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RrXT J A Story of the Ve Written for BY MAXW CHAPTER IT. The storm had passed from her mind like a troubled dream when Rose awoke to see the long-wished-for day smiling golden-blue and cloudless before her. The wind had fallen, and the vexed sea, Robert's first love, was quieting down, though still turbid and dark where the ragged foam crests parted; patches of brown weed and floating wreckage attracted clouds of white-breasted gull6, their plumage steeped in morning sunlight. Kose looked at her wedding gown and bonnet spread on a chest of drawers and gilded by the Blunt sunbeams; then Bhe looked out at the sea and remembered the ship on the rocks?it must have gone to pieces. While dressing ehe heard voices from below, catching a phrase here and there: "Who'll tell her?"?"life buoys"?"surf"?"life corks on the sea"?"righted herself"?but nothing definite, and quickly finishing, and rousing the children who slept with her, she ran down stairs. The living-room fire had been burning all night; Moses was sitting before It, heavy-eyed and chilly, spreading his hands out for warmth; her father eat by the window looking haggard and stupid with his hands plunped deep in his pockets: neither of thein looked tip or spoke when she came in. She stood silent for -some minutes atraid to speak. "The vessel?" she faltered at last. "Gone to pieces," Moses replied, staring into the dull fire; "all hands lost" "But the lifeboat?" she continued. "Couldn't get anighst her. Capsized." "But she righted herself?" "Ay, she done that twice. The boat's all right." "Was anyone hurt, Moses?" she asked, a sob breaking her words. "Two. The sea beat them to pieces." "What, our men?" she cried her voice rising to a shriek. Her father rose and stumped heavily out of the room; her brother went on, staring Btupidlj at the fire. "Our men, eure enough," he replied under his breath at last. "Who are they? Not Luke Byles, I hope." "No; uot Luke." A long pause, a heavy sigh, and then "The coxeji." "Oh, dear, Moses! hi6 seven children, and another comingl Oh, dear! Who was the other?" He did not reply. His silence struck eold to her vitals. "Not," she added, trembling, "not the?second oar?" He nodded assent." Eose turned and took her hat and ehawl from a peg. "I am going to his mother," she said, quietly; and before "Not the?second oar?" he had time to turn round she was gone. George Attrill lived with his mother over by the bay on the other side of the bold headland split by the chasm. Kose thought she would have time to go there and stay an hour and get back in good time for the wedding, if che made haste. bo wedding Dens now, sne mougnt, as she ran, the wind blowing the tears from her face. People were standing about talking. They looked at her in a strange way as she hurried along?women came out of their doors to gaze after her, some Bhook their heads, some made audible comments. "The sea beat all the life out of em," ehe heard a coast-guardsman say to a villager; "it scooped him clean out of the boat and then beat him to death. Cork-jacket? Bless your eyes! that'd only float the body ashore! Couldn't save em." She passed the head of the chasm; ehe saw a blue spiral smoke rising from the hearth that would be hers before noon; the sunshine sparkled on the myrtles, the viscid sea, over which hovered clouds of white gulls, was quieting momently in the blue morning; the groundswell still boomed on, and the Jiarsh scfeech of the dragging shingle Bounded like a threat. "Better goo on back," said an ok man, coming up from the bay; "they've a-vound the body." "Which," she asked; "Adam Mann's?" "No; 'tother. You take and goo on home." Bose pressed on, her lips set with pain, and soon saw half a duzen m?n in blue Jerseys, with bare feet, slowly carrying bomething on a stretcher. It never struck her as strange that they were bearing him away from his home down by the bay; she could think of nothing but the pity of knowing that Drave and tender heart hushed forever in its heroic flight for men's lives. It was onlvwheD "he saw Reefer stalklne dejectedly, with drooping tail and hanging head, after the slow procession, that a nameless horror fell upon her and drove the blood to her heart. The dog did not bound forward to meet her with short welcoming barks as usual. Th9 bearers stopped as if by a common Impulse, and set down their burden, standing aside at her approach. One arm was hanging helpl ssly down beneath the covering that shrouded the body. Did she recognize that arm? Had it clasped her to the hushed heroic heart? Suddenly through the mellow sough of the 6ea. Robert's first sweetheart. and above the cheerful carol of the robins, pierced a loud, long, shrill cry that sent a shudder through the strong, erect bearers, just as a 6udden shriek of rising tempest sends a shiver through a group of tall forest trunks. Then there was silence, the men standing motionless, F.ose kneeling 011 the ground and raising the cioth from the dead face. There he lay, fresh from the deadly embrace of his jealous first .love, the salt sea water trickling from !his curly hair and pearling his closed eyelashes, comely in death, with a calm jmaiestv befittinc one who had died jheroically. All the girlhood died out of Bose's blanching face and blazing, horiror-strieken eyes as she looked. The , itep-v of pity had already driei on her ' PLL.S. ngeance of the Sea, This Paper. E LL GRAY. fresh cheeks, now stiffening with marble Immobility; no others came. "How was it?" she asked, in a hard, cold voice. "What had he to do with the lifeboat?" "'Twas like this, replied one of the men, hoarsely and hurriedly; "Deane, he took Attrill's oar." "Then," added another, "the Rescue 'd a-bin out twice toward the vessel. But nothin' couldn't live In that surf. She'd a-bin capsized. The men was entirely weared out. Then Adam