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i ;y v ; . w , ? Jj G|?L JEAN [COPTBIGIIT, ROPERT B CHAPTER I. *> / Am -BTO-B TCJT. AXTTk A1 XJAU loxiaiw* The Banjo slid over the beach water ?;*. and up to the pier-steps, the young man at the prow bringing her "to" like ?ome' sensate thing that knew her duty. A. few idlers down from the hotel stood by, awaiting the arrival of the afternoon steamer bringing the J mall and such guests as fate might I gend. These turned to watch the disem-1 barking of the sailing party, anything being idly interesting upon such an . xquisite day, with the sapphire sky and the amber and green and gold of the ocean. ' "By George!" murmured Harry Dillingham to his companion, removing i his cigar from his lips in surprised ad- j miration. "I say, old boy, who is that magnificent woman in the gray boating-Suit, with the gold anchor on her sleeve and the pennon around her cap? Phew! You have a beauty here, > Bensonhurst!" His companion shrugged his shoulders significantly, knocking the ashes from his cigar against the pier-railing. "Your ignorance proclaims your sojourn in the wilderness, Dillingham," was the lazy rejoinder. "Every one who is any one or has been any, where this season knows Mrs. Graham. ghe carries a fortune in her finger-rings and a nabob's ransom in her necklace. None of your milk-andwater beauties, either. There is a power of wisdom in that little dark head, let me tell you. You are bound to be at your best in her society. Her . husband adores her." "She has a husband, then? Is he here?" "Of course. One of the lavish sort, you know. Spends cash like water. xneir nouse on xue aveuue is mugumcent. No shoddy; blue blood straight through. Surely, you have heard of the great house of Graham? They must have been abroad, he and his wife. They just returned this summer, and have spent the months at this Island. But that's enough for > now. She's coming up." He turned toward the woman in * question, as she was assisted to the pier, a tall, high-bred gentleman standing before her bareheaded, his cigar consigned to Neptune, as he added, smiling: ' "No need to ask if you have enjoyed-the sail, Mrs. Graham. Your 4 face tells Its story." She smiled dazzlingly. Her lifted eyes* even in that clear light, were * the even color of violets. She dangled a bunch of sea-weed iu one hand, careful that the water should not drip upon her dress. The sunset struck gold through the brown of .her hair, under the pretty cap. "We have had such a delightful sail," she said, "that my face would be a craven not to show it, Mr. Bengon hurst. The Banjo is* well named. It Is the music of motion " "Priestly handles the ropes as deftly as the literal banjo strings," added Bensonhurst. "May I have the pleasure of making my friend known to you? 'Mr. Harry Dillingham, Mrs. \ Graham. Dillingham's been tramping through the forests of Maine this summer, and only now comes to Fire Island, so he says, fi*om pure friendship for me, which?I doubt. To descend from the killing of deer to the killing of dolphin for some other fellow's sake isn't the nineteenth century code. Here comes the steamer. The Zingara, by Jove! Wonder what's happened to the other? Are you expecting any one out, Mrs. Graham?" "No one," said Mrs. Graham, with supreme conviction. "Most of my friends are at Mount Desert or tha Thousand Islands or?Europe. My husband and I came here to watch "the sailing of ships, instead of spend mg tne summer wliere dress is set by Fashion's decree. One needs rest after the winter, not fashion. So the surf here and the light-house?and th? coastguard?and sands?" The brilliant smile that came and went instantaneously, but was like suulight upon her face, finished the sentence eloquently. "And sailing!" added Bensonliurst, with his significant uplifting of the eye-brows. "Especially the arrival of the Zingara, with her passengers, Mrs. Graham!" "Yes," replied Mrs. Graham, absently, her eyes on the approaching steamer. slowly swinging the sea-weed to flnd fl'O. vpt npvpr enlneliin?* ho,- hawh "Everything here is very restful and charming, Mr. Bensonhurst!" The party from the sail-boat were gathered about them, having alighted, and were also awaiting the arrival of the Fire Island steamer. Mrs. Graham was conspicuous among them for her beauty and grace. . / "Unless I am mistaken," Ninette Bradley said, turning to Mrs. Graham, "your husband is on the steamer, Alecia'. There is scarcely ever any mistaking him, is there? He is such a magnificent man!" Alecia Graham shook her head and turned her face with one of those swift, transfiguring smiles, upon her friend. She appreciated praise of her husband. "You are not mistaken, Xiucite. Harold is upon the steamer. He went to the city this morning on business. . . Do you think that I would have gone without him?even in the Banjo?thi? y j ' afternoon, had he been here':" i Ninette laughed. She moved a trifle away from Alecia's swinging seaV Weed- Slip nhhnrro/1 *> !" a speck upon her gown. i The Zingara, making more fuss and i splatter than an ocean steamer, was J dashing and splashing through the J amber and green and blue water/ lights, fringing her bow with foam and : f \ leaving a wide wake of seething bubf bles as she neared the pier where the f hotel guests were standing. Those who recognized friends on the little steamer fluttered handkerchiefs in welcome, or waved white hands in the ^minset glow, laughing and chatting, waiting for them to come. ; The blue eyes of Mrs. Graham were | jienetiathag, and they, were steadily ! k*(\> , 1|;' ii . fTHROP'S DEFEAT, 31 Nootl. KATE LUDLUM; OSSEE'S 80SB, 18P3.] regarding the noisy Zingara as she plowed the golden water-lights. She recognized her husband among those on deck just forward of the cabin, but, her eyes being keen with love, she also recognized that he was unusually excited and pale. The man whom this woman was watching saw her as quickly as she saw him. He never failed to single out this one woman in any crowd where she might be: He lifted his hat as they came nearer, and he perceived that she saw him. There was not a trace of color in his face, and his black eyes burned like coals from its pallor, restlessly, as though he were haunted by some dread. Alecia stepped a little back from her friends. She was at one side of the gang-plank where the steamer stopped, and waited for her husband to come to her. The color came and went 'in her face; her eyes, too, were burning with'nervous excitement. Mr. Graham sprang lightly on the pier, ere the plank was thrown out, and again lifting his hat courteously to her and her companions, greeting them with a word or smile, here and there, turned with her up the pier toward the hotel. "Was it warm in the city, Harold?" "Vc-ry warm, Alecia?suffocating. It is like champagne to breathe this air from the ocean. Let us go down to the beach, if you are not fatigued." "I am not fatigued, Harold. Shall we go to the pavilion or along the sands " "Oh, along the sands," he said, restlessly, keeping his eyes resolutely- from meeting her6. "A long distance on the sands, Alecia, where I can have yeu to myself. Then?ah!?" he broke off suddenly. "How can I tell you, Alecia?" She was startled, but commanded her face and voice. Was It not her dntv to heln him and not hinder when need should-come? Still idly swinging the sea-weed, remembering that many eyes were upon them, she paused to rearrange a fold of her dress, and in that one instant, conquered the trembling of her lips. "If there is anything that you should tell me, Harold," she said, steadily and sweetly, "you need not fear. Nothing can hurt me?much?while I have you!" That wonderful smile of hers was on her face as she lifted it to his as they passed along the covered walk, around the hotel piazza and out on the other side toward the beach. There were groups here and there on the piazza, reading or talking or idly watching the light of the fading sunset upon the water and the glimmer of sails in the distance against the heavens. These the two musx greet or exchange with them light words of compliment. "There have so many ships passed to-day," she said, mechanically, not to oIIatit cilnnna +a ^oll unnn fViom 'fin 1 UilV IT OllVUVV/ IV 1U11 U^V/U ?JV many ships,' Harold?but they all go by; they never stop or stay." "Yes," he said bitterly, commanding his voice by a powerful effort. "Everything passes, Alecia, like the ships." "Not everything, Harold. Love never drifts by when once it finds harbor. The winds and the currents cannot move it! Its anchor sinks so deeply in the heart, Harold, that only a dead heart yields it up." He turned upon her in sudden fierceness. His burning eyes flamed into hers, but she would not. falter. "You have never been tried," he said, hoarselj'. "Try me," she said. But he made no answer, and she could not speak further with the growing fear in her heart; and so jn silence they descended the steps of the pavilion and struck out upon the sands, where the surf hissed and seethed with the lifting and falling of the breakers. The sand was heavy, and they mnvml cIatlOv q lrvn <r cV?a mUh +Vir\ UAw ? vv? U*v " ?J UIVU^J, Olic HlkU l"V dangling sea-weed, he with his clenched hands, the soft lights upon them, the ocean and the ships just beyond. They turned the bend in the beach and were alone, so far as curious eyes could see or curious ears catch any word not meant for them. Then Harold Graham stopped and faced his wife. He placed some marvelous restraint upon himself?for he was a passionate man?and when he disengaged the seaweed from hex* fingers, letting it fall unheeded upon the sands, his touch was very gentle. Both her hands he held in his, and drawing her to him so, he laid them upon his breast, his eyes upon hers. "Alecia!" "Harold!" ! "My darling, you believe that 1 love you?" "Perfectly." "You told me back thorp to trv rnn I shall try you infinitely." Terror was growing upon her. Her startled eyes would not retain the brave spirit she sought, to hold. Her lips would tremble, do as she would, as she answered, softly: "Yes, Harold." "Alecia!" he cried, letting her hands fall and turning despairingly from her toward the one or two sails down on the horizon. "Alecia! You cannot dream what it is! How can I tell you?" He was frightening her more than