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THE-nTSTE Aurtxor. vtThe Mouse c [Copyright, 1S95. by Eol CHAPTER XVII. Continued. t( Now these words, taken with the tone in which they were spoken, were e strong tests of the lover's trust. But Clifford did not flinch. He told Hemming to call the nurse, who was wait- ;! ing outside the door, and at once sent *! a message to Nell to ask her to come and see him. "And don't tell her," he went on, j! with a defiant glance at the detective, "who it is that wishes to see her." ^ When Nell came in, therefore, she 1 tt-oo tniron hv Riirnrise. It worried Clifford to note tbat she turned very ^ white and began to tremble violently % when she found who it was that wanted to speak to her. Hemming came to a the point at once. n "Do you remember. Miss." said he, ? In a very deferential tone. "Colonel Bostal's taking down an old pistol from a nail in the wall of his house, about a week ago. and showing it to you n and some other ladies?" Yes. Nell remembered. She threw ? a frightened glance at Clifford as she ' made this admission. "Can you tell me who the ladies were ?" * "Mrs. Lansdowne and her daughter and Miss Theodora and?and?I!" 8 "The colonel fired it off, did he not?" ?' "Yes." 11 si "And wanted you ladies to do the same?" 1 "Yes." "And did you do so? Please tell me . what happened." ^ "Tliey were all afraid to touch it." "All?" "All, except?except me." Trembling from head to foot, Nell cast an imploring glance at her lover. ^ "You fired it off two or three times. I believe, Miss? And you hit a mark ^ that you fired at?" jc The girl answered almost in a shriek - -of terror: . "I did not hit it! Who says that I , bit it V" " Clifford started up, leaning on his arm. In an instant Nell recovered ... enough of her self-possession to tell him to lie down again. But her voice j' shook. Hemming spoke in a very gentle nnrl nnnlntrotip tone as he went on with liis interrogatory: j "Is this the pistol you used, Miss?" He produced from oue of his pockets j the old cavalry pistol, which he had j brought from Shingle End. "Yes," replied Nell, not heeding Clif- g{ ford's attempts to bring the examina- j tion to an end, "that is the one." "Do you remember what happened when-you had all seen it, and it was done with?" "Yes. The colonel reloaded it? a] She stopped short and looked down. J. "You are sure that he reloaded it?" "Yes. He reloaded it, and hung it upon the nail again." ^ "Have you ever touched the pistol j since V" "No, no." i , : "Has any one else, to your Knowledge, touched it since?" d< "No." ui "What is all this to lead to?" asked rt Clifford, impatiently. e< "Well, I can't tell you yet, sir. * But h; the colonel says?and the young lady and Miss Bostal all say the same?that w he put the pistol back on its nail, tl loaded, a week ago; and when I took cc it down from its nail to-night, it had tr been discharged. That's all at pres- r? ollt " VMl, Oil 31 For one minute Hemming waited, ec expecting to have something said to si him by Clifford King or Nell. As tl they remained silent, he too*k his leave, ui with more apologies for his intrusion, te The lovers looked at each other. m "Nell," asked Clifford in a whisper, w when they had been alone and silent for some moments, "is it true that si you iired it off?" N "Quite true. Now do you doubt me, tc too?" fc "No. I swear I don't. But,?Nell, my m darling, I begin to tremble for you all oi the same." The young man's voice shook. Nell fc gazed into his face in an agony of w horror. ei "If I knew anything, I would tell it, hi whatever happened," she cried, sud- ti denly. "It is not fair that 1 should have to suffer like this!" tl Now this speech was perplexing to st her listener, but she would give no w explanation of it. She only told him pi that she wanred time to think, to con- r< Bider. And on the following morning, , soon after breakfast, she called the as nurse out or tue room to ask if she g< could go in and say good-bye to Mr. King. Clifford stared at her in astonish- di ment. She had on her hat and cloak, and was evidently ready for a journey. M "Didn't you know that I was going jto London yesterday, to my aunt'sV" si she asked/ "They stopped me, to give evidence at the inquest. So I am go- ti ing to-day. instead." "But?"began Clifford, and hesitated. IE "You think it looks bad for me to go if awayV" said she impatiently. "Well, vi people must think what they like. If <-'< the police want me, I dare say they will be able to find me out," she ad- si ded bitterly. if Clifford was shocked. it "Don't, child, don't speak like that," cried he. "I only thought, you would tl be too much interested iu this business to go away until they had found out r< i hr> trni h " Nell moved restlessly, and looked fi anxious. "When will that be?" she asked, 4 shrugging her shoulders. "I might di stay here forever if I waited for that!" tl Clifford leaned on his elbow and ft Stared at her. tc "Nell, do you want them to find it di out?" Le asked, curiously. ol She hesitated. Then, raising her head quickly, she hissed out in a low pi .voice: tl k RT-op-T/ie : ^^A^IllllllllllHIIHHIlF^o s arckn'f^". J >n Hie Aaxsh," ere-, r iert Iionner'a Sons.." t I "No. I can't toll you why; I won't t ell you why; but?no, no, no!" s Then she looked at him. her blue g yes filled with imploring tears. He held out his arms. C "Never mind, Nell. Whatever you p ell me, or whatever you choose not h b tell, I love you and I trust you just e be same." "Now," she whispered, with a sud- S en change from her rather hard, de- u ant tone to one full of gentleness and tl ratitude, "I don't care what they be- h eve, or what they do to me." s "You will write to me, Nell? You g rill let me write to you?" whispered lifford, as be clung to her. X. But, sobbing, shaking with anxiety ii nd grief as she was, Nell was obsti- 1) ate. f: "You may write to me," she said, when all this mystery is cleared up. s int not before." c "But, Nell, you said that might be s ever!" protested Clifford. h "Then you may never write to me," ^ nswereu me gin. uau suuucuicu uj ^ er sobs, as she tore herself away from im, and