Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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F? w". # m QB L *^"^3 *** JEAN [OornuoBT, UoaxKT CHAPTER IX. TO OtJTCOMS, Alecla Mid that the Golden Gate might open to them pleasant lauds; and, although she could not know what the future held In store, yet their friends, new and old, said that fate was specially good to Harold Graham, and that be was joint heir with Midas old, for everything be touched teemed to turn to gold. Certainly. In a worldly venae, he wsi wonderfully prospered. Part of Alette's diamonds had been advantageously disposed of. and tbeir circumstances -were comfortable from tbe tart Little of luxury, Indeed?and fe Harold Graham demanded luxury for happiness?but they wanted for nothing really essential. Nevertheless, Graham was not tbe man to bo satisfied witb this. He eame to build up bis fallen fortune*, to told ber many times as excuse for hit speculations; and build tbem be would, la that be was also prospered. They ebose San Francisco at first in which to live, and rented a charming house on a quiet street, but as Harold grew more and more successful in bis rentures be grew equally more restless and dissatisfied. And after a residence of four months In the city they left their new home and a pleasant circle of friends which Alecia drew about tor by ber graciousness and beauty, and whom her husband attracted by his brilliance and success. From San Jrancisco they traveled through California, north and south, to placet charming to see and good to ttre la; among stretches of almond and orange orchards and vineyards cojal with wealth, and slopes alive with sheep; hospitable people everywhere, and wonderful life; eves tbe Caw poor remnants of the old Mexican families left in tbe rich lands of the Booth, In their tiny homes among the bills, opened their doors to tbe beautiful American woman, though no ?than of her countrywomen were welcomed; and it was a wonderful life to tlecia, sad with the sorrow of a dying mnint of a great race, but sweet to Know that they cared to have ber go among than, and would tell her itories of the old gay life before tbe Americans eame and they were arnahed or driven out Even her husband for a time retained hia old spirit and geniality, but after the first, the old wound, unhealed, brought added restlessness snd bitterness, and he would be satisfied with nothing; and from one place to toother, from ranch to town and Tillage and back to the city again; and tfin fortune smiled upon them, and (till Harold Graham could not be at rest or find peace. In their old home they had llT*d lavishly; there had been nothing wanting that a luxurious taste could S^mand; but In the new home money taslly gained was as easily and reck teesiy spent, unui u oetaiue a. ??vvirb among their frienda that Graham's wealth ebbed and flowed like the Kean's tide. He seemed never to think of the futars or of the past. The wealth AJeda had hoped would be gained to Beet the demand against her husband the old home city he spent as quicker as It came to him. yet ever renewed It No wish of hers that she uttered rrer so lightly but he granted?save her one great wish to return to New York and her friends there, and to dear every claim against her husband. This wish was shut In her heart and he heard no word of her ieslre, for she would not ever place .her wishes before his. But be knew that the thought wss with her; be could not know her as ^ W? ii Km wrliKAit* Kalna* ?ia?faAfVv ^ usorred that her heart mutt long for the old familiar faces and voices and lovo. He loved her deeply. Intensely; trot even bo, be felt that she mast need the love of those who gave her love before he crossed her wsy. Ho spoke of it no more than sbe; the -subject fell by degrees into silence between them?for he even came to aver that be had n> interest in the boms-letters; snd she lived this inner Ifo alone. It wore upon her. of xrarae. The old color was something fainter .and the light of the eyes less (Mar, uiuugu ?iwajk quite ncau;. acr an lie, too, vu lets frequent, though HSU rerj beautiful whenever it crossed her lip*. Her .hoabiuid'-a genial nature shangeu perceptibly as the days went by. He was always courteous to her; aothing came near her that could anaoy or fixe .her pain, so far as lay in Us power to prevent; but be grew irritable as his restlessness increased, firming things annoyed him. So ruetimes his eyes frightened her witb their feverish brilliancy, and a habit 'ted grown upon him of raising bia hand to his bead half mechanically a* thoagh in pain when he waa ever so slightly troubled or annoyed. n Aleela noted this as the noted every tbing relating to Jala welfare; bnt "he oerer dared apeak of it U> iiim. 8be wailed and watched, and u this habit irew alarming]/, she went privatelj to a physician and questioned bim as lo the cause and possible danger. Be listened in alienee a> ner story. 4be told it very simply, bat bis quick perception grasped much that was left untold. He was perfectly courteous, hut somewhat reticent. He understood the case as thoroughly as was possible. having no acquaintance with /he mao professionally and Ving *a 4iu1?o unnn 'fan. . UfVlCiUlC yun^cu IV 9VM ml principle*; and be knew. ab?o, Xbal which he could not tell ihia woaian. He couhl not meet her eloquent eye* and teU iter, even softening It as he would, that there could be but . two courses for this disease, but oat Bf two for him. Insanity or?death! Her husband's brain had been overtaxed; his mind heavily shocked; his sensitive nature sorely wounded. The *haniM ?ir <in<l a/-ono lind noinpr.'bal benefited him. bat ibe end must be one of these two. Still, be only tc!d her very learnedly of ber husband'* heavily taxed miud find the atctsalty of perfect find imjjfofffeii.' i7h , .. ^thropTdef ^ a Noorl. Kate ludlum. lonnl Boxi, UN. ] mediate rest and freedom from care, regular boors and cheerful company and tbe abandonment of all business at once. Sbe was quick to note tbe changes of voice or face, and there was something under this man's quiet words that increased her fear. The days passed into weeks?three weeks?fun of anxiety for AJecia. With her fears wakened by the physl ? -v- ?nofMU tm_ clans worus, ioe wim^u uwv<u unobserved. She forced herself to be light of heart and brilliant as of old; she sang to him when he desired; or read as he lay upon a coach, or was silent 8he had always been trae to him and loving; bat there came now some deeper sense of danger that made her Irresistible. Her husband watched her often In wonder. For she saw?even love could not blind her ?that her husband was failing. Not rapidly; not with any horrible disease, bat growing weaker and more Irritable and exacting; never at rest npwWa- hi* hlnr>t JTM. llwDTR ffV erl&hiy bright now, sometimes fastened upon her face with a half-vacant stare that made her heart sink, and sick. Until one day when three weeks were gone. Harold Graham knew littie and cared less for what was passing around him as he Isy in a stupor born of the fever in his brain. He had no strength to resist this fever, the physician said, when summoned to attend him. They were back in San Francisco and had the best physicians in the city. For three days and nights Harold knew no one, lying In a stupor most of the time Complete prostration the ?- -? *1 kail pnyucians saiu. ?uu iuc; kuwi; uw need to uj it Then?came the end. To every one save Alecla this end had been expected; to her It came like a blow. They told her that ber busband was very ill at tbe beginning; but when they told her that tlbere was no longer hope of his recovery, that she must prepare herself for the worst, not a word did she utter, not I a cry crossed ber lips; but with ber I eyes lifted to tbem In a terror that was tbe concentration of weary week* of fear and watching, sbe sank at their feet in an unconsciousness as utter almost as that approaching silence in tbe room above. With tbe tenderest pity they raised ber and restored ber to consciousness, but it was long before sbe was able to go to ber husband. Her eyes were steady and sweet as tbey met his instantly upon entering tbe room. Her face wss pale, but tbe smile that lighted it for him was tbe old radiant 1?- 4V.. knit ?A him lib. ?hn 11UUC UMl UttU VVUIC M/ ilf *>4*v MSV thought of an angel across th? wild waste of waters when the demon struggled in his heart He thought of It. meeting her eyes, for he was thoroughly conscious, and his mind strangely dear. He thought of it, but it brought no pain; for pain seemed to have gone utterly from his life, and only an unaccountable peace to have come to him. 8 till too weak for Independent mnvpiriMit h? tried to stretch his hand to ben. a slow, faint glimmer of smiling answering bers; and going to him, not a quiver of her face or voice, she knelt beside the bed. and taking one of his hands In hers, laid the other tenderly about him. her face upon the pillow close to his. "Harold, dearest." she said, very sweetly, very low. "you are better now? It is good to see you yourself snd know that you recognize Alec la sgsln. I have been so very lonely without your* An ineffable tenderness came upon his face. It was as though life, fading. proved why life was given and taken?its pathos and trials and sweetness crowded into one moment's space. He was intensely weak, but his mind was clear. When be spoke his voice was so Indistinct that she nestled her cheek softly and tenderly closer to his, hat she might not lose the words. The mad beating and rebellion of her heart be did not know. "Poor little girl!** be said, faintly. "What a good, true, brave wife you have been to me when many women would have been?different! How can I leave you. my dearest?here in a strange city, with no one but strangers to comfort you! For I am not deceived. Alecla. This strange clearness of mind and the absence of pain are the end. My life might have been braver, more true, perhaps; but some way everything is falling into peace. I can wish nothing save that I might have left you among those who love you. It is bard to die?who known? I suffer do paio. Your courage gives me courage and bope. But?presently ?you will go borne, dearest and there will come?tbia peace also to you? 1 and the old wounds will beal ** 1 Hia voice died out, but still tender' ly and steadfastly ber Augers beld his, and ber cheek pressed lightly the pillow scarce whiter titan the lighted face. -It was cruel to keep you here.** be added presently, bis voice scarcely & whisper, with the fading life. "I 1 knew that yoo?longed?for the old 1 borne faces, darling. Now?you will go to them. God bless you nnd be with you?alwayn! And if?in that infinite world " And then came silence unbroken; and Alecla Graham was alone with n 1 breaking heart too stunned to realize 1 what bad fallen upon her. CHAPTER X. "and afiib." The light of life dying from Harold Graham's face as the lilac sunset faded from the heavens, left upon the face of bit wife tbe leaden pallor Hint ia worse thru death. For a half hour she remained kneeling beside the bed. enable to beileve that never any more would ber husband'* voice or Rmile 1 stir her heart: never any more would his eyes seek hers for comfort: never any more would he reach out weary arnn to comfort ber. Never any more.' She beat above ber husband, stand- | lop at tb? bedside. and searched the itiU face. Wltb on* trtmblluc. ten-! d*r hand the brushed back the black hair from his forehead, still holding her broatth as though she could not believe that be were dead. "Harold!" she said steadily, scarcely above a whisper, "Hi.rold. dearest!