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f The kinc * .mfhoni A NOVEL OF AMEJ?CAN L1F ^ BY MAURICE Copyright, 1892 and 1883 CHAPTER XXIV. /CONTINUED. "Ef ye'll ehet erp yer month, gin'r'l, an' quit er botherin' me wi' yer talk, I'll do it yit!" cried the eoout, with peevish fretfulness in his voice. "Mary Ann cayn't stan' no sich jawin' es this yar 'at ye'r a-givin' ns! Qo on erbout yer own business an' le' me erlone!" The general probably did nol hear these words; but if he did he made no rflqnnnsfl. for Peevv was a privileged character. Mr. Vernon stood mute and motionless, his eyes fixed upon that desperfcfe horseman. "Order your men to shoot at that officer?that renegade yonder!" JackIon stormed in the old man's ear. Mr. Vernon made no response, but lamed and walked away. Just then the batteries and the rifles of Carroll'B men all roared out as one. A level flood of destruction poured across the ditch. For a few moments j the emoke enveloped the American line so that nothing could be seen. Still the marksmen had the range and I kept on firing by guess, doing frightful havoc. When the cloud lifted, the whole British army had melted away. All over the level field lay heaps and windrows of the slain. A few scattered redcoats shone in the distance, their Wearers in precipitate flight. Broken cannon, tumbled fascines and crushed ladders marked the straggliog rov le of the British Forty'fourth Regimest, which had been assigned to the duty of making the ditch crossable. One company, not far from the river, was aeen trying to re-form, although half of its men were already dead and the living ones nearly all -wounded. The rider who had been so boldly conspicuous was urging his sorely crippled horse away across the field toward the wood. He still had the reins in his teeth, while both arms dangled at his sides. The terrible thirty-two-pounder was fired once more, and the horse went down, torn into shreds; but up rose that dark, determined cavalier and steadily continued his retreat on foot. A yell of admiration burst forth from the viotorious Americans as they gazed. Then a still stranger sight met their eyes. A tall old man, who had climbed over the breastworks from the American side, set off at a tottering but singularly swift, gait in the direction of the British lines. When he reached the fatal ditch, beyond which the ground -was heaped with slain, he . . floundered through it and arose, muddvand dripping, on the farther ' ' . bank. "There he paused for a moment, wiped the ooze from his face and then went right on. It was Max Burns, the preacher. And who was that little man running after him? The onlookers had scarcely had time to make out before the cloud of smoke settled down again and hid both from view. Mr. Yernon stood like a grim statue while this was going in. Very well he knew what it was that impelled both Burns and Yasseur. j*. CHAPTER XXY. PRISONERS. When Lapin recoiled before the in*? man ATlf of TvloTlf ttft ATI WUAIU^ iXIOU VUV HV iUU ^<MU?WV?VU house and uttered the name of Pierre Bameau, Mrs. Vernon, Pauline and Mademoiselle de Sezannea began to j-V shriek, rushing together into one another's arms. Colonel Loring entered, followed by two or three ill-favored men. If he was snrprised at seeing the three ladies so frightened at the mere mention of his name?the name he had come to like best?he did not show it in ?is oalm, cold face, or by even the slightest movement. * He Btocd a moment as if to make* sure of his vision and then stalked forward in his peculiar half-graceful, half-dogged way to where the group of frightened and crying women stood. "Why, Madame Vernon!" he cried. . "Is this you? And you, Miss Pauline! And Mademoiselle de Sezannes!" He looked at them askance, bat , ^rith no particular interest. "Oh, it is Colonel Loring!" cried Mrs. "Vernon, springing toward him, almost as. if to embrace him, in her sudden sense of relief. "I was frightened nearly out of my senses; oh, I'm bo very glad!" The mau smiled so that his face for the moment flashed forth a fascinating light from its almost stolid features. He took Mrs. Vtrnon's hand, and at the same time looked at Pauline and Mademoiselle de Sezanues. "I am making my way to my friend," he said, "and came in here thinking tp get some information. I did not dream of the pleasure of finding you here." He told the lie with consummate ease and naturalness. The young ladies now came forward smiling through their tears and greet ed liini warmiy. r or tne moment even Mademoiselle de Sezannes forgot that lie had made himself odious to her. Meantime Lapin stood openmouthed and wondering to see that terrible robber received so considerately by his mistress and Panliue. "I am on my way to join the British army," Loring weut on to say,with perfect indifferen'ce in his tone. "I think they are quite near here." Mrs. Vernon rccoiled from him, ? ; horrified. Pauline's face whitened. "Butyou are jesting," said Mademoiselle do Sezannes. "You would not do that." "Why not?" he demanded, witL something like brutal emphasis. "What should hinder me? These Americans have set a price on my Lead; and, besides, I am a Scotchman. 