ran out of the room. si Her uncle was waiting outside. He f< as deeply moved, and it was with u ifficulty that he repressed all outward y igns of the struggle between love and iispicion of his niece, as he helped her n lto the dogcart. Their drive to the tl tation was as silent as their drive w oin the town-hall on the preceding " ay had been. It was not until they si ad driven up to the door of the rail- I] ray station that Nell addressed her y ncle. It "Uncle George," she said, in a low, oubled voice, "why can't you trust s >e?" b The innkeeper was touched; he was h bout to answer her with words ti hich would have convinced her that, tl hatever his suspicions might be, his c ive for her was as strong as ever, a hen the sight of a policeman watchig them intently froze the words on ri is lips. el "There's the reason why I can't," nswered George Claris, hoarsely, ei Look how you are watched, wherever n: au go. They won't let you go away, u; expect." tl Nell said nothing, but got out of the w jg-cart with compressed lips and anx- lc >us eyes. Contrary not only to her a ocle's expectations but to her own, li owever, she was allowed to start on ?r journey without hindrance.' When n] le train had steamed out of the little ation, the innkeeper turned abrupt- P1 and defiantly to the policeman. "Well," said he, roughly, "what do tl )U want?" S "Nothing at present. Mr. Carlin," an- .it vered the man. "When we do want tc aything, you know, we can always SI ad it." In Whatever he thought of the truth of tl lis statement, George Claris was pru?nt enough not to question it. !l< w CHAPTER XVIII. Id the week which followed Nell's jj( L-parture for London the spirits of her a nele declined day by day UDtil the jr d-faced, genial innkeeper had be- a )rae little more than the shadow of Is former self. sr He missed his niece more than he tl ould admit even to himself. And al- U) lough it is true that his mind had be- nj >me tainted with suspicion of her uth and honesty, he would have been tl iady and willing to receive her back st id to forget the doubts which he 0J >uld not wholly stifle. But Nell was g. larpsighted enough to understand tl lis state of feeling, as revealed to her ^ ^consciously by her uncle in his let- hi rs. So she made excuses for re- y, aining in London, and George Claris .,] as left lonely. tl The innkeeper, although he did not lare Clifford's entire confidence in ell, "was grateful to the young barris- fc r for it. But he said that Nell had ji irbidden him to divulge her address, tl 3d Mr. King must wait for the girl's vn time for making it known to him. Just before Clifford left reluctantly ir London, lie had another interview itli the detective Hemming, who, aft- U( having disappeared for a fortnight. ' id returned to the scene of his inves- j' gation. Hemming was reticent, but gave 0 le impression that be was more rongly convinced than ever that he j as on the right track as to the per?trator of the murder and of the >bberies. ? "Well, what are you going to do?" ^ sked Clifford impatiently. "Are you sing to set another decoy to work?" Hemming looked at him shrewdly. "It won't be any use," answered he ryly, "until?" "Until what?" "Well, sir. if I must say it?until [iss Claris couies back." Clifford controlled the anirer ho felt. iiee an exhibition of it would only ^ ave closed the detective's lips more Khtly. 0. "I should like you to make an expeii- j lent, though." said he. "Will you lake it on luy account? I want it ery well done, no matter what it JStS." "You're throwing your money away, r,"' replied Hemming civilly. "Still, you wish it, and choose to pay for , of course it can be done." 0 Clifford found a card, and gave it to P le detective. v "There is my address," said he. "I r >ly upon you to do your best." K( "And you won't be dissuaded, sir, oin a useless expense?" ^ "No." nj Before they parted, Clifford and tue " stective bad arranged between thorn te details of a little plot which Clif- a >rd thought would certainly suffice excite the appetite of the astute but Eiring thief who was at the bottom f all the mischief. T In the week following Clifford's de- a: irture, therefore, there arrived at ci le Blue Lion a rough-looking person h rho gave himself out as a successful migrant, who had returned to his naive land with his pockets full of tioney. The man stayed at the inn or several days, boasted openly in the iar of his luck, showed the results of t in lavish "treating" and in the ap arently careless exhibition of handuls of gold. But it was all in vain. Hemming lad to report to Clifford, not without ecret triumph, that the "wealthy emi;rant" had been allowed, after a proonged stay, to leave the inn without laving received a visit from the midliglit thief. Clifford was much cbagined, although he affected to think hat it was only in common prudence hat the thief, on whom at least the uspJcion of murder now hung, had ;rown m<^e careful. But when Hemming had left him, -'lifford began to think out a new roblem which this last occurrence ad presented to him. Was Jem StickIs the chief? But then it was certainly not Jem Itickels whose hand he had caught nder his pillow. And a shiver passed brough the young fellow's frame as e remembered the touch of the mooth skin, of the little slender finers. It was not until the first day of larch, on a blustering, stormy mornog. that Nell Claris, her resolution roken down by a pathetic appeal rom her uncle, came back to Stroan. George Claris met his niece at the tation. and each was shocked at the nangeu appearance 01 xue ouier. i\eu eemed to have lost half her beauty; er cheeks had lost their roundness -hieh had been one of her greatest harms. "Oh, uncle!" she cried softly, when lie had received his silent kiss on her jrehead, "you don't look the same nele! What have you been doing to ourself?" "Oh, we've been pottering along , luch in the same old way." answered le inukeeper, affecting an indifference hich he was far from feeling. Nothing's happened in particular, ince Mr. King went back to London, [e wanted your address, as I told ou in my letters. Why wouldn't you (t me give it to him