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1f[e m C?. _? (? I A NC [ C?rs. Slizal | {ISABELLA i [ (Copyright, ll?2 and lSSC, Idj CHAPTER VI. | AT THE OPERA. Mary flnng herself down beside the lounge on which Dolores lay still inaensiblo as when she 'had left her, rigid, deathly pale and wjth eyes wide open, fixed and staring. "Oh, this is horrible!" sue crieu "wildly. "It is not like a swoon, mamma! What does it mean? It was the sight of yon," turning suddenly to Stanley?"it was the sight oi you that did it! Clarence! Clarence! You have killed her!" At these wordq, Clarence Stanley turned a startled, inquiring look on the speaker, while Mrs. Hamilton said, -with a touch of impatience: "Mary, you are excited and unreasonable. What can Clarence have to do with this fainting fit? It is t inexplicable, but it is not the first time that Dolores has been so affected, even in our brief acquaintance with her; and 'it is more than probable that she is subject to fainting-fits." ' "Mamma, dear, no. It is not at all probable," returned Mary, decisively. "You forget that Doctor Mac said that - she was not at all of the fainting kind and that her swocfh on the day she r saved my life was caused by pain and fasting. Besides,. this is not like a fainting-fit, and that is what alarms i ' : me. I don't tnean that Clarence wis to blame in any way. Of course not. How could he be? But is it not cur; 4 ious that Dolores should have become '1 , insensible on meeting his eyes?" / ' "Did she become insensible on meeting his eyes?" asked Mrs. Hamilton, wonderingly. "Yes, almost instantly. It was like i ?like mesmerism or hypnotism, or whatever it is called; something the like of which I never saw and could not have believed now, had I not actually seen it." "Don't talk absurdly, dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Hamilton. "Hypnotism and all that sort of thing, which are being so talked of in these days, are a mere fad, and will wear themselves out like all these other'isms.' Don't you think so, Clarence?" The young man shrugged his shoulders; and then, looking with renewed interest at the still insensible DoloreB, he answered, witn sudden seriousness: "I hardly know how to reply to ' yonr question, dear Mrs. Hamilton, tw It would seem very unbecoming in an inexperienced fellow like myself, to declare against men of science like v Charcot, Bichet, Gibier, and a host of others who have thought the subject worth investigating; but I will venture to eay that nine-tenths of the socalled wonders of hypnotism are fraud *nd nonsense. Perhaps I 'ought to add that-1 have more than oqpe been told by professors of the artorsoience, whichever it may be, that I possess in an unusual degree the special magnetism that is required for the exeroise for this peculiar power." "Oh, Clarence," exclaimed Mary, in a tone of vague reproach, "then you have unconsciously hypnotized Lorita?" ?T? twftll oatr *M T* rtAT>0/*lAT1 olrr ' xuu IUOJ ncn oaj uuwuovtvuuij) Polly, for no such thought was in my mind; bat if you are correct in that surmise, perhaps I may be able to recall her to consciousness." "Oh, do, ple.ise, try, Clarence! Sec! Already thu expression of her face has changed; her eyes are closed now, and she doem't look nearly so alarming as she di 1 at first. Ought we to send for Doctor Mac, mamma?" During tbe talk between her mother and Stanley, Mary had been kneeling beside the sofa on which Dolores had been placed, and she had been trying by every means in her power to restore the insensible girl to consciousness. She now rose at once, while Stanley, having moved forward a step or two, fixed his.gaze intently^ on the insensible face of Dolores, and began slowly to make the upward mesmeric passes as be had often seen them pei.. formed by professors of mesmerism. The rigidity of the young girl's figure had given place to the apparent ease and relaxation of slumber; her eyelids had slowly drooped over the dilated, staring eyes, while her breathing was as tranquil as that of a deeping child. Clarence Stanley continued to make . the upward mesmeric passes slowly, easily, but with an indescribable air of authority and triumph, which Mary noted at the time and often remembered afterward. \? Suddenly the heavy eyelids twitched lightly; then with dazzling quickness, the eyes opened wide, and Dolores, amazed but conscious, stared \ inquiringly at tlie eager, anxious \ faces that were bending over her. \ "Wiiat has happened? What is the \ matter?" she asked almost sharply, \ and rising quickly as she spoke. . \ "Nothing, dear, except that you . have frightened me horribly," answered Mary, as she seated herself feeside Dolores and put her arm about h^r. "You seemed to faint almost immediately on seeing Mr. Stanley; and'now it appears to have been less a faint than a kind of hypnotic trance, v from which he has just recovered you, by making what they call mesmeric passes." . "Is it possible!" exclaimed Dolores, incredulously; "but I object to being hypnotized. You must never take such a liberty again," she.said imTiorakirAlr t.nrninc a look of trreat ic , f, -_0 n . dignation upon Clarence. "Certainly rot," lie answered, witli a deprecating smile, "at least not without your permission, sehorita; but I beg to assure you that on thi? occasion the effect was as \inintentional as it was unexpected." Dolores put h?r hand to her head in a dazed manner, and drawing her finders across her forehead and eyes, she *' asked: "Did I speak, Maruja, when I was in this .tranced condition? Did I say anything?" "No, dear, nothing at all. -x But -Why?" .iv >fl . TFegsOre )<1 ?1> )VEL. (? ?inter. CASTELAR.) ROB**T BONJJin'g SeXr.) "Because I remember a kind < dream?it comes back to me now bi indistinctly. It "was like a visionsaw! Oh, I cannot describe what was, but the impression is horrible horrible!" Her eyes dilated with sudden fe? and horror; and turning toward Clai ence Stanley, she fixed on him akeei almost menacing look, which affecte him more than he would have cared t acknowledge even to himself. Fc several seconds her gaze met hii sternly, defiantly. At last she saic "Mr. Stanley, you must never agai make use of this singular power? you possess it?to hypnotize me. ] may be dangerous; and even moi dangerous to you than to me." "Why bo?" exclaimed Stanley, ui kable ?to restrain a slight start of suj prise. "Because