1 owe mv allegiance to my country." The scene in the theatre rose in Mademoiselle de Sezannes'a memory Efcjro?' ' Ky , > ' i j 0F^_ -it r TOT A TV T T~~N HY lbLAIND E DURING THE WAR OF 1812. ; THOMPSON. by Robert Bonner'* Son*. at once, and so vividly that she clasped her hands and uttered a little cry of pain and anger. Loring smiled sardonically, feeling her thought, as it were, flung upon him. "This country is too small for both me and my enemies," he smiled, "and so for a few days I leave them in possession; bat when I return,* and his face showed a sudden concentration of passion, "when I return they will be glad to get out of my way." He turned and waved his hand, and his men retired from the house. "Go give them something to eat," he said to Lapin. Then he began tramping heavily back and forth across the floor. Pauline went to him and timidly Jet -with a certain firmness laid her and on his arm. She walked beside him. It was a strange picture they made. The girl's impulse could not have been explained by her; she felt as if she could save him, as if some great spring in her nature compelled her to try. The thought that the British army i was very near her had affected Mrs. Vernon to such a degree that she could not feel the full force of what was impelling Pauline. As for Mademoiselle de Sezannes, -she stood shivoring with a chill of blended emo| tions while she gazed at Loriug. It is the last refinement of torture when we feel that we hate and detest ( i and yet have to admire. Loring compelled Mademoiselle de Sezannes's adj miration in some mysterious way. His manly beauty, marred with the ( gloom of evil as it was, had yet the fascination which captivates while it 1 repels. "Do not go," murmured Pauline; : "stay with us. I do not know why, 1 ^ T frtrtl 4-1%n4- T /innriAf lof waii rff\ '' uuu j. low iua? x e,-. Her appeal was so simply spoken, so earnest, bo evidently straight from i the heart that Loring looked down i into her face with sudden softening i of his cruel eyes. He did not speak, ' but she saw his look. "You know that it is not right for 1 you to " "Right!" he interrupted. "I never 1 did a right thing in my life. Doing i right would be a new experience." "Begin now," she urged. "You will find it very comforting." i "Do you know who I am?" he de- 3 manded, almost gruffly. i "Yes, I know." "No, you do not. If you did, you j would not touch me, speak to me, ! look at .me. You would abhor me." "I heard your name just a while < ago." 1 "Ah, that name! Yes, you heard < that. Is it not dreadful to you?" i "You might be a good man yet." "The words come easily; but deeds i are not so lightly fashioned. If I had 1 always had one like you to influence me " "It is yourself that m*?st do that. You are no child to be Influenced. I i am scarcely more than a child myself, < but I know that " (,Vnn lr >/-VTT7 oKoaInf^lr nnf.Viinrr " ? 'I know that, if you would try, you j could be a good man. Forgive me, if \ I say that you are bad; but " ] ' He laughed outright and looked at her as one looks at a child when it has \ said some laughable thing. , She let go his arm and stood facing ] him. Her attitude and her fresh deli- 1 cate beauty made her look like a tall, graceful flower. , He reached a hand and half caress- , ingly touched her hair. It was the i thing that a brother would have done; there was no way of resenting it. j "I'd iather have a bisotiit than a ] lecture," he said, lightly enough. < "Can't you offer me something to eat and drink? I'm hungry. j "Yes, certainly." They together approached Mrs. Yer- j non and Mademoiselle de Sezannes, j who had been standing helplessly looking upon what was to them an -inexplicable scene. "Colonel Loring has not had dinner," Pauline said to her mother; "we \ must be hospitable." ( Mademoiselle tie Sezannes sliranii away as they came up. Loring noticed this and gave her a smile whioh made his face show all of its evil beauty. He waved his hand at Iter and said: "Yon hate me because I pnnished Ballanche for his impudence." His lip curled. "He and Jackson will be apt to remember me," he added, after a moment's pause. Mrs. Vernon hastened to set some food for him, and he ate and drank heartily. Pauline was in a strange state of mind. She felt irresistibly urged from within to do something, she knew not what, for the benefit of this dark, wicked; fascinating man. It made her shudder to see bim, and she shrank from the thought of his past life? knowing now that he was Pierre Rameau, the outlaw?but yet some fountain m her heart bied for him, some center of sympathy in the deepest chamber of her soul sent forth a thrill in his behalf. She was, to a degree, like bne in a dream, albeit she realized to the full the hopelessness of the desire that was forming in her breast. How could she do anything to turn this strong man back from evil? She remembered that she had, when a 1 child, seen the officials taking a young | man to the seafl'old to be executed. ' He was a mere youth, hard-faced and 1 repulsive; but ever sicce she had re- 1 gratted that ehe could not go to him : and show him that one of all the world was sorry for him. Why should she 1 recall that scene at this moment? The human heart beats through mysterious rhythms. We can never say by what labyrinths the roots of sympathy travel to reach their end. If Paulino could have known all the history of < this man, she might have felt none of the inexplicable fascination whioh came to her like a vague : but Dowerfnl recnind tyr of fmrnetiiina / iHi - ! ? : | Mr?: i. Badly but unmistakably imperative ic her nature; but she was aware now of just enough to arouse all the romance as well as all the pity that an inexperienced young girl's heart can compass. When Loring arose from the table at which he had eaten, he turned to Mademoiselle de Sezannes and appeared about to speak, but he checked himself. "Thank you," he said to Mrs. Ver non. "I was very hungry. l win now go to the British lines, unless"-? he hesitated just for a breath?"unless y<^u will permit me to help you and the young ladies back to New Orleans. Indeed, this is no place for yon." He had scarcely ceased speaking, when one of his men unceremoniously broke into the room and exclaimed, with blunt, rough vehemence: "We're surrounded! The British are all around the place!" When Loring's companion ran in with the cry, "We are surrounded! The British are all around the place!" the ladies were dumbfounded. They stood like white-faced statues. Loring did not appear to find anything startling in the situation. He walked boldly out through the front door, followed by his man. As he passed close to Mrs. Vernon, he stooped toward her and said, with a ring of impatience in his voice: "Your husband must have been quite out of his senses