Mann, he was washed overboard. They seen en strike agin a rock " The man broke off abruptly. "Then," said another, "Deane, he ups and says: 'Don't give In lads; let's have another try!' Then comes a heavy lea and tears en clean out of herT That's all." "Where was Geo. Attrlll?" she asked. "Attrill? He slipped down and hurt hisself getten abo.oid ov 'er. And Deane, he seen it, and he volunteered in 's place." "In Attrill's place and without a cork jacket?" said Eose, 6lowly, standing erect by the still form, now once more shrouded, her voice deepening and her | eyes Diazing wun unnatural nre. as she spoke she looked full in the face of George Attrill, who had just come up from the shore, apparently unhurt. Then the tumultuous long-gathering Eassion rushed up out of the depths of er heart and crashed over her, making her shake and shudder beneath it, as the boat had done beneath the sea that swept Robert away. ' "1'ou cowara:-sne cried, pointing to Attrill; "you put him in your place; you wished to be in his. You called me a light wench. You told him I should tire of him same as I dono of you, that I never cared for. I shall never tire of him, George Attrill; you have took away my only chance of that." "Rose, Rose!" said a familiar voice near, aB the clergyman, all wet, haggard, and unshorn, after his long nif?ht on the shore, came up and motioned to trie Dearere to go on. iou, wno were to have been that brave lad's wife?" She bowed her hepd, turned, and followed the solomn procession up the hill and down the cha6m. Not thus had she thought to follow her lover to his home that day. George stood gazing after her with a dumb, helpiess look in his large, dark eyes. Then he turned, went down to the bay. and flung himself down in the shadow of some broken rocks. "God knows," he cried, "I'd have died for him only to save her this!" Rose's words rang all over the village, and grew as words do with repetition. The men who first heard them began to ask themselves why Robert had no cork-jacket on, as George had; why George so quickly recovered, after giving in at the critical moment; why he had called Rose a "light wench," and other questions. Covert sneers, cold looks and whispers began to go around whenever Attrill appeared. Then he was avoided; finally he was asked to leave the boat Rose forgot both her wild words and George's existence long before 6he reached the cottage, no rose-cheeked, red-lipped girl with swift blushe-; and gentle glances, as she had gone forth; but a white-faced, wild-eyed woman, helpless and tearless. The clergyman walked by her side, offering no futile consolation, but leading her by the hand like a strayed child: the surf-music boomed gently on; the redbreast's warble floated on the sunny air; the bearers' feet fell with an even, muflled tread; other sound there was none. So Rose followed her bridegroom to the pretty home he had prepared for her, where Mary Deane sat silent and desolate by the cheerless hearth, where the dog,who had run on, laid his chin on | nis mistress' Knee, moaning numaniy, and looking up in her grief-stricken face, with large tears rolling from his great soft eyes, while the kitten sprang at his wagless tail, and gamboled on the floor, over which children of Robert's might never play now. The mother did not look up when the door was darkened by the sad burden borne by the men, nor did she stir from her etony calm when she heard them struggling up the narrow, steep stairs with it JLtut when Rose approached her 6he m-"* ?*"*? ? -rt .*v "TOD PUT DIM IN YOUR PLACE." raised her eyes, and each woman, seeing the other, forgot herself for awhile. Mury opened her arms dumbly and I'o-e fell on her knees by her side; loth wept bitterly. Kobert had added some last touches to the pretty room he had prepared with such loving Industry for the brokenhearted girl below. A bunch of roses glowed on the dressing table. He had nauea area uoraer rounu ins luwino text, taken, as Rose had observed to him, from a funeral psalm, "Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling-place." The useless wedding ring lay glittering in a sunbeam on the table, the wedding clothes still lav lolded at the foot of the bed, on which Robert lay dead on his marriage morning: while the eong of the mighty sea, his first love, surged in hushed triumph round his pillow, an epithalamium, a lullaby and a dirge in one. CHAPTER II*. A year later George Attrill met Rose Fielding at the landward edge of the chasm, where she was cutting sun-dried bracken. "Hose," he Paid, "I've never como anighst you this twelvemonth. I knew j you couldn't tninK 01 any out mm mar. s gone. But now let by-gones be bygont'6! Forgi .e what 1 said that night. i was mau, s-eemg 3011 ana aim 10i gether." i Ko e leant her hands on tho renpingJ hook she carrie 1, and the hook on the ; hand-cart of bracken before her. "I never thought no more of it," she 6ald, with oJd apathy. "There's something more," he continued, presbing his dry lips nervously together. "You said what you never meant when you was mad with trouble, when you 6een him?as is g' ne?lying cold on his wedding day. Take back them words, Rose. D'ye mind then?" "I mind them," she replied; "I meant them. He died in your place, doing of your duty." "I never so much as knowed Robert was in the boat till I Leard he'd cone dead," cried George. "I slipped on the wet rock in storm and dark. I lay pretty nigh a hour for dead, they tells ire. The Rescue had been capsized by the time I come to. I'd a-died sooner than let him gone. Rose, you can't think me that bad?" he burst out. "If I done you wrong," she replied, "I'm sorry." "They're all agin me," he continued, "they yeard what you said that day. None on 'em 'll go long with me 6ince. But I don't mind 60 much, so long as you don't?don't think me that bad, Rose." "I never knew how it was, George," she replied, with more