in this hypnotic state, may be clairvoyante. I have rea something of the sort, though I don understand it. And you may be on of those people of whom clairvoyai - i.i i. l.ill || revelations mignt De iaiai. A gleam of mingled - anger and ter ror shot from the young man's eyes and his slender, white hand wee quickly toward his-mouth, which i concealed for some moments as h seemed to caress the long ends of hi blonde mustache. Then, with slightly mocking smile, he answerec "I think I have no cause to fearth Senorita Mendoza. If I don't jnuc mistake, we are far away cousins, an our lives will often run in the sam channels." . Dolores looked greatly perplexed a well tfs astonished, and Mary hastene to explain Stanley's words on firs hearing the name of Dolores Men J UU?tft. x "That would be strange indeed, she said in reply^ "I thought m father's branch of the family extinct except for myself. But, 6ven if yo' are correct, I cannot congrainlate yo in claiming kinship with the Mei: dozas. We are a fatal family, excep under special conditions, particular]; the men of our family. But, pardo: me, Mr. Stanley; I am afraid you wil think me very rude. I hope the curi ous circumstance3 of our first meetini will serve to excuse me. Maruja deareBt, may I go to my room? Thi singular scene has affected me s< much that I feel almost ill." "You shall do just as you please Rita, darling, at all times," said Mar; Hamilton. "Come I will go with you and you will entertain Clarence till! return, mamma." Not a word or even a looked was ex changed between Mary and Dolore till they were alone in the latter' room. Then, indeed, the Spanish gir impulsively clasped her companion ii her arms and in a voice of thrillinj intensity said: "Oh, Maruja! I hope you do no love that man!" "Love him? No?yes! I hardl; know!" exclaimed Polly Hamilton very pale from tuppressed excitement "You remember what I said to you "Rita- nod. nh. I did so lonsr to knov your impressions of him! But nov that they seem to be so far from wha I had hoped for I think I would rathe never hear them." "They are not pleasant, truly?the; are far from pleasant?and yet I can not remain silent, Maruja, eventhougl that seems to be what you would pre fer. I cannot tell you why I have thii great and sudden antagonism to Mr Stanley?it may be caused by thi dream or vision while I was uncon scious?but I have always had a facult; that some people call intuition, a son of second-sight?I don't know hov best to describe it?but it has nevei deceived me. Perhaps I inherit i from my Scotch ancestry through nr Highland mother, or perhaps the mys tic faculty that belonged to the Indiai princess of whom I told you has de scended through all these generation! and lives again in me. Some day sooi we will read that manuscript together and then you will understand bette: what I am trying to explain, Maruja but whatever this faculty may be whatever it is now telling me of tin character and of the unknown past o Clarence Stanley " "Lorita!" exclaimed iviary namn ton, with a sharp accent of pain in he fresh, young voice, "surely?oh, no it cannot be that you are going to brini me unhappiness, misery! I will i5fb ?I dare not believe any harm of thi man I love!" She turned quickly as sho wroncbei herself from the half-embrace of Do lores; and, as she rushed from thi room, the door closed after her with i harsh and angry sound. "The man she loves!" repeated Do ores, gazing blankly at that closed 'ioor. "Ah, now she knows her tru< feeling, and I have only precipitatei matters. I had better, far better, sail nothing." Mary Hamilton had fled blindl; along tbe corridor to tne somuae o her own room, the door of whicli sh had closed and locked impatiently ij the face of her anxious waiting-maid "What have I said?" shequestione herself, unconsciously speaking aloud "That I love Clarence? Well, then it is true. I have loved him from th first, though I didn't know it; an now I am glad to have the knowledg forced upon me?that is?if he love me!" She started from the chair int which she had thrown herself an rushed to a mirror, before which sh stood for some moments in unusm anxiety, that presently gave place t pleased and innocent admiration c her own girlish beauty. "I'm surely pietty enough to wi any w2U?" she said. "Not so beaut; ful?oh, not nearly so beautiful?a Rita; but. fortunately, she will neve be a rival, for she hates poor Clarencc and, apparently, he is not speciall pleased with her. How strange! ] is u case of mutual antipathy, have heard Doctor Mao say thes mutual dislikes ore scientific factf ' - F ; ' : And I was so anxious they should like each other! Well, well, per. haps it is all for the bestj I ana l muse Keep mem apart ag much as possible! 1 hope dear Rita didn't think me cross; and, as to Norah, I don't think I ever spoke so crosBly to the girl since she has been in mj service!" With a light laugh, Polly Hamilton unlocked her door, called to the perplexed and disconsolate waiting-maid, who was pacing up and down the hall, and in a brief time was dressed anil looking radiant, as she went into din ner with Clarence Stanley. Df That gentleman, whatever his in> it ward perturbation of mind might have -X been?and the recent scene in the it drawing-room had made a powerful _ impression on him?had never seemed to the Hamilton family more interest tr ing or more engaging. He was imme< [ - diately conscious of a difference in i, Mary. There was an indefinable soft d ness in her aspect, a faint, roseate ;o glow on her. face; and when theii >r glances met, her look dwelt on him with a modest air of possession ex I: tremely flattering to his vanity. Later n in the evening, as they sat beside each if other at the opera, it was the same; [t and Clarence unconsciously dropned e into a manner of lover-like devotion far more pronounced than had ever i. been seen in his previous acquaintance with Miss Hamilton. They had been bending forward over I the front of the box, for the moment <3 both quite absorbed in the music;.but 't when the curtain fell they had both e drawn back a little, and two pairs of tt eyes, belonging to two young women in the stalls, who had been earnestly wotnliiTKy thflm. now looked at each if other and smiled. t "Of course, they are engaged?" said it Olive Gaye, interrogatively; but' e although the words were spoken more i8 as an assertion than a question, a close a observer might have detected an un[: dertone of anxiety in the manner of e the speaker. h ' 'They certainly seem like an engaged <1 couple to-night," returned Bertha Sefe ton; "but, if they are, I am sure the engagement is of recent date, You 8 know I am Polly Hamilton's most inti3 mate friend?at least I was till within t a few weeks?and I am certain that no one was more* entirely in her confidence than I used to be. You know " I had met her in San Franoisco when y we were there more than a year ago; we were constantly thrown together. a I visited at her house for weeks at a Q time, and met Mr. Stanley there almost every.day; and, although it was cur ? ? 