when he sent you ladies out here. But be calm. You shall not ba ill-treated." There was a stir out-of-doors ?a 6onnd of voices. Some low commands were given. Mrs. Vernon and Mademoiselle de Sezannes became hysterical, but Pauline, though pale as a ghost, seemed to have found ample strength to bear whatever was to come. She thought she heard her father's voice at the door. It was Loring speaking with the British .officer. The two entered a moment later. "They must be taken to some place where they can be protected." Loring was saying. "fiertainlv. if it can be done." the officer replied. "But we are in no condition to take care of ladies. "Send them to New Orleans." "No, sir. That is against positive orders. We are to permit no white person to go from ns to the enemy. No; we must take them. If you are what you claim to be, the general will receive you kindly and gives the ladies the best comforts that he can command. That is all that I cau say." "I advise you to treat me with respect, sir," said Loring, very calmly, and fixing his eyes with a malignant stare on those of the officer. "You will know more of me." "Do as I command you!" exclaimed the sturdy Englishman. "I'm not to be bullied by a prisoner! Bundle up these women and put them on your dorses. You will walk. There's no time for talk. Move along!" Loring compressed his lips, but Baid not another word. He saw that for once he had found a check to his arrogance. He explained to the ladies that all were prisoners and that they would have to go to the British commander's headquarters." "I commend you to the good-will of Lieutenant Barnaby," he said, bowing with perfect ease toward the officer. "He feels as big as a drummajor at present." "Silence, sir, or I'll have you gagged in an instant!" exclaimed the Lieutenant. "You could not gag a-hen!" sneered Loring. The lieutenant whipped out his sword; his face was ablaze with jholer. The ladies began to shriek. Pauline sprang between the men. Loring put her gently bat foroibly aside; then lifted the lapel of his coat and leaned forward. "Put your sword-point through that!" he exclaimed, laying bis finger on a shining badge that covered his heart. "Thrust away, young man! Thrust away!" The face of the officer paled as suddenly as it had reddened. He stood as if faltering for a moment, and then saluted. Tjnrinc r?RTinnded with loftv indif ference, and taring to Mrs. Vernon bade ber make haste to go with her captors. "I will proteot you all," he said, turning to Mademoiselle de Sezannes. "You will be safer with the army than in New Orleans." After a moment be turned to the lieutenant and said: "Hurry things up, let us be off." It was a curious change; the prisoner seemed to be in command. "Yoij will ride my horse," he said bo Pauline, taking her gently by the irm, "and I am going to walk along beside you. Wrap yourself up well, for it is chilly out in this night fog." (to bk continued.) The .Moccasin In Winter. The moccasin is the most rational tnd comfortable of all footwear. In tnocoasins the feet have full play; they :an bend and grasp; there is nothing to chafe them or impede circulation, [n moccasins one can move like an lcrobat, crossing slender and slippery logs, climbing trees, or passing with sase and security along dizzy trails on the mountainside where a slip might mean sure destruction. The feet do aot stick fast in mud. In the North, when the mercury is far below zero ind no civilized boot will protect the feet from freezing, the savage suffers qo inconvenience. His moccasins, stuffed with dried graB3, let the blood jourse freely. The perspiration may freeze on the hay in a solid lump of ice, but the feet remain warm and dry. The buckskiu moccasin, Indian-tanned with deers' brains and v/ood smoke, always dries soft after^a wetting.? Harper's Magazine. The Dodjrer NuUance. The local newspapers are appreciated and read in most of the families to which they are sent, while the hand bills which are pushed under every door are read by very few. As an advertising medium these dodgers are simply a waste of paper and ink. The housemaid's broom brushes them out of the vestibule on to the side walk, and tbe wind does the rest. Timid horses are frightened, sidewalks and streets are littered, and all to no practical parpose. The ordinance designed to prevent the wholeBale distribution of these flying leaflets is a very proper one, and public opinion will mt)st emphatically sustain its passage and rigid enforcement.? Philadelphia Times # - V'V - r'V - ' ' * v ... 0 THE GREAT DESTROYER SOME STARTLING FACTS ABOUT THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE. Pa??? th* Branil.v?Satire, on the Way One Man Spent His Whole Life In Erect ine a Monument to Hlf? Worst Enemi -Broke His Wife's Heart by Dolnj; It Devil, devil! You're a youth.# Tricked with cav convention's smile. | Budding home nn head, forsooth! Are Ihev hid beneath your tile? They maligned yon! ?Tail in coil? Hoofed in oatent leather tights? Never a tender soul could soil From such affable delights. Devil, devil! Smooth of chin! Manners oolished like a pin! Devil, devil! Prav don't cavil! (Open the door and let him in)! Devil, devil!' How you've fjrown! Pardon me?eh??if I observe Those horns. What! These your own? These, these little shiny knobs? Ah. vour hoofs and tail are b*re! "Handier that way?" Well, I guess! Always liked you! Take a chair. > Join me in a B. and S. Devil, devil! Where've you been? Brawn and smite and all a-grin! Devil, devil! Imp of evil! (Open the door and let him in)! Devil dsrill Ynti arp nld. So am T, too. ha, ha!? sad! Once I thought vou onlv bold? I was young then. Why. you're bad! Where's niv child-look that von stole? This is where the bargain ends. Pass the brandy?rot your son'! What's a joke between two friends? i Devil. d*>vil! Satan's bin! Bio- and had and black as sin! Devil, devil! Own my hove!! / (Open the door and let him in'l! ?Post Wheeler, in New York Press. JonAlian