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I?z^______!___^^?? ? Vm^| * ?w;% ^ .jo?^*^ jA^7 " ^ JCiAin iComioiT. Kobcet b: CHAPTER XVIL (Continued.) **I learned last night." continued John Wlnthrop, steadily, resolutely holding her attention, "of the great injustice I did your husband. Mrs. Graham?I and my client?unknowing. Had you or yonr husband made known to us that to your husband Mr. Earle owed his life, do yon think ?even in your unbelief in our hearts ?that we would still have refused your pleading?" The cold, slow smile was upon her lips as she again lifted her face towaid his, and the violet eyes were imlm ?l?h ?nnm "My husband was too noble to plead for gratitude when he was refused simple justice," said Mrs. Graham, teadlly. **I wonder that Mr. Winthrop, with his views of life, should entertain that thought for one moment! In your rules for mankind in general, surely there is no place for one man's noble claim to the turning , one hair's breadth the wheels of your Justice! Why should you?still judging from that standpoint?have yielded the fulfilling of a wish, simply be- j cause the one man had been proved perhaps s trifle the braver than others? Would such conduct not shortly pot out of order the machinery of 1 your system 7" J 8till that strong, steady, perfect . . self-command in the tall figure at her aide. 1 "I waive ail that," he said. "Have 1 J not told Mrs. Graham that I will not attempt to argue for myseir? witn a woman's strung Injustice, would she mot call me false should 1 lay claim to any softness of heart after what has passed between us?" Alecla laughed softly, shrugging her boulders with a shade of disdain. "With a woman's strange injustice," she retorted, lightly, a slight movement of her hands, "what hope have I With Mr. Winthrop?" 8ilence again around them, filled by those tender sounds of the surf and the calling of birds. "I will claim the attention of Mrs. Graham but for ft moment," said John Winthrop, coldly. "I came here to say that we regret, my client and I, that this fact was not known to us at the tine, that we might bare given Mr, > Graham doe acknowledgment of hi* J bravery. As Mr. Earle Informed l your fitter last evening, had we known < of this, there would have remained no 1 debts between your husband and him* < elf. For doubt aa yon will. Palmer 1 Earle la A Just man, Mrs. Graham." i Silence again for a moment "And you?" she said. 1 "And I." What pasalon was In bis voice for 1 an Instant ere he regained his selfcommand. This tone touched her : strangely, but she would not even 1 turn her graceful head or lift the curl- < lag laahes from drooping over the level 1 eyes. < CHAPTER XYIIL j m ovpiua f Wlnthrop stooped suddenly, hit eyes < forcing hers to turn to his Quivering Cms. i " led*!" lie exclaimed in repressed 1 outbreak of madness. "Alecis Graham, < floes It all end in tills? Have you come Into my life to humiliate me? To de- j feat ma? Have you the power to even i east aside my knowledge of what l your answer must be? Do you sit < fears calmly and scorn me. and yet am I powerless to keep from you that I 1 love you with an intensity that will i oot be crushed?" i For a moment she sat as one i Stunned, neither moving nor speaking. ] Then sue siowiy row. i "8urely, Mr. Wlnthrop is mad!" she ] aid, one hand lying upon the back of ] the bench from which she had risen, ] as though for strength, the sternness In her musical voice in Its low* utter- i ance. "Does be dream that a woman's Injustice even could allow ber to ; forget the memory of tbe man who < lent her husband to death?" Then she turned awuy and walked i slowly along the promenade toward i the hotel, as though there had nothing come between them in view of the Quiet ocean and the sailing ships. V V V ? ? ? V Mr*. Graham -was standing before i the mirror, shaking oat her hair about her should;rs -with the careless pleasure of a dilld in its beauty. Beatrice was standing at the window watching bar. "And after all that you know of theae Winthrops. you are still ready to accept the friendship of his mother!" Beatrice said. "Yes," answered Alec la, steadily, tnrnlng toward her sister and holding aside the heavy masses of her hair that so the better she might meet the flashing eyes opposite. "It is not only unchristian but absolutely absurd. Bee. to refuse the friendship of such | a charming woman because her son was cruel to me once! Aa I have told yon. too. every time this subject has been mentioned. I believe that Mr. .Wlntbrop acted upon conscientious convictions, altbougb tbey were bard and unjust to as. Mrs. Wlntbrop to me is like a sweet poem in tbe great Striving tattle-hymn of life, and I go to ber wben nothing in all the world else can soothe me. 1 feel always like sitting at her feet when she talks*. Ber soft language is the height and depth and breadth of tender feeling! She affects i_e like a moonlit ocean, or as though some one who loved me had said: 'Be still!