interest. "I only know he done your duty and was lost in your place." "I never bore malice?no furrer than a angry woru?ageu dou uvuuv. xwtto no fault o" mine. I bid ashore stunned, and was saved. God knows I'd sooner 've gone down. Take back them hard words, Rose." "I take them back." 6hereplied; "God forgive me for wionglng you." Then she went to the little cottage, now her home. Though Rose was but nineteen when Robert died, her youth was over; 6he could love no other in the place of him so suddenly snatched away, nor could she leave his mother in her desolation. She tried to do all that Robert had done for his mother, and being strong and industrious, made almost as good a living as he had made. She would row the boat, set the lobster-pots, work in the garden, tend the cow and 6h ep, and take the product to market. She loved all that Robert had loved and liked to tend wherever he had tended; it consoled her that his mother, aged perceptibly by his loss, depended ontirolv minri hpr Khfl watched the cross-larred patch of sunshine and moonshine creep over the boarded floor in early summer mornings and calm midnights alone; through 6tormy nights she listened to the roar of the surf and crash of the breakers, and felt the strong vrind6 curl round the shuddering J cottaze, alone. Yet the many-voiced sea-song in all Its moods dally became dearer to her; cruel as the waves had been, their fascination was never stronger. The outdoor life, the salt, wholesome air, and the hard yet varied and pleasant work, braced and strengthened her tall, well-set figure, occupied her thoughts and calmed her grief, till the thought of it became a luxury and finally a necessity, and 6he lived that dreamy life of communion with the lost, made up of memory and longing, which is so bitterly sweet, and produces such a strange emptiness in the heart, akin to the sense of starvation in the bouy. From that day George Attrill visited the cottage at intervals, sometimes bringing samphire from the high cliffs that Hose could not climb, for Robert's autumn customers, sometimes to offer half a day of harder work than she could manage. The second autumn after the accid< nt to the Rescue he asked her to marry him, and she refused. He saw that her loss was still too fresh. From the first he had been considered a better match than Robert Deane. The house in the bay in which his mother lived and let lodgings was their own; his brothers and sisters were doing well; he had some bathing-machines and pleasure-boats down in the bay. As time went on. and visitors became more numerous, the house grew and the garden with it. the machines and boats multiplied; he added a pony ind chaise for hire, then another and another. Once a year he asked Eose to marry him for ten years. Then he gave up. And then Alary, who had often urged the advantages of the match upon Eose, told her that she had done foolishly. "I'll never leave you so long as you and me both lives," Eose replied. They were sitting at work, quite as they were used to be, Eose thinking how tall the first child would have been, and picturing Eobert at play w;th the younger ones. Eeefer, asthmatic and infirm, lay stretched before the warm blaze, his nose on his paws; the once reckless kitten winked beside him, a majestic and meditative cat, reflecting pleasantly on a long and virtuous life spent in rearing innumerable families and killing unnumbered mice. Mary Deane was whiter, thinner, and more bowed; Eo=e was stronger and handsomer, with d*:en liehts in her e^s and a rich crim son* under the brown of her sun and 6ea burned face. # # * * ? * # Ten years later the cottage hearth glowed warmly one autumn night, the groundsweil boomed in continuous bass; the lone, cliff-like ranges of breakers rolled crashing on the shore, the wind roared. The cat and dog were long dead; Mrs. Fielding, old but hale, sat in Mary's chair, a gill of lb in that of Rose. "Grandmother," said the latter, who now lived at the cottage, "why did Aunt Rose never marry?" Then the tale was told in low tones to the music of surf and wind, while Mary Deane lay upstairs dying. A step sounded overhead; it waB Rose going to the lattice and opening it to let in the fuller thunder of the suraes. that Mary's 6oul might pass away Then she turned to the bed, closed th< eyes of Robert's mother, and thanked Go I. As eoon as Mary Deane was in hei grave George came to the cottage and asked Rose to be his wife; she refused for the last time. That winter a ship went on the rooki in a fctorm from the northwest, and th crew were fetched off her by a rocketline. George Atlrill went aboard foundered vessel and slung the numbed 1 x_; ,l 1 IVhilfl tinu llijuieu uitrn inuii^ mc nuc. <i u>? doing this a heavy sea swept him overboard and crushed him on a rock, so thut he was hardly rescued, a cripple for life. ( ne evening in the following spring Eoso sat at work by her cottage door, thinking of George's sad condition, which had bren told her ti-at day. Het niece?the young Rose?wa* croing tc be married. The sea was sinking its softest song in the hushing evening. She loved it daily more?its anger and sadness, its peace and mirth, its terror and soothing. j|It was Robert's first love, her only riva'. She often saw him, in fancy, cominc; up the cliff in a strength and youth made immortal by love and death. She looked back on the twenty years of maiden-widowhooJ; in spite of hpr sorrow, thev had been happy. The music of the graml 6ea and' all its changing splendors had oeen ever present, and Robert s memory had beautified her labors in sun and breeze. Mary's need of her had been the salt of her life. And now the salt was gone. It was hard to give up the shadowy figure with tho kind brown face and m?rry blue eyes that had companioned her solitude for twenty yeara. But she could not help the dead; that memory would never die, it had grown old witb