*1 But be did not answer?she knew now that he could not answer?and all the pent-up sorrow and pain wer* for one instant concentrated in her face, ber self-command gone, a bitter cry upon her lips as she clasped her hands convulsively, driving herself away from him. "Then," she cried, sobbingly, though there were no tears in the lifted eyes; "bear witness for me that It is Jobs Wiuthrop. is bis pride and arrogance, has brought this sorrow upon me." Then, with a swift hitter gesture of the hands, as though she would sweep awaj this weakness, and begin ber lonely life with the old proud silence. she turned away steadily, her face calm and cold, and passed out at the door, the folds of ber gown trailing about ber. and the flowers at ber belt crushed and falling like ber hopes. Perfectly self-contained, perfectly calm, stesdy of voice and manner as she rejoined ber waiting friends in the rooms below?no tears upon ber lasbes, no grief upon ber face. "Sbe does not care!" whispered some among her friends, eyeing ber askance. "Perhaps it is true that ber husband did not make ber so happy as he should." But the physicians, wlner in their science than ber friends in their love, said that this calm was worse than a storm of tears, and unless she were roused, sbe, too. would die. Some days previously the physician* warned her friends to notify ber re la- j tires in the East of the approaching sorrow that would fall upon her, and to urge them, if possible, to come at once to ber. Following this advice, a message was sent, startling them indeed, for Alecia bad not mentioned ber bosband's illness?witb ber usual tbougbtfulness of tbem?lest it cause I them unbappiness to learn that other grief bad come. But Alecia, moving quietly among ber friends, knew nothing of this message, and ber heart was heavy with longing for some dear home face and voice and touch. For bow could sbe know that a westwardspeeding train was bringing to ber two from home? Her mother and Beatrice! All home facet were very dear, but these two from among them Holding warmest place In ber heart And when preparations were completed for conveying tbe body home, and tbe widow In ber beavy crapestill more a woman of marble by con* trast?showed no sign of softness or grief, then Into tbe midst of tbe friends gathered for farewell came these two dear faces; and Alecia. with sadden revulsion of feeling was sobbing in ber mother's arms; and Beatrice, mourning above ber sister, would not be comforted In the tenderness and '< warmth of her young heart. "Poor little 'Lecla! Poor little *Lecia!" she kept sobbing. Bat the mother never Mid a word. Her heart went out to the sad heart of her daughter?both widows?and what could words utter more than the loving arms, and tender, silent caresses? So they took her home?a sad homecoming?and every tenderness that love could devise was gathered around the woman who had made sunshine for so many that in her time of need was reflected back upon her; and the days dragged by; and never any hour the less or more because of her grief; never the shadow of one star or one sun because her life was darkened; never one Instant's pause in the world about her because love lay dead in her heart "We will to to Europe." mid Mrs. Field, one day, as they sat in conversation in the breakfast room, wbea the service was removed and tbey were alone. "The girls are not satisfled with their trip last fall, and it will be excellent for you, Alecia. dear. We can remain away as long as you desire. and take in the East. Ton need ! utter change, my dear." "Where are we to go. mamma?* asked Marion. iTo be continued.) Jk Sharp Lookout on the Clerk. The clerk in cbarn of a Yorkshire (England) pottoffice was annoyed by the conduct of a certain farm laborer who, bj buying stamps on the very ! edge of closing time, frequently pat him to the trouble of recasting his accounts. "Are yon really obliged to come so late with your letters, my man?" he asked one night, his stock of patience giving out "Xo." answered the laborer. "Both these were written and addressed afore noon to-day." "Then why didn't you bring them to the post straight awuy ?" "Not me. Mr. Clever," replied the laborer, thrusting his tongue Into his cheek. "Business is slack here in t'daytime. and there's nowt to stop yer from prisln' open an' readin' every letter which comes in; but at a minute to 0." with a knowing wink at the clock, "ye've nobbut a few seconds to glance at t'envelopes and drop 'em into a bag afore t'mail-cart calls for 'em. 1 wants to keep temptation from yer all 1 can."?Tit-Bits. Heard Them, Aajbow. A musician and his wife were on their way home from a concert, and were overheard discussing the merits of the entertainment. "It set my teeth on edge." the bus band Mid. "to bear the orchestra play- | in; 'Yankee Doodle* and 'Dixie' at the j same time. The idea is all right, of I course, aud even commendable from a sentimental point of riew, but the two pieces, when played together, are full of discords." "But didn't you notice." said his wife, who is something of a musician herself. "that where certain notes or passages would have been discordant they were omitted from one air to another, and left to the drums':" "Of course 1 noticed it." he testily replied, "but I could hear the discords in my mind just the same: Acli!"? 1UUIU V/UUI|lfiUltU. Immature wood, that Is tic wood ef a tree wbicb ha* not attained its full growth, is said uot to be so durable 99 tbe wood of a fully srowo tree. a' ?- * - ? ' ifflrtifW* ' l^iJra?" DE, TALMAGFS SERMON ; SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE BY THE NOTED j DIVINE. _____ l (abject: Th? BnclU of id?fr*ltr?lf? Mait All Go Through Some Klid of j Thnuhlnf Prueeee Tor Oar Ova Goad ?'Triumph After Misfortune. Washington, D. C.?From a proccss familiar to tbe farmer Dr. Talmage draws lessons of consolation and encouragement , for people in sorrow and adversity. The text ia Isaiah xxviii, 27, 28; "For tbe , fitches are not thrashed with a thrashing , instrument, neither is a cart wheel turned about upon the cummin, but tbe fitches are beaten out with a staff and the cummin with a rod. Bread corn is bruised because be will not ever be thraahing it." Misfortunes of various kinds come upon various people, and in all time* the great need of ninety-nine people oat of a hundred is solace. Look, then, to this neglected allegory of my text. There are three kinds of seed men?fitrhr*. cummin and corn. Of the last we all know. Bat it may be well to state that the fitches and the cummin were mall seeds, like the caraway or the chickpea. When these grains or herbs were to be thrashed thev were thrown on the 'floor, and the workmen would come around with staff or rod or flail and beat them until the seed would be separated, but when the corn was to be tnnuhed that was thrown on the floor, and the men would fasten horses or oxen to a cart with iron dented wheels; that cart would be drawn around the thrashing floor, and so the work would be