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II THE I || By Prof. Win. Henry ft I ' Author of fte^jSfcwe-Qgtti CHAPTER V. Continued. "The strongest in tbe world. Lake," laughed Nancy. Kate Elgin stared with surprise. This was tbe first time she bad ever beard Mrs. Harker, tbe housekeeper, peak in sncb familiar terms to her uncle, and she felt her heart aink mm she noticed It. "I am now about to visit your father," said Hammond, as he advanced towards the door. "Mrs. Harker," he continued. MI need not advise yon to converse as little as possible with our fair prisoner. 8be she a sharp tongue, and a shrewd brmlo to back It 8be knows how to pat black and whlta together, and make gray." "Never fear, Luke," said Nancy. -I know what 1 am about as well as you 4o. Send Daniel here as soon as you can spare him." "For your treatment of my poor father," said Kate, darting a glance of abhorrence at Hammond, as be opened the door, "God may pardon you, but 1 cannot" "Ho!" laogbed Hammond, with his dry, cruel mockery. "You look like a queen, and use a queen's language. I think Elisabeth of England made tbat remark, and tben died of grief. Perhaps you may survive It." He nodded bis long, soaklsh looking lan?ha?t train anil lip. Ml.AU ifUivai/! MW5HVW ~ parted for the crimson chamber, leaving Nancy Harker eyeing Kate Elgin, as a she-dragon might eye an enchant* ad lady. CHAPTER VI. LOB HAMMOND'S VILUUXT. Upon entering the crimson chamber. Hammond found Mr. Elgin bound as he had left him, bnt conscious of where lie waa and of what had lately transpired. Daniel had just ceased to bathe the . Invalid's sunken temples, and retired aloof as Hammond, placed a chair, facing Elgin, and srt down. The eyes of the invalid and bis tyrant met in one long, searching gaxe; tut* Hammnnri ilMnltf> hi* hardihood. was the first to tarn bis face away. There was a dignity of unspoken reproach and scorn in Elgin's dark and still brilliant eyes that made Hammond dwindle to a meagre meanness, even in bis own callous mind. "You bare some shame still left in that miserable soul of yours." remarked Bgin. **I have lived nearly fifty years. Lukt-IfaDnmond. bat, by the heaven sffiove us, you are the moat contemptible knave unhanged." "Thank yon. Elgin," said Hammond, te a cold, unmoved voice. "You are sight Co use your tongue, since It must need exercise after so long a repose." "Incredible!" ejaculated Elgin. "This monster sneers at the misery be has caused! To what extreme of base barbarity will your cruelty reach?" "To an extreme. Henry Elgin, that shall compass my purposes." replied Hammond, with a face grown atern and bard in an Instant "When I swear to you. Luke Ham Bono," muq ugutt in t iuue am uiumIble as that of his tyrant, "that after a year of your torture and villainous treatment, yon are aa far from gaining your purpose aa ever, cau yon still retain a hope of moving me to become an instrument of your avarice, crime and Infamy? No! Let my flesh rot from my bones, my bones molder to dust before your evil eyes, if you will, bat never hope to accomplish your purpose. "Bah! Words and wind, Henry Elgin." said Hammond. "I shall tame you yet. There are other levers than Imprisonment that I may use to move you." "You are capable of torturing me? aavage that you are!" exclaimed El*in. "It would be useless to torture tbe body of a man like you, Elgin." said Hammond, opening a pen-knife and paring his long, claw-like nails. "Daniel, you most be tired. It Is after twelve o'clock. Send Stephen here, and do you go to bed. See that the doors and windows are nil secure, and Corn the dogs loose In the front and ?ar." Daniel nodded, and departed in alienor Luke Hammond then drew his ?hair nearer to the invalid, and continued: "To torture your body, Henry Elgin, would only harden your mind, for you are as obstinate as any martyr ever burned at the stake. But now that you have your reason again. I think 1 lay move you by torturing your soul." "Villain." wild Elgin, "to bear you, ?oe would think you had not already tortured both my soul aud body! Have you not wasted my body by your drugs nd this Incarceration? Is it no torture to keen a man sick. weak, half-starved ^ Is It no torture to rack a mau's body and mind with insult*, bonds and blows, uutn bin reason reels, falls and lies dead, for sis long mouths? Out upon you. and may God's wrath burl jou to perdition!" "You bare a daughter. Henry Elgin." "I bave? heaven bless her!" exdalmed the Invalid, fervently. "And ay tjeart beats as in the good, bappy days of health, since my eyes bave seen her?since, by her agitation on teeing me. I know she bad no share In y misery. Wretched man! you had almost made me believe that Catharine Elgin countenanced this brutality to secure tbe estate! Dog! 1 know now jon Hed!" Haiumond grew pale with rage and bame as Elgin went on. "For six months after I found myself in the white and gold chamber, you told me my daughter, having learned how I bad disposed of tbe estate, consented to my imprisonment until 1 ?bpnH secure tbe property to you and \MMOND,' ) 4ISER. I fc% *%% 1% %% r%% >%% "%% 1% %% r%% 9%(% D TWZmW^mWZmW^fW^fW^^W^fW^m^mmWSWZmW^mWZmmm ?ki I Copyright 1M? I @ j ^ i by Bossbt Bosm'i Son I g ? Marietta twrwi) J 1 to ber. For months I would not believe It possible that a child could so treat a parent But you, that woman Nancy Harker, Daniel, Stephen, all joo allowed to approach me, said it was true; and the thought, the horrible doubt, preyed upon my mind until reason lied from the torment You and