her. Yet, she was not old?only of a ripe prime; she wus a comely woman still, erect and sun-browned, with clear tranquil eyes and shining brown hair. Presently she rose, folded her work, shut her door, and went over tho clifl down to George Attrill's house in the bay, thinking of him as who last, sav him in the autumn?a fine, strong man with fiery black eyes and tlxjck Diacfc hair and beard. When she reached the hou6e she saw j I llnWTf I Hi SHE SAW A BENT, ORAY-HEAPEP FIGURE. a bent, gray-headed figure dragging itself on crutches indoors as the spring evening closed in chill and gray. Could that bowed, broken man be George? Sho K6Q and shaken with pity she followed him, unseen in the dusk, into his house, where he sat solitary and sad, thinking over his life. VJtJUI OliC DHiU, CLUVi^iU^ the heavy shadows and standing before him in the last light, "the time for sweethearting i8 gone by, and we two lone creature:} will 6oon be getting alone in years, Many's the time you've asked me to marry you. Now I'm come to ask you." So at last George had his heart's desire, and at last Rose's long-deferred wedding belhi mingled their melody with the song uf the restless surges? an epithaiamium, a dirge, and a lullaby iri one. [the end.] Copyright. 1892. WORDS OF WISDOM. The love that endureth all things? Bdf-love. Fancy should always be subordinated to reason. A man should keep his friendship in constant repair. Riches have -wings, but they nap no welcome to poor relatione. The charity that begins at home and ends at home is weak in the legs. Some people think they need health, when really they only need energy. Your neighbor's baby may be a crying shame, bur; what about your own? Fine clothes do not make the woman, but they sometimes break the husband. The more bad habits the average man has the better he seems to enjoy life. Surmises aro not facts. Suspicions which may be unjust need not be stated. Life is no longer for married men than for single men'. It only means longer. The man who spends all his evenings at home never has to spend any of his time in jail. You will limit the number of your troubles if you limit the number you tell them to. A man always knows how to govern his wife, but the trouble is she won't let him do it^ It did not require much of a philosopher to discover that all rich widows are handsome. Marriage is a failure when the man handles all the assets and the woman all the liabilities. Many men who fall in love aDd claim to have lost their hearts are convinced by subsequent experience tht,t they lost their head3. Girls let so many worthless, foolish boys nibble at the bait on the hooks that when a real desirable man comes along they haven't enough bait to land him.?The South-West. Photoijrnphy in Colors. A French inventor, M. VilledieuChassague, is said to have developed a process by means of which photographs showing in their natural colors can be made in a very simple way. With some solution, the secret of whoie composition he at present withholds, he washes the sensitive plate on which the- negative is taken. The plate, or sensitized paper, on which the positive is to be made is similarly treated. * At first the picture has the appearance of any ordinary photograph, but after three successive washes, one blue, one grass-green and I one crimson red, have been passed i over it, it assumes the colors of the original object, all arranged in their proper places and intensities. In other words, tbe blue takes hold only where there was blue in the original, and so with the other colors, and the proper shades are represented. Sir H. Trueman Wood, Secretary of the Society of Arts, London, and Captain W. deW. Abney hp.ve not only witnessed the making of colored photographs by the new process, but they have themselves experimented with the plates and solutions, and they express astonishment at the results. Captain Abney says that he is still somewhat skeptical, despite what he has seen, and wishes to examine the mysterious process further before he will undertake to say on vrhat principle it works. Speakfi Although Ho Una >~o Tongue. The surgeons of Portland, Oregon, are deeply interested in the remarkable case of John Wilson, Deputy Assessor of Lane County, Oregon, who recently had his tongue entirely removed in an J operation for cancer performed by a surgeon of that city. "Wilson now I speaks plainly, but he has some trouble in taking his food owing to the difficulty in swallowing. . Wilson was taken to Portland three weeks ago suffering from a cancer at the base of the tongue. The salivary glands were first removed and a portion of the base of the tongue cut away, but the operation gave him no relief. It was then determined to remove the entire tongue. On March 1 the operation was performed. The patient was at first unable to talk, but, to the surprise of every one, has rapidly developed the faculty of speech until he now talks as clearly oy>/1 /liof1 rr oo ovdr* lint Wlt.ll 11.11 P.11 tiirely different voice. His voice, which was formerly harsh and rasping, is now fnll and soft, but guttural in tone, like that of a German. He has fully recovered from the effects of -,he operation. Home Industry Club. Dallas (Texas) women hnve organized a Home Industry Club. Only articlos made in Texas will be bought. IN THE QUIET HOURS. PRECNANT THOUCHTS FROM THE WORLD'S CREATEST AUTHORS. Be Always Prepared-A Protent-A Trayer ? Seed Growing-Work for All at the Master ? Kidding?C?od * nayn are the Beut-The Secret of Love for Christ. Said Hark to Martin, "Wherefore spend Such constant cure thy vines to tend? It may be months, it may bo years, Before the vineyard's Lord appears." Said Martin, "Though it may be long Before 1 hear His harvest-song, , i' . If of that hour can no man say, It may be that He comes today." ?Julia Wood. A Protest Against Morbidness. The Apostle's injunction. "Let every one of us please his neighbor for hie good to edification," brings out the sunny side of the ideal Christian life. It is a protest against the morbidness and the mournfulness which are too commonly associated with Christian discipleship. It helps us to draw a distinction between seriousness and dullness, between earnestness of purpose and frigidity of soul. It reminds us that whatever throes and pains may attend the germination and growth of the ideal life, that life should present to the world the rich blossom and fragrance which minister pleasure to manmna. 