
tion of glucose. Under this treatment
the vegetable took up starch abun
dantly and increased greatly in size
and lost its peppery 1qualities, resenm
I)lilig closely in every way an '.1rdinlary
potato. Th' imaginative Frenchman
who relates the experimenvIt suggests
the possibility of producing vai'ious
ve"ela+ies one from the other. or of
se'urig artificial t'egetaNde growth
by chemical means.
Practical Poultry Pointz.
?irep your foawl sto:"k youn':.: old
tins aI'e wholly unprotitalle to keep.
Co"ks as well as hens eat a lot of
food, :ind in cock is necessary except
during he hatching sea.:oit.
trade your eaggs as to size: it ima
proves the sa:nple, and consequently
the pri e.
Large, l:oos-'eat:ered hens of the
Coch in or I:rahm 1a type lay small egi. .
and but few of the:m. They are also
large ent'-rs and poor rangers.
C:ose-fe'athered. mxd;umu--sized hens
of the Leghorn type t're non-sitters,
good rinlgers a nd great i iayers.
It co-;S IlcalIiy as much to keep a
lien that lays eighty eggs in the year
is one tat lays 1:0.
Fowls should not be fed near the door
of your dwelling house, or they will
stand about all day looking for food.
Fowis roosting in trees and open
buildings seldom lay many eggs, and
those they do lay are often laid astray
and ios;.
Gate Latch.
'This is a simple thing, but will save
1an1V a (cr'Otl from total destruction by
stock if adopted. This gate will open
oiy by human hands. never out of
ardor. Cut or saw two elbow slots
s indiented in the latch, large enough
to slide easily on a large nail driven
irough the cross-pie e into Il( s;1ts
>f the latch as indi":tecd by ;Im two
dots. The upright s!o:s should 1
1boti one and a hal' inches ilon. and
the :orizontal oues aiout four inch.es
on_. space aiove latch about two
!ihes. mortise in ti! post about two
nehes longer than width of latch -
. D. Bible, in The Ep.litomist.
Fattenin:: the Old Cow.
Permit mec to relate my experienIe.
once had at cow that I considered an
xtra g;ood milker. It was before the
ays of butter fdit and Babr-oek tests.
o 1 might have bean issaien. Sure
y she was one of the best in the herd.
o I kept on milking her much too 10ong.
Then at last I was compelled to tuirn
er oli I purposed to make biee? for
ny ownl family use. I commenced
eding corn, but she soon refused
o eatt. She was always t hin aind rough
roking, as some good mi!kers used to
e. Whatt was I to do? The neairest
nil] where I could get corn ground was
welve miles distant, and it was the
iginning of winter, wvith oad weather
nt bad roads. The patent feeds were
iot then invented, so I offered liar
helled corn. Shte ate eagerly. and in
1i: weeks I had the very lnest beef in
ll my forty years of 11arming, tender
.Id juicy. just the thing f'or one's own
'arinig. She had witi tihe shelled carn
nly common pririie hay: not a tight,
varm barn, but at cheap stahle of a Siln
le thickness cif commnon boards. I
voulId not guarantc- the samue result
other timne. btut Iwould c-ertainly tr'y
ie shelled ('orn.--J. G. Osborn, in the
Tribune Farmer.
Feeding Firom I.arge Silos.
I covered thme ensilage with chaff and
~arredl paper andi put on the weight.
The ensilage kept well until opened.
vhien it troubled about heating and
noulding, and necarly one-half was
spoled. In the first silo each pit had
144 souare fcet, amnd I could feed fast
~nough from the top to prevent mould
g: now~~ I had d5q square feet, anti I
was in trouble again. I read every
Nag p)ublishled aboaut ensilage, yet no0
ody told me what I wanted to know.