your creatures lied, Luke Hammond." "Henry uigin,' uiu jaaumjuuu, "your rage it a sclera. Yon know I deceived yon; your daughter now knows that I deceived her. When you, two yeara ago. told me that yon intended to make a will leaving nearly every dollar of the wealth yon enjoyed to James Greene?" "Aye." Interrupted Elgin, bitterly, "yon know the name at last! I then thought my brother-in-law?my friend ?thought him anything hut a blackhearted scoundrel; and I wished to do tardy Justice to James Greene, whose father I bave wronged, and to whom by right all tbe wealth in which 1 moved belonged. That my daughter should not suffer by tbe act 1 had pretended not to see her growing lore for James Greene, and used many plans to encourage, while seeming ignorant of it I withheld this acheuo from your knowledge because 1 knew you were desirous to see Catharine El?waot* ?An * n nrf Atfoom. gill uie wut VI ;?yi *w**i ?U lng you, I disliked to wound you by rejecting the suit yon urged in the name of your ion Charles. I feared, toot that you might attempt, even succeed In checking the love I saw growing In my daughter's heart for Jamea Greene. Therefore, was lie never Invited to my house, and so you never dreamed of the attachment." "I would have crushed It If I had." said Hammond. MI would have used any meana to create dislike or contempt In Catharine's mind. As for Jamea Greene?well, he should have been provided for. But I have learned the affair thoroughly now. Henry Elgin. But to review the past, all unexplained to you, and that you may know wliat a man I am to deal with, let me continue. ' When I found that you intended to leave your property to James Greene?" Henry Elgin again interrupted him with: "I never mentioned his name. 1 told you there lived a man whose father I bad wronged, and tbat when 1 died that man should be made rich? that nearly all my property should go to him. And I told you this, hoping you would give up the thought of trying to bring about a match between my daughter and your son. I feared to tell you the name of that young man, lest you might learn alL I was a fool to tell yon anything, but I thought you wei* an honorable man. though I 'well knew you were a most avaricious and ambitious one. I cannot divine why so great a villain has not destroyed the will in favor of James Greene, or why Luke Hammond has not murdered me and forged a will In my name." "I will tell you," said Hammond. "After you told me of your Intention, I resolved to discover the name of the yoonf man you wished to make rich. This I failed to do?you held the secret well. During the whole of your imprisonment, you have never breathed his name. Falling to discover him, and being sure you had made a will, I resolved to?" Here Hammond paused, as if even his soul revolted from a confession that must lower him still more, if that were possible, in the opinion of his victim. "Poison me," said Elgin, calmly. "I have suspected it" "True. I resolved to remove you; that dying intestate, your only child would be beyond all dispute, heiressat-law." Mr. Elgin groaned in great bitterness of spirit For he remembered that during his first six months of imprisonment he had sometimes won. dered If hit child had not consented or helped to the deed. He had committed a great mistake in not having made her his confidant, when he saw that ahe loved James Greene. MI did poison you." said Hammond, in a low whisper, and aa pale as the sheets of the bed. "Ha, scoundrel! you confess It!" exclaimed Elgin. "What need to conceal it now? 1 tell you that you may know what a man I am." "A fiend! A demon! Satan himself, but no man!" groaned Mr. Elgin. "And in the white and gold room you alwaya hinted that my child had done it! Oh, God, hear my prayer, and burl Thy Just wrath upon tbe soul and body of this awful wretch!" Hammond smiled one of hla Icy sneers, and continued: "The drug I gave you worked slowly. You were ill. but never dreamed of dying. You were sitting in this room, little more than a year ago. amusing yourself with your paints and pictures, when a convulsion seized you." "1 rpmomhpr It n? If If htinnonoil yesterday," said Elgin. "This crimson chamber was my favorite retreat. 1 remember no more until I regained my senses in the white and gold chamber." "Yon exclaimed." said Hammond, "as you fell: 'Luke-the will?1 have done justice?you?seek It in?* and said no more. Your woids terrified ae, I had poisoned you for naught if you nan ten a win. rur mree unys you lay like one dead. I knew you were not dead, and by my authority, as your nearest relation in New York, save | your child, denied all approach to your apartment, excepting to one or two servants, who thought you dead. Your daughter, on hearing of your sudden death, swooned with the shock, and for two days and more I feared her grief would end her life." a "Poor, darhnj Kate-my unfortunate child!" sobbed Elfin. The cruel villain drew forth hli handkerchief and wiped away the Invalid's tears, for they seemed to ran from Henry Elgin's eyes to Luke Hammond's heart and then to torn to red hot coals of Are. "Go on, monstrous fiend!" said Elgin, indignant ant writhing under the touch. Hammond returned his handkerchief to his pocket, and continued: "Your doctor?the family doctorwas not summoned. I summoned a I physician?a man of high medical repu' tation, but much addicted to wine. Before he saw you I plied him with drink. He was intoxicated when he examined you. Hia certificate of death pronounced your end by spasm of the heart" "Villain! You