'mere is, tnereiore, 6ome flaw in the piety which is repellent, and in the zeal to ao good which succeeds only in hiding the beauty of holiness. If there were any doubt on this point, it would only be necessary to bring it to the test of the one Ideal Life lived among men. No life can compare with His in the sense of solemnity and seriousness. Upon Him lay the burden of the heaviest task ever imposed upon man. Through sorrows unspeakable, yet with unfaltering step. He pressed on to the goal of sacrifice. Yet, from first to last. He exercised upon men the charm of an attractive spirit, which .made them feel it was happy to be good.and "scattered around Him influences which added to the joys and delights of life. And in this matter of winsomeness. His disciples have great need to learn of Him. It is their duty to cultivate His charm, to dis- , cipline themselves into His power to make the world brighter and men happier. A crotchety Christian is a monstrosity. The man *ho fails to spread peace, joy, hope, in this world of real and countless sorrows, is an enemy of the race and a criminal befr?ra C\ru\ 1?r\r> fArnmnot amr?nvr thft m?rlfC of the ideal life is the faculty of enjoying and dispensing the gladness of the Creator. ?Charles A Berry, D.D. A Prayer for Larger Growth. Christ, who dost bid me not to let my heart be troubled, I believe in God and in thee. Let thy joy be in me, and let it be fulfilled. Fulfilled in the presence of failure if thou didst send the failure, and my own folly did not invite it: fulfilled in sickness,if the great Physician bestows the sickness in order to beat me fulfilled in loneliness, if the solitude is crowded with thee; fulfilled even in death, when death is the shadow of thy light. Wherever I turn my weeping eyes thy loving face is a tender reproach. I mourn over my sins in such wise that the mourning is an added sin. I grieve at my poor service of God and of man, and that grief hinders my service. I sorrow at my paltry growth?a growth that sorrow dwarfs and joy enlarges. Blessed Lord, who dost die in my deaths, take me into thy resurrection life. I will forget failure and gloom ; I will forget duty, even the duty of joy ; and I will learn privilege. Speed me on thy errands so swiftly that I shall have no time for mvuujness. a axe me iihu my juj su tuuj- i pletely that I shall not even consider whether I am joyful. And all through no grace of my own, but out of thy love which has promised and never failed. Amen. Only the Seed Growing. Let it not be a group of ash trees, but a group of men, ... a thought of God entrusted to the earth for its embodiment and execution. What are these dreams and visions.tbese upward Teachings, these certainities of infinite belongings?what are they, 0 thought of God. but the unbroken tension of the chain which binds the thinker to His thought forever? And what are j all these earthlinesses, these tender cling- | ings to tbe things our senses understand, I .... these calls of present duties, this fear of dying, this love of the present, warm, domestic earth?what are they all but the pressure of the warm Rrcund upon the seed entrusted to it ? The man who does not somehow hold the complete truth about his life?both of these truths com- i " * i? ?VSI- ! Dinea in one?aoes noi Jive wonnuy. xuc , man who has and holds them both, look, what a life he lives! Look how substantial- j ly his roots are fastened in the earth. Loolt i how aspiringly he lifts his branches to the | Bky.?1'hillips Brooks. God'* Whjs Are Befit. Sometimes rain comes in storms, with j black clouds and fierce lightnings and thun- i ders. People tremble and aro afraid as they j look on. But the storm passes, pouring out rich blessing of rain, which make all the J fields rejoice. God sometimes sends His word to us in dark, portentous forms?sickness. loss, disappointment, sorrow, trial. At first we are terrified; but in the end, when the storms have cleared away, we find that the dark clouds we so dreaded were but God's messengers to bring to us rich bless- : ings of grace. ' God bends from out the deep, and sayg, 'I gave thee of My seed to sow ; Bringest thou Me my hundredfold?' Can I look up with face aglow. And answer, 'Father here is gold?'" ?J. R. Miller. D. D. The Mnster Hid* Us Work. "Boll ye away the stone." said Jesus to His disciples,not because He could not have Himself attended to that small task, but He would enlist their service. ''Loose him and let him go," He said ; He could Himself have unwound the bandages, but that is not His way of doing things. He is saving the world through us. There are multitudes of souls awakening to the glory of the better life?moving, like Lazarus, with slow, uncertain, tottering steps from darkness to light. His word to every one j of His followers is : "Lend a haDd. Loose them and let them go." Why stand we idle at the grave's mouth ? We cannot regener- ! ate, we cannot quicken from the dead, but we can suffer the Master to use us. The great Emancipator speaks. Unbind the cerements! This is practical "Altruism." This is the work of all true believers. So may we help our Master in accomplishing the restoration of the race to the glory of God.?Rev. D. J. Burrell, D. D., in *'Fo? Christ's Crown." The Secret of Love for Christ. Wherein lies the personal power of the Lord Jesus to bind