1 ? ?iVi An lUol OYAVA?>AA ott/1 |? X ciitlj X CpUI IOU tiicu lliab viqiguvo auu j Polly were engaged, I knew from her a own lips that they were not. Since U she has come to New York, onr intimacy has been renewed, and I feel g sure as I can be of anything that Polly r> would have told me if there had been b any change in their relations toward 0 each other. I always thought she was in love with Mr. Stanloy, though she didn't seem to understand her own j feelings; but it never seemed to me t that he was in lore with Her, although 1 he followed her everywhere and really stood in the way of rfny other man . paying attention to her. He seems to 8 me more like a man who was watchs ing a business speculation than like a 1 young man in love with a pretty girl." a The listener faughed slightly and g turned her gaze agaito toward the box in which were seated Clarence Stanley t and Mary Hamilton. The latter were somewhat in the shadow of the curtain, and still further hidden' from ^ view by tjie figure of Mrs. Hamilton, ' who bad come to tlie front of the box; but to those who were now watching ' them with the keenness of personal interest it was evident that theae two I young people were at that moment so completely wrapped up in each other as to be almost unconscious of their surroundings. _ "He looks now," faid Olive, in a i low but distinct tone, "as if he had made up his mind that the speculation was going to be a paying one." "Yes," auswered Bertha, "he looks ' as if he had determined to marry Polly Hamilton." ' TO BE CONTINUED. When Rival Babea Met. r Ttfo rival mothers with rival babies ? sat opposite each other in a "blue car" the other day, en route for the great ^ east side. One infant was pretty and the other 1 wasn't, and the beauty child got bo much attention, so many chucks under 9 the chin, and such quantities of fool1 ish talk flung at it that the mother of ' the neglected child grew pale with T anger and envy. ' "I felt so sorry for her," said the ' friend who told me this, "that I paid ? her poor little one some slight attentions, which so encouraged its mother that she became another being as it were and broke out as follows: r " 'Shure beauty isD't everythin' in ' a child, ma'am. My Patsey ain't no picture child, but if he grown up good an' honest an' hard workin' that's l>ete ter than good looks, which is the ruin of manv.'" "Then she glanced over at the opposition baby and added meaningly: 9 ' " 'There's been a plenty of robbers 4 and murderers that was good lookin'.' " And my friend left the car in some haste to avoid the impending stordi ' that was gathering in the eyes of the '? mother who sat on the opposite side of the car.?New York Herald. y A Family Driven Mad. ^ An extraordinary case of madness, 0 in which all the members of a family, a consisting of father, mother and four ' children, were simultaneously afSicted u i*.?a nnnnrrBil in n<>rmftnv. A tmrtv of t v/v/v,? 4 - ? strolling gypsies, who undertook to '' tell the father's fortune by means of ? cards, declared that he would be killed while Fervmg in the army, and this e prediction so impressed him aud his , family that in the course of the same day they all developed signs of waver? ing reason, and before long had to be put under restraint. The gjpsies ? were arrested by the German police. O / Am He KxpresneJ It. A Hibernian member of the Twelfth New York liegiment said that their n mustering out was a fine sight. "They were all there," he boasted. "Out of * ' v 1 i. ii.. n the whole lot wno went wj we nuui, >r not six absentees were present."? !> New York Commercial Advertiser. y :t The first postal-card was made thirty I years ago in Vienna at the suggestion e of Professor Herrmann, of the Tecbni). c?l Institute. ; ' " v ' DR TALMAGE'S SERMON, SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE Br THE NOTED DIVINE. Subject: The Coming Sermon?Inspiration For the Future Kellgiou* Exhortation Will Be Drawn From the Living ClirUt ?Theology Must Take a Back Seat. [Copyright, Louis Klopsch. 1899.1 Washington, D. C.?In this discourse Dr. Tairaage addresses all Christian workers ??'.*1 HACM*?fhAa whftf1 hft thin Ira will hA thft modes of preaching the gospel In the future; text, Romans xli., 7, "Oc ministry, let us wait on our ministering." While I was seated on a piazza of a hotel nt Lexington, Ky., one summer evening a gentleman asked me, "What do you think of the coming sermon?" I supposed he was asking me in regard to some new discourse of Dr. Cumming of London, who sometimes preached startling sermons, and I replied, "I have not seen it." But I found out afterward that be meant to ask what I thought would he the characteristics of the coming sermon of the world, the sermons of the future, the word "Cumming" as a noun pronounced the same us the word "coming" as an adjective. But my mistake suggested to me a very Important and practical theme, "The Coming Sermon." Before the world Is converted the style of religious discourse will have to be converted. You might as well go into the modern Sedan or Gettysburg with bows and nrrows. Instead of rifles and bombshells and parks of artillery, as to expect to conquer this world for God by the old styles of exhortation and sermonology. Jonathan Tdwnrflo nrAni?hnd tlm nnrmonn mo#t adapted to the age In which he lived, but If those 9ermons were preached now they would divide an audience Into two classes ?those sound asleep and those wanting to go home. Bat there is a discourse of the future. Who will preach it I have no idea. In what part of the earth it will be born I have no idea. In which denomination of Christians it will bo delivered I cannot guess. That discourse of exhortation may