V" "Uncle, I like him too much," anwered the girl, steadily. "If it had een in the old time, now. he should ave had it quickly enough. But unil this miserable business, that's been i lie ruin of everything to us all, is leared up, I'll not let any man I care bout involve himself in my disgrace." "Disgrace, Nell!" echoed George Clais in a low voice. "Don't say that, 1 tiild, don't say that." In this tone the girl-detected all the motions which tlie story and the ru- i lors about it lind set stirring in her nc-le's simple mind. She felt keenly ! ie affection, the doubt, the anger, liieh had tortured him during the < mg weeks of the winter. She gave ] sigh, and tucking her hand under is arm, whispered: 1 "We won't say disgrace, then, but 1 lisfortune." ( "Aye, that's better, dear," agreed the ] oor fellow mournfully. At that moment they emerged from ( ie shelter afforded by the trees of ] troan Court, the mansion which stood ist outside of the walls of the old twn. They were within sight of the ! :>ot where the body of Jem Stickels ad been discovered; but any emotions i iey might have felt at the recollec- ' on were overpowered by a sense of j i-tual physical danger. For the wind, , liieh had been boisterous all the 1 lorning, was now so strong that they < ere afraid that the dog-cart would J j blown over; while at the same time , blinding snow-fall made it almost i npossible for them to discern the road * yard in front of the horse's head. "It blows straight on the shore," \ lid George Claris. "It'll be a lucky i ling if none of the ships in the chan- j el get drove out of their course to- t igllt." Nell shuddered. Living as she did by ic seashore, she was accustomed to orms and the horrors attendant up3 them to the ships at sea. Every lie brought disaster; and although, le inn beiug on the shore of a bay, ost of the accidents of which Nell sard happened some few miles away, ?t she and her uncle were always nong the first to hear of them, from le lips of the frequenters of the inu. Both Nell and her uncle thought it udent to finish their short journey on iot. leading the horse, and finding leir way with some difficulty through le snow storm. To be Continued. The Slav and Woman. Abhorrent even to the strongest Slavophile" is the position occupied ; y "woman in the family and in social a fe, says a writer in the Outiook. To * scape the charge of prejudice, 1 shall * uote a few proverbs current among t ?e Southern Slavs?a few out of many t u nd reds: * "The man is the head, the woman is ? rass." i "One man is worth more than ten 1 omen." * "A man of straw is worth more than j woman of gold. B "Let the dog bark, but let the worn- r n keep silent." * "He who does not beat his wife Is * o man." "What shall I get when I marry?" i sks a boy of his father. "For your | s rife a stick, for your children a J witch." t "Twice in his life is a man happy? 1 nee when lie marries, and once when J e buries his wife." And the woman sings in the Russian i nlk-song, which I have freely trans- < ited: j "Love me true and love me quick, t Pull my hair and use the stick." > Although there are love songs of an- \ ] flier kind, in which the woman is r raised for her charms, she becoracs j J irtually a slave as soon as she mar- j J ies. and the little poetry of the folk- I t ang does not accompany her even to j c le marriage altar. She is valued only i 6 >r the work she can do in a household | ? nd for the children she. can bear, and, r liould this latter blessing he denied I er. her lot becomes doubly pitiable, J ud she often seeks release by suicide. 1 The Mohammedan Year. f The Mohammedan year is lunar. | he civil months of the Mohammedan I re adopted to the lunar months by the jj ,'cle of thirty years, in which nineteen . ave 354 days and eleven have 355. i DR. TALMAGEYS SERMON SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE BY THE NOTE! DIVINE. \ " nbjpct: The "World Grow? Better ?Th Time In Which Wo Live is WoiJ(lcvf?; For Disaster and Wondeiful For Bless ings? Infidelity Dwiailinjf. Washington, D. C.?In this discours< Tuimo^o m?itDD tnmp irrp.it events anc shows that the world is advancing in thi right direction; text, Joel ii, 30, "1 wil show wonders in the heavens and in th< earth." Dr. Cumming?great and good manwould have told us the exact time of th< fulfillment of this prophecy. As I steppec into his study in London on my arriva from Paris just after the French had sur rendered at Sedan the good doctor said tc me: "It is just what I had told you aboul France. People laughed at me because ] talked about the seven horns and the vials but I foresaw all this from the book o: Daniel and the book of Revelation." No taking any such responsibility in the in terpretation of the passage, I simply as eert that there are in it suggestions oi many things in our time. Our eyes dilate and our heart quicken in its pulsations as we read of events ii the third century, the sixth century, thi eighth century, the fourteenth century but there were more far-reaching events crowded into the nineteenth century that into any other, and the last twenty yean eclipse any preceding twenty. We read ii the daily newspapers of events announced in one paragraph and without any specia emphasis?events which a Herodotus, s Josephus, a Xenophon, a Gibbon, woul< have taken whole chapters or whole vol umes to elaborate. Looking out upon oui time, we must cry out in the words of thi text. "Wonders in the heavens and in th< earth." I propose to show you that the time ii which we live is wonderful for disastei ana wonderful lor Diessing, lor mere rausi he lights and shades in tnis picture as ii all others. Need I argue that our time ii wonderful for disaster? Our world hai had a rough time since by the hand o. God it was bowled out into space. It ii an epileptic earth?convulsion after convul sion; frosts pounding it with sledge ham mer of icebergs and fires melting it wit! furnaces seven times heated. It is a won del- to me it has lasted so long. Meteors shooting by on this side and grazing it and meteors shooting by on the other side anc grazing it, none of them slowing \ip foi safety. Whole fleets and navies and argo gosies and flotillas of worlds sweeping al! about us. Our earth like a fishing smacli off the banks of Newfoundland, while the Majestic and the St. Paul and the Kaisei Wilhelm der Grosse rush by. Besides that, our world has by sin been damaged in it3 internal machinery, and ever and anon the furnaces have burst, and the walking beams of the mountains have broken, and the islands have shipped a Bea, and the great hulk of the world has been jarred with accidents that ever and anon threatened immediate demolition. But it seems to -us as if the last hundred rears were especially characterized bv disaster?volcanic, oceanic, epidemic. 