told me my child had given out the report that I was madthat I was necessarily confined as a danserous lunatic in my own bouse? that she would consent to my freedom when I should have secured the property to her. And I?great God, pardon me for the injustice, I thought!? feared that if I did, she, Instigated by you, Luke Hammond, might?No! I never thought Catharine Elgin would consent to her father's death! Only in half delirium did I believe she knew of my situation." Hammond arose and paced the room to and fro to calm himself, for the sight of Elgin's anguish, though not a new thing to him. was harrowing even to bis hardened heart. Ho soon resumed his seat, and pursued: "Well, you were coffined, and in your coffin were seen t>y every servant In the house, by your daughter?she hurried away, unable to bear the grin of agony fixed upon your features." "Wretch!" cried Elgin. "You take a fiendish delight in dwelling upon her grief." ?# ?/>n* M?nH? uv TOtl Ji iXUJf Vi / VUt w ? through the glass lid of jour coffin," continued Hammond. "I stood near, as the throng of sorrowing friends passed around it one by one, and I confess that I trembled lest the drugs I administered might revive you too soon, or fall altogether. If you had revived, your first act would have been to declare the existence of a will, for which I had searched in vain. Had you died, I feared the will might be found by other bands and eyes than mine. Finally, the room in which you lay was cleared, that I and my assistants, Daniel and Stephen, might prepare the coflin for removal to the tomb.. Then you were lifted from the coffin and swiftly and secretly removed to the white and gold apartment, prepared for your reception. The coffin was filled with sacks of sand, and entombed in your family vault In Greenwood Cemetery. 1 assure you, your funeral procecslon was very large and numerously attended." "Horrible villain T* exclaimed Elgin. Hammond nodded sneeringly, and went on: | "Unfortunately lor my piuus, juu recovered your consciousness and bearI Ing before I suspected it. and overheard | me telling Mrs. Harker, whom I bad j just introduced into tbe bouse, to | search everything tor the missing will, and bring it to me that I might destroy it" , "I remember," said Elgin, "and your words put me on my guard, confused as 1 was; and when I opened my eyes, your first words were: 'You spoke of a will, Elgin; tell us where we may find it, for you are dying.' 1 called you traitor, and thenceforward you have known that I knew too much for the success of your villainy. Have you forged a will yet?" "No." said Hammond. "All my search after your will was in vain. I dared not forge one while that re* inained a hidden mine beneath me, mi?ht ?xnind? at anv instant I was ignorant of the date of your will? I feared yon might have executed It 01 the very day you were thought to die. Three of your servanta?I have dla* charged them long ago?told me you had called them into your studio?thia apartment?that very day, and signing your name to a document which you affirmed to be your will, caused them to affix their names as witnesses. I dared not forge a will." "I drew up the will myself." said Elgin. "Thank heaven you did not And itr "I fonnd It thla morning." "Ah! The powerii of darkness you serve aid you," groaaed Elgin. ' You talk too much," said Luke, placing bis finger on Elgin's wrist "You are already quite exhausted." _ To be continued. Booklet sad Newspaper. For a business enterprise which require* to be Introduced to tbe public by long explanations and descriptions an elaborate and costly booklet may be valuable as a form of advertising. It la impossible, however, to reacb everybody with such a publication without a liberal use of newspaper space to call attention to it. and even then there will be a very large proportion of the people who will never send for tbe booklet, and among them may be many of the particular persons it is most desirable to reacb. The news* paper, on tbe contrary, gets Into tbo hands of virtually everybody, and the expenditure of a sum equal to tbe cost of tbe booklets for newspaper space will accomplish more than the booklets can. Hsaill M Medicine. According to tbe Loudon Spectator, one of tbe current medical fads among ' M 1 I- /A1. lUe CiDgliSO lUUVIIUJi cius.->i'a is luc ?*/ lowing: Snails crawling up u church wall ure caught?those cruwliug down possess do virtue?placed iu a pau with a little water aud boiled, being stirred meauwbile with a quill plucked from a black crow. When the mixture has boiled down to the consistency of a salve it is ready for use. Wbeu rubbed on the soles of the feet it is a sure preventive of disease, being especially efficient in the case of what is locally known as "iiiuroocnz}-. n i? uisu valuable iu strengthening weak spines. Suails, whether raw or cooked is not evident, are also considered a valuable remedy for coniumptiou. Miss Singleton?"How lovely it must be when husband and wife are of one mind." Mrs. Wederly?"Well, my dear, it all depends on which one tbe mind belo^ss to."?Chicsjo News A SERMON FOR SUNDAY j AN ELOQUENT OISCOURSE ENTITLED i "POVERTY AND PIETY." f*h? R?v. Junta AUiiidur Jnklai flays j That the i'rrachlai of the Onlptl to { the Poor It an Evldeati of F?r-ltt*cb- , lug Merr) of Cod. ] New York City.?"Poverty and Piety" ] was the subject of thin sermon delivered by the Rev. James Alexander Jcnkin*. ( Bstor of Immanuel Cousrrt-pational Church. ! is text was chosen from Matthew xi: *>: "The poor have the gospel preached to , tbeni. The woids of our text constitute part of ' j the reply of Jesus to John when lie sent J ! two of His disciples with the anxious que*- , ' tion, "Art Thou He that should come or I ; do we look for another?" In this reply ' , the Master assumes that John ia familiar < ! ?