be born In the country meeting house on the banks of the St. Lawrence or the Oregon or the Ohio or the Tombigbee or the Alabama. The person who shall deliver it may this moment be in a cradle under the shadow of the Sierra Nevadas or in a New England farmhouse or amid the riceflelds of Southern savannas, or this moment there may be some young man in one of our theological seminaries, in the junior or middle or senior class, shaping that weapon of power, or there maybe coming some new baptism of the Holy Obost on the churches, so that some of ub who now stand in the watobtowers of Zlon, waking to a realization of our present efficiency, may preach It ourselves. That coming discourse may not be fifty years off. And let us pray God that itB arrival may be hastened while I announce to you what I|thlnk will be the chief characteristics of that discourse or exhortntlon when it does airive, and I want to make my remarks appropriate and Buggestlve to nil classes of Christian workers. First of all, I remark that that future religious discourse will be fall of a living Christ in contradistinction to didactic technicalities. A discourse maybe full of Christ though hardly mentioning His name, and a sermon may beomptyof Christ while every sentence is repetitious of His titles. The world wants a living Christ, not a Christ standing at the head of a formal system of theology, but a Christ who means pardon and sympathy and condolence and brotherhood and life and heaven, a poor man's Christ, a rich mun's Cbrist, an overworked man's Cbrist, an invalid's Christ, a farmer's Christ, a merchant's Christ, an artisan's Christ, an every man's Christ. A symmetrical and fine worded system of theology is well enough for the theological classes, but it has no more business in a pulpit than have the technical phrases of an anatomist or a psychologist or a physician in the sickroom of a patient. The world wants neip, iinmeaiato ana wona uplifting, nnd it will como through n discourse In wbicli Christ shall walk right down into the immortal noul and take everlasting possession of it, filling It as full of light as is th(s noonday firmament. That sermon of exhortation of the future will not deal' with men in the threadbare illustrations of Jesus Christ. In that coming address there will be instances of vicarious suffering taken right out of evoryday Ufa, for there is not a day when somebody is not dying for others?as the Ebysiolan saving his diphtheritic patient y sacrificing his own life; ostb?sbip captain going down with his vessel while lie 1b getting 1.I& passengers into the lifeboat; no fho flvamnn rtAnonmlnff in tliA hlirnlnff building wbi|? lie i9 taking a child out ot a fourth story window; as in summer the strong swimmer at East Hampton or Long Branch or Cape May or Lake George himself perished trying to rescue the drowning; as the newspaper boy one summer, supporting bis mother for some years, his Invalid mother, when offered by a gentleman fifty cents to get some special paper, and be got It and rushed up in bis anxiety tp deliver it and was crushed under the wheels of the train and Jay on the grass with only strength enough to say, "Oh, what will become of my poor, sick mother now?" Vicarious suffering?the world is full of it. An engineer said to ma on a locomotive In Dakota: "We men seem to be coming to a bettor appreciation than we used to. Did you see that account the other day of an engineer who to save his passengers stuck to his post, and when he was found dead in the locomotive which was upside down, he was found still smiling, his band on the air-brake?" And as the engineer said it to me he put his band on tbe air-brake to illustrate bis meaning, and looked at me and thought: "You would be just as much a hero in the same crisis." ' Ob, in that religious discourse of tbe future there will be living illustrations taken out from everyday life of vicarious Buffering?Illustrations that will Cring to mind tbe ghastlier sacrifice o( Him, who in the high places of the field, on the cross, fought our battles, and endured our struggle and died our death. A German sculptor made an image of Christ, and he asked bis little child, two years old, who it was, and the said, "That must be some very great man." The sculptor was displeased with tbe criticism, so he got another block of marble and chiseled away on it two or three years, and then ho brought in his llttlrt r>hlld. four or five vears of acre, and enld to ber, "WUo do you think that is?" 8he said, "That must be the One who took little children in His arms and'blessed them." Then the sculptor was satisfied. Oh, my friends, what the world wants is not a cold Christ, not an intellectual Christ, not a severely magisterial Christ, but a loving Christ, spreading out His arms of sympathy to press the whole world to His loving heart. But I remark ugain that the religious discourse of the future will have to be short. Condensation !<* demanded by the age in which wo live. No more'need of long introductions aud long applications and so many divisions to a discourse that it may be said to be hydra-headed. In other days men got ail their information from the pulpit. There were few books, and there were no newspapers, and tbere was little travel from place to place, and peoplo would sit and listen two and a lialf hours to a religious discourse, and "seventeenthly" would fl?d them fresh and chip per. m inose auys mere wtia cuuuk? muu for a man to take an hour to warm himself up to the subject and an hour to cool off. Jlut what was a necessity then is a superfluity now. Congregations are full of knowledge from books, from newspapers, from rapid and continuous intercommunication and long disquisitions of wbat they know already wtll not be abided. If a religious teacher cannot compross wbat be wishes to say to the people in the space of forty-flve minutes, better adjourn it to some other day. The troubles we preach audiences into a Christian Irame, and then we preach them out of it. We forget that every auditor has so much capacity of attention, and when that is exhausted He is restless. That accident on the Lou;; Island railroad years ago came from the fact that the brakes were out of order, and when they wanted to stop the train they could not stop, and bence the casualty was terrific. In all religious discourse we want locomotive power and propulsion. We want