The sixth winter I covered with
~haff, then a laiyer of boards, then
tarred pap)er. followed by a second
[:yer of boar'ds, and thmen a foot of
trawv to keep the bo-1rds from wOIrp
1g. Dur'ing thle winter' I blundered
log, tr-ying several ways to keep tile
ensilage. Aks a last resort, I began oni
m1e side and( took out ei~5lage one( foot
in depth and then (-overed with boar'ds
bdind me as I pr'ot-eeded across it
the other side, After I had gone across
md dug dowvn :amher foot and began
o baci~tk I found ti e (; riage v'ery
:ct a,nd mocisiy under the board s. as
[ p'oceeed ai:ln:: ha ckward. I Itougil t
>f som1ething1 new. x whichiii1 haspovd
to be just th e i.::t thing ic the c-it
,1nc. I put loor ensila 'e ont top of
:h good and then'l tY( w - . of I'rds
oeakinmg jo 'm~i a'l de i(ood enI.he
iii board's e idte air and that
ead the troule.' For 'ie winlters~ the
:na pialaan n eli ''d w ithgo
results,
It makes~C nto d!fcrence htow wart'm. er
how cold the wim~ar. the rnsilamge a'
as comt's om11 warm,!it fully up~ to
blood heat, and thiire is no0 chmance for
aiy to miould. foir very little is ex
>osed at one time. On no other farmi
o thcy handle ensilage in this way.
Too often in other silos I have seen
toldy and frozen ensilage, both tin'
fit for feed. In a round silo boards
could not be handled very well fot
covering, and that is why I prefer the
square one.-N. B. White, in The Amner
jean Cultivator.
Spraying Potatoes Paid Five Fold.
A bulletin of the Vermont station
Did you spray your potatoes this
year?' If not, what per cent. of them
did you lose by rot? The Vermont ex
-
perinent. station furnishes some inter
esting data upon this subject. Last
August it sprayed a portion of a po
tato field located beside one of thc
most traveled roads leading into Bur
lingtoG;. The soil was a well-drained
sandy loam sod, well manured, plowed
in the s1ring and planted late in May
Two-thirds of the piece was sprayet
on Aug. 9 and Sept. 5 with standard
Bordeaux-Paris-green mixture (si,
pounds copper sulphate. four pounds
stone lime, one-half pound paris green,
forty gallons of water); one-third wa:
sprayed solely with paris green.
The late blight (which directly of
indirectly causes most of the loss fron
the rot of the tubers) was first seen or
the unsprayed rows on Aug. 21. II
spread very slowly, but when the tops
were killed by frost Sept. 23, fully !t
per cent. of the foliage on the un
spray rows were dead. being Inosi
killed by the disease. No late bliglht
could be foand at this time on thi.
sprayed rows, where fully 90 per cent,
of the leaves were alive.
The crop was dug Oct. 3. ~Thc
sprayed rows yielded at the rat. of
344 bushels per acre, and the unsprayed
ows at the rate of 301 bushels pet
acre, a gain in total yield of only 4'1
ilul!es. But when the rotten tubers
were sorted out the sprayed area pro.
tiuced at the rate of 317 bushels pel
acre of sound, narketab le potatoes
and the unsprayed area at the rate of
3; bushels per acre of sound and mar
keta b'e potatoes. Eighi per cnt. of
the crop on the sprayed aiea was rot
ted, while SO per cent. ci that growl
in the unsprayed area was lo-t h
rot. The net gain was 201 bushels per
cre as a result of spraying wit:1 bor
deaux mixture. Potatoes "olL il Bur
ling(on for 0 cents p1er bashel. Tht
gain amounted, therefore. to .315d. I1
cost about .Rd per acre to spray, lkav
ing a net gain of S1a0.
These results are exceptionai: b
there were nany tields this fall, espe
ciall- in northern Vermont, wh er
there was as great or even greatel
loss from rot. Sonic were hardly w'oriT
digging. Are you planning to harvesl
5; or 317 bushels of potatoes per acr.
next year? Do you expect to lerve S:
or only S p:r cent. of your crop in t'(
"ield? Why not plant less :an( and
sili raise as many imshels'. lI is oIn
way to solve the help problem1. or.
deaiux mixture ought not to cost ovei
three dollars per acre for each aPP!
cation: in practice it usuall' co'ts
much less than that. Is it not bette:
to buy copper sulphate than aoij
sto:L?-Mi"ror :nd Farmer.
Cut andi Uncu1t SIia r.
There are some farmers in this vicin
ity who still put their silage in with
out cutting. It is not convenient for
som toseeurecutingmachinery, and
others think. they canuot afford this
expense of cuttipg. Ti.ere appears to
me to be a marked difference iln the
quality of the cuit and the uncut silage,
enough certainly to warrant cquite an
additional exptise for the cutting if
necessary.