accomplished. Different kinds of thrashing for different products. "The fitches were not thrashed with a thmchinv instrument, neither is a cart wheel turned about upon the cummin, but the fitches are beaten out with a ataff and the cummin with a rod. Bread corn i* bruised because he will not ever be thrashing it." The great thought that the text presses upon our souls is that we all go through some kind of thrashing process. The fact that you may be devoting your life to honorable and nobie purposes will not win you any escape. Wilberforce, the Christian emancipator, was in his day derisively called "Doctor Cantwell." Thomas Babington Macaulev, the advocate of all that was good, long before be became the most conspicuous historian of his day, was caricatured in one of the quarterly reviews as "Babbletongue Macaulay." Norman McLeod, the great friend of the Scotch poor, was industriously maligned in all quarters, although on the day when he was carried out to his burial a workman stood and looked at the funeral procession and mid, "If he had done nothing for anybody more than he haa done for me, be would abine an the Stars forever and ever." All the mall wita of London had their fling at John Wealey, the father of Methodism. If auch men could not escape the maligning of the world, neither can you expect to get rid of the sharp, keen atroke of the tribulum. All who will live godly in Christ Jesus must suffer persecution. Besides that, there are the aickneaaea and the bankruptcies and the irritations and the disappointment* which are ever putting a cup of aloea to your lips. Those wrinkles on your face are heiroglyphica which, if deciphered, would make out a thrilling story of trouble. The footstep of the ra? bit ia seen the next morning on the snow, and on the white hairs of the aged are the footprints showing where awift trouble alighted. Even limid the joys and hilarities of life trouble will sometimes break in. Aa when the ncople were assembled in the Charlestow# theatre during the Revolutionary War, and while they were witnessing a farce and the audience waa in great gratulation the guna of an advancing army were heard and the audience broke up wild panic and ran for their lives, so of ten time* while you are seated amid the jovs and festivities of this world you hear the cannonade of some great disaster. All the fitches and the cummin and the corn must come down on the thrashing floor and be pounded. My subject, in the first place, teaches us tfcU it is no compliment to us if we escape great trial. The fitches and the cummin on one thrashing floor might look over to the corn on another thrashing floor and any: "Look at that poor, miserable, bruised corn! We have only been a little pounded, but that has been almost destroyed." Well, the corn, if it had lips, would answer and say: "Do you know the rearon you have not been as much pounded as I have? It is because you are not of so much worth as I am. If you were, you would be as severely run over." Yet there are men who suppose they are the Lord's favorites siitidIv because their barns are full and their bank account is flush and thc.*e arc no funeral* in the house. It may be because they are fitches and cummin, whi!e down at the end of the l&ne the poor widow may be the Lord's corn. You are not lit tie pounded because you are but little worth and she bruised and ground because she is the best part of the harvest. The heft of the thrashing machine is according to the value of the grain. If you have not been much thrashed in life, perhaps there is not much to thrash! If you have not been much shaken of trouble, perhaps it is because there is goine to be a very small yieid. When there are plenty of blackberries, the gatherers go out with large baskets, but wh?n the drought has almost consumed the fruit, then a quart measure will do as well. It took the venomous snake on Paul's hand, and the pounding of him with stones unti he was taken up for dead, and the jamming against him of prison gates, and the Ephesian vociferation, and the ankles skinned by the painful stocks, and the foundering of the Alexandrian corn ship, A rv/J *Ua k*llAS<1ill? a! ika 1) Am fl auu i uc uciivnuiii^ nw*w?%c vi iuc iwtuau sheriff to bring Paul to hi* proper development. It trai not because Robert Moffat and Lady Rachel Russell and Frederick Oberlin were worse than other people that they had to suffer. It was because they were better, and God wanted to make them best. By the careletsneas of the thrashing you may always conclude the value of the grain. Next, my text teacuea us that God proportions our trial* to what we can bear? the staff for the fitches, the rod for the rummin. the iron wheel for the corn. Sometimes people in zreat trouble say. "Oh, I can't bear it!" But you did bear it. God would not have sent it upon you if K? had not known that you could bear it. You trembled and you swooned. but you cot through. God will not take from your eyes one tear too many nor from your lungs one sigh too deep nor from your temples one throb too sharp. The perplexities of your earthly business have not in them one tangle too intricate. You sometime* feel a? if our world were full of bludgeons flyinp haphazard. Oh, no; they are thrashing instruments that God just suits to vour case. There is not a dollar of bad debts on your ledger or a disappointment about goods that you expected to go up. but that have gone down, or a swindle of your business partner or a trick on the part of those who are in the same kind of merchandise that you are. but God intended to overrule for your immortal help. "Oh." you say, "there is no need talking that way to me. I don't like to be cheated and outraged." Neither does the corn tiki? the corn thrasher, but after it hai> been thrashed and winnowed it has a great -f?*al better opinion of winnowing mill* a?d corn thrasher*. "We'l," you say. "if I could choose tt.v t?-oubl?s. I would be willing to betroubbd." Ah. nsy brother, then it would not f-e troarve. You would ch??o?e something that would net hurt, and unless it hurt it doe? nc: get sanctified. Your trial perhaps may be ?hi.'dlessness. You are fond of children. You ?ay, "Why doe? <?od ??