he realized. But she crowded down her fear and responded: "Harold, my dearest, you may safely trust in me. What have you to tell?" He looked down upon her as she clung to him, and smiled with a bitterness deeper than words. She did not know what it was she said. Some men might affirm that the blow fallen upon him was not so oad after all with this exquisite face and steady eyes and musical voice his own. Some men! To him it was infinitely worse because the blow must also fall upon her. Nevertheless it was sweet to have her clinging to him and assuring him that he oould trust her?very sweet. "Alecia," he said: his voice was perfectly steady now.'for his manhood de manded that he should be brave ana j strong and true to her, "You have been the sweetest of women always. You are brave, too; and you love me. So far, in our married life, I have given I you everything you could desire that money could buy. Now?I cannot. I have not one penny in all the world that is mine!" She sighed. The tense lines of her face relaxed; her hands upon his a/m were quite steady. She had feared something so different, that this was - I a relief. "Is that all, Harold?" He fell bacK from her, letting her | hands fall from his arm. Amazement was upon every feature of his face. Then he recovered himself, believing that she did not understand. "All, Alecia? Is it not quite enough? Do you comprehend that I say that we have not one penny in the world to live upon?or die upon; not one pennyi Is that not enough? Beggars?cast upon the world with nothing but creditors clamoring about me?and you! Is this all?" "But my money, Harold? How catau j she was! Surely she did not realize j what it meant to be penniless. "C?.a we not manage upon.that until better times are for us? You will ivtrieve yourself; you could not stay crushed. Your brave heart would never admit that, dearest." He groaned again turning his face frnm hop ovps. "Your money, Alecia? Your money was in with mine, and has gone, too, I believed it perfectly safe, this last investment, and put every penny into it?every one! The house closed today, though no one outside is aware of it; and as I shall give up everything, I cannot meet the demand. I shall be weighed to the earth with liabilities. I shall drag you down as well. But, of it all the bitterest is that your money is gone through me. The house is yours, Alecia. It was bought and made over to you when there was no hint of failure. And your jewels are yours. Were you not accustomed to the luxuries of our home you might call this a fortune; nevertheless it is not half equal to the fortune I lost for you." She smiled very softly, taking his hand in both of hers and leaning her cheek against it. "I love beautiful things,'' she said. "What woman does not? But, after all, I can he happy without them, Har old! Having each other and our health and brave hearts, should we not feel that \rc are blest? Whatever you did ^vith my money you did for the best, I am assured. The one tiling that I regret is that every demand cannot be met. Of course we wiil give up the house; that will surely realize a good deal and may help you. Tha jewels I will keep because?you gave them to me, and because?"'how steadily she spoke?"because there is no reason why I should give tiiem up. You think that I do not comprehend this, Harold. I may not know all that this means, but I am certain that I have you, and have no fear. I can be happy in but one room at a time. Our homo is beautiful, but I felt always that I could be myself just as well in a less luxurious place. You must not despair. I shall not let you despair." Twilight was setting over the water. The dinner hour was almost at hand and tli?y must return to the hotel and to their friends, to the light chit-'ciiat and laughter and songs and careless hearts and bright eyes, and hide this blow for the one night at least "You must not despair, Harold, dearest," added Alecia presently, they two standing alone upon the sands with the purple and liiae and pink o" twilight falling around them and the hoars? murmur of the sea at their feet; afar off, against the lifting rose of moonrise, a white sail glimmered. Her face, lifted steadfastly to his, was touched with some indescribable softness of light and shadow from the world around them. The golden anchor on her sleeve caught reflection from the moonrise and glowed against the soft gray of her ^own like an emblem of hope. "We will face the futu-e and?conquer it, Harold!" It was a question as well as a comforting assurance, for she knew how much this fashionable world was to liim, and how he demanded luxury where she would force herself to be happy without it. "We will agree to be true to each other, dearest," he made answer,ve.y gravely. They turned back toward the hotel, feeling that were beginning a new life ?an unknown life?from that time. Alecia, pausing a moment in the pavilion, her hand resting lightly upon her husband's arm, gazed across the purple black of the ocean, along the line of silver heralding moonrlse, tc where the distant ships seemed sta tionary so far away against the light ing heaven. "And are they laden with