I visitedl thegbarn of a good farmer
recently who is feeding silage for the
second season. His silo is well built,
his corn wvas secured without frostings
and has kept without the least indi
cation of mould; still there is a strong
odor f.'om it, sufficient to attract the
attentioni of any one before enitering
the barn, even at a time when the
silage was not being disturbed. I saw
his cows~ fed upon this silage. They
ate it greedily, and I wvas told th:ere~
ws5 1no waste, anid that the cow. ire
spo'(ded welli at tihe p:u'!. Stil. tat
strog ad rahe tunpleasant od.or
On iny return I pa~ssed another .:arn.
were whole silage was iceing fed. ard
I smieliedl it in passinig. I said to the
boy: "We will notice whecn we rec:lh
'ome and see if any suna smells :'each
us"
We aeoordin~ly did so 1 may say
the boy has bieen away to school for
severai weeks and hias not been hatnd
ing any silage during thaut tinme. and
consequen ltly is an iimpartiatl .idge.
When we reached homie we noted
conditions at oncc, and1. Ioth were firm;
ly of the opinion that if we had :tot
known there were silo in the barn we
could1( not have detenin~ed that there
werec by any smell. I am ;-ery snre
this different condition comles from the
utting, and I am firmly of thte opinionl
thit the finer the cutting is Conec thec
betier. It wouild be interesting to noce
the difference between silage from the
shredder or blower, which has bcein
thoroughly filled atid mixed in the
process, and that obtained from the
ordinary cutter and elev-ator. The
Pines silage has been cut in onme-fotrrth:
inch lengths until this season. It was
cut this year in one-half inch lengths.
ut is not so satisfactory as when cut
finer. There are more leaves not fuily
cut, and it ,is not so light in color. II
also appears to ('ool more0 t1uickly andi
have more tendenecy to freeze. Whiere
cutting nmachiinery can be~ secured at
'esoable r'ates or wher'e there is a
permanenlt farm p)ower,' silage can be
cu.t in choaper than it canui bepck
in w,ithout Quttig. mon- c-an tbe pml i:
a1 gi:ven spa'.e andim the 1eedingil is eaii
and mtore even buetwveen dififerent ani
mas.
The silo is to be one of lte principal
fa ctor'. i advaninug New England( ag
i'aulture'. anid every fe::tur'e nocessary
fr nerfect woirk should be kept con
st;imily b)efore the people.-I.- W. Me'
Keen, in the Tribune Farmeir.
Empress of' Jaipanr'si Pipe'.
A, silver tobac'co pipe~ witih ' ster
im- inchies lom; is used by t he Enmpres:
of.lapan;. The bowl is sma:ll-in tect
enly' a quantity of tobjacco sutiien1Q
to give the smoker two or three whitL
ca eptinto it. Then the ashes art
knced it and tihe pipe is carefuhll
cleaned before it is refilled--a procesi
go.e through with many times in tht
course of an afternoon.-Chicago News
The Sacred White Elephant.
In Siam when a sacred elephant dies
it is givent a funeral grander thai
that accorded to princes of the roya
bood. Buddhist priests officiate, am
thousands of devout Siamese mei
and women foh!ow the deceased ani
mnal to the grave. Jewels represent
Iing much wealth are buried, with thi
lehnt
'Humor of
Today
Those Alaskan Polep'.
"'How dlo yout mno Lve our po:e aibott?
. W i mert edl i 'i' t! iat e\'':
'Tor ciet cimlied. w.ih be:ul 4
"Oh. no ew r L . :
Ancient.
Sharl'Ipe--One of our ?'re:. n?rof ,7.'s
says that f ;otbaUl play:r. :r' crazy.
Whlealtoni-"Is lie juM fld 'l d
oui.Y"- Chicag3o Newvs.
"The Dlti-reice.
Tendefooot-"he' is a (iff'rell'Ce
thon. h)etween"1 Ea:- antd Wcsi?
W'esterne---" '_.. in the E" a tt tie:
pinch. and ill t.e Wts. we 1.'
Chicago .jouri:al.
Profegsional Couriesy.