*:id children to that other household, where they -.re unwelcome and are beaten and banged about when I would have taken thrm '.*i the arms of my affection?" You -a v. "Any other trial but thi*.'' Your tr.al jierhaps may l e a .li?figure?! count*--! nance or a face that i? easily caricatured, and you say. "I could endure anvthing if onlv I was good looking. ' And your trial Verhnp- u a violent !?*m|**r. and you hav* t.i drive it like his iiii'umkeii hor>e* amid tho jmnuov.der explomon* of .1 grrat holi- i lay. and ever ami anon it rati* away xv:tb .von. "our trial u? tSi? asthma You eav. Ji it were rheumatism cr neeral*i? or erysipelas, but it is this sstnma, and it it n Rich an exhausting thine to breathe." J Your trouble is a husband, sharp, nippy and cross about the house and raising s small riot because a button is off. How f| could you know the button is off? Your trial is a wife ever in contest with the servants, and she is a sloven. Though she was very careful about her appearance in g your presence once, now she is careless, because, she says, her fortune is made! Your trial is a hard school lesson you cannot learn, and you have bitten your finger nails until they are a sight to behold. Everybody has some vexation or annoy- f knee or trial, and be or she thinks it is the one least adapted. "Anything but this," I all say; "anything but this." My hearer, ?. ftre you not ashamed to be complaining all * this time against God? Who manages the ' affairs of this world, anyhow? Is it an in* < finite Modoc or a Sitting Bull savsge or an i - ? vr_. ,1.* | . omnipotent .Nana r*amo: ^o. * ? vU. , moat merciful and glorioua and wiac being ] in all the univenw. i You canqot teacb omnipotence anything. ' You have fretted and worried almost * enough. Do you not think ao? Some of 1 you are making yourselves ridiculous in < the night of the angel*. Here ia a naval ar- * chitect, and he draws out the plan of J ship of many thousand tons. Many work- ' men are engaged for a long while* The * ship is done, and some day. with the flags up and the air gorgeous with bunting that ' vessel is launched for Southampton. At 1 that time a lad six years of age comes run- ( nine down the dock with a toy boat which j he has made with his own jack-knife, and ' he says: "Here, my boat is better than ! yours. Just look at this jibboom and these ' * * ' ? * ? J I? J | weather crowjacu nraces. adu ac uiv|? his little boat beside the great ship. and ' there in a roar of laughter on the decks! 1 Ah. my friends, that grent ship is your life * a* God planned it?vast, million tonned, ocean destined, eternity bound! That lit* ' tie boat is your life as you were trying to j hew it out and fashion it and launch it. ' Do not try to be a rival of the great Jebovah. God is always right, and in nine cases j , out of ten you are wrong. He sends ju*t ! j the bardHhips, just the bankruptcies, just I , the cross that it is best for you to have. { , He knows what kind of grain you are, and ] He sends the right kind of thrashing ma- . j chine. It will be rod or staff or iron wheel I , ?* -"--'l-?? rati im nr cum- i < JU.^V OVIU iUIll^ M J Vw u ? ? , min or corn. i No tear* of sickness, for there are no pneumonias in the air and no malarial exhalations from the rolling river of life and no crutch for the lame limb and no upliat for the broken arm, but the pulses throbbing with the health of the eternal God in a clinvite like our June before the blossoms j fall or oar gorgeous October before the leaves scatter. I In ti.it land the souls will talk over the different modes of thrashing. Oh, the story of the staff that struck the fitches and the rod that beat the cummin and the iron wheel that went over the corn! Daniel will describe the lions and Jonah leviathian and Paul the elmwood whips with * ' * J ?J p? _:11 *_n wmcn ne wjui *courgcu, uiu r.vc wm icu < how aromitic Eden wan the day ihe left it, and John Rogers will tell of the amart of the flame and Elijah of the fiery team that wheeled hi:n up the sky steep* and Christ of the numbness and the paroxysm* and hemorrhages of the awful crucifixion. There they are before the throne of God ?on one elevation all those who were struck of the rod. on the highest elevation ; and amid the highest altitudes of heaven j all those who were under the wheel. He I will not ever be thrashing it. Is there not enough salve in this text to | make a plaster large enough to heal all j your wounds? When a child is hurt, the ! mother is very apt to say to it, "Now. it j will soon feel better." And that ia what God says when He embosoms all our trouble in the hush of this great promise. "Weeping may endure for a night, but ioy cometh in the morning." You may leave your pocket handkerchief sopping wet with tears on your death pillow, but you will go up absolutely sorrowless. They will wear black, you will wear white; ctnr?<iipf 4f%r thprtt mlma fnr rnn Ynn will ! nay: "I* it possible that I am here? Ia this J heaven? Am I so pure now I will never do anything wrong? Am I so well that I 1 will never be sick again? Are the* com* ' panionshins so firm that they will never ' again be broken? Is that Mary? Is that John? Is that my loved one I put away > 1 into darkness? Can it be that these are ; the faces of those who lay so wan and : emaciated in the back room that awful | night dying? Ob. how radiant they are. ! "Look at them! How radiant they arH i Why, how unlike this place is from what : I thought when I left the world below, j Ministers drew pictures of this land, but > how tame compared with the reality! Tbey j told m* on earth that death was sunset. ! vf- i 1a : i pi : : I o, no: 11 id iudhk: ifjunuus ^uun?c: I tee the li^ht now purpling the hills, and j , the cloud* flame with the coming day." < Then the gates of heaven will De opened, ; and the entranced soul, with the acutenest j and power of the celestial vision, will look ! thousands of miles down upon the ban- , nered procession, a river of shimmering 1 splendor, and will cry out. "Who are ; tney?" And the angel of God. standing , close by. will say. "Do you not know who > they a.eV "So." lays the entranced soul. ; "I cannot guts* who they are." The angel j will say. "I will tell you, then, who they ; are. These