hopes too.'' she thought, wistfully, "and sail ins away?" (To be continued.) Electrical Poscibilitlea. Tn /licciiceino* tho nniaplp?5 nnssihlh ties of the future, the editor of the Electrical Review gives this hopefu' outlook for the future: In the ideal city distracting noise! will be unknown, <*nd dirt and all un clean things will be kept without its pale. Electricity is the magician that can, and assuredly will, work the change. This admidable day may not be so far away. Electric power stations and electric light stations are being located farther and farther away from the city's heart; the horse car, the steam locomotive, the engine in the basement, tne coal stove, arc one and all being replaced by the quiet, udorles? and effective electric motor, by the electric locomotive, and surely bu? slowly by the electric heater. The rubber-tired eleetromobile is rapidly replacing tl)2 driven horse, ant? will replace him not only for driving but for heavy hauling purposes. The awful and constant volume of sound of his unnumbered thousand? of iron-shod feet hammering resound ing pavements will disappear forever and with it ninety per cent, of the filtt and odor of the street. With the passage of the horse will go also the slone pavements. Tlio Bachelor Girl. An old maid ia a bachelor-girl, third person, singular number, past tense.-?1 New York Press. " _ : - " 't '; yr i fM!?? ^ ir?" | m New York City.?The novelty of the season is undoubtedly the shirt waist with pleats that run to or over the shoulders. The smart May Manton example illustrated combines that feature with the new deep pointed cuffs and stock and is suited to all the season's waistings, madras, Oxfords, pique, chambrays, linen, batistes, silks, light weight flanBels", albatross and the like, but in the original is of silk chambray in pale blue, stitched with white, and is held by white pearl buttons. The fitted lining extends to the waist line only, but forms the foundation on which the waist is arranged. The fronts and back of the waist proper are laid in two pleats at each side, which meet at the shoulder seams. The fronts include the regulation box pleat and are gathered at the belt or left free and adjusted to the figure as pre SHIflT WAIST. ferred, but the pleated back is smooth and "without fulness. When the plain back is substituted it is drawn down in gathers at the waist line. Ornamental stitching, simulating pointed bands, is shown on the fronts. The sleeves are in shirt style, but with deep pointed cuffs that lap over and are buttoned at the outside. At the neck is a * 1 ~A J wnfftHoo flm DOVCI pOlDteH SlUi'Jk luai uiattu^o cuffs. To cut this waist for a -woman of medium size four yards of material twenty-one inches wide, three and sev-1 SMART BOL] en-eighth yards twenty-seven inches wide, three yards thirty-two inches wide or two and one-eighth yards forty-four inches wide will be required. Woman's Bolero Waist. The bolero waist is a marked favorite of fashion, and is shown in many of the advance styles. The smart May Manton model shown in the large drawing is admirable in many ways, and is adapted to a variety of materials. The bolero, having no collar, makes it peculiarly desirable for wear beneath a wrap, while at the same time It gives sufficient of the jacket suggestion to be suited to street costumes designed for spring. As shown It makes part of a costume of satinfaced cloth in sage green, with the full wnict nf T.ihertv satin in a lighter shade of the same color, the trimming being folds of the satin, cross-stitched on with black corticelli silk, and at the ends by jeweled buttons. The fitted lining closes at the centre front. On It are arranged the waist and the bolero, so that both are made in one. The full front and back of the waist are tucked to yoke depth then left free to take soft folds, the closing being effected at the left front where an opening is cut from the shoulder to waist line. The jacket is fitted by means of shoulder and under-arm seams only, and is cut away at the neck to reveal the chemisette. The sleeves are novel, while in bishop at Tlie UpptTl L'UgC WUIVU ICUV&d iuvuj shape tliey include deep cuffs, pointed exceptionally becoming. At the neck Is a regulation stock that closes invisibly at the centre back. To cut this waist for a woman of medium size two and one-eighth yards of material twenty-one inches wide, one and three-quarter yards twentyseven inches wide, or one and threeeighth yards forty-four inches wide will be required for the waist; two and a half yards twenty-one inches wide, one and seven-eighth yards twenty-seven inches wide, or one and one-eighth yards forty-four iuehes wide for the bolero. Up-tn-Dnte Trimming*. Nothing in the season's modes of | decoration impresses oue more than the variety in embroidery. The newest caprice, according to The Delineator, is wool embroidery mixed with silk. The blending of colors which can bo produced with wool, chenille and silk Is delightful, and ons of the special arts in applying it Is the use of a thin material like chiffon for the foundation. Tulle gowns tire adorned with j this seeuiinsrlv heavy and incongruous ' embroidery, and a gray tulle witfl white wool in which are interspersed medallions of white panne is one oi the prettiest modes of the season. But tons form an important item in both the trimming of both wraps and gowns. Buttons covered with silkvelvet and lace, both plain and embroidered, are the smartest of these ornamental and sometimes useful devices. Tiny Jets For Lattice Centres. The evening gown of black lace or dotted Brussels net is treated with paneling of embroidery. The panels are of white satin veiled with Chantilly lace medallions. Although the medallions are not large in size they are enhanced by edges of baby velvet rihhnn nnrtliprl in three rows. At intervale here and there the ribbons are joined with small jet ornaments, "paillettes," which make lattices of the delicate structure. This adds to the beauty of the lace ovals used in paneling the skirt. I A Stylish Waist. , A stylish waist in light blue pressed velvet relies on its button fastening for a smart effect. The buttons are tiny round affairs of light pink, each studded with a small brilliant. They are set on either side of the opening so close together that they almost touch, and are fastened one over the other with small loops of white silk cord. Lace ns Hat Trimming. The almost universal adoption ol lace for at least a part of the hat trimming has led milliners to buttonhole the design in guipure lace with gold thread, and apply medallions of decorated muslin or flower petals to Chantilly and other laces cf a thinner texture, in order to obtain new cffccts. A Handsome Petticoat An attractive petticoat In a plain color has a deep flounce in plaid silk and lace. There are perpendicular stripes alternating, lace and silk, the lace of a deep cream and the plaid showing several colors in deep shades. The effect is of stripes of two or two and 3RO WAIST. a half inches of the plaid and the same of the lace. It is a very attractive skirt. i Cuffs on Lawn Shirt Waists. Many of the white lawn shirt waists are finished with wide cuffs made of alternating rows of insertion and lace, with a narrow ruffle of lace at the end and coming over one side of the opening. The cuffs fasten with three pearl Vm+tnna rnncealed by tiie lace ruffle. Fancy Foliage on the Hats. Gold and silver tissue is now used to make foliage of the most fancy variety, and if fruit effects, such as tiny berries, grapes and currants, form a part of the spray, pearls are employed for the latter. Girls' Four-Gored Petticoat. Little girls as 'well as their elders have need of well fitted underwear if the pretty frocks are to appear at their best. This carefully shaped petticoat was designed by May Manton with that fact in view and can be relied upon to give entire satisfaction. As shown it is of white cambric with frill of needlework, but taffeta, Sicilian and gloria are all correct as well as the various white fabrics. When made from silk or wool a plisse flounce makes the best substitute for the embroidered one, although a bias rutfle. gathered, is correct. The skirt is cut in four gores so providing a straight back that can be trusted to launder satisfactorily. To the lower edge is joined a deep gathered flounce that, in turn, is edged with a frill. The upper side is finished with a painted yoke-band, applied over the material that can be drawn up to the required size by means of tapes or ribbons. To cut this petticoat for a girl of eight years of age three aud a quarter yards of material twenty-one inches wide, two and three-quarter yards twenty-seven inches wide, two and a GIRLS* r OUli-GOBED TETTICOAT. half yards thirty-six inches wide or one and a half yards forty-four inches | wide will be required, with five yards I of needlpwort for frill DR. TALMAGES SEKMON SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE BY THE NOTED DIVINE. Subject: Benotles of a Cheerful Spirit? Causes For Thanksgiving; That Ate Seldom Recognized ? Remember Daily Blessings? Comforts of Friendship. Washington, D. C?In this discourse Dr. Talmage calls attention to causes of thanksgiving' that are seldom recognized, and shows how to cultivate a cheerful ! spirit; text, Psalms xxxiii, 2, "Sing unto I him with a psaltery and an instrument of ten strings. A musician as we'll as poet and conqueror and king was David, the author of my text. He first composed the sacred rhythm and then played it upon a harp, striking and plucking the strings with his fingers and thumbs. The harp i3 the oldest of musical instruments. Jubal invented if, and he was the seventh descendant from Adam. Its music was suggested by the twang of the bowstring. Homer refers to the harp in the "Iliad." It is the most consecrated of all instruments. The -flute is more mellow, the bugle more mar, tial, the cornet more incisive, the trumpet more resonant, the organ more mighty, but the harp ha3 a tenderness and sweetness belonging to no other instrument that I kno* of. It enters into the richest sym Donsm or ine uo.y ocripiures. ioe captives in their sadness "hung their harps upon the willows." In other ages it had eight strings. David's harp had ten strings, and when his great soul was afire with the