* " Beatrice's face softened in spite of ber anger. : "Well. then, how do yea like this Winthrnvi'i I rfcaiita uiaj, j vui MUUU .M.u.vr ? ward. Aiecia? Surely, you do not catalogue ber a soothing poem! I set ber down as a cat, a leopard, a snake ?all of them at different times! Look at those opal eyes of hers, that are steel. that are stones, that are living fire when she wills:" Aiecia brushed very slowly and deliberately the masses of shining hair about ber shoulders before she replied. ffben siM laozbed as sbe said: \ y ' ^0 THROP'S DEFEAT. 3 VmtL KATE X-UDLCJM. i**rm'? son, mj "So far the claws of your cat are smothered in velvet to me. Bee." Beatrice shrugged her shoulders suggestively, and lifted her arched brows. "Well," she said, crossly, -your cat ?pray don't class her as mine?is in love with your John Wlnthrop with her soft purring and velvet claws, Alecia Graham!" An indescribable expression touched Alecia's face, but she pulled the showering golden hair recklessly about her, so that her sister could not sec. Again she laughed, a strange laugh, a sudden, unaccountable pang at her heart, as though she were losing some friend who had been dear and might have been more! Then she frowned, meeting ber reflection In the mirror, and bit ber lip. slow color was burning In each cheek. She was Intensely angry with herself. Would she allow those words, uttered that morning In the pavilion by ber busband's enemy, to so move ber? "Rather remarkable. Bee," she said, lightly, "that the woman whom you dislike and call leopard should so unburden herself to you! The circumstances must have been extremely Interesting. Pray, let me bear them!" Beatrice's answering laugn was iqii of scorn and bitterness. She crossed the room, and, taking Alecia by both arms, turned her toward the light, ber eyes keenly set upon ber face. "Alecia," she said, very slowly and iternly. "you may call me absurd again if you like. Why should I mind that? But I wish you to answer me one question, and fairly. It may not neem much to you; to me it would be the uttermost depths of bitterness! You are kind to every one, even though yon scorn them. Yon are kind ?ven to John Winthrop! Alecia," 1 the very earnestness of her voice deepened that strange color In Aleda's face, though ber eyes were level meeting ber sister's, "Alecia Graham. If ever yon should be kind to that man as you might be kind, should he isk you?you know what I mean?I ibould so scorn yon that never, never rould I call you my sister again. Remember what he was to your husband and scorn him as any loyal woman ibould!" Alecia hated herself for the mad throbbing of her heart 8he despised Herself for that tell-tale blood in her race. She would willingly have ?ruihed out every thought of John dVlnthrop If so she might trample unler foot the memory of his eyes and roice and passionate words, and that tell, commanding figure standing belide her as she wounded him with , ber scorn! "Too are like the beautiful Queen of . the East, Bee." she said, laughing, "for you talk in riddles! One minute rou tell me that Miss Gray loves Mr. Winthrop, and the next you warn me igalnst some absurd catastrophe of the same sort! My dear little sister is >ver-senaltlve in her loyalty. I fear!" 8he was arguing down her heart. LMd toe HOI KSOW Jl t urn xieumix aot also know ir? She released Alexia's arms, and turned away with a tlgh. "I never understood yon. Alec la," | the said, quietly, pausing at the door; "I understand you less now than ver!" ' Then she passed down the stairs 1 ind ont upon the promenade, toward the beach, wishing to fight this fear by herself, as she fought the battle >f her own heart. For Beatrice Field knew that she had given her heart to Gregory Benlonhurst beyond recall, although he should not know it, for since the first night of their return to the Island he had shunned her rather than sought tier, aa always before he had done. Beatrice Field did not preach pride to her sister and fail in practice of it herself. Cora and Harry Dillingham and Gregory Bensonburst were In tbe pavilion; she saw them and turned about to reach tbe beach by some Dther way. She could not endure lo join them at that moment. To cross the sandhills was more difficult, but she would have crossed the Great Desert bad ber pride prompted her so to do, and the group in the pavilion watched her crossing tbe saud, and fate decreed that one of this group should learn of great Injustice done the girl. For if Beatrice Field crossed the flaming sandhills to avoid Gregory Bensonburst she might as well have continued down the promenade and come upon him calmly instead of turning from her way; for tire gory Bensonburst. swing her. left his companions with a few careless wonls. cud followed the girl along the beach until be came upon ber where she sat upon the sand, tbe red parasol tilted over tbe bright face turned to the glittering ocean, one slim