are they who came out of great | tribulation, or thrashing, and their robes washed and made white in the blood of the ; Irmb." ! Would that I could administer some of j these drops of celestial anodvne to these nervou* and excited souls. If you would i take enough of it. it would cure all your ! pang*. The thought that you are going to j get through with this after awhile, all this ' sorrow and all this trouble. | We shall have a great many grand days ! in heaven, but I will tell vou which will be j the grandest day of all the million ages of J ht-aven. You nay. "Are you sure you can i ell me?" Yen, I can. It will be the day i we get there. Some say heaven is growing | i no re glorious. I suppose it is, but I do not care much about tliat. Heaven now ia j good enough for me. ' History ba* no more rratnlatory scene j than the breaking in of the English army ; upon Lucknow. India. A few week* before > a massacre had occurred at Cawnpur, and < 260 women and children had been put in a j room. Then five professional butchers went } in and alew them. Then the bodies of the i siain were taken out and thrown into a well. As the English army came into Cawnpur they went into the room, and oh. what a horrid scene! Swo.-d stroke* on the wall near the floor, showing that the poor things had crouched when they died, and tbev saw al*o that the floor was ankle deep in blood. The soldiers wa'ked on their heels across it. lest their shoes be submerged of the carnage. And on that floor of blood there were flowing locks of bair and fragments of dresses. Out in Lucknow they had heard of the ? rca>Kacre. and the women were waiting for * the tame awful death, waiting amid anguuh 8 untold, waiting in pain and atairatiOD, but waiting heroically, when, one day. Havelock and Outram and Norman and Sir David Baird and Pee!, the heroen of the Er.jlith array?nuzza for them!?broke in on thct horrid wene. and while yet the gun* were nounding. and while chrer? were i iH?umg from the starving, dying .vople on the one *:de mil from the travel worn and powder blackened *o!diem on the other, right there, in front of the king*4 palace, there was tuch a scene of handshaking and t nibracinj: and bonterou* joy a< wotiid ut- ^ t?*rlv i-..nfound the iten of the ooct and the 1 pe.iciJ rf the painter. .And no wonder, ji when thesc emaciated women, who had j i'.iTered >< heroically for Christ'* sake, o ni irched ?:it from their incarceration, one wounded English soldier got up in hn fa* tizue aid wounds and leaned against the wall and threw ins cap up and ?houted, "Three theer*. .ny boys, for the brave ? women!" Ye?. that was an cxcitin-r vene. ti Hi t a gladder and more triumphari ?cene Will it be wntit you come up into .i?aven u fr^ni th' vonftiet* and incarceration o: thai ji world, streaming with the wouri-Js of bat* j tie. and wan with hunger, and while the u lioste of (?od are cheering tlieir great ho* t| sanna you will strike hand* of congratula* ti :if-n an<! eternal deliverance in the presence n of the krone. <>n that night there wi!! be b bonfires 0:1 every nill of heaven, and there will be a candle in every window. Ah. no! 1 forget. I forget, 'i'liev will have no need of the c.mdle or of *un. for th?- Lord (?od gireth thfii' light. jmH lliey *ba!l rt'jrn lor- jj tvvr afi-i ever. Ha;l. iiaii. acd JjujIjltr? cf the Lor J Uod Almighty! - j. ICCFrricit, IMC. L. IloDKfe.l .. [HE SABBATH SCHOOL % INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS FOR APRIL 13. bjeet: p?tcr. Eiiw aad Dorcw, Aeta lx., CZ-43?Golden Text: Act* ls.< 34? Memory Vertoi, IQ.fl-Coiaiawtw? on the Day'* Lcwod. 32. "Peter." The hiitory now turn I rom Saul to Peter. "All quartera." H? lid not confine his labors to Jerusalem, >ut went to other placet Tinting and en* ouraging the churches, aa in chap. 8: 14. 'Came down." rrora Jeroaalem. 'Saint*." The Jew* who bad been convert id to Christianity. The Gentiles were not it yet visited by the apostles. This word neana pious, separated and holy person* it if applied in the Scriptures not only to onic eminent individuals, as Saint Peter ind Saint John, but to every sincere Christian believer. Psalm 116: 15; Rom. 1: 7; 15: 26. "Lydda." A city of Judca, railed in the Old Testament Lod. Ezra 2: 13. It was located in the plain of Sharon, wenty-fivc miles northwest from Jerusatm, and ten miles from Jopps. It was li? />f n v?r* famous ichooi. 33. "Found a certain man." The Lord I ed Peter to this man u be had led Philip I to the eunuch. Thia did not come by 'hauce. "Eight Tear*." There could therefore be no doubt cut on the miracuoua nature of bit cure. "Palay." This ii i contraction of the word "paralysis." It a disease which deprive* the port* affected of sensation, or the power of motion, or t>oth. The term wu u*ed by the ancient physician* in a much wider sense than in >ur day. including cramp* and lockjaw. 34. "Maketh thee whole." The apoatle tiad uaed similar language in chapter 3: 0. Peter did not heal him in his own strength, but by the power of Jeaua Christ. He was ?!>?? > the healer was Christ. Ge vraa restored to perfect health immediately. "Make thy bed." Thii vould show that he vu a paralytic no longer. He waa at borne, and therefore was commanded not to take up hia bed, u in the caae of the paralytic recorded ia Luke 5: 24. but he waa ordered to make it. He wot commanded to help himself ind to prove bia faith by hi* works. 