at the same time stout brakes to let down at the .right instant. It is a dismal thing, after a hearer has comnrehended the whole subject, to hear a man flay, "Now to recapltuluie," and "A few words by way of application" and "Once more," and "Finally," and "Now to conclude." Paul preached until midnight, and Eutyehus got sound asleep and fell out of a window aud broke ills neok. Some would ' t:' say, "Good Cor him." I would rather be ' sympatbetlc, like Paul, and resuBcltate him. That acoident 1b often quoted now la religious circles as a warning against somnolence In churoh. It Is just as much a 1 warnlDg to ministers against prolixity. Eutychus was wrong in his somnolence, but Paul made a mistake when he kept on *11 Ha ah rthf f a Vt ava of Arirvo/I I UUWI IUIUUIKUI. UD UUgUb l>V UUIO OkVupwM i at 11 o'clock, and there would have beeq no accident. If Paul might have gone on to too great length, let all those of us who are now preaching the gospel remember that there is a limit to religious discourse, or ought to be, and that in our time have no apostolio power of miracles. Na? 1 poleon in an address of seven mlnuteg thrilled his army and thrilled Europe. Ohrlst's sermon on tbe mount, the model sennuu, was jcsb iuau ciijuiccu iuwuli? iuu^ at ordinary mode of delivery. It is not electricity scattered all over the sky that strikes, but electricity gathered into a thunderbolt and burled, and it is not religious truth scattered over and spread out over a. vast reach of time, but rellgioun truth projected in compact*form that flashes light upon the soul and rives Its indifference. When the religious discourse of the future arrives in this land and in tlia Christian church, the discourse which Is to arouse the world and startle the nations and usher in the kingdom. It will be a brief discourse. Hear It, all theological students, all y? just entering upon religious work, ail y< men and women who In Sabbath soboolt and other departments are tolling foi Christ and the salvation of Immortals? brevity, brevity! Bat I remark nlso tbat tbe religious discourse of tbe fatare of which I speak will be a popular discourse. There are those in these times who speak of a populai sermon as though there must be something wrong about it. As these Critics are dull themselves, the world gets the impression <tbat a sermon is good in proportion as it 1j stupid. Christ was the most populai 1 preacher the world ever saw and, considering the small number of the world's population, had the largest au? dience ever gathered. He never preached anywhere without making a great sensation. People rushed out in the wilderness to hear Him reckless of their phys> leal necessities. So great war- their anxiety to hear Christ that, taking no food witb them, they would have fainted and starved had not Christ performed a mlraole and fed them. Why did so many people take the truth at Christ's bands? Because the; all understood it. He illustrated His subject by a hen and her chickens, by a busbel measure, oy u utiuuiui ui ami, uv a uuu e flight and by a lily's aroma. Ail the people knew what Hemeant, and they flocked to Him. And when the religious discnarse of the future appears it will nut be Princetonian, not Itochesterlan, not Andoverlan, not Mfddlettfnian, bat Olivette?plRin, practical, unique, earnest, comprehensive of all tbe woes, wants, sins and sorrows ol an Auditory. Butwhen that exhortation or discourse does come there will bb a thousand gleaming Bcimlters to chtirgeon it. There are in so many theological seminaries professors telling young men how to preaeh, themselves not knowing how, ana I am told that it a young man in some of our theological seminaries says anything quaint or thrill- ' ing or unique faculty and students fly at him and set him right and straighten him out and smooth him down and chop hico ofT until he says everything just as everybody else says it. Ob, when the future re ilgious discourse or tue(jnnstian cnnrcuarrives all the churches of Christ In oar great cities will be tbrongedl The world wants spiritual help. All who have barled their dead want comfort. All know themselves to be mortal and to be immortal, and they want to hear aboot the great future. I tell you, my friends, if the people of cur great cities wbo have bad trouble only tbougbt they could get practical and sympathetic help in the Christian church, there would not be a street in Washington or New York or any other city which would be passable on the 8abb.ith day if there were a ohurch on it, for ull the people would press to that asylum of mercy, that great boose ol comfort and oonsolation. A mother with a dead babe in ber arms came to the god Siva nnd asked to have her child restored to life. The god Siva i said to her, "You go and get a handful of musturd seed from a bouse in wblah there has been no sorrow nnd in which there has been no death, and I will restore your child to life." So the mother went oat, and she went from house to honse and from home to home looking for a place where there had been no sorrow and where ! there had been no death, bat she foand ' none. She went back to the god 8lva and said: "My mission is a failure. You see, 1 haven't brought the mustard seed. I can't find a place where there has been no sorrow and no death." "Ob!" says the god Siva. "Understand, your sorrows are no worse than the sorrows of o thers. We all have our griefs, and all have our heartbreaks." "Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; ' For the sad old earth must borrow its ' mirth, , Cut has trouble enough of its own." ' We hear a great deai of discussion now all over the land about why, people do not I go to church. Some say It Is becausc Christianity is dying out and because peo- ' pie do not* believe In the truth of God's word, and nil that. They are false reasons; The renson Is because our sermons and ex- I hortatlons are not Interesting and practi* cal nod helpful. . j Some one might as well tell the whole truth on this subject, and so I will tell it. The religions discourse of tbe future, the gospel sermon to come forth and shake tbe nations and lift people out of darkness, will be a popular sermon, just for the simpie reason that it will meet the woes and , tbe wants and the anxieties of the people. There are in all our denominations ecclesiastical mummies sitting around to frown upon the fresh young pulpits of America to try to awe them down, to,cry out: "Tat, tut, tut! Sensational!" They stand to-day preaching in churches that bold a thousand people, and there are a j hundred perions present, and if they cannot have the world saved in their way it I seems as if they do not want it saved at < all. < I do not know but the old way of making 1 ministers of the gospel is better?a col- 1 legiate education and an apprenticeship 1 under the care and home attention of some earnest, aged Christian minister/the young man getting the patriarch's spirit and assisting him in his religious service. 