hand restlessly digging in the shining fragments beside her. heaping them in a tiny mass and pattiug them down smoothly and 1 hard as though this were her sole aim in life. She did not hear bis approach, and be paused for a moment looking down upon ber, almost fearful now at tbe decisive moment, remembering ber strong love and bate. She started and glanced up as be uttered ber name. "My dearest," be said, reaching out his bauds, his eyes pleading with her. bis voice stirring ber heart. For a moment a smile stirred upon ber lips and then died, and dying. ? A.w.K swepi away Ull UJC giun uuu uunu Vi color in her face. A fine scorn replaced it, touching her eyes and voice. "I think that Mr. Bensonhurst forgets himself." she said. Not a niovrtnent of a muscle betrayed the throbbing of her heart. That slim, white, womanly hand lying lightly upon the little mound of sand, perfectly steady and untroubled. But be would not so easily he discomfited and stood resolutely beside her. "Beatrice." he said. "Dearest! Listen to me before you condemn me. You know that I love you. 1 wisnea i to tell you that first evening. but too i would sot listen?and that night 1 beard, and beard bo directly that I could scarcely fail to believe, that you were indeed coming home?I had so patiently waited for your coming? but were no longer to be won by me. I Leard tbat I had even no longer a rigbt to love you, or tell you of my love, or even attempt to win you. 1 did not folly realize bow much I loved yon until that moment when I learned that I had lost you?that you had come with your promise given another. But I was proud, too. I would not wear my heart upon my sleeve. Beatrice, dearest, I have learned this moment from your sister that I listened to a He. I have come to you at once for your forgiveness and to tell you of my love." He was an Intensely proud man. this lover of hers, and he stood erect beside her, only his eyes and voice pleading with her as he waited her reply. But he did not know the girl to whom he bad yielded his heart If he dreamed that she was lightly to be won. Perfectly self-possessed and very beautiful, she sat upon the sand, the color of her parasol flushing her proud face, the glitter of the sands and the restless sea-liehts In her eyes. She even smiled rather pityingly, looking up to him. "Perhaps yon formed your estimate of women from the one who told you this He. Mr. Bensonhurst." she said, unmoved. "If I loved any one. no whisper In the world could turn me, no matter how subtly uttered, without convincing proof. Had you spoken of it to me. would I not have told you truly? If one takes up with serpents, one must sometimes be stung. There are antidotes for all poisons. If taken In time; If left too long there Is no hope/' A deep flush was dawning In his face, that was growing steadily more stern under her careless eyes. "Is this my answer?" he questioned, bitterly. "Miss Beatrice Is witty today." "Am I?" she said coldly, her eyes turned from him to the broad reach of gleaming water. "There la some* times strongest earnest under the guise of jest, Mr. Bensonhurst I was building a romance about that sail yonder when you Interrupted me. I set in on toward some Fortunate Island in the fragrant seas far south, and builded a cattle there, and called it Faith In Lore, and peopled it with fairies, for?" He set aside his pride, and tried once more to win her kindly answer. "Life is too real and men and worn* en human to bear continued hashness," he said, gently. "From your castle in the south can you bring no more kind words for me. Beatrice? If I erred it was because I love you too intensely to bear with patience the tnougoc or losing you. nave juu uv other answer?" She smiled still coldly, bat she dared Dot turn her eyes from the distant sail lest she yield to his tenderness. "You mistake me utterly," she said, "Mr. Bensonhurst 1 have no other answer?no!" He ground his heel into the sand and walked away. CHAPTER XIX. OX THE "BAHJO." Alecla was sitting at her window in a cool, loose gown when, glancing along the sand-hills, she saw the erect figure of Gregory Bensonhurst as he left Beatrice in his anger. As he drew nearer sue uw uie cioua upon Mi face, and guessed -whose pride bad wounded him. This knowledge, too, struck in upon her heart aa though she saw some work of her own set indelibly there. Then with a sudden impulse unusual with her, she left her room and went down to meet the man aa he approached across the sands. "You are brave," be said, quietly, although the pallor of his face was touched with Intense colo{, meeting any one so unexpectedly, tor it was mid-day, and few were out "I have dared the sand-bills, Mrs. Graham, and And them unbearable." She smiled at the fierceness of bis voice, and laid one band gently upon his arm as be paused beside her. There was something in her eyes that held his attention. (To be continued.. A Korean Prison. In an entertaining article on Korea? the country which Russia covets and which Japan must have?the Rev. Robert E. Speer ha* this to say upon the prisons of that half-barbarous land: "The gate was wide open and the courtyard was full of prisoners, and the surrouuding buildings were old and tottering. I asked the chief, whom one of the two or three listless j attendants called for us. why the pris- I * ? ?