-t -1 .? -r .1 l_ _r .L. ... 1 iwun mc runrHcirr 01 ;nc work di vuc ?pected One, bo H?- sets before the messen- ' gers His own work as meeting the reqnireI ments. The b'ind see, the lame walk, the ! | lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, tbe dead | are raised up. "the poor hare the gospel ' i preached to them." The preaching of the gospel to the poor may be regarded as only an evidence ot the < far reaching mercy of the great God, but ' it may also be regarded as testifying to the \ preparation of tne poor for receiving and spreading the good news from God. If ire , { believe in the fitting of means to ends in ' ; the world of nature, if we are upholders , of the great law of design, may we got with reaior :st that the Father through ' the course . je ages prepared certain of > the son* of men for lite reception of the < truth. If we concede this we behold in the preaching of the go*pel to the poor an ar| rangement of providence, a far reaching ; I plan of God. I The pa pen of the gospels reveal Jesus as , | the preacher to the poor. The rich He regarded as being for some reason lets fitted J I to be rhosen as pioneers in the work of es- | : tahlishmg His kingdom. Of tbe rich men of the New Testament, not Dives, not the ' ! rich fool, but the young man who came to 1 | Jesus with eager inquiry, may be regarded ' as typical in tbe mind of Jesus of the , ; hosts of the rich and powerful. Thinking , of him Jesus said: "It is easier for a camel j ' to go through the eye of a needle than for rich man to enter into the Kingdom 01 God." From this statement we naturally | infer that the absence of wealth or poverty I i* most favorable to the reception of *av! ine truth, to the entering of tne kingdom. Jesus Himself, coming as the founder of < . the kingdom of God, those the material ' npon which that kingdom shall be built. He did not preach to the poor because others would not hear Him. The influential He could have commanded, strength of arms He could have enlisted, wealth would | have served Him. But He chose, desired, determined, to preach the gospel to the poor. 8ays Dr.. Bushneii, speaking of the character of the ministry of Jesus: "He j adheres to the Door and makes them the cbjert of His ministry. And what is more peculiar, He visibly has a kind of interest , in their society, which is wanting in that of the higher classes, perceiving, apparently, that they have a certain aptitude for receiving right impressions which the others have not. They are not the wise and prudent, filled with the conceit of learning and station, but they are the ingenuous babes of poverty, open to conviction, prepared by their humble lot to receive thoughts and doctrines in advance of their , age/' With equal acumen does this great writer recognize the fundamental an<T distinguishing nature of the choice of Jesus, as contrasted with the teachings of the statesmen and philosophers who bad gone before Him. They began at the top, He began at the bottom, and s? His work, because it was true to nature, was lasting, abiding, eternal. The twentieth century finds society divided. as it has always been divided, into two classes, the rich and the poor. Civili zation has crept onward, chancing many things, but it has not removed the distinction between wealth and poverty. The distinction may be lew brutal, less crude, but it still exists, and the very refinement of the classification of men is often the cause of added bitterness. So to-day the student of men and events, whether lie be sociologist, economist or preacher, is confronted by the difficulty of adiosting one : part of society to another. We are constantly asking certain questions and clamoiing for a reply. Can the poor man secure a just share of the good things of earth? la it poniblc for him to get an education? Will society receive htm? And now, it seems, another question presses ( upon uu. What is the relation between poverty and piety? It would seem that the world, in anfwering this question, has lost sight of the teaching and practice of Jesus, for the conclusion usually arrived at is that the poor man is at a disadvantage in his struggle for the soul culture which every human being should desire. Many, listening to the reasoning of the world, have, because of their poverty, surrendered their religion, i deserted the church and rejected tne Christ. To them the Christian worker ha a : come to teem the advocate of impossibili- 1 tiea, but thia attitude of mind is not con- i fined to the aimple and unthinking, for we are reminded that even thoughtful writer* i aeem to assume the existence of a natural hostility between poverty and piety. Let us keep in mind the attitnde of the ; Lord Jesus toward the poor as He delivered His message, and let us, remembering i that. ai>k ourselves what that piety is, the relation of which to poverty we are to determine. Let us ask whether there is in ! piety any element to the producing of i which poverty is hostile, and-let ns find, on the other hand, whether it may uot be j possible that poverty assists the aoul in its endeavor 10 become the possessor of true piety. j Piety is not, primarily, something in the [ atmosphere; it is the rather something in the heart of nrtin. Among the elements which enter into it, a few of the princinal ones may be mentioned: Scnsitiven&s of things true, beautiful, good; receptivity, or tne ability to appropriate the good that appeals to the soul; power to apply the principles of truth; recognition of love ns i the great animating, sustaining, Godknowing principle. Let us see whether i poverty may not be an aid to the soul in its development alonz the linn indicated. i We may, I think, claim with justice that poverty render* the soul supremely sensitive to th?