Kifjrton's Monument. "Jonathan ftigdon died very poor, didn't he. Deacon?" I said. "Yes, they buried him in a pauper's srave. Poor Rigdon! And he had a big heart," said the Deacon. "He snent his whole life and a big fortune building a monument to another man." "Was the monument ever finished, Dea K99 Con: "Yes. and Jonathan did it." "How?" "Well," said the Deacon, sadly, "donathan commenced it early. He commenced putting money into t.he monument at seventeen and finished it at fifty." ".And he gave his whole time to it?" "Yes. he worked night and dav. often ?ii 1 ?? o-uu-tu an iiip'jt, mmiu. (iiui 'in till' cciu"n>'ii. iJiv '"emed to be in a hurry to get it done. He put all the monev he earned upon itsome sav $.500,000. Then he borrowed all he could, and when no one would lend him any more he would take his wife'? dresses aM bedclothes and many othei valuable things in his home and sell them to get more money to finish the monument." "How self-sacrificing!" t "Yep. Jonathan sacrificed everything for this monument," said the Deacon. "He came home one dnv and was about to take the.blanket that lav over hip sleeping baby, and his wife tried to stop him. but he drew back his fist and knocked her down, and ihen away with the b'ankets and never brought them back, and the poor bal sickened and died from the exposure. At last there was nothing left in the bouse. The poor heartbroken wife soon followed the bnby to the grave Yet Jonathan kept working all the more at the monument. I ?aw him when he was about fifty years old. The monument was nearJv done. but he bad worked so at it that X hardly knew him. he was so worn: his clothes were all in tatters, hip face and rose were terribly swollen. And the wretched man had been so little in Rood society all th? while that he was building that he had about forgotten how to use the English language; his tongue had some wav become very thick, and when lie tried, to speak out would come an oath." "But the ffood man did finally accomplish the work?" I said. "Yes. he finished it." said the Deacon, his eves moistening with tears. "Oh. I should like to see it," I said. "Come with me." said my informant, sadly, "and I will show it to you. It stands in a beautiful part of the city where five streets meet. Most men put such things in a cemetery. But John had his own way and put in one of the finest lots to be found." "Does it look like (JrnnCs monument?" "Yes, it's a good deal like Or-mt's mon ument. It is a trrand house. There it is? look at it!" said the Deacon, pointing to a beautiful mansion. "See! it is high and large, with great walb and fire-places, and such velvet carpets, and. oh. what mir rors! Tsn't it rich and grand?" "And who lives in it, Deacon?" "^Vhv tho man ivhrt enM .TnnafVinn Rigdon nearly all the whiskv he drank He lives there with his family, and they wear the richest, finest clothes, and " "And poor Jonathan?" "Why, he's in the pauper's graveyard Alas!" sighed the Deacon, "the world i* full of such monuments built by poor drunkards who broke the hearts of de voted wives, and starved sweet children tc do it."?The New Voice. A .Turtpp on 'Liquor. In opening the! Superior Court, in Char lotte. the other day. the presiding judge said in his charge to the jury: "Gentlemen of the jury, if any of you are in the habit of drinking intoxicating liquors, I 1 ope you will desist from the habit this week. A man is not fit for the discharge of any duty when he is undei the influence of whisky. It is not only a contempt of court, but it is a misdemean or for a juror to become intoxicated. ] wish, also, to impress the fact on the minds the suitors, the witnesses and the officers of the court, that you cannot properly discharge your duty when undci the ipflnenrp of liminr " Undoubtedly this testimony is true Whisky does incapacitate men for business. No one wants to trade with an in toxicated merchant, or entrust his inter ests to an intoxicated lawyer or have ar. intoxicated physician prescribe for him or an intoxicated jury to decide a ease ir. court for him. Yet men \ 11 drink it, am! many who do not drink will vote for it and keep the evil in the reach of those who are addicted to the habit. We do not see how such persons can hope to jus tify their conduct in the sight of God when they help to keep a stumbling l>!ocl< or an occasion to fall in their brother's way.?Our Young I'eople. The Crusjule in Brief. Beware of the wine-seder's grape shot. Grief banished by wine will come again. Nothing is so treacherous as light wines Alcohol is a consummate liar i""1 ceiver., Public safety demands the closing of tli saloons. Where tne devil can't .link he sends 6trong drink. There's more bitterness in beer than comes from hops. To conouer evil?rlon't dream of enter ing a saloon; to be conquered by evil ib go ligut in. A liking for evil is a calamity; a lilting for a saloon is calamitous. A great wave of temperance reform is sweeping over the State of Maine. The primary source of wealth is economy; the primary sources of economy art uevcr in tne saloon. The ordinary beer glass is regulated bj law in Bavaria, and must hold exactly hail a liter, or neariy nine-tenths of a pint. In Scotland all licensed premises, except hotels, are closed Sundays, and one must ' at lease technically *'a traveler'' hrfore he can obtain liquor. The Union Pacific Railway recently banished drinking j.laces from its depots in order to make it easier for the men to poey itB orders not to drink. . - . . .* 7, r -*?r THE SABBATH SCHOOL NTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS FOR JANUARY 20. Subject: CreekB Seeking Jesns, John xil., 20-33 ? Golden Text ^ John xii., 21 ? Memory Verses, 32, 33 ? Commentary on the Day's Lesson. 