"I iana!ge to keep Ilmy boarders iOn
Ur than yot io.' said tile first 'anillad-.
'"Oh, ! don's ;:uw." r''joined th:
other. " t i ee i theil so tii iti
they lootk tlon'.e t::a: tel 1"e : l . -'
-Ciiicagt News.
His 1:et1aior.
dloesn'; b:h :s i' he he(:o: -.;e . , >
the be11st":xiety, dlos .
Sh:e--", i'' M He. bea Isa
if lie ima inNi1 the ';esi So(ty U'
longed i himl.- t'iic:go Ntws.
Applies :o Manr.
D)l'nhat'-- 'b's a tood thing for some
peopl' that this tltouniti nlieri: 1(2
sirii'ted ilmmigratithn.'
Benhlant- xWhy':
Denha n Thiey' ' have Jen rather
hO1't of ance. o:'s. 'iiic:gO. Jouri"'
Geolngleal.
Edyth-"i'm surprised to lear of
your engagement to old Biliyoii. Was
he the only man with sand enough to
propose?"
M1ayII('-'Uil.hno: but he was tli only.
one with rocks enougi to int":e.t '."e.
Chicago News.
Iis Deqnes'.
De Siy:c-"Whiiat did your r:cll nee
leave you when he died?'
Grumbusta-'"Nothing.".
De Style-"Didn't lie say anyihing .o
3ou before he passed away?"
ilunbutsta-"Yes: he said nothing wvai
toa good for ne."-Criterion
A Complication.
V eter:i-.;ry--"So your new 1w,:1 pi1n
Is sick. What seeims to be the n:lter
wuitht hi?"
Owne;-"A little of everyihiug I
guess. While we were away this af
terloon he ('11Chewd up and swallowed
ti'e di--iouary."-Detroit Frec Pre:..
\atural"y.
Newop- "D ivee waks" )
"Newman. ila id the eeor "lilt
1:ev-er do as a critic."
"No?' queried his atssistant.
'-No. I saw himn last nighlt at the
premier performance of that. new cod:
(edy. anid he actually smiled three or
four timeCS." P'hilad'alphia PuL,i
Ledger.
She 1)idn't Rlespond.
"You are the first one to whom I
have showni this poem," the young 1)oeC
went on. "I was wooing the muse last
night--"
*Poor fellow " repulied the editor,
handing back the muanuisript. "It's
too bad she reje:'1td you."-Chicatgo
Journal.
Quite so.
Mrs. Nearbye--J.'m glad you've got
such a good servant."
Mrs. Hunter-"Good?"
Mrs. Nearbye-"Why, yes: your hius
band says she works like lightning."
Mrs. Hunter-"Exatctly. She learves
ruin and disorder behind her."-Phiia'
delphia' Public L.edger.
Certain of Oine Thiin:r.
"Well, little boy." said the kind
hearted dentist, "does the tcoth iu-t
you?"
"I don't know wittier it is the tooth
o" whethe"r it's just mie."' groaned th
you'll separate us Ihe nainli eo a way."
-Chicago Tribune.
In itostoni.
Mr. C. De Puyster (to Stablemantl
from tihe West --'Extricnte this iluad-i
rued froia the vehicle. Donate 1:im;
an adeqjua te supply of nutriiou iNe-tc'
mets. Anid when: te aur' ra of: th
mrin;;iiit illuinaiites the eaIs:ern hori
~o I will awarid you an amuple comnt:t
2 tion for your amt iible hospitaity.
S tablemnani'(to hos1ti-"T'h:'guy so ys
o give the nag a milt full of ot::is.
IT.'ll cluck you two bits in the mn:ri
in.-C'iiiunl'ti Coz:mercia!-Tribune.
liry.
"Our triendl .1 ug;ins," observed
Nordy, "claims that his married life
is not happy."
"Let's see." responded Butts. "he got
his wife through a matrimonial agency,
.1didn't he?"
"Yes."
"She liveC 'n Spokane and he sent
her the mot y to come on, and they
were married on sight, I believe."
"That's it."
"AnXd now he is not happy?*
"Nope."
"Well, it is st'ange." Eg'jstQn
hronie.
EMOATH LEAUE LESSON
FEBRUARY NINETEENTH.