* best things. Poverty ia too frequently regarded as synonymous with pau- i per ism, and pauperism is th- embodiment of grim, unfeeling heedlessness. Pauperism is cold, indifferent, dead, but poverty i is warm, alert, alive. Poverty needs its , every faculty, it* every power. It must fisfit battles and anticipate the onsluught of unseen fees. It must read the sign* of ( the morrow in the evening uky and adant itself to sun and shoiver and storm. "The man with the hoe" is not the poor man, for poverty neither deadens nor brutalize*. , Were I to choose my illustration of hon ?st poverty I should find it in the humble toilers of "The Angelus." Clad in the roufjh garb of workers in the fields, holding hi their bands the cumbrous inst* 'meats of their daily toil, they are. nevertheless, keenly alive to the beauty, the poetry, the suggestiveness of the sounds wafted upon the gently stirring summer breezes. Truly typical are they, as with lowed heads I hey stand, of the Miccecdinx generations of God's poor, as, amid toil and tribulation, tb?-v seek to find the good, to know God. The sensitiveness of honest poverty! 1 see it in the little children of the rabble ax they followed Jesus through the streets of Jerusalem, and I see it in the children who ! to-day clutch the flowers carried into the homes of the poor by sweet charity. I see it in the seal, the devotion of the slaves who first heard the (>'ospi-l message, and I j tee it in the enthusiasm of the multitudes { who caught the inspiration of the Ke>iais, sauce. I see it in the fares of the "common j people" who "heard Him gladly," and 1 \ fee it in the fares of the lowly as they lis: ten to a (Jhiysostum or.a Moody. Disguise it a-, we may. deny it if we will. ' the soul of poverty has been the oue atj uned to catch the messages Kent from J heaven out of the heart of God. Wealth ?" Hmn fitriith.lt thn tnitfrriiI for nn Anaelo; it can only create the opportunity for u Snvonuroln; it can but provide .Trsus with the stage for Hi? sublime j activity. j Again, i* it not apparent that poverty I tend* to the development of the power o| receptivity? Hiphtiy understood poverty ia a wonderful aid to clear vision, enabling man to di*tin8ui*h between the esieniial and the unncceaMirr. It enable* it* pawes*or (not it* victim) to develop self rather than t" co'lcrf. "thine* " It enables Itini ;o see lu-' difference bctwcca "bavin::" cad "being." Wealth shouts: 1 have," but >overty whispers. "I sm." Poverty comet o know that onlr spiritual appropriation fives real ownership. This is one of ;he nessages of the old Eden story of Genesis, or God placed Adam in the garden as a wot worker. He was to till and to keep ;he place and only to enjoy so much of it im he made his own. The supreme joy of lis position was that through toil ho waa tble to look upon God and the good and nake them his own. In his sin he filled lis heart with substitutes for God. and hu? ?hut Him out of his soul. The return :o Ei!en is the return to simplicity and receptivity. It is the becoming sensitive incc more to the *ood and the taking in ol iruth. beautv. holiness. It m a false theory which assumes that the activity of poverty is due to recklessness that the poor may choose any course )f action, disregard any existing order, berate they have "nothing to lose." Even For the poor it is true that "life is more han meat and the body than raiment." The true cause for the activity of poverty is Found in the rugged strength developed by diversity, in the constant need for adaptation to the demands of the passing days, ind. finally, in the undving belief cherished tint there it "a good time coming" in the jo'den future. It u the tendency of wealth to be satisfied with things as thev are. industrially, lociallr, morally. Truth's cartoon. "An English Board Meeting," is startlinglv suggestive when applied to morals, as well as when applied to money. "Why," the aged ind wealthy directors of the great railway ire made to ask. "whv must tho publie in terfere with our business? Whv mutt in* rentors suggest new device*? What'* the jood of these innovation*?" The great labor saving idea* of '.he age have come into the mind* of the poor; they have been developed amid *uffering and stress, and they have been forced npon a reluctant world by men who cared more Tor progress than for ense. So it if with the men and women who, hungering and thirsting after righteousness, have become possessed of great moral ideas. The grasp of these ideas upon their own souls render* them unrestingly eager to tee them enthroned in the heart or the race. They are willing to fight seemingly hopeless battles. to champion despised principles, to advocate unwelcome truths. They know irhat they have believed, and their knowledge gives them willingness to utilize their bard earned strength for the education and advancement of mankind, and these champions of the principles of piety have been from the days of Jesus and from the apostolic times the sons ofpoverty. When in the days