20. "Certain Greeks." The original "Hellenes" means persons of Greek nationality, born Gentiles of tbe Greek race. "Came up to worship." These Greeks were proselytes to the Jewish religion. That they acknowledge the true God ia evident, but it is not certain that they had been circumcised. They belonged to the class known as "proslytes of the gate," so named from the phrase of the law, "the stranger that is within thy gates." Ex. 20: 10, etc. 21. "Came, therefore, to Philip." It is not known why they should come to Philip first unless it was because they had some slight acquaintance with him. Philip and Andrew are Greek names, and the only ones of Greek origin among the disciples. It is supposed that these Greeks came either from Syro-Phoenicia or Decapolis. "Bethsaida of Galilee." The Bethsaida aituated near Capernaum, in Galilee, was Philip's native town. "Desired Him." .Tfiaua was in the -court of the women, | where He had just beheld the poor widow cast two mitee into the treasury. The Greeks were not allowed to enter this court, hence the necessity of sending word to Christ and asking Him to come out. 22. "Andrew ana Philip." How pleasing to God is this union, when the ministers of the gospel agree and unite together to bring souls to Christ. But where self-love prevails, and the honor that comes from God is not sought, this union neveV exists. Bigotry often ruins every generous sentiment among the different denominations of the people of God. "Tell Jesus." It filled His heart with much needed joy to welcome men who must have seemed to Him an earnest of His future triumphs among the great heathen nations. 23. "Jesus answered them." Our Lord spake primarily to the Greeks, and secondarily to His disciples, (1) of the meaning of His impending death, (2) of the necessity of faithfulness to Him in it, (3) of the blessing attached thereto. "The hour." The time. "Should be glorified." The time has come when the old prophecies (Isa. 54: 3; 60: 3) are to be fulfilled, the Messiah's kingdom is to be set up in the whole earth, and Christ is to take His place on the right hand of God. 24. "Verily, verily/' These words were used to emphasize some great and important truth. He now proceeds to show how XI f T\r*? me glUl'lllL'clLlUll VI tuc Kjyjii ui MUU !??? ? be accomplished. "A corn." A grain. "Into the ground and die." Jesus uses a very familiar illustration. The seed must die in order to liberate the life-germ within it and allow it to become fruitful. If the 6eed i8 not put into the ground it "abideth alone." This is an image setting forth the abundant life of the church through Christ's death. It was necessaiy for Him to die in order to complete His redemptive work and provide a way of eternal safety for lost man. 25. "Loveth his life." The word translated life is often translated soul, as in verse 27. The meaning is that he who makes the pleasures, honors and rewards of this life his chief concern, and sacrifices righteousness and integrity in order to obtain them, "shall lose it." Shall lose in most cases even the earthly rewards that he hoped to gain, and shall lose his soul eternally. "That hateth his life." On the other hand 1 ? who sacrifices, when necessary, all xvoi :dly goods for Christ's sake and the gospel's (Mark 8: 35), "shall keep it." Shall gain eternal life. "The loss is temporal, the gain is eternal; the loss is I small, the gain infinite;" the los3 is of outward things, the gain is the soul itself, which is of infinitely greater value than all earthly good. 26. "serve Me." Christ is a Master in a twofold sense; He instructs men, and appoints them their work. He who wishes to serve Christ must bepome a disciple to be taught, and a servant to obey. "Let him follow Me.", Let him act out the above principle, as Christ has done and was about to do. This is Christ's answer to the reciuest of the Greeks. Service of Christ is to be sought, not by secret inter- I views, but by practicaly following Him in a life of daily self-sacrifice for others. Christians must follow the methods and example of Christ. "Where I am." Where I shall shortly take up Mine abode, even in the eternal kingdom of My Father. "There shall also My servant be." In the same state of happiness and glory. "Will My Father honor." He will be honored with his Master; made a partaker of the joys and rewards of the one he served. 27. "My soul troubled." Christ had | various foretastes of His passion before He I fully entered into it; already His soul was beginning to be "exceeding sorrowful." "What shall I say?" What shall My prayer be to My Father? "Save Me from this hour." This should be read as a question, according to the Revised Version, Margin. Christ did not pray to be delivered from death; He knew why He came into the world, and was ready to bear the agonies of the cross. 28. "Glorify Thy name." By the Name of God is understood Himself in all His attributes; His wisdom, truth, justice, mercy, holiness, which are all abundantly glorified by Christ's death. The prayer | is, Father, glorify Thyself, at whatever cost to Me. "A voice from heaven." This was the third time the Father had epoken from heaven. See Matt. 3: 17; Luke 9: 35. "I have?and will glorify it." The Father had glorified His name by giving Him power to accomplish His mission thus far, and He would continue to glorify it by giving Him power to come to the cross, and by bringing Him forth from the grave. 30. "Not because of Me." Not to strengthen or confirm Me, for I had no doubts about My course. "For your sakes." Probably as a proof to the Greeks who had desired to see Him, that He was the Messiah. 