* ?. ? ?AK Ko ro. oners UIU UUl ruu ana;. uu, ui .V piled, 'they would be caught and beaten again and kept longer. Now they will get out soon.' But a* I looked at them I saw that they did not run away because they cculd not The life was beaten out of them. The keepers brought the heavy red cord with a brass hook at the end nnd trussed up a man with it to show how the beating was done, and then brought us the stiff rods with which victlnm were pounded over the shins and thighs until the beaten spots were simply masses of festering rottenness. There was a room, black, foul, leprous, in which the men were fastened In the stocks, The Black Hole of Calcutta was scarcely less merciful than this.*'?Leslie's Monthly. Sustained Piano Notes. An apparatus lias been Invented which is designed to sustain the notes of tbe piano as in the flute or violin. A row of delicate electrical contactl Is connected with tbe keyboard and with a row of little electro-magnets in front of tbe strings, so that wbile any key is pressed tbe corresponding magnet keeps its strings in continuous vibration with flutelike effect A knee swell throws the attachment into ac*'* "* ? ***' *** t ?* ?/\0 Hft/l uuu. aim w ui'u iui? is iiui uviu? |nv??vu tbe piano has its usual tone. Tbe suggestion, says Science Sittings, seems to open up a patb for other new inventions. "Flossie, If you and Harry can't stop quarreling, I shall not let you play tea-party any more." "But tbis isn't a tea'-party, mamma. We're playing married, and Horry is finding fault wltb my cooking."?Philadelphia Bulletin. ^ . t ,n.- . i.t, f?*S ^ AND 0? WBi New York City.?Old rose and black: dotted cballle Is here attractively trimmed with saffron lace. Tbe back of tbe wrapper Is in priu WRAPPER, WITS CIRCULAR FLOCKCI. cess style, giving long, graceful lines. wblcli are universally becoming, extensions added at each side of the centre back are arranged In underlying pleats, which arc flatly pressed. A pointed yoke facing of Inserted tucking Is applied back and front. Tbe full fronts are gathered and arranged at the lower edge of the yoke. A bertha of challle, trimmed with lace. Is used to finish the yoke back and front, extending out over tbe sleeves in a becoming manner. A bow of black velvet ribbon with long ends Is fastened at the point where tbe bertha meets. The full fonts hang loosely from the | FANCY WAIST WITH YOK] I i I joke to the floor. A plain lace collar | complete* the neck. The sleeves are I the latest bishop styles, nttea wnu inside seams only. They have comfortable fulness on the shoulders and are gathered at the lower edge, drooping stylishly over the pointed lace cuffs. The flounce is circular, shallow in front and graduating toward the back. It is trimmed with a band of lace and flares gracefully at the bottom. The flounce may be omitted if preferred.) The bertba may also be dispensed with, as shown in the small illustration, leaving a very plain wrapper, suitable for morning weur. The flounce may be applied or finished to form the lower portion of the wrapper. This method is preferable for wash fabrics. Mercerized cottons, gingham, lawn, dimity or pcrcale may be made up in this style, with embroidery or fancy tucking for trimming. It is also appropriate for cashmere, Henrietta, nun's veiling, albatross or French flannel. To make the wrapper in the medium size will require seven yards of fortyfour-inch material. An Exqilill* Toilett*. The lovely toilette shown in thr large drawing is made of Landsdowne I _ .i.i.ut. if hinn with trim Ill U uraiaic ouuuc U4 wi?*\ ? ...... niiug of Luxeull lace. The waist bos for its foundation a glove-fitting feather boned lining which closes in the back. The front has a deep yoke and rest of lace, while the material is draped softly across the bust and drawn together with a large rosette of black chiffon. The back Is arranged in two deep pleats which extend from shoulder to belt in V-shaped outline. A plain lace collar completes the neck, and the waist is finished with a narrow black velvet belt that fastens with a turj quoise buckle. The fancy sleeve has a fitted lace cap on the shoulder to which the full | bishop sleev is applied. It is gathered top and bottom and finished with a deep lace cuff. The skirt is shaped with five wellproportioned gores that fit smoothly around the waist and over the hip* without dart*. The fulness in the centre back is arranged in a deep pleat at each side of the closing. The flounce is quite deep. It flares gracefully at the floor and has a slight; sweep Id tbe back. Lace