1 saj volcanic because an earthquake is only r volcano hushed up. When Stromboli and Cotopa::i and Vesuvius stop breathing, lei the foundations of the earth beware! Seven thou?and earthquakes in two centuries recorded in the catalogue of the British asBociation! Trajan, the emperor, goes tc ancient Antioch, and amid the splendors of his reception is met by an earthquake that nearly destroys the emperor's life. Lisbon, fair and beautifi'l. at 1 o'clock on the 1st of November. 1755, in six minutes' 60,000 have nerish^d. and Voltaire vrrif-pa nf tV>pm "For that recrion it was the last judgment; nothing wanting but a trumpet!" Europe and America feeling the throb?1500 chimneys in Boston partly or fully destroyed! But the disasters of other times have hid their counterpart in later times. In 1812 Caracas was caught in the grip of an earthquake, in 1SS2 in Chile 100.000 square miles of land by volcanic force upheaved to four and seven feet of permanent elevation, in 1854 Japan felt the geological igonv: Naples shaken in 1857, Mexico in 1858; Mendona, the canital of the Argentine Republic, in 1S61; Manila terrorized in 1803: the Hawaiian Islands by such force uplifted and let down in 1871; Nevada shaken in 1871, Antioch in 1872: California in 1872, San Salvador in 1S73, while 1883 what subterranean excitement! Is;hia. an island of the Mediterranean, a beautiful Italian watering place, vineyard ilad, surrounded by all natural charm and listorical reminiscence; yonder Capri, the summer resort of the Roman emperors; fonder Naples, the paradise of art?this jeautiful island suddenly toppled into the :rough of the earth, 8000 merrymakers lerishing. and some of them so far down beneath the reach of human obsequies that t may be said of many a one of them, as t was said of Moses, "The Lord buried lim." Italy, all Europe weeping, all Christendom weeping where there were hearts ;o sympathize and Christians to pray. But vhiie the nations were measuring that nagnitude of disaster, measuring it not vith golden rod like that with which the ingel measured heaven, but with the black ule of death, Java, of the Indian archi)elago, the most fertile island of all the ;arth, is caught in the grip of the earthjuake, and mountain after mountain goes lown, and city after city until that island, vhich produces the best beverage of all ;he world, produced the ghastliest catasrophe. One hundred thousand people lying, dead! Coming nearer home, on August 31, 1886, the great earthquake vhich prostrated one-half of Charleston, 3. C. But look at the disasters cyclonic. At he mouth of the Ganges are three islands, he Hattiah, the Sundeep and the Dakin >habazpore. In the midnight of October, 877, on all those three islands the cry vas, "Tne waters!" A cyclone arose and oiled the sea over those three islands, ind of a population of 340,000, 215,000 were Irowned. Only those saved who had :limbed to the top of the highest trees! Did you ever see a cyclone? No? Then ! Drav God vou may never sec one. I saw l cyclone on the ocean, and it swept us 100 miles back from our course, and for hirty-six hours during the cyclone and tfter it we expected every moment to go 0 the bottom. They told us before we reired at 9 o'clock that the barometer had alien, but at 11 o'clock at night we were 1 wakened with the shock of the waves. V.11 the lights out! Crash went all the life>oats. Waters rushing through the skyights down into the cabin and down on he furnaces until they hissed and smoked n the deluge. Seven hundred people iraying. shrieking. Our great ship poised i moment on the top of a mountain of >hosphoreseent fire and then plunged lown, down, down until it seemed as if he never would again be righted. Ah, rou never want to see a cyclone at sea! But I was in Minnesota, where there vas one of those cyclones on land that wept the city of Rochester from its founlations and "took dwelling houses, barns, nen. women, children, horses, cattle and ossed them into indiscriminate ruin and if ted a rail train and dashed it down, a nightier hand than that of engineer on he airbrake. Cyclone in Kansas, cyclone n Missouri, cyclone in Wisconsin, cyclone n Illinois, cyclone in Iowa! Satan, prince >f the power of the air. never made such yclonic disturbances as he has in our day. ind am I not right in saying that one of he characteristics of the time in which ve live is disaster cyclonic? But look at the disasters oceanic. Shall . call the roll of the dead shipping? Ye nonsters of the deep, answer when I call our names. The Ville de Havre, the rifv r?f Tsnatnn fVio Afr?lvi!1p he President, the Cimbria. the Oregon, he Mnhegan. Hut why should 1 go on calling the roll ivhen none of them anwers, and the roll is as long as the white icroll of the Atlantic surf at Cape Hateras breakers? If the oceanic cables could eport all the scattered life and all the Reached bones that they rub against in he ocean, what a message of pathos and ragedy for both beaches! In one storm ighty fishermen perished off the coast of Newfoundland and whole lleets of them iff the coast of England. God help the >oor fellows at sea and give high scats in leaven to the Grace Darlings and Ida -ewises and the lifeboat men hovering iround Goodwin sands and the Skerries! rhe sea, owning three-fourths of the earth, iroposee to capture the other fourth, and b bombarding the land all around the i t * I earth. The moving of the hotels at Brigh ton Beach backward 100 ynrds from -wher< they once stood, a type of what is goinj on all around the world and on everj 3 coast. The Dead Sea rolls to-day when ancient cities stood. Pillars of temples that stood on hill geologists now find*three-quarters undei 6 the water or altogether submerged. Thi 1 con bavins' wrecked sn manv merchant - men and flotillas, wants to wreck the con tinents. and hence disasters oceanic ' Alas for Galveston and other cities almos ' drowned! 