Glorifying God in Our Home.--Epl
6. 1-9.
It will be well to read the precedin
chapter. which properly belongs t
this section. Here the duties of hu:
bands and wives, of masters and sei
vants, of parents and children are dE
fined and emphasized. Our lesso
de.is especially with children and sei
vant::. Ooedience to parents; filia
honor and respect;wise guidance b.
parents; faithful service to emploi
ers; and recognition of the fact tha
all service is unto the Lord, are th
sp)ecal inji:nctions of the lesson.
If the injunctions of the apostl
were fully carried out in spirit w
would have many more instances c
the "model home" than we find noa
The duties and relationships of th
different membcrs of the family ar
here set out, and if they can be full
realized we have all the elements c
a happy Christian heme.
3lutuai love, honor, and repard ar
essential to a model homc. The tw
bears, "bear and forbear," mus_ be i
evidence. The husband and wife ar
different, but living in absolute hai
mony if true love and mutual foi
bearance characterize their relatic:
ship. Here is the foundation of
true home.
There are mutt:al duties. The chi
dren are to ob,y, not from fear bl
from love and respect. And thi
should be insisted on. A health
family discipline is one of the crea
needs of our modern family life. Th
parents arc to be set a good examplh
They are to be patient and not pr(
voke to anger. Many of the trouble
of our modern homes are due to th
unfitness of parents. When the re
lations are happy and mutually hell
ful you can find joy and peace.
Servants and Masters. No relatio:
is so strained in the social world tc
ay as this. And it Is largely becaus
we have failed to obey these apostoli
injunctions. When employers ar
considerate, forbear threatening, an
treat servants as brothzrs; and whe;
employees are not "eyeservants," bu
faithful to their master's interests, w
find happy conditions. When thes
are violated there is trouble. Ther
should be no clashing of interest:
There will be no domestic turmoil, n
labor troubles, no "strikes" and riot
when these injunctions are heedec
We can glorify God in the hom.
when as parent or as child, as maste
or as servant we do what Chri't wouli
have us to do. The home life is th
real life. Here we lay aside restrain1
Here we act the real nature. Her
Is the real test of religion. Here w
can best glorify Christ. "Learn firs
to show piety at home."
0H1STIN U11D10O NOTES
FEBRUARY NINETEENTH.
'Glorifying God in our Home3."-.ph
6:1-9.
Scripture Verses.--Mal. 3: 16; Uatt
L:2-38; Mark 5:18-20; Luke 8:33, 39;
:26; Acts 28:Z0, 31; Eph. 5:19, 20;
ol. 3:10; 4: 2-6; 2 Tim. 1:5; Hcb
:13, 14; 1 Pet. 5:7; 1 John 2:0.
Lesson Thoughts.
It Is a strange thing that in th<
home, the very place where we havr
the most opportunity to do so, vie ari
requently most careless about glori
ying God by exercising a Christ-lk
disposition.
The duty of obedience to parents 1:
such an important one that it wa
emphasized by a special command
ment, and it Is an obligation not onl;
f law, but equally also of nature.
Selections.
The very closeness and the familiat
Ity of the relations of the lives witil
In our own doors make it hard a
times for us to preserve perfe(
sweetness of spirit. We too easil:
throw off our reserve and our car'
ulness, and are apt now and then ti
peak or act disagreeably, unkindly
But family life ought to be free froi
all impatience. Wherever else wt
may fail In this gentle spirit, it shouli
aot be in our home. Only the gent]
est life should have place thcre. We
have not long to stay together in thi;
world, and we should be patient ani
entle while we may.
We have careful thought for the
stranger,
nd smiles for the sometime guest
But oft for our own the bitter tone
Though we love our own the best.
Ah! lip with 'the curve impatient.
Ah! brow with the shade of scorn,
'Twere a cruel fate were the nigh
too late
To undo the work of the morn.
The greatest hope that can toucl
the home, the hope that takes awa:
its walls and makes it an everlastini
place, is the hope of the life whici
is to come, a'ad that hope is sustain
2d by the church.
The pious Eneas, In the epio poer
>f Virgil, obtained his honorable titl<
iromi the care which he bestowed o:
his father at the siege of Troy, carry
ing him on his back till they wer;
elear of danger.