applique trims the upper edge of tbe flounce. Attractive gowns in this mode arc made of crepe de cbine, foulard, Louis* Ine, liberty satin or veiling wltb applique velvet ribbon, lace or cblffon rucbingi for decoration. Tbe style is especially appropriate for these soft, clinging fabrics. To make tbe waist in tbe medium (tlze w111 require two and one-quarter yards of twenty-two-inch material, with one yard of all-over lace. To make the skirt in the medium size will require six and one-quarter yarda of forty-four-lnch material. Tbo Heir* Stock Colter. French knots in white or pink an sprinkled as a border decoration to the "bishop front tabs" of n fashionable stock collar. Tbe lone pieces start directly from tbe top of tbe collar and fall straight down, as long again as tbe neckband. Tbe upper bishop and tbe neckband are both made of black moire. Tbe French knots make a running border on the lower edge of tbe moire turn - over. There are pretty stock ties in taffeta with stitched turnovers. in crepe de chine, with vertical or horizontal tucks, aud also in chiffon. bat the moire stock collars are quite tbe "dernier cri." Chiffon Applique. There's always a place for tbe chiffon appliques, even though we have seen them before. Quite tbe latest is an or* chid pattern in black chiffon, richly embroidered in rose, turquoise, greens, gold and tinsel. Taffeta appliques are In demand, too. Black Velvet Ribbon ia Efidrac*. Black velvet ribbon is quite as much In evidence as ever, appearing in every possible mode of using it, and especially as a decoration on black net gowns. la S AND FIVE GORED SKIRT. A Bright-Green Parasol. One brigbt-green parasol baa a green stick of wood, and dotted on toe top two or three small shamrocks Id gilt MIiki' Bloate Eton. f Jaunty jackets In this mode are usually accompanied by skirts of the same material, and are especially attractive when worn over shirt waists of contrasting color. As illustrated, the Eton is made of dark red cheviot with a rolling collar of ivory peau de soie. It is simply adjusted with shoulder and underarm seams. The back fits smoothly across the shoulders, and has slight fulness at the belt. The fronts fasten in tbe centre with small silver buckles. A plain rolling collar completes tbe neck and forms long narrow revers in front. The regulation coat sleeves are sh.inpf] with iinuer and lower portions, have plight futures on tbe shoulders, and flare in hell effect at tbe wrists. When tbe jacket is intended to be worn open to tbe belt tbe collar may be omitted and the fronts finished with an inch-wide band of moire placed directly on the edge. In this case tbe belt and sleeve trimming are also of moire. Stylish blouses in this mode may be 1 made of broad or ladies' doth. Venetian, covert, serge or heavy wash fabrics. such as linen, duck and pique. I A JACXTT ETON. To make tbe Eton for a miss of fourteen years will require oue and onequarter yards of forty-four-ineh material. with tlirec-ejghtli yard of contrasting material for trimming. DR. CHAPMAN'S SERMON ! i A SUNDAY DISCOURSE BY THE NOTED \ PASTOR-E VANCE LIST. j i ' tyect: The Bow la the Cloud?A Gospel I Mttuft Filled With Sweetness and < Help?In Thin World at Be?t Wo Get 1 Only the Half of Thins*. j [The Rev. .J. Wilbvr Chapman, D. D., ia i now the moat dibiinguiiihcd and best known evangelist in tbe country. He waa 1 second only to Dr. Talmage, but since tbe i 'Heath of that famous preacher Dr. Chap- i man has the undisputed poAscssion of the i Pulpit as the preacher to influence tbe i plain people. His services as an evangel- : jat are in constant demand. Hia aermona ] have stirred the hearts of men and women i to a degree unapproacbed by any latter day divine. J. Wilbur Chapman was born ' -- n-L 1 T 1 I Vf 1 OKA n. 1 in rvicuiuunu. iuu., uuiic u, io*w. uc ** educated at Oberiin College and Lake For- I eat University, and graduated for the min- I iatry from the Lane Theological Semin- < ary, Cincinnati, Ohio, in 1882. His sermons are simple and direct, so that their ' influence is not so much due to exciting < the emotions as to winning the hearts and i convincing the minds of those who hear him. Dr. Chapman is now in charge of ] the Fourth Presbyterian Church, New ] York City.] New York Citt.?The following sermon ] is one prepared for publication by the Rev. J. Wilbur Chanman, America's bestknown evangelist, who is now preaching to I overflowing congregations in this city. It < is entitled "The Bow in the Cloud," and ia < founded on the text, Genesis 9: IS, "I do set My bow in the cloud, and it shall be i for a token of a covenant between Me and < the earth." It mav seem at first thought as if thia ! were a queer text to choose from which to 1 give a gospel message, and yet all the works of God are so wonderful that one has but to get the key to unlock the door leading into them to find them filled with ' sweetness and with help. The rainbow ia ! no exception