of primitive Christianity the gospel spread from Jerusalem, it was carried by the poor: when it laid siege to hostile lands, poverty fought for it; when it grew corrupt through the machinations of a wicked priesthood, poor men purified it, when in these last days it has become ready for world conquest, humble servants of the Kin* have been called to earry it. But we haTe said that piety hat n> one of ita important elements the recognition of love as the great animating and sustaining principle: this recognition poverty plcdly accords. When we are told in the text that the poor bad the gospel preached to them, we nave, as has been said, more than a mere statement of fact that Jesus dcliverrd sermons to multitudes of the needy: we have the implied declaration of a condition of understanding of sympathy, between His soul and theirs. Men who were dominated by selfish principles did not understand Him, for they were incapable of recognising lore as the supreme motive of a soul. Action, for them, was always dictated by policy, find they suspected a bidden motive behind the activity of Jesus. The Master declared that for a rich man to enter the kingdom is difficult. What did He mean? He doubtless considered the increasing danger of basing action upon false motive. He knew that it is the tend* ency of wealth to render action mechanical, careless, and. too frequently, heartless, that the rich man may give bis gold to "cbarity," while his heart is as flint; that be may support the gospel with his money while bis heart feels no joy in its message. But he knew that poverty rightly conceived tends to keep the bfe normal snd true to the true springs of action. He knew that the poor who heard Him when they gave their mites gave them because of love, for no other power could cause that to be sacrificed which represented bread, shelter, life. He knew that they were familiar with the ministry of poverty to poverty, and that they were able to grasp the significance of a ministry based upon simple, onselfish love. So He preached to them, unfolding His conception of the approach* ing Kingdom of God, the kingdom of love. Calmly He revealed to them a life which needed for its realization neither mighe no' mnn#v. Sweetlv He discoursed to them of tlio inward nature of the kingdom, of the hanger, the thirst, the meekness, the poverty necessary in order that men might posses* it, and they understood. Serenity of Cbsnrttr. Who does not love a tranquil heart, a iweet-tempered, balanced life? It docs not matter whether it rains or shines, or what misfortunes come to those possessing these blessinn, for they are always sweet, serene and calm. That exquisite poise of character which we call serenity is the last lesson of culture: it is the flowering of life, the fruitage of the soul. It is nrccious at wisdom, mvrs to be desired than gold? vea, than even fine gold. How contemptible mere money-wealth look* in comparison with a serene life?a life which dwell* in ihe ocean of truth, beneath the waves, berond the reach of tempests, in the eternal calm! How many people we know who sour their lives, who ruin all that is sweet and beautiful by explosive tempers, who destroy their f>oi?e of character bv bad hlood! In fact, it is a question whether the great majority of people do not ruin their lives and mar their happiness by lack of self-control. How few people we meet in life who arc well balanced, who have that exquisite poise which is characteristic of the finished character! "gnnahla*" la the Vale*. "It wasn't so much what she said as the way she said it." One often hears tome such remark, made in tones expressing varying degrees of indignation, grief, sneer, pleasure, content, resentment, accord* ing as "the way she said it" had stirred one or other of these emotions. Word* are mighty and once set forth cannot be recalled, but tones need just as rarcfu! watching, and often a sharp or contemptuous tone will rankle long after the woidf that went with it have been forgotten. Sometimes, on the other hind, a calm, cheerful tone, even though it only observes tome commonplace about the weather, help-? me out of a momentary dcpressi-m. In one'* own home esnccially should there always bo "sunshine" in the voice. There are many attractions of which most of us must be content to fall short. But a pleasant tone and a gentle manner of speaking is to be acquired by even* one who will firmly resolve that no harsh, querulous word* shall ever pass her lips. Gathering Blessings. This life is big with blessings, if we know the secret of gathering them. It is an art to push back the hard clods and find the matured gift of nature; or crush the burr in which in concealed the luscious kernel. lUe gilts wmrn *aw?i? imi .... .?. hang upon the boughs of each common day. and God's tender thought* concerning our higher Rood may he plainly read, if with earnestness of h?-art we but author His goodness out of the near-by treasure places of each passing duy.?Rev. I. M. Chamber*. Klgbt*oa*o*M Crr?t?i Hipplnm. A life of unselfish devotion to God and to righteousness is tiie unfailing secret of happiness. He who lives for himself alone will dwindle into miserable and petty insirnificance. He who lives to glorify God and ti make the world better and happier is sure to be happy. No one can prevent it. U'-efulnci# is true greatness and true gladness. If wc wish this to be r. happy tm-n l!ni' anil work His holv JC.H Ilk. uiu.. ...? . will. __ _ Think It*fore We Speak. I jet ux think before wo ?peak, *in*e the word* we munt sneak must enter into the life of the world ami m.