1 Look at the disasters epidemic. I speal s not of the plague in the fourth centnr; 1 that ravaged Europe and in Moscow ani ' the Neapolitan dominions and Marseille wrought such terror in the eighteenth cen tury, but I look at the yellow fevers anc - the* choleras and the diphtherias and thi | scarlet fevers and the typhoids of oui 1 time. From Hurdwar. India, where ever] twelfth year 3,000,000 devotees congregate > the caravans brought the cholera, and tba t one disease slew 18,000 in eighteen days ii I Bossorah. Twelve thousand in one sum > mer slain by it in India and 25,000 ii f Egypt. Disasters epidemic. Some of thi t finest monuments in Greenwood and Lau " rel Hill and Mount Auburn are to doctori ; who lost their lives battling with southen ' epidemic. But now I turn the leaf in my subject 8 and I plant the white lilies and the pain 1 tree amid the nightshades and the myrtle 2 This age no more characterized by won > ders of disaster than by wonders of bless 3 ing?blessing of longevity; the average oi 1 human life rapidly increasing. Forty yeari 3 now worth 400 years once. 1 Now I can travel from Manitoba to Nev York in less than three days. In othei ' times it would have token three months J In other words, three days now are worth 1 three months of other days. The average ' of human life practically greater now thar r wheti Noah lived, with his 950 years, and Msthuselah lived his 960 years. 5 Blessings of intelligence: The Salmon P Chases and the Abraham Lincolns and the 1 Henry Wilsons of the coming time will nol r be required to learn to read by pine knot lights or ser ted on shoemaker's bench, noi 1 will the Fergusons have to study astrono' 3 my while watching the cattle. Knowledge ' rolls its tides along every poor man s aoor ' and his children may go down a:id bathe 3 in them. If the philosophers of a hunted years " ago were called up to recite in a class witl 1 our boys and girls, those old philosophers " would be sent down to the foot of the ' class because they failed to answer the questions! I Free libraries in all the important towns and cities of the land. Historical alcoves : and poetical shelves and magazine tables ' for all who desire to walk through them : or sit down at them. ' Blessings of quick information: News' papers falling all around us thick as leaves [ in a September equinoctial. News three days old rancid and stale. We see tjie 1 whole world twice a day?throueh tne ' newspaper at the breakfast table and ! through the newspaper at the tea-table, 1 with an "extra" here and there between. ' Blessing of gospel proclamation: Do you 1 not know that neariy all the missionary . societies have been born within a hundred ' years, and nearly all the Bible societies ' and nearly all the great philanthropic movements? Christianity is on the march, [ while infidelity is dwindling into imbecil[ ity. "While infidelity is thus dwindling the wheel of Christianity is making about a thousand revolutions in a minute. All 1 the copies of Shakespeare and Tennyson and Disraeli and of any ten of the most 1 popular writers of the day less in number [ than the copies of the Bible goiug out 1 from our printing presses. And along the track the car of the ' * ,1 n worm s redemption win ron anu run 10 | the Grand Central depot of the millen; nium. I have no anxiety about the track. ' I am only afraid that for our indolence J and unfaithfulness God will discharge us ; and get some other stoker and some other engineer. The train is going through with us or without us. Thc-re is a house in London where Peter the Great of Russia lived awhile when he was moving through the land incognito 1 and in workman's dress, that he might learn ship carpentry, by which he could supply the needs of his people. A stranger was visiting at that house, "What's in that box?" The owner said: "I don't know. That box was there when I got the house, and it was there when my father got it. We hpvn't had any curiosity to look at it. I .ess there's nothing in it." "Well," said the stranger. "I'll give you ?2 for it." "Well, done." The ?2 was paid, and the contents of that box were sold to the Czar of Russia for $50,000. In it the lathing machine of Peter the Great, liis private letters and documents of value beyond all monetary consideration. And here are the events that seem very insignificant and unimportant, but they incase treasures of Divine Providence and eternities of meaning which after awhile God will demonstrate before the ages as being of stupendous value. When Titans play quoits they pitch mountains, but who owns these gigantic natural forces we are constantly reading about? Whose hand is on the throttle valve of the volcanoes? Whose foot, suddenly planted on the footstool, makes the continents quiver? God! I must be at peace with Him. Through the Lord Jesus Christ this God is mine and He is yours. I put the earthquake that shook Palestine at the crucifixion against all the down rockings of the centuries. This God on our side, we may challenge all the centuries of time and all the cycles of eternity. Those of you who are in midiife may well thank God that you have seen so many wondrous things, but there are people alive to-day who may live to see the shimmering veil between the material and the spiritual world lifted. Magnetism, a word with which we cover up our ignorance, will yet be an explored realm. Electricity, the fiery courser of the sky, that Benjamin Franklin lassoed and Alorse and Bell and Edison have brought under complete control, has wnnilflpo tn rovpa 1 Whether here or departed this life, we will see these things. It does not make much difference where we stand, but the higher the standpoint the larger the prospect. We will see them from heaven if we do not see them from earth. Years ago 1 was at Fire Island, Long Island, and I went up in the cupola from which they telegraph to New York the approach of vessels hours before they come into port. There is an opening in the wall, and the operator puts his telescope through that opening and looks out and sees vessels far out at sea. While I was talking with him he went up and looked out. He said, "We are expecting the Arizona tonight." I said: '"Is it possible you know all those vessels? Do you know them as you knew a man's face?" He said: '"Yes. I never make a mistake. Before 1 see the hulls I often know them by the masts. 