to thia rule. It ia hardly possible for one to look upon the bow that spans the clouds after a storm without an 1 exclamation of deligbt. One would think that it would grow monotonous, for we hare seen it so many times, but quite the opposite ia true. Sunsets differ; they are as unlike as two things could possibly be. Indeed, it must be true * that one is never like the other. But rainbows are alw&ya the same. And yet in spite of thia we are charmed as we look, and inspired as we atudv. The first mention of a bow ia in the text. It is not said that thia ia the first time the rainbow baa appeared, for from the very nature of the caae it haa always been in existence since the worlds began to be, but thia is said to be the first use of it. The last mention of a rainbow is Revelation 4: 3: "And He that tat was to look upon like a jasper and a sardine stone; and there was a rainbow round about the throne, in sight like unto an emerald." You notice that the expression used is "round about the throne, and here for the first time we find a rainbow in a complete circle. We hare only seen the half of it here, which is surely an illustration of the fact that in this world at best we only get the half of things. We only get the half of truth. Take the great doctrine of the Atonement; who is able to understand it? But it is very helpful to know that we are not obliged to understand it, but only to receive it. God is satisfied with it, and He fully comprehends it, and when we stand with Hint in glory we shall see the other half of the bow, and our hearts shall rejoice. We only see the half of life here. At its best it is a mystery. Over and over again, when we wanted to go to the right we were compelled to torn to tbe Jett, and a thousand times because of our perplezities and trials we hare cried aloua: "How can these things be?" But we must learn the lesson that we must trust Him where we cannot understand Him. Tbe day will come, when < seated at His feet we shall see the other half of the bow of our life, and we shall know indeed that all things have worked together for good. The last mention of the bow in Revelation tells us that it is to be like an emerald. This is certainly very strange, for one has never beheld a green rainbow here. Six other colors must oe added to it to make it complete. The color, however, is not without its suggestiveness. Green is the color that always rests the eye. It is for this reason that tbe hillsides, tbe waving uraucucs ui tut un, >u? >? t>.? beneath our feet, are so restful on a summer day. Ia not thia a hint that heaven ia a place of reat aa well aa beauty? There arc three primal colors in the rainbow, red, yellow and bite. If you drop the red and put the yellow and blue together vou have green aa a result. Red is the color of Buffering. Surely it ia a hint aa to the thought that when one passes through the gates of pearl he leaves Buffering behind him. There is to be no red mark in heaven. Chriat finished His sufferings unon Calvary, and never a pang shall meet Him again. We finiah our sufferings, too, when we say good-bye to this weary road we have traveled, and the gate of heaven that shuta us in shuts suffering out. I?THE CLOUD. We know what the cloud was for Noah J for this teit which I have quoted has to o with him), and a cloud in Noah's day was not unlike the cloud of yesterday: , but in the thought of the sermon the cloud ' is sin. It would make one heartsick to read the history of sin. First, in the world, begin- 1 ning with Adam, going to Noah, reaching ! the howling mob about the cross on Calvary, coming down to the present day, trk*n tho tvhn'r world seems to be touched f with its power, the roost terrible thing in i the world is sin. Second, in the home, i blighting and blasting that which is a 1 tv^e of heaven, and wrecking that which God meant to be * safe vessel to carry us ' through the turmrtls and strife ever round i about us. Third, in our own heart, giving j m wrong conceptions of God, and drag- j ging ufl toward hell, even against our will. , The blackest thing in all the world i* sin. < The oloud docs two thinpc (1) It ob- | scures the sun.^ The cloud of sin does the j same thing No one ever yet has had a i true vision of Jesus Christ with the least ] particle of ?in in his heart or life. "Blessed | are the pure in heart, for they shall see f God." , A poor fellow converted in one of the j missions in Chicago, who was thought before his conversion to be hardly worth the ] saving, was so wonderfully transformed ] that a committee waited upon him to find , the secret of his changed li!c. He answered j r,..?J?in iiur <ITW? ?j?ntpnce! . "I have *een Jeiius." i This vision ever change* the life and ( transforms character. ] (2) The cloud compels u# to gee thing* in a false light. God made the work* of Hi* hand* to be seen in the sunlight. We must not judge them unier the cloud. And with the cloud of sin across