Vatican Bible.
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fre rforvin gow - roi T4t usO"Tes
T7ourrrroT?~T pr.r, $6ea'tacao,i@1To
Facsimile of a page of the famous
a-:ican Bible-the oldest in existence,
'Coon Will Not Hibernate.
A well-known 'coon hunter of Let
minster asserts that while 'coons usi
ally hibernate during the winte
months, he has had one as a pet fo
twelve years and he has never show:
any tendency to do so. All sortsc
experiments have been tried to ir
duce him to go into this sleep, event
keeping food from him, but all effort
ti THE SUNDAY SCHOOL
INTERNATIONAL LESS-IN COMMENTS
FOR FEBRUARY [1.
Subject: Jesus at the Pool of Bethesda,
John v., 1-15-Golden Text, John vi.,
g 2-Memory Versed, s, 9-Commentary
0 on the Day's Lesson.
I. Jesus at the feast (vs. 1.4). 1. "Af
ter this." "After these things." R. V.
- Some think that when John is telling some
a event which follows inimediately after the
last thing narrated, he uses the expression
Li ".after this thing" (chap. 2:12), but that
y when there has been an interval of time
he uses the expression "after these things."
"A feast." There has been much differ
ence of opinion as to what feast this was,
e but it is the opinion now of the best writ
ers that it was the Passover. 2. "By the
e sheep gate" (R. V.) We know from Neb.
e 2:1. 32; 12:39 that there was a sheep gate;
,f so called probably from sheep for sacrifice
rbeing sold there. It was near the temple.
" The Hebrew tongue." Hebrew here
e means Aramaic. the language spoken at
e the time. not the old Hebrew of the Scrip
Y tures. "Bethesda." This name does not
>f occur elsewhere. It means "house of wrer
cy." The site is not identified with cer
e tainty. The traditional spot is nrar Castle
O Antonia. But. Dr. RobInson thinks "the
fountain of the Virgin." an intermittent
snring in the southeas:t of the city, near
e the nool of Silaom. was Bethesda. "Five
-orches." These vor:lies were probably
covered arcades. colonadess or verandas.
onen at one side t^ the air. but protected -
a a_ainst the sun or rain overhead. In a hot
country like Pales iro such buildings are
1. very necessary. 3. Multitude." The sick
t congregated here in great numbers.
I. Jesus heals an impotent man (vs.
s 5-9). 5. "An infirmity." The original im
t plies rather a loss of power than a positive
disease; probably it was a nervous disease
e of paralytic tyne. "Thirty and eight
. ears." The duration of the illness is
y. mentioned. either to show how inveterate
S and difficult it was to heal, or rather. ac
s cording to verse 6f. to explain the deep
comnassion with which Jesus was affected
on beholding the unhappy man. From
verse 14 we may infer that his disease was
the result of the sins of his youth.
n 6. "Knew." The word "knew" in the
>- original indicates one of those instantan
e eous nerceptions by which the truth be
came known to Jesus according as the task
e of the moment demanded. erse 14 will
e show that the whole life of the sufferer is
dpresent to the eye of Jesus, as that of the
n Samaritan woman was in chapter 4. "Saith
t unto him." Usually Christ waited until
e He was asked before He relieved the suf
e fering, but in this and a few other cases
e He healed without being asked. He read
the man's past life and present condition
of mind, and saw that he was in a state
0 to receive spiritual good from the healing.
S "Wilt thou?" Why does He ask a ques
1. tion to w ich the answer was so obvious?
e Probably In order to rouse the sick man
r out of his lethargy anhd despondency.
d 7. "No man." He was friendless as well
eas sick. "Is troubled." This spring, prob
ably the fountain of the Virgin, is inter
- mittent to this day. and various travelers
e have seen it sudden:y rise from five inches
e to a foot in five minutes. Whedon thinks
t that the moving of the waters arose from
an underground connection of 'the pool
with the city water works. The occasional
and intermittent disturbance of the water
is not to be understood as a regular occur
rence, but as something sudden.and quick
ly pasing away. Hence the man's -waitin
and complaint. "Pat me into the pool."