31. "Now." At this very time. "Is the judgment." Or, the crisis. Now it shall be determined who shall rule the world. Others think that judgment here means "condemnation," and that the time had now come when the religious systems of the world were to receive a sentence of condemnation. "The prince of this vorld." Satan. "Be cast out." Cast out of his position; dethroned 32. "If I be lifted up." On the cross, as exnlained in the next verse. "Will draw." After I have died and risen again. Christ draws, but we must yield to the influences of the Spirit, repenting of and forsaking our sins, and turning to Him with nil our hearts. "Wolves Abound Near Minneapolis. Large numbers of wolves infest the vicinity of Minneapolis, Minn., and the farmers are in a state bordering upon panic for fear their live stock will be attacked by the brutes. This condition is particularly true as appiying to Anoka County, adjoining Hennepin, where the prairie wolves are reported as being more numerous than ever before. Farmers are sending out invitations for a grand hunt in the near future, by means of which it is hoped to exterminate or drive out o? the country the animals. Mormon Tablets Found. A Mormon exploring expedition in Central America under the direction of Benjamin Cluaff reports the unearthing of a stone casket containing inscribed tablets which, it is said, plainly uphold many Mormon traditions. The tablets are being sent North, cjucptics deride the ivjonnon ciaims. In Honor of Mi*8 WUIard. At the coming National Convention of the Woman's Christian Temperance Union, to be held in l'ort Worth, Texas, an attempt will be made to have September 28, the birthday of the late Miss Frances Willard, observed in the public echools of the country. Numner of Farms in tne country. There are now about J>,800,000 farms in the United States, and 600,000 factories. wmmmmmmammmmmammammmmmmammmmmmmmmmmmmm DR. TALMAGES SERMON SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE BY THE NOTED DIVINE, Subject: Apples of Gold?An Appropriate Word May Decide One's Destiny ? The Power of Little Things ? Valne of Sympathy. [Copyright 1901. Washington, 1). C.?In this discourse Dr. Talmage shows an open door for any one who desires to be useful, and illustrates how a little thing may decide one's destiny. The text is Proverbs xxv, 11 (re- ' vised version), "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in baskets of silver." A filigree basket loaded with fruit is put before us in the text. What is ordinarily translated "pictures" ought to be "baskets." Here is a silver network basket containing ripe and golden apples, pippins or rennets. You know how such apples glow through the openings of a basket of silver network. You have seen such a basket of fruit on many a table. It whets the appetite as well as regales the vision. Solomon was evidently fond * l of apples, Decause ne bo oilcu epcaiu* u> them. While he writes in glowing terms of pomegranates and figs and grapes and mandrakes, he seems to find solace as well as lusciousness in apples, calling out for a supply of them when he says in another place, "Comfort me with apples." Now you see the meaning of my text, "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in baskets of silver." You see, the wise man eulogizes just one word. Plenty of recognition has there been for great orations?Cicero's arraignment of Catiline, the phillippics of Demosthenes, the five days' argument of Edmund Burke against Warren Hastings, Edward living's discourses on the Bible and libraries full of prolonged utterance? but my text extols the power of one word when it refers to "a word fitly spoken." This may mean a single word or a small collection of words?something you can utter in one breath, something that you can compact into one sentence. "A word fitly spoken" ? an encouraging word, a kind word, a timely word, a sympathetic word, an appropriate word! I can pass right down the aisle of any church and find between pulpit and front door men whose temporal and eternal destinies have been decided by a word. I tell you what is a great crisis in every man's history. It is the time when he is entering an occupation or profession. He is opposed by men in middle life because they do not want any more rivals, and by some of the aged because they fear being crowded off and their piaceB being taken by younger menv Hear the often severe and unfair examinations of young lawyers by old lawyers, of young doctors by old doctors, of young ministers by old TT/sar cnmo nf the old mer chants talk about the young merchants. Trowels and hammers and scales often are jealous of new trowels and new hammers and new scales. Then it is so difficult to get introduced. How long a time has many a physician had his sign out before he got a call for his services and the attorney before he got a case! Who wants to risk the life of his family tp a young physician who got his diploma only last spring and who may not know measles from scarlatina, or to risk the obtaifting of a verdict for $20,000 to an attorney who only three years ago read the first page of Blackstone? How is the young merchant to compete with his next door bargain maker, who can afford to undersell some things' - because he can more than make it up by the profit on other things or has failed three times and had more money after each failure? How is that mechanic to make a livelihood when there are twice as many man in that trade as can in hard times find occupation? There are this very moment thousands or men wno are juac starting life for themselves, and they need encouragement?not long harangue, not quotation from profound book, not a page, not a paragraph, but a word, one word, fitly spoken. Why does not that old merchant, who has been forty years in business, go into that young merchant's store and say, "Courage?" He needs only that one word, althoueh, of course, you will illustrate it by telling your own experience and how long yoa waited for customers, and how the first two years you lost money, and how the next year, though you did better, illness in your household srwamped the' surplus with doctor's bills. Why does not that old lawyer go into that young lawyer's office just after he has broken down in making his first plea before a jury and say that word with only two syllables, "Courage?" He needs only that one word, althoueh, of course, you will illustrate it by telling him how you broke down in one of your first cases, and got laughed at bv court and bar and iury, and how Dis: ? * * * i ?? -i- i J 1 raeJi Drone down