1 know them all?I have watched them so long." Oh, what a grand thing it is to have ships telegraphed and heralded long before they come to port, that friends may come down to the wharf and welcome their long absent ones! So to-day we take our stand in the watch tower, and through the glass of inspiration we look off and see a whole fleet of ships coming in. That is the ship of peace, flag with one star of Bethlehem floating above the topgallants. That is the ship of the church, mark of salt water high upon the smokestack, showing she has had rough weather, but tne captain of Salvation commands her, and all is well with her. The sbia of. heaven, mightiest craf ever launched, millions of passengers waiting for millions more, prophets and apostles and martyrs in the cabin, conquerors at the foot of the mast, while from the rigging hands are waving this way as if they knew us, and we wave back again, for they are ours. They went out from our own households. Ours! Hail, hail! Put off the black and put on the white. Stop tolling the funeral bell and ring the wedding anthem. Shut up the hearse and take the chariot. Now the ship comes ground the great headland. Soon she will strike the wharf and we will go aboard her. Tears for ships going out. Laughter for ships coming in. Now she touches the wharf. Throw out the planks. Block not up that gangway with embracing long lost friends, for you will have eternity of reunion Stand back and give way until other mill ions come aboard her. Farewell to sin! Farewell to struggle! Farewell to sickness! Farewell to death! "Blessed arc all who enter in through the gates into the city." [Copyright, 1901, L. Klopsch ] * i' THE GREAT DESTROYER i ! SOME STARTLING FACTS ABOUT THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE. : i Drink and Commerce?Why the American AVorkingman is Said to Be Superior to the Knglish and German ? Alcohol j Dnlls the Brain and Prevent! Precision. rrn * i ? . . . I .ine article given Delow has appeared in j .papers in Belgium, France ana England, p and was sent from this country for publi3 cation in Europe by M. Rudolph Mevhofb fer. who c-ime from Brussels as an inter. national delegate to the Young Men's i Christian Association jubilee in Boston. ? He stayed long enough to study industrial r and educational conditions in the leading j States, including the question of American trade supremacy: I England and other European countries j are anxiously asking for the causes of the . commercial supremacy of the United j States. A recent number of the English , edition of the "Review of Reviews says: I Cassier's Magazine (an English periodi9 cal) contains an interesting series of short j articles by some of the most prominent engineers and business men in the United States upon the question of American com' petition. Most of the writers agree in s.-ving that the American workman is the chief agent [ in enabling American manufacturers to j take first place in the world. Walter MacFarland, of Pittsburg, gives one important reason for this. He says: "It appears that the American work' men are much better timekeepers and far " less given to dissipation than those in Great Britain. One of the best firms of ' British shipbuilders recently stated that there is a loss of time amounting to nearly [ twenty per cent, due largely to drunken1 ness. If anything approaching these figures is true trenerally, there can be no surprise that (English) firms open to com! T>etition from well managed American works should have a hard time." ? ' In inquiring as to the cause of this ' greater sobriety of the American, the fact appears that twenty years ago business in! terests in the United States paid no ati tention to the effect of the beverage use ' of alcohol or of tobacco on working abilitv. About that time the now almost uni versal study of phvsiolocry, which includes with other'laws of health those which relate to the nature and effects of alcoholic drinks and other narcotics, began to be a legal requirement for all pupils in the public schools of this country. During the last ten or fifteen vears the children have been carrying from the schools to the homes of the 75,003,000 people 6f the United States the story of the evil nature amd bad effects of alcoholic ! drinks and other narcotics. ! As a result of the diffusion of this knowledge the railroads of the United States now almost universally refuse employment to men who drink, whether on or off duty. Carroll D. Wright's Labor Bureau investigations show that more than seventyfive per cent, rfi the employers of skilled labor in the United States require total abstinence of their empolyes, and fifty per cent, of the employers of unskilled labor demand the same. These requirements, the cordial acquiescence in them by the emnloyed, and the commercial supremacy which this knowledee helped to secure to the United States, have been promoted by the truth taught by the school that alcoholic drinks injure working abilitv. | The different reception given by workj men to the emnlovers' demand for abstii nence where scientific temnerance is not I taught in the public schools is well illus! trated in the following incident: j The manager of the Borsig factory in l Germany recently posted an order forbid i ding the workmen to bring into the fac! tory beer or other spirituous liquors, or i j to drink the same during working hours. , j The workmen, numbering over 1000, held a meeting, and objected to this order. The next day they