1 The printing press is to be the great ' agency of gospel proclamation. It is high < time that good men, instead of denouncing ' tbe press, employ It to scatter forth the < gospel of Jesus Christ. 1 The vast majority of people in our cities 1 do not come to church and nothing but the 1 printed sermon can reach them and call < them to pardon and life and peaoe and < heaven. Young lawyers study with old lawyers, j young physicians with old physicians, ana ' I believe it would bo a great help if every ' young man studying for the gospel ministry could put himself in the lirme and j heart and sympathy and under the bene' 1 diction and perpetual presence of a Chris- ' tian minister. ^But, II remark again, the religious dis course of the future will be an awakening sermon. From altar rail to the front door blOf, UUUIil 1U1U rcnuuu, ULA UUU.V.V. | , will cot up and start lor heaven. Tbert will be in it raynyH staccato passage. II will not be a lullaby. It will be ft battle charge. Men will drop tbelr sins, forthej will feel the Lot breath of pursuing retribution ou tlin bank of their necks*. It will bo sympathetic with all the physical distresses us well as the spiritual distresses of tin world. Christ not only preached, but IIo healed paralysis, and He healod epilepsy, and He healed the dumb and th blind and the lepers. That religious discourse of the future will bean even day sermon, going right down into every man's life, and it will teach him how to vote, how to bargain, how to plow, bow to do any work he is called to do, how to wield trowel and pen and pencil and yardstick and plane, and it will teach women how to presido over theii households and how to educate their chil* dren and bow to imitate Miriam and Esthei and Vushti and Eunice, the mother ol I Timntiiv nnd Marv. the motlier of Ctrlst, and those women who 011 northern and southern battlefields were mistaken by the wounded for angels of mercy, fresh from tbe tbrone of God. The time will come when all the village, ' town and city newspapers will reproduce j the gospel of Jesus Christ, and sermon.? preached on the Sabbath will reverberate ' all around the world, and, some by type and ' some hy volco, all nations will h? orange- 1 llzert. 7 - ' < i . _ . rHE SABBATH SCHOOL. NTERNATIONAL. LESSON COMMENTS FOR DECEMBER 10. SabJect: Lotions in Giving. Mai. I.. 0-11: I 111., 8*13?Golden Text: II. Cor. Ix., 7? Memory Verse: Mai. 1U., 10?Commentary on the Day'* Leaion. Connecting Links. We should stud; the whole book of Malachi as well as the last obapter of Nehemlah to get that which belongs to this section of history. Malachi opens his prophecies by reminding the people of God's great and distinguished love toward them and their fathers, which they were so slow to acknowledge. He then reproves tbem sharply for their sins and forewarns them that the Lord, of whose delay they complain, will come suddenly to His temple to sit in judgment tbere; an advent which they will not be able to endure, for it will consume th? wicked. 6. "A son honoreth his father" 'Is bound to honor. "Where is mine honor....my fear." Since It Is evident I am not only your Lord and have a right to govern and command you by My creation of you, but also may be esteemed your Father on acnnnnf r\t fha orfinarv hAnafl fa T hn v? bestowed upon you? where are those proper dispositions which I might expect to find in you in return??namely, reverence for Me and fear of offending Me as your Lord and Master, and love and honor toward Mo as your Father. 7. "Ye offer polluted bread." Made according to your own ways and not as'prescrlbtd by law. "By your actions you declare how little value you have for the worship of Ood, since you care not In how slight and contemptuous a manner It i? performed." 8. "The blind for sacrifice." See Lev. 22:22. This is designed as a reproof to Israel for offering such sacrifices for the service of God's altar as were imperfoct; and such as, If offered to a superior, would not be accepted. 9. "Beseech God." As the national intercessors. Supplicate God to pardon the nation as well as yourselves for what offences have been committed against HU laws; for ye have been the prinolpal cause of them by the disregard you have had for God's service. The* priests were specially guilty because it was their duty to reject improper offerings. 10. "Shut the doors for nought." ft ia plain that general avarice prevails and is practiced among you; for even the officers or ministers whose duty it is to open and shut the doors of the tomple, and to klndh fire on the altar, will r ot perform their office without making a gain of it or recelv log fees for it. You would be content to have the doors of th& temple quite shut up, and God's worship wholly cease. "I have no pleasure." I can take no pleasure in men so intent upon their own profit as ye are; and under the Gospel I will put an end both to your priesthood and the sacrifices which you oner. 1 11. "My name shall tie great." If the Jews found no joy in the service of God, but neglected it, orsoaght only selfish gain by it, God would here notify them that He would raise up a people who should honor and magnify His name in the earth. "The Gentiles." All other nations, and considered by the Jews as not included in the family of God. "Incense shall be offered." True praise. "A pure offering." A broken and contrite heart. The heathen, who have lived in darkn&ss and worshiped idols, shall better glorify God than this nation, whose history tells of almost continual instability. . | 3:8. "Will a man rob God?" Sacrilege is the highest of crimes. And the most guilty is that done by those olalming to be God's . people. "Ye have." This evil Is not only the guilt of priests, but of the whole nation. "Wherein." To do wrong and havb no conscience about it. id almost to get beyondbope. "Tithes."' Deut. 18:4. The tithe was "the tenth" of the increase of their property, the produoe of their orchards, vineyards, flocks, herds, and all their grains. One tithe, amongtbe Jews, corresponds to oar State and town taxes for the support of the Government and for the poor; another tithe was taken for religious worship, for the support of the priests, etc. Lev. 27: 80-88; Deut. 14: 38,29. "Offerings." The first fruits?not less than one-sixtieth part of the corn, wine and oil. The word is general here, lnoludlng all tlie . offerings and sacrlfloes tfcey were required by the Jaw to make. Befuslng these,whioh were due to Ood's worship and God's poor, they robbed Ood. 9. "Ye are onrsed^.i-WIth famine and scarcity.