human hearts to Him in devoted lore and heroic service ? He was indeed perfect as God is perfect, and in being this He left all His disciples,even such an one as St. Paul hopelessly behind. But the divine loftiness of His character does not remove Him beyond reach of our sym- I pathy. We do not loose interest in Hirnbe- j cause he is so much better than we are. j On the contrary, it is by His excellence that i He draws us. He is to our hearts the imitable inimitable, holding us at once by ospira- j tion and by admiration.?A. B. Bruce. Faith is a grasping of almighty power; j The hand of man laid on the arm of God? The giand and blessed hour In which the things impossible to me Become the possible,O Lord.through Thee, j ?A. E. Hamilton. j TO STAMP OUT HOC CHOLERA. Secretary Wilson to Experiment In the j Treatment of the Plugue. ! The Agricultural Department has taken j steps looking to the extermination of hog , cholera, and. as an initiative, has sought ] the co-operation of the States of Tennessee and Iowa !n an experiment to determine ' how economically the malady which is do- j vastating swine interests can be stamped | out. It is one of the first questions taken | up by Secretary Wilson, and lie has sent 1 formal letters to the Governors of the two i States named, asking them to designate J counties particularly subject to an out- 1 break, for the purpose of investigation and ! s experiment in treatment. j f THE SABBATH SCHOOL. INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS FOR MAY 23. Lesfton Text: "The Conference of Jernsai?m " AM. th 1 -ix vo-oa Terf: Acts xv., 11?Commentary on the Lesson of the Day by Rev. D. M. Stearnn. 1. "Except ye be circumcised after the manner of Moses, ye cannot be saved." While Paul and Barnabas abode at Antioch with the disciples after their return from their first missionary tour, doubtless giving themselves continually to prayer and to the ministry of the word (vi., 4) certain men oame down from Judaea and taught as above. The teaching of Scripture on all points that we need to know is clear and simple, but the perversions of the devil ever since his first work in Eden are fearfnl. 2. "Paul and Barnabas had no small disoonolnn nnfl rHaniit.At.lnn with thpm " Thfl story of Abraham and the giving of the rite of circumcision is so plain that we wonder how anyone could fail to see that Abraham was a righteous man before he received the rite of circumcision. Compare Gen. xv., 6, and rvli., 10, and then see how clear are Paul's words in Rom. iv., 11, concerning circumcision, "A seal of the righteousness of the faith which he had, yet being uncireumcised." 8. "Declaring the conversion of the gentiles, they caused great joy unto all the brethren." This was as they journeyed to Jerusalem, for so did these Juda?an teachers stir the people that it was thought best to send to thi^apostles and elders at Jerusalem concerning it. The enemy had not bargained for this quickening of the brethren along the road as they heard of the wondrous work of God among the gentiles. 4. "They declared all things that God had done with them." This was before the apostles and elders at Jerusalem. It was certainly more important to hear first what God had done by His word and Spirit throueh His servants than to hear of the dispufings of these teachers at Antioch who were troubling the people about circumcision. 5. "Needful to circumcise them and to command them to keep the law of Moses." This was the teaching of some of the Pharisees who believed. There are many of them to-day who teach that something besides receiving Christ is necessary to salvation. Baptism, joining the church, taking the communion, doing good, praying, mortifying the flesh and such like are by some held to be essential to one's salvation. Such never can tell whether they are saved or not, for they cannot tell when they have done their part, as they say. 6. "And the apostles and elders came together for to consider o! this matter." Peter was the first speaker (verses 7 to 11) of any account, and they stopped disputing to listen to his testimony. He spoke of what they knew and of what he had actually Been of the grace of God. Then followed Barnabas and Paul with their record of the miracles and wonders which God had wrought by them among the gentiles, ?#*/*? Tomaa vorv Al/>ftrlv rfa/HripH in favor of salvation without the necessity of circumcision. 22. The council then decided to send back to Antioch with Paul and Barnabas two others, chief among the brethren, Judas Barsabas and Silas, who might by their testimony confirm to the brethren at Antioch the decisions of the council, and thus tend more fully to comfort and establish them. 23. "Greater unto the brethren which are of the gentiles." To hear Jews greeting uncircumcised gentiles as brethren simply because they had received Christ was a great advance in grace over chapters x., 28; xi., 2, 3. Even I have heard a minister of the gospel very decidedly object to being called brother or to speaking of other believers as brethren, although our Lord Himself said, "One is your Master, even Christ, and all ye are brethren" (Math, xxiii., 8). What does ail some ministers? 24. "Certain ^hich went out from us have troubled you with words, subverting your " All wlin mrtnlH rmf ftrttrfhfn?7 hA DUUia. Oil nuv nvuiu 0 tween the penitent sinner and the 8aviour are troubles and perverters. As helpless and hopeless as the impotent man at Bethesda, as the palsied man let through the roof, as the poor leper, or as Lazarus corrupting in the tomb, is the condition of every sinner. But Christ comes to the sinner and gives Himself with all that He is and as many as receive Him become the children of God (John i., 12"). 25, 26. "Men that have hazarded their lives for the name of our Lord Jesus Christ." Some men can teach and argue and disSute, but not so many are ready to endure ardness or lay down their lives for Christ. The teaching of those who suffer with Him is apt to be of more weight than that of mere talkers. 