'Aro?e immediately." Thia showed the :omp!etcnraft and reality of the miracle, ind the faith and strength of the man. 35. "Saron." Sharon. Thia probably ha* reference to the district or wmcn i Lydda wa? the chief city. The plain wai noted for its fertility and beauty. Isa 35: Z; Cant. 2: 1. "baw him." It mast bare made a great impression upon the people to see a man vho had been in bed right years with an incurable disease, suddenly restored to health and walking about ;he streets perfectly well. "Turned to the Lord." They believed that Jesus was the Messiah. It can hardly be supposed that ill of these people became truly converted it this time. Especial attention should be rolled to the fact that Peter kepr himself io in the background that but little attenlion was paid to him. The glory woa given to God. 30. ""JOppa. ji pun of ww u vu ?mv joaat of toe Mediterranean Sea. thirty nilcn from Jerusalem. "A certain disciple." Dorcas is called a disciple that it nay be seen that under the gospel there s no distinction between male and female. Sal. 3: 28. "Tabjtha?Dorcas." The 8vro?haldaic and Greek names for an antelope >r gazelle. which from its loveliness was frequently employed as a proper name for iromen. This disciple was an amiable, industrious and beautiful Christian chancer. As Luke was writing this book for the Greeks he translates the Hebrew and Syriac proper names into Greek. Tabitha teas her Hebrew name and Dorcas her Gfreek name. "Fall of good works." Especially in making coats and garments for widows, who in that country were a most ! unfortunate class. Good works come from i running stream, not irom a stagnant too!, and the only way to keep always fall jf there is to he always giving them oat. 'Which she did." She it praised not only For the alms which she gave, bat for 'ajmsdeeds which she did." The emphasis must be laid not upon what she purposed Ioir.fr, but what she did. The doer* are blessed in the deed. Jas. 1: 25. 37. "Was si x." Thus we see that good xople are sometimes sick. "Died." Death :omcs to all alike. Sometimes the death ii God's saint* makes known their virtue* ind they become a power and example for tood beyond what was possible whtle livng. "Upper chamber." Instead of buryng her immediately as was customary in :he Cut. 33. "Was nigh." About ten mile* iway. "Sent unta him." They probably lent unto Peter before she died. Up to :his time the apostles had not raised any me to life, but they bad healed some. 'Desiring him." "Intreating him/' R. V. It is not said that they expected a '* ?-- tk*v thniild I IlliOHC. Jb nm uvmw > , iesire hi* prcscnce tad sympathy at aucb i time. 39. "Widows." Whom she had clad or fed. "Shewing.'* etc. They were not ishamcd to acknowledge thnt they were indebted to Dorcas for the raiment they ivore. This praised not only her charity, >ut also her industry. This brings ont bar character as the excellent woman of Prov. SI: 19-22. 40. "Put them all forth." He did this n order to ascertain the will of (tod in :his matter. He put thejn forth that he night not be disturbed or hindered by their lamentations and unbelief. "Talitha, arise." During hia prayer he uhloubtcdly felt assured that she would be -aised when he should speak the word to icr lifeless form. He said these words in Testis' name. "She sat up." The graphic minuteness of detail here imparts to the :arrative an air of charming reality. 41. "Presented her alive." In toe manner of performing the miraclc Peter follows he example of Jesus in raising Jairus's laughter, at which miracle he was one >rc of the admitted spectators. 4?. "Many believed." This miracle, as veil as the one at Lvdda. strengthened he faith of the disciples, and added many o the Lord. Thereby the church was rrc.itly edified and built up. 43. "Many days." In cvsngc'.istic work. There wan a great field in Joppa. "Simon." Signt persons of this name are mentioned n the Xew Testament. "A tanner." A rade regarded by the Jew* an half-unScan and consequently disreputable, from he contact with dead animals and blood rhich wm connected with it. For this cason even by other nations it is usually arried on at some distance from towns; iccordiagly. Simon's house was "by the easidc. Chap. 10: 0. Peter's lodginc here shows him to have been already, to one extent, above Jewish prejudice. It could also ?how (1) that there is no retted of nerson* with Ood. and (2) would lire Peter a chance to help those who r.ost needed help. The traditional houm* h still shown at Jaffa, and tanneries arc till in operation near the town. Skin ot m Whilt Shark For Monnm. Dr. True, Curator of the National Mueum at Washington, ha* received the akin if a whale shark, "Rhinodon," which is ighteen feet long. It ia the first specimen ?f thin creature ever found on the Atlantic oaat of America, and belongs to the rarest mown species of the whale t hark family, ?hich was formerly known only by its eeth. This whale shark was found on the >each three miles north of Ormond, Fla., vherc it came ashore the last of January. ")r. True, who is probably the greatest mown authority on sharks and whales, ironouni.es this specimen the rarest ou record. A riajroe of Grasshoppers Forecast^!. From certain signs discovered by A^riultural Depart *ncut njrrnt? in Kansas. Nc* raska and Te*a?, the chief entomologist. /? I? 1 l I i. u. iiuwjiu. nas luiiuuuru ilia; inr com" ig ou miner will be marked by unu>u.ni iniry from ?raf>Hhopj>er*. An csjiert will ive nil hiii time to HtudyinR the conditions nder which the grasshopper* breed. and he chief entomologist will then endeavor ? rind ?ome preventive which will exUer:inate the pest Ik fore the /rasnhopper* ccome capable of injuring the tup*. Old Aft Innaranrf In Ruult. A semi-official commission is endeavorlj* to elaborate a workable and acceptable heme of worlungmen's old age insurance i Ku*#ia. GOD'S MESSAGE TO MAN , PREGNANT THOUGHTS FROM THE WORLO'S GREATEST PROPHETS Pomxn: Prayer* of tlM LlttU OiM-Wklk* las la ?*? Para Lmw Vna tM Story of the Blind Maa Wkow UiM* Wat Rostorod. Bow sorely pressed the Lord most be With all tee tearful people's woes; The weak implore (or mastery Above their strong, relentless foes; The poor cry oat ssainst the rich. The slave would Bing his chains awcjr# And oft their cries must be unheard, I But God, I know, bears every word When tittle children kneel to pray. Uivhin tb# Dions Phiriiee la never heard about his roof When be, st bedtime, crooks the knee, Beseeching for his own behoof; Their prayer* may all be said in vain g Who ana themselves and march away I To fall in battle or to kill, But God, I know, must listen still When little children kneel to pray. V The grave-faced hypocrite who reads N me wora me tuner gave to men And loudly prays and then proceeds To crush the wesk for sain again May be ao tittle that the Lord, Attending to immense affairs, Is unaware of him, but oh God atili haa time to heed, I know, ' When tittle children aay their prayers. The ones who wrangle over creeds And those who think, forsooth, that