conspicuously carried in their beer. During the excitement caused by the orI der a Damohlet appeared, by an old factory j official, who affirmed that the use of alcoj holic drinks was detrimental to the laborj era' own interest. He referred to the clevj erness and sobriety of the American work men. which makes them able to do veiy ! exact and precise work, which he says is j not oossible in German industry, because of the drinking habits of the laboring | classes. | The American workman does not resent the employer's demand for abstinence, because he Has learned, often from his child in public school, that alcohol not only dulls the brain, but weakens that nerve control of muscle that is necessary to the precision essential for fine work. The nomination for knighthood of Sir HiramvMaxim, the American born inventor, for his work in England, was one of the last official acts of Ouecn Victoria. In | an article in the World's Work Sir Hiram ! furnishes indirect testimony to the same I point. While describing the results of the < Enrrlish trade unions, he says: "The English workman spends a great | nart of his earnings in beer, tobacco and I betting; he has no ambition." Of course I not. for beer in dulling the brain dulls am' <"?' - * : " Via bition. me Amciitnu pays, "wishes to get on: he accomplishes a great deal more work in a da" than any other workman in the world." England is beginning to see the difference in results between occasional talks by temperance advocates to school children and the systematic graded public school study of this topic required by law in the United States. Drank L'p His Fortune. M. Courtinaud's uncle died in April and left him $1400. Delighted with so much | money he considered various plans of spending it. He was afraid to place it in tne bank, and he had no confidence in commercial ventures. Not fond of racing, he finally decided to drink it up. And at the end of five months succeeded. His average was $8 a day. At last he bought a bottle of alcohol for forty cents, drank it and then shot himself. He left a request to be buried in a cellar at the side of the barrels.?Wesleyan Advocate. Alcoholics Not Always Drunkards. It i? not necessary to carry the use of alcohol io the extent as to show the phenomena characteristic of intoxication to produce the effects of alcoholism. Alconoiics are not necessarily drunkards. The latter are incorrigible, excessive drinkers, but their number is after all quite insig'" ?1 ?1? "MfK fho immense | nmcani wncii tuinj/oiwu .. multitude of those whose systems get poisoned by the daily consumption of moderate quantities of liquors of which alcohol forms the basis. A Noble Worlt. The Christian home for intemperate men in_ New York recently celebrated its twenty-fourth anniversary. During the past twenty-four years it has cared for 7000 intemperate mc-n, of whom it is declared that fully one-half are now living sober and honorable lives. A new and larger home is to be erected at Mount Vernon. Tlio Crit8?d? In Brief. Sunday closing is strictly enforced by I order of the Mayor at Hampton. Va. | According to insurance statistics teetotaler* mav expect seventeen years more , life than drinkers. Th? average stature of the Swedes, the tallest people in the world, has steadily increased .since 1S4J. The cause is be- | lieved to be partly due to the decrease in drunkenness. I Iowa school teachers, assembled in State I convention, have petitioned tlx: Legislat- I lire to prohibit the sale of liquor within five miles of any institution of learning supported wholly or partially by the State. In every Methodist church in New Zealand intoxicating wine has been excluded j from the Lord's table. The Temperance Permanent Building i Soeietv has S515 members, and last year j loaned ?318.000?the largest sum advanced j by any building society in England. A Kansas liquor seller, who was driven 0-1 Ol uuomcas uv i?wu uiuict ?- ui-n.w, has started again at Law ton, tlie_ Okln- ; hoina boom town, and the met to for bis | new saloon is: "All nations welcome but j Carrie." The Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage and Arch- j bishop Ireland are #aid to be the leading iigures in a movemunt to organize a National Anti-Trcating League, which is to j be free from connection with any existing church society. ; i ? . ; VJa ' ' I \ .. ' GOD'S MESSAGITTOM PREGNANT THOUCHTS FROM THE WORLD'S CREATEST PROPHETS. Poem: The Bullderg ? The Legion Tha? Slay Be^Dravn From th?Ll/e of Mow ?Submitted to God's Will YFlfchow1 Complaint?His Unmarked Sepulchre One by fcne the stones we lay, ' Tiuilding slowly day by day; Building temples for our King, A By the offering we can bring. v One bright day our eyes shall see, ,-?i Where the many mansions be, Living atones we helned to brine For the palace of our King. .. An Unknown Grave. He was a great man?one of the great edt of men?who led the people of Israe fbrough the wilderness. No monumeai parks his grave. No one knows whew [ie was buried. A veil of mystery is drawi i I'ver the last scenes of his life. He ht< | pome to a full old age, yet death was noi j'.ue to the numbs? of his years. He ha< parried heavy* burdens of care and doni, service enough to wear out a man' (strength, but his death was not due t<' .weakness. His e;*es were Still clear, hi( j.tep firm, his strength- full. God calJet nun to lay down his fife on a lonely mount nin, and laid hi.? body to rest in a quiet valley where no human voice broke thrf stillness and no human foot trod. "Andfl no man knoweth of his sepulchre untff this day." There is some'thing ver7 touching abou the close of his life. He had been calle< i to a life of hardship. Seldom, if ov?>r, hai1 a harder task been given to any man. I required long years of training in Egypf and in the desert. He took his life in hi i hand when he went into the presence offl the proud king and demanded the- freef don of his people. Never did a nurse beai; ore patiently with a eick child than he bore with thj follies and murmurings au<t sir* cf the people. For forty years ne le<t them and sought to train them. Only onc4 or twice did his patience fail him. It wa4 a bitter disappointment to him when, af{ ter all his effort and sacrifice, th. peopjfc were turned bLck from the very border* of fhe land to die in the wilderness.