27. "We have sent, therefore, Judas and Silas, who shall also tell you the same things by mouth." They would therefore have the letter from the apostles, the spoken words of Judas and Silas and the lives of Paul and Barnabas all to comfort and I establish them. God does not trouble His people, but ever seeks to comfort them. He is the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, and comforts as only a mother can (II Cor. i, 3; Isa. lxvi., 13). If He brings us into trial, it is that He may more fully reveal Himself to us as our comforter, that we may know Him better. 28. "It seemed good to the Holy Ghost and to us to lay upon you no greater burden than these necessary things." The Holy Spirit is the great teacher and comforter and director of all the affairs in the church, and it is for us to be so fully under His control that all the work and all the words shall be, "The Holy Ghost and us," our part being simply that of vessels or instruments in which He can accomplish that which He desires, for He knoweth the will of God. I a"m sure that it Is the greatest thing on earth to be a person under the complete and constant control of the Holy Spirit of God for the service and glory of God. 29. Not one thing but thej'reception of Christ is essential to salvation. It is wholly "through tho grace of the Lord Jesus Christ" (verse 11), apart from any works of ours (Eph. ii., 8; Bom. iv., 5; Titus iii., 5). But being saved freely by His grace, it is, then, not a matter of circumcision or of uncircumcision, but of a new creature filled with faith which worketh by love (Gal. v., 6; vi., 15), the love which constrains us to let alone whatever would brieve the Spirit or in any way hin der our fellowship with the Father anil tne Son. Being fully justified by faith in Christ (Acts xiii., 38,39; Rom. v., 1). it is no longer, nor ever again, a question of salvation, but wholly one of fellowship and service as saved people, an easy yoke full of comfort if we are only willing to wntlk with Him. The believers at Antioch were comforted, Judas returned to Jerusalem, but Silas continued at Antioch with Paul and Barnabas, teaching and preaching the word of the Lord (verses 34, 35).?Lesson Helper. LEPERS ON A TRAIN. Three Icelanders Sent to Be Immured in a Lazaretto for Life. Three lepers, nativer, of Iceland, have arrived at the lazaretto, at Tracadie, Gloucester County, New Brunswick. The lepers were brought from Winnipeg, Manitoba, in a freight oar, which was directly behind the locomotive and was placarded to warn the public to keep away from it. The victims came into Canada through the port of Halifax or St. John, after having crossed the ocean in the steerage of a steamship. They wcra half way across the continent before the nature of their disease was suspected. They wore isolated at Winnipeg, where Dr. Smith, of the Tracadie (New Brunswick) lazaretto, who was sent by the Government to examine them, pronounced it leprosy, and the three afflicted persons, one of whom is a woman, were ordered to be immured in the lazaretto for the rest of their lives. Remarkable Flight of Meteors. Professor Brooks, Director of the Smith Dbservatory, Rochester, N. Y., while taking >bservations of Mercury between 3 and 4 >'clock Thursday afternoon observed ;hrough the large telescope a wonderful light of meteors. They were intensely vhite, many of them having the appearince of Vega or some other bright star vhen seen through a large telescope in day;ime. The direction of motion was toward tie sun. During tne passage 01 me meteors, | vhieh lasted half an hour, over one hun- > Ired were seen, at times two or three ! neteors passing through the telescope Held j ogether. Nothing Too Big to Steal. Thieves at Buckinghamshire, England, tole a bronze and stone fountain, fourteen eet high. A TEMPERANCE COLU^H THE DRINK EVIL MADE MANIFEST^B|| MANY WAYS. ^ Interesting statistics concerning me uae 1 of Spirituous Liquors During Hard; Times?Consumption of Beer Lut Tear, as Compared With Previous Tears. I will, kind reader, your attention claim, To show bow drink affects the human frame., It swells the liver to enormous size, And gives the toper jaundiced face and eyes; The stomach also gets diseased by drink, f Its coatings thicken and its foldings shrink; The gastric fluid soon its strength dotlt lose, ; And bilious topers solid food refuse, } i Till tremors strong their feeble members, seize, Relax their nerves and lead to heart dis-j ease. But most of all does drink affect the brafnj And often ends by making man insand. What would old 8ocrates and Plato say Could they return to enjoy the light of day And see us, Christians, Nature's gifts atrase, 1 Indulge the beastly appetites, and lose,| t or vne mauigence, neaua ana weaaiu tkuui life' llfes Exchanging peace and happiness for stride?) Temperance and Hard Timet. 5 It is a trite saying that "there is no great\ loss without some small gain" and its truthA is illustrated by some facts and figures, V which the American Grocer publishes in a y recent issue. The loss in the case is due to> < hard times and the gain, according to the Grocer, is in the diminished consumption of all kinds of beverages, especially spirituous ones. The Grocer's figures show that 71.263,000 people used less spirits in 1890 than 58,680,000 did In 1887, the amount^ being, respectively, for 1896, 71,051,877 gallons and 71,064,783 in 1887. About 11,000,-' 000 gallons are used annually in the arts; manufactures and medicine which leaves about 60,000,000 gallons for use as a beverage. There was a falling off, too, last year in tne consumption 01 Deer as compared wiin 1891 and 1892 equal to about one gallon pet,fl| capita. In domestic wines there was a fall- H ing off as compared with 1888 of about one- V half, though the population had meanwhile increased more than 12,500.000; while in im-| 1 ported wines the falling off, as compared | with 1898, was fully one-half and as com- , pared with 1898 more than 1,500,000 gallons. The Grocer tabulates its results as follows: Beer (domestic) 8538,662,857 Beer (imported) 3,300,681 Whisky (exclusive of quantity used in arts) 270,000,000 Wines (domestic) 29,199,514 Wines (imported) 20,630,980 Grand total $861,693,832 Estimated cost in 1892 on the same' basis 81,000,884,277 Estimated cost in 1891 on the same basis .'