at tne start, ana now hundreds of the most successful lawyers at the start broke down. Why do not the successful men go right away and tell those who are starting what they went through, and how their notes got i-otested and what unfortunate purchases . they made, and how they were swindled, but kept right on until they reached the golden milestone? Even some who pretend to favor the new beginner and say they wish him well put obstacles in his way. There are so many men who have all the elements of usefulness and power except one?courage. If you can only under God give them that, you give them everything. In illustrating that one word show them that every man that ever amounted to anything had terrific struggle. Show him what ships Decatur had to fight, and what a mountain Hannibal had to climb, and what a lame foot Walter Scott had to walk with, and that the greatest poet who ever lived?Milton?was blind, that one of the grandest musicians of all the ages?Beethoven?was deaf, and that Stewart, in some respects the graatest merchant that America ever saw, began in his small 6tore, dining on bread and cheese behind the counter in a snatched interregnum between customers, he opening the store and closing it, sweeping it out with his own broom and being his own errand boy. Show them that within ten minutes' walk there are stores, shops and factories and homes where as brave deeds have been done as those of Leonidas at Thermopylae, as that of Horatius at the bridge, as that of Colin Campbell at BalaIclava. Tell them what Napoleon said to his staff officer when that officer declared a certain military attempt to be impossible. "Impossible!" said the great commander. "Impossible is the adjective of fools!" Show them also that what is true in , worldly directions is more true in spiritual ] directions. Call the roll of prophets, apostles and martyrs and private Christians ' from the time the world began and ask J them to mention one man or woman ; greatly good or useful who was not depreciated and flailed and made a laughing . stock. Racks and prisons and whips and shipwrecks and axes of beheadment did ! their worst, yet the heroes were more : than conqueror. With such things you 1 will illustrate that word "courage," and 1 they will go out from your presence to ' start anew and right, challenging all ear^h ' and hell to the combat. ' Tht word "courage," fitly spoken with compressed lips and stout grip of the hand ' and an intelligent flash of thQ eye?well, ' the finest apples that ever thumped on the j ground in an autumnal orchard and were ; placed in the most beanHful basket of sil ver network before keen appetites could r not be more attractive. Furthermore, a comforting word fitly J spoken is a beautiful thing. No one but 1 God could j?ive the inventory of sick beds T and bereft homes and broken hearts. We ought not to let a day pass without a t visit, or a letter, or a message, or a prayer e consolatory. You could call five minutes * on your way to the factory; you could a leave a half hour earlier in the afternoon t and fill a mission of solace; you could n brighten a sick room with one chrysanthe- b mum; you could put a postscript to a let- d ter that would bring the joys of heaven to h a soul; you could send your carriage and a give an afternoon airing to an invalid cn h a neighboring street; you could loan a h book with some chapters most adapted to b some particular misfortune. Go home to- a ' 'J day and make out a list of things you raft I do that will show sympathetic thoughtful-, nesa for the hardly bestead. How manjt dark places you might illumine! How V many tears you could stop or, if already I started, vou could wipe away! How mntj);.^ like Jesus Christ you might get to he! So-B sympatnetic waa He with beggary, so helpful was He for the fallen and bo stirn&ifl was He at the sight of dropsy, epiIepsjfJ~ M paralysis and ophthalmia that, whether*-! He saw it by the roadside, or at the sea.. beach, or af the mineral baths of Betheif*. H da, He offered relief. Cultivate genuine sympathy, Christlike sympathy. Ton can-; not successfully dramatize it. False sympathy Alexander Pope sketches in two* .lines: "Before her facc her handkerchief the.: spread To hide the flood of tears she did not- i shed." There are four or five words which fitJy^ spoken might soothe and emancipate ana?' rescue. Go to those from whose- homeraj Christ has taken to Himself a loved. ones and try the word "rennion," not wintrv skv. but in everlasting springtide^ nj|t a land where they c&n be struck disease, but where the inhabitant nevej^ says, "I am sick, not a reunion that cast.' be followed by separation, bat in a placftyj. "from which they shall go no more out forever." For emancipation and cighirife& immortal'health. Reunion, or if yon' lik*' the word better, anticipation. There- .MB* nothing left for them in this world. $rf/* them with heaven. With a chapter fron^-^ the great book open one of the twejv*:'. gatps. Give them one note of serapuw3 harp, one flash from the sea of glau, oat,-; clatter of the hoofs of the horses on whicki victors ride. That word reunion or antici- ; nation fitly spoken? Well, no frw^ heaped up in silver baskets could equal; ;< f\t fko 9fWi Irinria nf Annie* that haver".? blessed the world not one is so mellow off; so rich or so aromatic, but we take thfr./' suggestion of the text and compare thaw word of comfort fitly spoken to apples gold in baskets of silver. .So also is a word of warning. A shijvv may sail out of harbor when tne sea hu?n not so much as a ripple, but what a fool-' hardy ship company would they, ba thttja made no provision for high winds an<0 wrathful seas. However smoothly the vojSjj age of life may begin we will get rougl( * weather before we harbor -on the. othcra* side, and we need ever and anon to sava;*$ some one uttering in most decided toneaArt the word "Beware!" There are all tha ;i temptations to make this life everything! and to forget that an inch of ground ' large* CUS Wi/lllpaiCU nivu vu* v*w???.? y1.1^ istence. There are all the temptations of I the wine cup and the demijohn^as this oi'.