-. A sense of great loneliness must have come tipon him, as i;he people sickened and died* or were swept away in judgment. He wai still lonelier when the leader who . hta stood so long by tos side was taken, away} A greater sorrow came when he form? that he .too, would never tread the prom* iced land. ; In an unguarded moment he had showna spirit which was displeasing to God* The people, complaining as usual. hzsm cried for water. He was told to take hi* rod and to smite a rock in the desert. Int stead of simply obeying he became augr3M emu iu a vi oxx-v>vc i-w twice. Such a spirit wa3 not allowed togo without a mark of the Lord'i. dijBplea*( ure. He must pay the penalty of it, that the Deople might see teat God was npt partial. Because of it he is not allowed U* crown his life-work by leading the people into the land of promise. He mav bring them to the borders of it, bat then he must Rive the teadership to another. > ' Without a word of complaint he sub? mits. He turns over his office to another! He goes about his duties as faithfully Q# ever. He gives instructions as to the ww in which the land is to be diviHed. He gathers the people about him as a father would his children, or a chief his faithful followers. He repeats in their 'hearing thfl law of their God. and charges them to keen it. In words of great beauty;, and tenderness he tells the storv of GodVgood* miss, ana gives m t-ncii iriue iucu? h'G narting blessing. Then r... the wordM of the Lord he takes leave of them anqfl i'oes ud to a mountain top tjm which,* for a little while, he feasts' his eyes npoaH the land which his feet shall never tread,H Then in the spirit of a hero he gives upH .. o work as gracefully as he had done itH faithfully and lies down to tie. The Jew<H ish rabbis speak cc him as dying "by 'ttafH kiss of the Lord." Not in anger of th?H Lord did the end come, but with graceH and tenderness, as when a . father take^^l his boy upon his knee and kisses himv HeV riied a grand old man, full of faith.t&naH was laid to rest in a nameless, unknowqM jrave, watched over by angels and in thoH safe keeping cf his God.?E. E. Chivcrs. H God's Flan. B John Ruskin, speaking of the forced imH terruptions in service, said: "There is ncH music in a ree*, but there is the making? of music in it." In our whole life melody^| the music is broken ol? here and there bj^| "rests," and wc foolishly think we hav^H come to the end of the tune. God send^H a time of forced leienre, sickness. disap^B pointed plans, frustrated efforts and make^H a sudden pause in the choral hymn of oudB Iive3. and we lament that our voices mud^H be silent and our part missing in the mu^H ?ic which ever goes up to the ear of the^f Creator. See TThu beat the time with th^H unvarying count, and catch up the nexl^| note as if no breaking place had come tween. Not without design does Goc^H write the music of otir lives. Bo it ouriH^ to learn the tune, and not be dismayed the "rests." They are not to be omittcd^H Jf we look up, God Himself will beat th^B time for us. With the eye on Him w?^B shall strike the fiext note full and clear.? A. T. Picrson. |H Unconscious TokcDg. H Men carry unconscious signs of thei^H life about tnem. Those that come fron^B the forge, and those from the lime an^H mortar, and those from the humid soil^H and those from dusty travel, bear sign^H of being workmen and of their work. OA^Hj ool- n morrv f\r A flfl/1 ATI^H ? 1IUCU uwu uca U luvtij *?vw v. ? whether it hath come forth from joy o^H from grief. Tears and laughter tell thei^H own story. Should one come home witi^H fruit, we say. "Thou art from the or^H chard;" if with hands full of wild fJowcrs^H "Thou art from the fields;" if one's gar^H ment smell of mingled odors we Bay^flj "Thou hast walked in a garden." But^H how much more, if one hath seen God^H hath had converse of hope and love,. aiic^H ! hath walked in heaven, should he carr^^B in his eye, his words and his perfumec^H raiment the sacred tokens of divine interflR course!?Henry Ward Beecher. Cast Tour Trouble* Unto God. m You have no place in which to POUI^B your troubles except the ear of God.. I^H you tell than to your friends you but pu^H your troubles ortt a moment, and they wil^H return again. Roll your burden unto Go<^H r.nd you have rolled it into a great deep^H out of which it will never by any possibu^H ity rise. Cast your troubles where yot^H cast your sins; you have cast vour sin^H into the depths of the sea; there cas^H vour troubles also. Never keep troubl^H naif an hour on your own mind bcfor^H you tell it to God. As soon as the troubl^H comes, ciuick. the first thing, tell it t<H| your Father.?Spurgeon. Comfort Tltat Is Within Reacb. Bereavement forces the soul to rccogHHj nize its destiny. Tears are sometimes teleflH ??-MpVi nthpr wnrlds ar^^H SL'UUC^ Him ?' ??v.. v...v viewed. .Aching hearts feel their belplest^B ncss. and then call on God for the comfor^H that is always within reach.?Presbyteriai^M Banner. Be Strong in Faith. Jlen may sneer to your face if you ar^H loyal to your convictions, but if you wil^H livo them with unflinching perseverance shrink and flv the track, and they will dc^H snise you.?Rev. Madison 0. Peters, BapHfl ti?t, Brooklyn. HI Bngg Perourincr ? Stone Clmrrh. jMfl cues .ire eating un the *100,000 lirs^^H Presbyterian Church in Middletown. Ohio^H one of the handsomest stone edifices that part of the country. The walls ar<^H made unsightly by the many holes bore<^B| by the insects. The stone about th^Hj holes crumbles readily to dust, and tb^^B work of destruction seems almost com^H plete. The tower seems to have been 5rs<^H attacked by the insects, as it has suffere<^^H the most. The bugs that are doing th^^B mischief are a sort of beetle that is com<^H mon in the sandstone region. They are^^B black in color, about an inch and a half^H Innrr on/1 Korn riAU'orfnl *nnn/1iklAB which they easily cut their way into th<9H soft stone. The church is only six years^Mj old. _