a man's mind he can have no real conception of the < Bible; he must certainly be prejudiced \ against the church. Scatter the darkness I that hovers over your mind, and the Bible i will become to you the very thought ot c God. while the church will compel your ad- i miration. I II.?ACROSS THE CLOUD GOD CAST ' HIS BOW. To see a bow three things are necessary. , First, there must be a cloud; we certainly | have that in the world'c sin. Second, the | sun must be shining; we have this condi- * tion met in the fact that God is light, and . in Him there u? no darknesat all. Third, : the rain must be falling. We have this in . Itaiah .V5: 10. II?"For as the rain coincth - - > i down, and the ?now iroin neaven, ana returncth not thither, hut watereth the ? earth, and niaketh it brinfc forth and bud. that it may give need to the sower, and J bread to tbe fater; no shall My Word bej J that goeth forth out of My mouth; it shall not return unto Me void, but it shall ac- ' complish that which 1 please, and it shall r prosper in the thing whereto I sent it." Or, we might put it?first, in order that ' we may be saved, we must acknowledge 1 ourselves to be sinners. This is the cloud. * Second, we must have some conception of ' Hod'* hatred of sin. Thin is the light. 1 Third, we must he persuaded that He loved us and pave Himself for us. This is the rain. With these conditions met. the bow of promise spans the cloud of a ?inful r life. I IIL-TITE SEVEN COLORS. r 1 If I should bold a crum in mr bud and d 1 ? t . m :be light of day ahould touch it, there irould be refracted at once seven colony ii follows: Red, orange, yellow, green, >lue, indigo and violet. There never ha* 1 Men a rainbow in this world bat tbeee iave been aeen in more or leas prominence. fn my messairc now. the priam is the crtm, ind the light ia God'a truth. Aa it strike* thia long priam it breaka up into aeveaxtlora. The seven together give oa the ambow. ! First, forgiveness. Paalm 32: 1.?"Bleased | a he whose transgression ia forgives, * Those sin ia covered.' ) The word forgiven means taken off. (Vhat a wonderful thought it ia! Ob, rhat a load of ain we ha<f to carry! How t did weigh us down! How day and night ire went crying aloud, saying, "Ob, nretched man that I am. who shall deliver ne?" Resolution never lifted it a particle. Reformation only seemed to make it heaver. Then He came, and stooped down, or whispered to ua just one sweet word, 'Forgiven!" and when we realised it the burden waa taken off. To receive all of thia we have but to yield to God. Tryiof to make ourselves better only adds to the :Ioud and deepens our despair. "" ' ?- ? D-.I in. ine acconu coior im uoiuiu|. * wmi ?t> 1?"Purge roe with hvinop. and I shall be lean; waah me, and I tha.ll be whiter than i mow." The little bunch of hyssop carries as back to the Pas?over night, when the iamb was slain and its blood collected. It araa not said that one should take a brush, bat a bunch of hyssop, and dip it in the blood and sprinkle the posts of the door, rbe commonest thing that grew in tbo Bast was hyssop. It represents faith. One ' '1 1 1 a. Had DUl to iwp 10 me aoor 01 vac wiw|* md stoop down to pluck a bunch of hv* id)). The commonest thing in all this world is faith. We have faith in eacb other, whether we express it in this wortf or not; and the fsith that one has in hit mother, in his father, in wife or husband, if turned toward Jesus Christ would save his sou). It is one thing to be forgiven, but the color deepens, and the truth sweeten* when we know that because of the shed blood of Jesua Christ we may be made clean. "The blood of Jesus Christ Hit Son cleameth us from all tin." / The third color is justification. Romans 4: 25?"Who was delivered for cur an/1 m niuH *0.1 in far our ill*. tifi cation." One might be perfect'* rare of his forgiveness. and know that it meant *in? taken off, and might be confident of hit cleaning, but there in the memory of th? old life of failure which is erer to nim like a nhackle when he would run to God. Justification i* sweeter by far than anything we have yet learned. When Christ ros# for our justification He stood before God as a kind of receipt (as John Robertson has said), and when God looks upon that receipt He knows the bill is paid. "Jesus paid it all. All to Him I owe. Sin had left a bitter stain, He washed it white as mow." But justification is even better to ma than this, for when one is justified befor* God he actually stands as if be never bad inn A/) The fourth color i??sins covered by the sea. Micah 7: 19?"He will torn again, He will have companion upon us; He will tubdue our iniquities; ana Thou wilt cast all their sins into the depths of the mi." lM It is very comforting to know that there arc some depths in the ocean so deep that they can never be sounded. Our sins must have gone as deep. There is also another thought of comfort; if a body is cast into the ocean where the waters are