Literally, "in order to throw" me into the
pool; perhaps implying -that the gush of
water did not last long, and there was no
time to be lost in quiet carrying. "While
I am coming." Thus picturing the e:tteme
- haste and rapidity with which the favor
able opportunity was seized. There was a
rush and scramble for the one chance.
-8. "Rise." etc. Commands like these
would test the man's faith and obedience.
As in the case of the paralytic. (Mark 2:9),
Christ made no encqniry as to the man's
faith. Christ knew that he had faith, and
the man's attempting to rise and carry his
bed after thirty-eight years of impotency
was an open confession of faith. "Bed."
SProbabl)y only a mat or rug,, still common
in the East. 9. "And walked." With the
a command was given the power of obe
L. dience. So the sinner who is bidden to
e commit himself to Christ need not wait.
for any cotnpulsion. As he makes the ef
fort he will find divine power within him
self. "Sabbath." The seventh day of the
week, the Jewish Sabbath.
IU I. Persecution of the Jews (vs. 10-13).
' 10. "Not lawful." .Jeremiah had com
manded, "Take heed to yourselves, and
bear no burden on the Sabbath day" (16:
21). and the Jews interpreted this as for
-bidding the carrying of the lightest weight.
.- But Jeremiah's meaning is made clear by
i Neh. 13:15: "Treading wine presses on the
SSabbath, and brinsing in sheaves, and lad
ting asses." etc. "To forbid this man from
Y carrying his bed was like forbidding a mod-.
ern man to more a camn stool or a chair."
a 11. "He-said." Unquestionably the
words seem to say that one who could do I
Ssuch a wonder as healing me must certain
lv have the right to t:ell me what to do.
He had been authoriz.ed by one endorsed
as sent from God. And this was indeed
-the very ground which Christ Himself
a took.. 12. "Whio is the man" (R. V.)
sThey ignore the miracle, and attack the.
.command. They ask not. "Who cured
thee, and therefore must have divine au
thoritv?" but, "Who told thee to break4
a the Saibbath. and therefore could not have
it?" 13. "Knew not" (R V.) Jesus had.
been in Jerusalem but little, and the man
who was healed had probably' never seen
Him. "Conveyed himself away." Better,
withdrew. Literally, '"slipoed aside." be
came suddenly lost to sight. "A multi
tude," etc. Tlhis may be understood as
t explaining either why he withdrew-to
avoid the crowd. or the manner in which
he withdrew-by disapnearing in the
crowd. Either explanation makes good
sense.
I IV. Jesus gives advice and warning (v.
S14). 14. "Afterward." Probably soon af
1 terward; in a day or so. "Findeth him."
-Jesus had His eye on the man; His work
with him was not yet finished: this meet
ing was not accidental. "In the temple.'
3A good place for the man to be. "Sin n
a more." God asks this of every sinne
1 And yet there are those wvho insist that
-is impossible to live without sin in
life, but if such is the case thenJ
asked this man to do the impossible.
worse thing." A paralysis from whic
pool can restore and no Saviour wil
liver; the most terrible catastrophe of
soul's eternal history.
V. The man bears testimony (v.
15. "Told the ,Jewse" etc. In reply t
inauiry they had made of him a short
before, partly in obedience to the au
ties and partly to comnlete his apolo
himself. He expected, probably, in
simplicity of is heart, that the name
Him whom so many counted as a prophet,
if not as the Messiah Himself, would have
been sufficient to stop the mouths of gain
sayers..
DOG LE'FT THE CHURCH.
Humiliated by Accident, Collie Aban
doned All Religion.
At the disrupticn in 1843 the bulk of
the shepherds joined the Free Kirk.
But one collie held by the Established
principle, and refused to "come out."
Every Sabbath he went alone to 'the
Established church, where he had
been wont to accompany his master.
His master refused to coerce him.
"Na. na." he said, "he's a wise dowg;
ill r-o -.e'~.2c wi' his convictions."
The collie's adherenco to the Estab
lishment had, however, a disastrous
end. He was accustomed to lie dur
ing the sermon on the pulpit stairs, no
doubt better to hear the discourse.
Below him were placed.the long stove
pipe hats of the elders. ~On one unfor
tunate day he fell asleep, rolled off
his step and managed to get his head
Bitterly mortified, the dog fled from
the kirk, and ever afterward, as his
master said, "had nae trokings wi'