thejr Are sent to judge the people's needs And give the word and abow the way L May be ao tittle and obscure \ That God with all His awful carcs, Is deaf to them?but, tilled with love, I I know He listens from above H When little children say their prayer*. ?S. ?. Kiser, in Chicago Record-iie^d. j DuktMd Spiritual Tlilaa. In his first epistle John speaks of otr "walking in the bght," but in his Goepel*. the ninth chapter, if we read careiuDy the miracle ot the healing of the blind man aa recorded there, a single clause m the seventh verse must impress us with a strange yet beautiful significance when it affirms that "be went on his way, therefore.'' \ For him it was "walking in the dark."" ) This man who had never seen the tight of day, who could scarcely imagine wftat the light could be like, who could pot tell bow the world in all its beauty of color and form might seem to him could be look upon it; who, as yet had not understood, i evidently, that any man can be possessed \ of power sufficient to open blind eyes, and 1 who had doubtless listened with keenest t interest to the conversation carried on between Christ and the disciples concerning, him, how bttle could he have comprehended it all! Undoubtedly the blind man was think* ing to himself something as lolJows* "Who is this man, a stranger, who ha* thus interested Himself in me? Wbjr, should 1 go to Siloam? Does He think it will do any good to wash there rather than elsewhere? Can there be any virtue in this clay, or has He any special power? He has not even told me why 1 should to Siloam. Can it be that anything will come of washing in the pool? Is it possible that what 1 am doing shall affect my, eves in any way? 1 will, at least, keep on the way." And so be goes on, and while be reasons and queries about it all it re mama juat aa aaric aa wwn uc miw.. How mauy perplexities be must have met? How strange tnat one so blind should be sent, while still blind, to a certain place to prove the efficacy of healing power! Must it not have dawned upon hia spirit* ual vision during the journey that certain meana are frequently required to securecertain results!' It was dark for him all the way to Siloam. It as all changed, however, upon hia return, for he came seeing. Then he understood why he bad been aaked to go. By his willingneis, his effort and bis obedience his vision came. It bsd been necessary for him to walk awhile in the darkness before he could walk in the light. Even so it is with us at times. In our difficulty and need we find that Christ ie> near, and though we feel the touch of the Divine hand in the providence of life, we are yet left to walk awhile in the dark, u mm m to our duties and trials, only to re-. alize aa we return from tbem that we art walking in the light of new joys and blessings. Wc, too, come "feeing."?Baptiat Standard. To Coasldar. To consider is the last thing that mea are prepared to do in any age, and in thiapeculiar age it is ^*rhap* the ut mostly last thing that men can be persuaded to do? to stand still. The rush of the age is togreat that even the most faithful servant of God hi* to acknowledge, partly with shame and partly of necessity, that men do not stand still, to hear God speaking. , It is idle to say it cannot be done; it must be done. If our souls arc to be blessed, and if we arc to be vessels in any depot meet for the Master's use, it is an abtolute necessity; ju*t as much as air is a necessity for breathing and health. In tha midst of the rush in which we live, no matter how crcat the strain, or how severe the distress, even the most hurried business claims from their Rasters and workers times for pause. Machinery demands it. Balance sheets require it. Half yearly audits are known, even by the moat over-pretsed business men. There is not one who would dare to expect that hi* 1 earthly business could prosper if tbera i *i?rp no times for striking a balance an<J seeing what the remainder ia that is left. So <t is in regard to spiritual nutters. 9 Every one of us, not mad or foolish, most understand that necessity is laid upon a* not merely, as I'aul oaid. to preach the to*- I pel, bat to pia^e before Goa, and let Hint I >]>eak to ui ?Webb Peploe. I Thoughts. ra Let the heart speak freely, but see als* that it speaks prudently. H If we are like Christ, forrow ia on th? fl surface an unfathomed depth of joy. I They hear the song of the angels who B are waiting for the coming of the Saviour. This expresses the Christian's confidence: H "If God be for us. who can be against us?" H That in the best gift of love which wil) H in some wav be helpful to the person re- H eeiving it.?Lasted Presbyterian. H A Xtlion'i llnaitb. The mo?t precious tiling* in nation*! life are the character and the liberty of the individual. The real teat in the advance of any nation u in this: Whether in the advance and in the increase of power the real strength which goo* to make up the nation u still there?character, individual liberty, men.?Bishop William Lawrence, Episcopal, 3iaMachusetts. The S*MJb| of m Hop*. The setting of a great hope is like the ark ting of the sun. The brightness of our life ia gone. Shadows of evening fall around us, and :hr world seems but a dim reflec tion?it*ell a Droaaer cnaaow; *r iw? ??? ward imo the coming lonely night. The 9 coul withdraw* into it*elf. Then atar* arisv and the night ia holy.?H. W. hong- SB fellow. | A Dlatlnetioo. I Rclijrion ron?.ata in helping other* and S heren- in forcing other* to nerve you.? B The Rev Dr. George H. Hcpworth, Con* M gregauon*iuit, New York. B Irlah In migration In 1901. 9 A British Parliamentary |>ai?>r ^-ive? the H ?tnli?tie* of thf emigration from Ireland Bj Jutinjir the year 19i?l. Thf tot.il nu 39,- S ?70, p-iu.il to ! per 1UU0, a decrtaae of "237 | i* compared with the year lftw. Of th? lotal mentioned there were male* and 21.527 female*, a decrease oi 4M2 and 22KT>. iv>|<?tlivolf, n? com parol with the preceding > car. Oat of tiie entire number of emigrant* 31 .Ml' went to the United State*. KT?ry Cadet Got Bible. According to a custom c?iahii*bfd rcart fo. the Aincrican Tract Society ha* pre* seined ;be tifiy-foar Wc?t cadet* ia the graduating cla? with B;bic*. '-h? i -