theme hie sympathetic voice, accompanied by exquisite vibration of the chords, must have been overpowerii W'.th as many things to complain about as any man ever had David wrote more anthems than any other man ever wrote. He puts even the frosts and hailstorms and tempests and creeping things and fly1 ing fowl and the mountains and the hills and day and night into a chorus. Absalom's plotting a^d Ahithophel's treachery and hosts of antagonists and sleepless nights and a running sore could not hush hie psalmody. Indeed, the more his troubles the mightier his sacred poems. The words "praise" and "song" are so often repeated in his psalms that one would think the typesetter's case containing the letters with which those words are spelled would be exhausted. In my text David calls upon the people to praise the Lord with an instrument of ten strings, like that which he was accustomed to finger. The simple fact is that the most of us, if we praise the Lord at all, play upon one string or two strings or three Ftrings when we ought to take a harp fully choraed and with glad fingers sweep all the strings. Instead of being grateful for here and there a blessing we happen to think of, we ought to rehearse all our blessings so far as we can recall them and obey tne injunction of my text to sing unto Him with an instrument of ten strings. Have you ever thanked God for delightsome food? What vast multitudes are ahunge.-ed from day to day or are obliged to take food not toothsome or pleasant to the taste! What millions are in struggle for bread! A Confederate soldier went to the front, and his family were on the verge of starvation, but they were kept up by the faith of a child of that household, I who, noticing that some supply was sure to come, exclaimed, "Mother, I think God hears when' we scrape the bottom of the barrel." Have you appreciated the fact that on most of your tables are luxuries that do not come to all? Have you realized what varieties of flavor often touch your tongue and how the saccharin and the acid have been afforded your palate? What fruits, what nuts, what meats regale your appetite, while many would be glad to get the crusts and rinds and peelings that fall from your table. HVir the finr? flnrnrn nnrl the li)\"iirimiR viands you have enjoyed, for a lifetime perhaps you have never, expressed to God a word .of thanksgiving. That is one of the ten strings that you ought to have thrummed in praise to God, but you have never yet put it in vibration. Have you thanked God for eyesight as originally given to y6u or, after it was dimmed by age, for the glass that brought the page of the book within the compass of the vision? Have you realized the privation those suffer to whom the day is a3 black as the night and who never see the face of father or mother or wife or child or friend? Through what painful surgery many have gone to get one glimpse of the . light! The eye so delicate and beautiful and useful that one of them is invaluable! And most of us have two of these wonders of divine mechanism. The man of millions of dollars who recently went blind from atrophy of optic nerve would have been willing to give all his millions and become a day laborer if he could have kept off the blindness that gradually crept over his vision. nr t x? ? j i ni x ou may nave nonceu now tunsi, 3 ajmpathies were stirred for the blind. Ophthalmia has always been prevalent in Palestine, the custom of sleeping on the housetops, exposed to the dew and the flying dust of the dry reason, inviiing this dreadful disorder. A large percentage of the inhabitants could not tell the difference between 12 o'clock at noon and 12 o'clock at night. We are told of six of Christ's miracles for the cure of these sightless ones, but I suppose they were only specimens of hundreds of restored visions. What a pitiful spectacle Saul of Tarsus, mighty man, three days led about in physical as well as spiritual darkness, he who afterward made Felix tremble by his eloquence and awed the Athenian philosophers on Mars Hill and was the only cool neaded man in the Alexandria corn ship that went to pieces on the rocks of Miletus, once I ho mighty persecutor of Saul, afterward the glorious evangelist Paul, *>r three days not able to take a 6afc step without guidance! Have you ever given thanks for two eves?media between the soul inside and the world outside, media that no one but the infinite Cod could create? The eye, the windew cf our immortal nature, the I irafo t'nmnch v/hich all colors march, the picturc gallery of the soul! Without the eye this world is a big dungeon. I fear that many of us have never given one hearty expression of gratitude for treasure cf sight, the loss of which is the greatest disaster possible, unless it be the loss of the mind. Those wcacrous seven mr.scles th3t turn the eye up or Cown, to right or left or arou.id. No one but God could have created the retina.