not very deep, when the storms come and the ocean is in a fury, the storm, as if with giant hands, takes tM I dead body and casts it upon the short. But there are depths in the sea so great that no storm that has ever yet swept acroea the face of the deep has stirred the waters. Tfaanks be unto God. our sins may be sunk so deep in the sea that they will never be cast up against us again. The color deepens and the truth grows sweeter still. The fifth color ie?sins removed. Psalm 103: 12?"As far as the east is from the mm tmr hath He removed our trans* gressions from us." It has been proved that the distance from east to west could never be measured. This is certainly inspiring. Bat there i? something better for me than this io the fifth color, for when I am told that my sins are as far from me as the east is from the west I know that the east and the west can never be brought together: nor can the saved sinner and his perdonea sins ever meet again. The sixth color is Isaiah 44: 22?"I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and, as a cloud, thy sins; return unto Me, for I have redeemed thee." A man cannot blot out his own fins. ' Some have tried il with their tears, and have lost their reason. Some have at* tempted it by works of mercy, and have Siven up in despair. But God can easily o it. For sins to be blotted out may mean the same as for man's account to be blotted out. I may have a bill charged against me on the books, but if on the ojh posite side is credited a sufficient sum of money to meet the indebtedness, it is blotted out. But the expression must mean mors than this. It means that when one's sins are blotted out by God they are as if thev never had been. T)i? >*v?nth color seems the climax of all. Ezekiel 33: 16?"None of hi* tin* that be hath committed shall be mentioned unto him; he hath done that which ia lawful and right; he shall aurely live." We have an idea that, although our ain* have been forgiven and we may have been juatified, when the great day of judgment comet we may be obliged to meet them all again. But this ia not true. Once and for all hath He put awiy mn by the sacrifice of Himnetf, and the sina of our lives shall not again be mentioned to ua. IV.?GOD'S COVENANT. The Low wa? God's covenant then. Now God's covenant in Hi* Word, and upon thia Word we ma> depend. Notice the number of times God uses the expression, "I will," in Exodus 6: 6-8: "Wherefore, say unto the children of Israel I s.m the Lord, and 1 will brinjt you out from under the burdens of the Egyptian*. and I will rid you out of their bondige, and I will redeem you with a stretched out arm. and with great judgments; and I ivill take you to Me tor a people, and I will be to yo?l a <5od; and ye shall know that I lm the Lord your God, which bringeth kou out from under the burdena of the Egyptians. And I will bring you in unto Lhe land, concerning the which I did swear to give it to Abraham, to I.?aac and to lacoh; and I will give you it for an heritage: 1 am the Lord." He ever wait* to till the covenant which He ha* made with Christ concerning ua. If we would have the joy ox saivaiion, ?c need but two thing*; first, we miut believe God: whatever our feeling* may be, ixe must believe; second, believing God, ne must act a* if we believed Him. The >ne give# us life. The other give* ua joy in ife'a poMC-Miion. Tlie Gate of Childhood. The gate of childhood face* the aunriact The gate of manhood lie* under the midlay ?un. The gate of old age "looks toward Kunsi-t ' indeed, but it ia a aunaet hat carne* with it the promise of an imnortnl d.v. They are all beautiful sate* >f life. \Vhich ia the moat beautiful we vill not venture to say till we see them all roni the higher atandpoint we hone to each by and by. But even here and now ild age, with all ita infirmities, baa it* deasing* which youth and manhood cannot ?... t.n iii,,f mm tlirouih the gate?the iUUW ISII r ? _ leasing of reat after toil, the blewmg of .wcet companionship with tho*e with vhom we have p.-u?ed through all the beauiful gate*. the living over again with them he bcene# of the pant to which "distance end* en'lnntment," the looking forward n g?riou? hope to higher fellowship vherc youth i* renewed a* the cade'*, rheve ar.d the like lift the Window from ?ld age, and let God'* ?un?hine in to irighten and warm. Hut thi* implie* u oueh of the healing hand. And now et.?:_it? l.f,.'* moraine. the help ia wriujj*, - - > # % lone the leu*, but ail the more divine if Jt onus tlirough the eve, the heart, the hand if affection and faith mingled, agisting ua enderlv and lovingly to rise up above the gathering mint* and bhadotv*. and paM ruxtu.glv through one more beautiful gate o the other man*ion*.?Rev. \V P. Tilden. Th? Prfirnrf of Cod.""* It i* not enough to sigh for the enlargene.it of our life; we mu?l offer the next Kftition for the prenence cf (!od. W? nivt work and pray.?Rev. R. L. Rule Ipb, >'ew Yoik City.