^l any other century lias heard of. There are all the temptations of pride and avar^35S ice and bStse indulgence and ungovernable:'M temper. There is no word we all need. .1 oftener to hear than the word f<bewaroffi%&IB The trouble is that the warning word apt to come too late. We allow our j to be overcome in a fight with some evif':'? habit before we sound an alarm. AfttftefflBl man is all on lire with evil habit your >1 word of warning will have no more effect v.1 than would an address to a house on asking it tb stop burning, no more tajjraH than a steam tug going out to help a ship- 1 after it has sunk to the bottom of^ tWj?fl What uue m word of warning to that in- 1 ebriate whose wife was dying from wound?' inflicted by his own hand. As' he heUr||| the fiand ot nis aying wiie ne maae uur^,?;| vow, "Mary, I -will never take anotfaaffifll glass of strong drink until I t*ke.;.<^J it from the hand which I now hold/fjja I ]n an awful way he kept the vow, for r\ when the wife was in her coffin he filled ti-gH glass with brandy, put the glass into the. .' dead hand, then took the glass out of her;cf( hand and drank the liquid. Too late doe? v any warning come to such a ope. Ay Or the man astray may have an unhapp^^.*! home, and that is enough to wreek any: i one. We often speak of men who destroy their homes, but do not say anytbi8C&? about the fact that there are thousands ofij'[ wives in American who by petulance fretting and inconsideration and lack economy and all manner of disagreeable-' ' , ness drive their husbands into dissipation.,' ? The reason' that thousands of men spencl n their evenings in clubhouses and taveaura! is because they cannot stand it at hom&: I know men who are thirty-year martyr*/;? in the fact that they are awfully married. That marriage was not made in heaven, . Without asking divine guidance they en- (i? tered into an alliance which ought ntver'x+A Kqtta Kaon Tfcflf 1Q matter with many men you and I know.. ?33 They may be very brave ami heroic antf?Jfl say nothing abont it, but all the neighborr 4? know. ,v Now, if the man going wrong has tneK " Tij domestic misfortune be very lenient an<jl yf excusatory in your word of warning. Tlwr.pj difference between you and him may b* f* that you would have gone down faster that he is going down if you had the e&me kind of conjugal wretcheaness. r Besides that, you had better be mercifittvwtj in your word of warning, for the day may come when you may need some one to be lenient and excusatory to you. The^irJ^a may be somewhere ahead of you & tempts* jiM tion bq mighty that unless you have Byxn- y pathetic treatment you may go tmaer. "Oh, no," says some one; "I am too old for that." How. old are you? "Oh," yon s^y, "I have been so long in active buai* ness life that I am clear past the latitude . of danger." There is a man in Sing Sin^ - penuenuary who wao vuuoiucrcu wc <v<u ... of honor until he waa fifty yeaw of >'i ai)d then committed a dishonesty that Bttif -.? tied the entire commercial world. An art to be Btudied as you study music/ j for it is music in the fact that it drive* v out moral discord and substitutes eternal harmony. An art to be studied like sculp- ' ture. for it is sculpture in the fact that it . builds a man not in cold statue, but m H mortal shape that will last long after all pentelican marble has crumbled. ' An art to be studied as you study archi- : tecture, for it is architecture in the fact ' that it builds for him a house of God, eternal in the- heavens. But an art that we ' cannot fully learn unless God helps us. Ourselves saved by grace divine, we can go forth to save others, and with a tenderness and compassion and a pity that we I'could not otherwise exercise we can pronounce the warning word with magnificent result. The Lord said unto the prophet Amos,,? -,: "Amos, what see6fc thou?" and he an- i'-j swered, "A basket of summer fruit." But '! I do not think Amos saw in that basket . ' I of summer fruit anything more inviting- "i and luscious than many a saved man ha? ,j seen in the warning word of some hearty, j common sense Christian adviser, for a .'J word fitly spoken is "like apples of gold in baskets of silver." So also is a word of invitation potent and beautiful. Who can describe the ' drawing power of that word, so small and pet so tremendous, "Come?" It is a short ivord, but its influence is as long as eter- ' ? nity; not a sesquipedalian word spreading ts energy over many syllables, but monosyllabic. Whether calling in wrong direction or right direction many have found , ' t irresistible. That one word has filled '} ill the places of dissipation and dissolute*N^K jess. It is responsible for the abomima :ion8 that curse the earth. Inquirg^df the loor of prisons what brought the offender ;here and at the door of almshouses what jrought the pauper there, and at the door >f the lost world what was the cause of he incarceration, and if the inmates speak i ;he truth they will say, "The word 'come* irought us here." Come and drink. Come md gamble. Come and sin. Come and lie. Pronounce that word with one bind >f inflection, and you can hear in it the oiling of all the bells of conflagration and roe. *5 The chief baker in prison in Pharaoh's * I ime sa%v in dream something quite differ- , nt from apples of gold in baskets of siler. for he said to Joseph, "1 was also in , . dream, and, behold, I had three white j laskets on my head, and in the upperlost basket there was all manner of r) wioiln f PUhviaU 1 wl (Iia ^ onvvt uicaio IUI JL uai uuu; auu buc UU U9 lid eat them out of the baskets on my ead." Joseph interpreted the dream and aid it meant that the chief baker should e beheaded, and the birds would eat his is flesh. So many a man has in his own C ad habits omens of evil that peek at hiw> nd foretell doom and death. ... : IM m