^ If we have ever appreciated what God <"id when He tave us two eyes it was when we saw others with obliterated vision. Ala*, that only through the privation of others we came to a realization cf our own blessing! If you had harp in hand and swept all the strings of gratitude, you would have struck this, which is one of the most dulcet of the ten strings. Further, notice how many pass through life in silence bccause the car refuses tc do it: office. They never hear music, vocal or instrumental. The thunder that rolls its full diapason through the heavens does not startle the prolonged silence. The air that has for us so many melodies has no sweet sound for them. They live in a quietude that will not be broken until heaven breaks in upon them with its harmonies. The bird voices of the springtime, the chatter of the children, the sublime chant of the sea, the solo of the cantatrice and the melody of the great worshiping asmoan nnfliincr tr* fhpm. HaV? WC devoutly thanked God for these two wonders of our hearing, with which wc can now put ourselves under the charni of sweet sound and also carry in our memories the infantile song with which cur moth 'rs put us to sleep and the voices ot the gieat prima donnas like Lind and Patti Mid jV'eilson, and the round of instruments like the violin of the Swedish performer, or the cornet of Arbuckle, or the mightiest of all instruments, with the hand of Morgan on the keys and his foot on the pedal, or some Sabbath tune like "Coronation," in the acclaim of which you could hear the crowns of heaven coming down at the feet of .Testis? Many of us have never thanked God for this hearing apparatus of the soul. That is one of the ten strings of gratitude that we ought always to thrum after hearing the voice of the loved ODe or the last strain of an oratorio or the clang of a cathedral tower. Fmther, there are many who never recognize how much Cod gives them when He 1'ives them sleep. Insomnia is a ca!cm ^ '' -r:s,""-s' lW -,': ;TK5gt ity wider known in our land than in anyother. By midlife vast multitudes havetheir nerves so overwrought that slumber has to be coaxed, and many are the victims of chloral and morphine. Sleeplessness is an American disorder. If it ha* ' not touched you and you can rest for seven cr eight hours without waking?it tor that length of time in every twenty-four hours you can be free of all care and worriment and your nerves are retuned and your limbs escape from all fatigue and the rising sun finds you a new man, body, mind and soul?you have an advantage that ought to be put in prayer and song and congratulation. The French financier, almost wealthy enough to purchase a kingdom, but thevictim of insomnia, wrote, "No slumber to be bought in any market." He waeright. Sleep is a gratuity from Him whenever sleeps. Oh, the felicities of slumber! Let all who have this real benefaction celebrate it. This is one of the sweetest strings in all the instrument of ten strings. Further, let us gratefully acknowledgethe power of physical locomotion. Tobe able to go where we wish and all unaided?what a kindness! What multitudes- t have to call in the aid of cane and crutch and invalid's chair, and their whole life is a hinderment! How hard to get about with ack of strong and healthy and supple limbs! Congratulated ought yo.u all tobe if you have the usual physical endowment. and sympathized with ought all those 'to be who can neither walk nor climb nor enter upon any great activities. That is onq of the thousands of reason* _ why I hate war with a complete hatred. As long as you collect vast dividends and have nealth jocund and popularity unbounded you will have crowds of seeming friends, but let oannruptcy ana invalidism and defamation come, and the num-t ber of your friends will bs ninety-five pep cent. off. If you have been through some great crisis and you have one friend left, thank God and celebrate it on the sweetest harpstring. "While all this is so," Bays some one, "there are so many things that others have which I have not." I reply, it is not what we get, but what we are, that decides our happiness. With the bare necessities of life many are unspeakably happy, while others with all the luxuries are impersonations of misery. In the Roman empire there was no man more wretched than the Nero who ruled it. The porticoes of his nalace were a mile long. A statue of him in silver and gold 120 feet high stood in the vestibule. The walls of his f palace were mother of pearl and ivory. The ceiling was arranged to shower flovers and pour perfume* upon the guests. His wardrobe was so large that he never wore a garment twice. His mules were shod in silver. He ^shed with hooks of * gold. A thousand carriages accompanied him when he traveled. His crown was worth $500,000. He had everything but happiness. That never came. Your neart right, all is right; your heart wrong, all J a nrrnnff . . '.''" v? ? VT*VMfe. , . ^ But we must tighten the cords of oar harp and retune it while we celebrate goa pel advantages. The highest style of civ* ilization the world ha6 ever seen is American civilization, and it is built Out of the gospel of pardon and gopd morals. That gospel rocked our cradle, and it will epitaph our grave. It soothes our sorrows* brightens our hopes, inspires our courage, forgives our sins and saves our souls. It takes a man who is all wrogg and makes him all right. What