-kc it worne or better, and if we err on either side, err in gentlencsa and tendernei>s and love.? The Rev. Dr. Savage. Ilappinr<>? Last*. Misery will not Saat? happinw* will, it only in remembrance. Mo pure joy, however Heeling, contain* any real bitleruca*, ' even when it is gone by.?D. M. Craik. ' THE SUNDAY SCHOOL 1 INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS * FOR MARCH 22. Subject. Pagl'i Smhc* to tb? Kphfilw. ' Eph.. II., l.lo? Golden Tazt. Kpli. It., 8 ? Memory Verse*. 4-7?Commentary om the Day's Uhod. 1. The children of wrath (v?. 1-3). 1. "And you.'' Ah Christ till* the whole body of Christian believer* with His iuine*? (chip. 1: 22). *o had lie dealt with the .-onverted Kpltesians who before wire dead in trt**|ms<** and sirs.* "Ouickened."' Made alive spiritually. "Derfa." See Col. 2:13. Death is oftin used by all writer* and m all ' nation* to express a state ot extreme nus- I " i? . 1 I ery. I in* r.pne**i<ii)f> uy iriDranruit i Dinning had brought themsefve# into ? I state oj deplorable wretchedness. a* had j all the heathen nations. and having that J mnned against Cod they were condemned \ * by Him and might be considered as "dead j in law." They were incapable of perform- I , ing any legal act and were always liable to t the punishment of death which thev had i * deserved and which was ready to be in- | i dieted upon them. They were incapable of j performing a holy act. Their bodies were [ the living coffins in which their dead *ou!? I were buried. "Trespasses and ?in?. ' j ^ j Trespasses may signify the slightest devia- | J tions from tke right; sins more habitual ; and daring transgression*. but the terms * run together in meaning. 2. "Ye walked." They had sinned ron- I tinually, not merely occasionally. They | lived in sin and followed the evil practice* I of the heathen world. True Christians ; ! separate themselves from the world (Rom. : 12: 2; 2 Cor. 6: 14-181 and do not conform ? to its sinful customs and practices. "Prince j ' ?air." This has reference to Satan, the I prince of devils. He is also "the god of I ? this world" 12 Cor. 4: 41. The air is repre- j " tented as the seat of his kingdom. The j j devil seems to have some power in the lower region of the air; he is at hand to > tempt men and to do as much mischief to | : the world as he can. We live in an atmos- i : phere poisonous and impregnated with J deadly elements. "Of the spirit." As the ; j Holy Spirit work* that which la gooa :n : obedient souls m> Satan works that which j I is evil in wicked heart*. He is prince of | j the spirit that, not only in Paul's day but ; 1 even now, "worlfeth in the sons of disobe- I dience." 3. "We also." Paul here changes from : I the second to the first person, putting bim- ' self in with those whom he has just de- I scribed. "All." Jews and Gentiles alike, j "Once lived." The R. V. brings out the j meaning. The word "conversation" is mis- j leading. The whole course of the life was wrong. They lived in sin and walked in | sin. and (in was interwoven in their very ' i being. "It tinged every temper, polluted . | every farultv. and perverted every transac- : tion of life. "Lu?t?." The evil, irregular | and corrupt affections of the heart. I "Flesh." The carnal, corrupt nature. . "Fulfilling." etc. They lived in the actual : commission of all those sins which their j corrupt natures inclined them to commit. "Mind." Thoughts; mental suggestions i and purpose* as distinguished from the ; blind impulses of the flesh. "By nature." Nature, in Greek, implies that which has grown in us as the peculiarity of our being, j cs distinguished from that which ha* been , wrought in us by mere external mflu- , ence*. Here is an incidental proof of the doctrine of oriirinal sin. "Of wrath." The , child of anvthing is one connccted with, 1 partaking of. or exposed to anything. The > children of wrath are those who live in open disobedience (v 21 and are thtis ex- . in u-rnth of fiod. See Rom. <r*o. - ; jj II. Salvation an act of divine mercy (v?. i 4-0). 4, 5. "But God." The apostle now , how* the glorious change that had been I wrought in them through the go*pel. j Three word# arc especially emphasized? ! God. mercy, grace. "Rich in mercy." God ! is rich in manv things besides mercy. He is rich in world*; He owns the sold and nil- > ver in a thousand hilis. as well as the cat- | , tie on them. But while n knowledge ol . j these riches is not necessary to our salva > ( tion. it ? necessary that we know about ' | the riches of His raercv. See Ex. 33: 19; j , Psa. 85: 10; Isa. 55: 7 and many othet < ( Scriotures. God is rich in pity and com j ( passion for the sinner. "Great love." His , , infinite love for us is the ground of our sal- j ( vation. He loved us and di?d for ut while , we were vet sinners. "Together with | Christ." God has given us as complete a j resurrection from the death of sin to a | life of righteousness as the bodv of Christ . has had from the grave. See Rom 8: 11. J j "Grace." Unmerited favor. Their salva- ! , tion was not of themselves (v. 8)?"not the | mere product of any natural abilities or j any merit of their own." neither was it by ( works (v. 9). but it was through the love, ! j mercv and grace of God. "Saved." Not ; merely saved from sin?justified and sane- j j tified?but gloriously saved from death, I , the devil and hell: saved to resurrection,: , Christ and glory, in the full view of the , endless ages to come. The?e people were , I saved at thi? time, and so we see there is | ! such a thing as salvation from sin in this , i i I''*- . I ! 