*God.bud thus punished them for neglecting to build tbo temple (Hag. 1: 10, 11); now, for not maintaining the temple Bervice.' 10. "Bring ye all the tithes." Hake good ' your solemn engagement with Xehemlnh. Neb. 10: 29. "Into the storehouse." The chambers whioh surrounded the temple on three sides. These had been so empty that in Nebemiuh'e absence one of them had been fitted up fof the abode of the heathen % Toblab. Neb. 10: 38,,13: 5-0,12, 18- "I'liat , there may bo meat." That there may be provision for the dally sacrifice!, and for the maintenance of :Mv ministers, tbe priests and Levltes who attend npon tbe service of My temple. "And prove me." Take God at His word. Your way, at best, has been a failure. "Windows of heaven." A poetical, proverbial expression, SignifyIn^ agreilt dowa-pourlng. "Gen. 7:11; 2 Kings 7: 2. Every good and every perfect Uift Is from above, and cometh down from tbe Father of lights. James 1:17. "Pour you out a blessing." "Empty out," as if God meant that He woutdr?mpty forth His vast reservoir of blessings. Tbero la here Bvldently allusion to copious rain; and it is implied tbat tbe land bad been suffering ?-?? - ?TI.a l.la?A?u A< fKn JXULLL u aOVJTO UXUU^IJi. JIUCUiOkUlj \Jl buo Jews in the time of Hezokiah had already afforded an example of the reward of faithful obedience, in tbe matter of tithes and offerings, in overflowing abundance bestowed upon them by God. 2 Chron. 31: 10. "Not be room enouirh to receive it." Donstunt obedience will produce a constant abower of blessing. 11. "I will rebuke." Prevent from coming. "The devourer." Tbe locusts, the canker-worms, the caterpillars and nil other destructive Insects. "For your sakes." Because of My love for you, and tor tbe sako of your prosperity. The derourer had been sent because of their sins. 12. "All nations shall call you blessed." Happy. So great will be your prosperityand bapplner.s that tbe fame thereof will extend to oil nations, as in Solomon's time. God's people do in truth live in a lelightsome land, a land of green pastures md still waters, of dear companionships ind delightful skies. Blessed are that people who render lovingly to God the things that are His own. "A delightsome land." Your country will again be known is tbe pleasant laud, as It was formeily jailed. , i Tsachixgb.?It is a great sin to make a ?- - /1r*r! Ho <o f ha mrtfflf [BUCK VI BCIHUK vjiwvi. ?? ?- i thief who robs God. Avnrlce In the heart ! ilrles up the lountain of love. To the j obedient God's blessings are ns the rain iropsfor plenty. What God can do for us far outreaches what we can do for ourselves. Disobedience calls' forth the de- j k outer. STILL USE BIRDS' WINGS. J tVorn More Than Ever l)eiplte the Protests of Ornithologist*. The seventeenth annunl meeting of the j i.inerlcftii Ornithologists' Union has just jeou held in the Academy of Natural sciences In Philadelphia. The lecture room vas lllled with representative students of tfnrth Aimnri/?ftn hlrrlfl a rinnihflr of ten in An ;elng in the audience. Dr. C. Hart derriam, of theDepartmeut of Agriculture, ireslded. Amonpr the report9 presented va? that of tlie Committee ou Bird Protecion. The report stilted that, although the ast year saw a greater use of birds' wings n millinery, yet ut the same time the proest against the use of such was never 1 greater. Investigation showed that many l >f the birds used for this purpose were im>orted from I'oreiKU countries, where there j ire no laws against the killing of birds. A . lumber of papers of Interest to ornitbolo- 3 jists were read. . | 1 ? 1 ueer in connectlcnt. j l'his season, especially since the loave9 I left the trees and uuderbrusli, deer have jeen seen in Connecticut in uncommon i numbers. Several have been seen In both , roiiand and Litchfield Counties. lit one j :ase a doe was seen with a fawn, indicating i that the animals in the State huvo boguu tc i propagate. The State law protects deei j intil the yeer 1903, under penalty of a Hue I >f *100. I J i i . - e- . . Jr ... " - ' - * ? THE GBEAT DEStaOYE^ SOME STARTLING FACTS ABOUT THi^JI VICE OF INTEMPERANCE. TYtm Tnifaiumilanit Wln_A VllrhlATOU#' " and Immoral Decision??Bad In Law^ Bad in Logic?Too Much 8j*p?lhy Shotrn to Drunkard*. I stand before you, onaand all, To sound alood the temperance oal!," /v'JSl And pictu re to you, if I can, The real Independent maar- J ,-M The Independent mahl He neither smokes, nor drink*, nor lelnfft The glass he firmly can ref ase; ^ He llres not under terror's ban; He Is an Independent man? An indenendent man. - ' By living right he garners health '?y?S He makes good friends and gather* wealthy The charms of nature he can scan With joy, this Independent man? " - vSfi This independent man. , $ . . He counts hi* home a plaee of rest; v His wife a^nd ohlldren are the best; ' Noiirnnken tamper mars the plan/ Of this the Independent man? > Our independent man! The tempter finds him all prepared; His good right arm Is ever bared. ; '' To vletory he leads the van, This very independent man? This Independent man. r v'IflB Drunkards and Crime. . One of the most mischievous and Immoral decisions ever pronounf&l In a court is re? Eorted from Philadelphia, where a Jndg?tt&gBS %e declared that: drunkenness is a compe-J -A t tent defense against the charge of embep-,-. )ff zlement. The piirticular case which ?av?? V" rise.to this amazing dletnm was that of af- 'Hi man who bad taken the collections be bad '. T: fnade for the firm by wblob be was em- % -V pioyel and spent them on liquor. Moith :r fj rational la bis sober moments tnr^n tn& .rawa judge, be bad admitted bis crime andpleaded guilty. Bat the court ordered blml v to withdraw the plea and to enter one of.' not stailty, anc. then said: j "Where a firm Intrusts with money W /.