. 8934,818,314 The Grocer attributes these results to the hard times which have, in its judgment, made the people more abstemious than for merly; and it oites the fact that there has been at the same time with the falling off In the consumption of ardent spirits a falling off in the consumption of tea and coffee. It does not lay stress enough, however, we think, on the change in the popular estimate of drinking. While there Is still a great consumption of ardent spirits, and a fairly good patronage of the numerous "drunk cures" with which the country is dotted, it certainly is not as fashionable as it was twenty years ago to drink to excess. During the war ana for some years thereafter It was scarcely considered disreputable for a gentleman to get drunk on occasion; but It certainly is so considered now. We find this view of the matter Indorsed, substantially, by the Boston Transcript wbfoh reproduces most of the Grocer's article and says: "Hard times may have a slight effect upon the drinking habits of the people and' there are things, notably the bicycle, which) exert a beneficent influence; but we belie7? that the habits of the people are vastly lm-'. proved upon what they were only a fewi years ago, and Immensely better than th^ji: were twenty-flvo or thirty years ago. ThSr^B fact is, as it seems to us, that the trend o? fl sentiment and of practice Is toward absten- ^ tion from intoxicants. There Is still liquor enough and more than enough drunk by; our people, but it is as nothing to whatl they used to imbibe." The Cause of Untold Misery. The stream of horrible profits which! drunkards pour Into the enormous reser-' voir of the drink trade is a stream swollen,1 by untold misery to the innocent, and aj \" stream which everywhere leaves the slime of its overflow over devastated areas of so-i ciety. But, apart from drunkenness and! ' all its ruinous incubus upon the well-being; of the country, the amount of hopeless waste caused by the drinking habits of our; poorer population is the main cause of pauperism and demoralization with wliioh, for so many weary years, the best havej ? struggled in vain. If there were no other! and deeper grounds for temperance efforts, they would be amptly justified by the im-| mense prosperity which the working classes* might achieve for themselves if they wouldj divert into the channels of useful trade thei vastness of wealth?amounting, according; to some calculations, to ?60,000,000 a year?: which they spend on an article of con~ sumption which is not good but a needless stimulant, and which even in measures that are deemed moderate is to large> multitudes of men a Source not of strength/ but of weakness; not of health, but of, widespread anguish and disease.?Canor Farrar. Why He Left the Trade. The following is taken from the Christ-' church paper: After four years connection, I have com?; to these conclusions: 1. That it is bad business, morally and! physically, for those that engage in it. I 2. I believe, from observation, that most crimes are the direct results of indulgence in liquor. 3. I am convinced that more misery is caused by drink in the home than by any other agency. 4. I believe and know that drink degrades) a man, and eventually brings him to th& gutter. 5. No man can be a Christian and a pub- i lican. . ! 1 6. A liking for drink must lead to moral decay. This I know from observation. That the drinking customs of the people are to blame for nine-tenths of the commercial depression.?Thomas Stagpoole. Moody on the Liqnor Business. If you have rented property out for whisky you had better get out of the business quick. The man that lets his property for that is just as bad as the man that passes the whisky over the bar. I believe the curse of God rests upon that business, and I believe the time has come when the church of God should come out and keep itself unspotted from it. We do not want to be allied to it or to anything else that not legitimate or right.' Total Abstainer* the Best Workmen. At one place in England, where a large, amount of bricfcmaking is carried on and where the amount of each man's work, the number of days lost by sickness, or otherwise, and the deaths were made matters of record, the rules of the service allowed to every man a mug of beer at each meal. But there were among the workmen quite a number who wholly abstained from the use of beer and every other intoxicating drink. An examination of the record 4- lw? r% fA?n rw.x ornAnnf nf ITftft ?cu moi IUC ?.triage ?">??" ? 1 done per annum by the beer drinkers was & large percentage less than that done by! those who wholly abstained, while the number of days lost by sickness was greater. A Vast Sum Worse Than Wasted. I A temperance orator says that 4858,J . 000,000 was expended for beer alone in the) United States last year. Assuming that the! population of the United States was 000,000 in 189C, this would be more than J per capita for every man, woman, and; J child in the United States, and we all known | that there are lots of children in the United1 fl States who didn't have any beer at all last' i year. * Temperance New* and Notes. The devil's fastest friend and most help- 4 ful ally is the liquor traffic. I It is the high-liccnsed saloon that makes 1 the drinker, and the drinker makes the drunkard. J J