that gospel has done for you and me is a story that we can never fully tell. What it has done for the world and will yet do for the nations it will take the thousand years of the millennium to celebrate. The grandest churches are yet to be built. The mightiest anthems are yet, to be hoisted. The greatest victories are yet to be gained. The most beautiful Madonnas are yet to be painted. The most, triumphant processions are yet to march. Oh. what a world this will be when it $ rotates in its orbit a redeemed planet. girdled with spontaneous harvests ana enriched by orchards whose fruits are speckless and redundant, and the last paia will have been banished and the last tear wept and the last groan uttered, and there shall be nothing to hurt or destroy in all God's holy mountain! All that and more will come to pass, for "the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it." . So far I have mentioned nine of the ten strings of the instrument of gratitude. I now come to the teeth and the last. /I mention it last that it may be the more1' memorable?heavenly anticipation. By the ' grace of God wc are going to move into a placs so much, better than this that on arriving wc will wonder that we were for so \ many years so loath to make the transfer. After we have seen Christ face to face and rejoiced over our departed kindred there are some mighty spirits we will want to meet soon after we pass through the gates. We want to see and will see David, a mightier king in heaven than he ever was on earth, and we mil talk with him about psalmody and get from him exactly what ne meant when he talked about the instrument of ten strings. We will confront Moses, who will tell of the law giving on. rocking Sinai and of his mysterious burial, with no one but God present. We will sec J^hua, and he will tell ua of the coming down of the walls of Jericho at the blast of the ram's horn and explain to us that miracle?Iiow the sun and moon could stand still without'demolition of the planetary system. We will see Ruth and have her tell of the harvest field of Eoaz, in which she gleaned for afflicted Naomi. We will see Vashti and hear from her own lins the aiury ui net uaaisamcuv nuw vuw ?vww palace by infamous Ahasuerus. Wc will see Paul and hear from him how Felix trembled before him ar.d the audience of skeptics on Mars Hill were confounded by his sermon on the brotherhood of man, what he saw at Ephesus and Sj'racuse and Philippi and Rome and how dark was the Mamertine dungeon and how sharp the r.xe that beheaded him on the road te Ostia. Yea, we will see all the martyrs, the victims of axe and sword and fire and billow. What a thrill of excitement for us when we gaze upon the heroes and heroines who gave their lives for the truth. We will see the gospel proclaimers Chrysostom and Bourdalous and Whitefield, and the Wesieys end John Knox. We t will see the great Christian poets, Milton and Dante and Watts and Mrs. Hemans and Frances Havergal. Yea, all the departed Christian men and women of whatever age or nation. But there will be one focus toward which all eyes will be directed. His infancy having slept on pillow of straw; all the hates of the Herodic Government planning for His assassination; in after time whipped as though He were a criminal; asleep on the cold mountains because no ?t J% TT*? _ 1_ j_; ti,0 oii6 on2rea xiiru a iuu^iu^, uuvu^u ?uV greatest being who ever touched our earth, derisively called "this fellow;" His last hours writhing on spikes of infinite torture; His lacerated form put in sepulcher, then reanimated and ascended to be the centre of all heavenly admiration?upon that greatest martyr and mightiest hero of all the centuries we will be permitted to look. Put that among your heavenly anticipations. Now take down your harp of ten strings and cweep all the chords, making all of them tren-.b'.e with a great gladness. 1 have mentioned just ten?delightsome food, eyesight, hearing, healthful sleep, power of physical locomotion, illumined nights, mental faculties in equipoise, friendships of life, gospel advantages and heavenly anticipations. Let us make less complaint and offer more thanks, render less dirge and more cantata. Take paper and pen and write down in long columns your blessings. I have rccited only ten. To express ail the mercies God has bestowed you wou'd have to use at least three, and I think five, numerals, for surely they would run up into the hundreds and the thousands. "Oh. give thanks unto the Lord, for He is good, for His mercy endureth forever." Get into the habit of rehearsal of the brightnesses of life. Xnticc how n-.anv more fair days there are than foul, how many more good people than bad you meet. Set your misfortunes to music, as David opened his "dark sayings on a harp." If it has been low tiae heretofore, let the surges of mercy that are yet to roll in upon you reach high water mark. All things will work together for your good, and heaven is not far ahead. Wake up all the ten strings. , Blessing and honor and glory and power be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne and unto the Lamb forever. Amen! (Copyright, 1902, L. Klopscb.] .J