>% person whom It had reason to suspect o|' ' y inten perate habits, and be does not approv ' \ prlat) the money dt hla own use or nnltef , oil with It otherwise than to Indulge in th?. grntiioation of his habit, employers must understand that It is extremnly doubtful . whetlier the crime of embezzlement can b?- / ? maitivnnt nnH?p nAh'AlmnittitiinMl." f'.'lflH Bad la law, bad In logic, bad In thenonatoosweeping condemnation wbiohi ' the wholly indefensible opinion calls fori; Tiie law has always been that drunkteo-j ' nesfi is "flo excuse for any orime, and so far as we know it has ndver been seriously di*?pnted. A sentimental plea of palliation W l" sometimes pnt in (or the drunkard who If continually receiving an undeservedsymv pathy, when what he needs most is dlacUpline and punishment. But this is quite ai different matter Ixom absolving him en? tlrely. As for the logic, the Judge contradict* \ >- ? himself by an nttsrly impoaslbto distlbc^tlon. Headmits tlie definition of embea-[ * f ?5 zlemen: when he speaks of the approprla^ tlon of another's money for one's own use; and then says that embezzlement Is not . / embezzlement If thu embezzled fands arc aevoiea 10 mo particular use ui puniuM'/mM ing whisky to gratify a worse than besistlj^&jSs habit. If, theD, the embezzler wilt begin operations by going aboot.with a whisky breath and wilt celebrate his eritpe by glorious drank his escape from the peni? . tentlary is assured. Morally the decision is an ontrageWhioh '?3 should com? as a shocfk-to the community.. ,'J In which it was rendered. If it were gen- > -'$ erAlJy followed in prlnoiple and the dnmk-i urd were considered absolutely irresponst-f . *) ble there is no crime whien he might not commit with impunity. He should have- j:.3 no such encouragement, but should be held rttiucr lu a KioBiox luuuuuuuiuii iumi uot ever been demanded of him. One great' defect of tbe temperance orasade hitnerto-.v^ has been that Jt baa glren blm its tears4nd directed Its hatred, scorn and Indignation , against the saloonkeepeh We are not con~ cerned with the latter'a defense, bat ttwlcodalingof drunknrd* U a grievous and fatal mistake. It pate them In a mood tof /: ezcnse themselves and tt> calculate on . further Indulgence. No one appreeU|:?rf so shrewdly as they tne tendency of Ctib , pleasing doctrine that they are not responsible. , ' . 4jofli We speak for countless thousands" of, '3E sqffering families, for dlstraoted, despairing women, for shamed and hopeless chll~' dren when we say that the drunkard! should be judged as strictly for his offense* as though he had never tasted a drop or <7 liquor. He Is to a great eitent the prod-juot of that jnisplaced sympathy which re-j- laxes the ordln.4ry rules of human conduor In bis favor and substitutes a petition fora command which should ring oat with alB -'M the authority of the decalogue.?Editorial1 In the Chicago Times-Herald. ^ The Land of Steady flablts. f '?' Connecticut's direct drink bill, as Jntiftt- {&?? Edgnr M. Warner, of Patnam, told'the:. ' .<* NnHnnnl Prison Association. In session in; Hartford, is 1240,000. That is the cost ot -Jfc prosecuting and jailing the public drank-* urds, at an average of $10 pec head for* Ja each of 2000 arrested monthly. Just howl" to lessen this burden of the sober mon^. Judge Warner said be did not know. H? was satisfied, however, that the treatment the drunkard receives does not sober bim;'" nor protect the sober part of society. There is no attempt whatever at the reformations of the drunkard or the petty offender, noclassification of Jail prisoners, no edioation, and no trade schools ?(or them, and. little or no moral instruction. More thad V r | seventy-five per cent, of the Inmates, of th?< jails are drunkards. They are washed1. : and well fed, get little, it any, work to unrt annlatv /In AO not AVftn think that thev'r - will be reformed. " British Army's Motto. Watch and be 8ober," la the motto of ."--.3 the Brtisli Army Temperance Association,. -.A which has a membership of;28,000 men la t the service in India,whloh means one*thl?l - < of the white troops there and 14,000 In thehome service, Including the British Isles,. Austrulia, Canada and the West Indies. .V :? Tbe Crassde In Brief. The only safe course Is to let liquor entirely alone. Drinking whisky never helped o man o? the road to Heaven, nor added to the com* forts of his home. Thirty-two Mayora of English provincial towns are 9aid to have signed the pledge of total abstinence. /''X If we had a million pens everyone of , > tbem would write: "Train the children to, banish the drink fiend." /Moderate drinking puts one In the way of all tbe seductive forces of temptation that center in the saloon. Startling testimony in regard to the . aauiternnon or wines aau nquurs nw given before the Senate Committee on Manufuotures. It is estimated that In England one7"Id . *' every 1000 persons la arrested for drankenness and fined and imprisoned. The Young People's Temperance Federation lias started a movement looking toward establishing coffee-houses as substitutes for saloons ia all parts of Chicago. Dr. Margaret A. Stewart, one of a dozen worann doctors who have teen speecbmak- v ing lately, says that more women tban men bave become drunkards during the last few years. ' The application of the laws of heredity ' .-A, to tbo drink curse bus long been known. How much suffering and misery nre brought upou tbe Innocent and helpless by this [UltilUS IS uoyuuu UUUi|'Uvauvu. A new temperance ?oc!ety was started to-day in Chicago, pledged to secure 1,000,# 300 votes for the Prohibition party. There is something unspeakably distressing in the bondage, shame, suffering, degradation, poverty and ruin of drunken-* B6?8. ' . "No up-to-date saloonkeeper can afford to have other than a gentleman behind the bar," says the Washington Liquor Dealer.; ind yet this is the business .hat turns gentlemen into vagabonds and loafers. j The Kansas Issue tells of one John Bell j who got drunk on liquor, of which the city jot .some llfty cents. While drunk Bell killed one Bryan Cusbman, thus wreoking :wo families. The trial cost the county iome $1000. This Is how the traffic bene4 [Its a community. , ^ o