0. "Raised?rit." Believers are citizens j of heaven and hare their places assigned | there, rvhicli thev will ?oon take possession J i of (Phi'. 3: 20. 21). But this may be un- > , derstood as referring to sanctifed souls in j this life Having been raised from the . death of sin. we enter into a heavcn!y , union n-ith Christ, and the soul is inde- j scribnhlv happy in His love. It is heaven j , 7-9. "Aces to come," etc. What God ' . had done for the sinner* at Ephcsu* would ] he nroof of His great goodness and mercy ( ] I and serve a* an encouragement to sinner* j in n'l age* of the world. "Through faith." > ( ! Faith is. I. The condition upon which we j are ?aved. 2. The instrument in God'* | hand* by which we are saved. S. The | mean* by which we continue saved. "Gift." i j That i*. salvation is the free ?ift of (Jod. j j "Boast." We could not purchase salva- ] i tion. we did not merit it. and eood work* ] j could not *ave us; therefore it i* not of j ourselves, and there i* no room for bo.i*t- | ] ine. "So completely i* salvation a divine ' | act that the man who refuses to accent it j on God'* term* must perish; there is no , | other wav." 1 | I IT. The Christian life a divine creation [ fv. 10). 10. "His workmanship." Instead ( of our being the workers. God is the work- ! j er and we are the workmanship?the fact ( j accomplished. "Created." The saved sonl j | is created anew?a new creation <2 Cor. 5: j 17; Gal. 8: 15; Foh. 4: 24). "Unto go->d , work* " "Though we are not saved for 1 | our good wck*. vet we are . saved that we I 1 mav perform good work* to the glory of | | God and the benefit of man " Oood work* . j are the fniit of faith. "Ordained?pre- j < pared " (Jod has not only 'reated u* anew ; | and given u* a love for eood works, but He 1 has actually "nrenared"' the works for ti* j ' to perform. "Walk in them." To do <?o;h| i work* will be the established order of out , live#. | j This Sideboard a Myth. | , Colonel Theodore A. liingiiam. fnpcrln- 1 ; tendent of Public Building* and t?ro:r ds. j at Wa.?hincton. states, after an exhaustive . < /nve.tigation, that the ?torv that a ! 1 sideboard presented to Mr*. Lucy Webb I Hayes by women of the Christian Temperance I'nion, ha* pa.s?ed into the hand* ?>f I a Washington saloon keeper is untrae. So J | far as can be learned no such sideboard j < was ever presented to Mr*. Hayes bv *he ( Women's Christian Temperanv I ni. r. ; ( nd of the two from the White House 1 ; which were recently sold at am ..on the 1 i t? i..; . ? i? I . only one noc^i.i in .1 ?.n"i.u . ..... obtained for the White House wipe Arthur wa* President. Another sidcboaid, bought carRcr, cannot bo located. Mammoth Hod Two H rains. The dinosaur whose mammoth skeleton is being articulated, had two net* of brain* ?one ill the head and the other ?ome sixty feet down the spinal column. The dinosaur, which u said to have lived !0,OOO.iRK) year* ago, was uticartbed by I'rofessor Kerrington and other *c!et?ti?ts in the coma beds of Wyoming la?t year, and ( ? is now beinjj mounted in Chicago at tnc 1 Field Columbian Museum. "It i? not un- 1 reasonable that such a mammoth being t as thi?i dinosaur should need two brains. I He is seventy feet long and weighed more | than twenty tons when he was olive," dc- t clarcs the Professor. 1 Colored Rain In Kne>an<1. During the storms that have prevailed in aeveral parts of Kngland the rain v. is ?!??*colored, apparently by volcanic dust. The downfall left a cravisn-brown sediment io j it milling the dvut thrown out by volcano**. IE RELIGIOUS LIFE EAOINO FOR THE QUIET HOUR |B WHEN THE SOUL INVITES ITSELF; p?i: ood'i L?t?-TIm VMk Tak?rtttk? ?f Kartk, Bat tk* I'oor la Spirit Inherit % I Htiuo-HamilltT Wnld Stem to Ba I a Olvlaa Attribute. Oh, walk with God, and thou ahalt find Bow He can cheer thy way. And lead thee with a quiet mind. Into Hia perfect day. Hia lore ahall cheer thee like the detr That bathe* the droopinf flower; That lore ia every morning new. Nor faila at eveninf hour. Tk* Iahnltan of tM Slagdaa. j "Blessed are the poor in apirit, far their* i the kingdom of heaven. Matt. 5: X thrift acts" forth what we are apt to con* ider aa the minor vihuea aa the eoodi* 1 tona of the major beatitndes. Our ea& 1 nate* of aoch tainga are often mistaken. 1 lumihtv, parity, peaceabVn?i Mai all of I than muf *Mm? M night mention. Yet tbeeeMttie tkinp to* ctner make the lun life tad character* lb* greatest joys of life are nude Bp of )]enure* ao small that, in the analysis of ' i happv day, we cannot always define aa Mulicalar part*. And a troiy great character ia aoch not because of some ImmeK J nominating virtue, bat becaoee of it* al? oost innumerable minute perfections. ? . The meek inherit the earth, bat the poor a spirit inherit heaven. The greater Mem og ia attached to the virtue leeet esteemed ?f men. What is it to be poor, in spirit! rhe poor in spirit are not spiritual)? poor. i man is not poor-spirited becaoss ne i? >oor in spirit. But it is that consciousness if our crm imnerfectiona, of oar own moral >overty and destitution, that we have no oeans to buy our way into heaven, nor any, Lttractirenene of oar own that would win is a war there, that we are each ee most* n moral and spiritual things, before God, land like suppKanta at the gate, unable .ither to take the kingdom by violence or. vf purchase, bat dependent on the won*' Iroas love and grace that will surely freely -? V. ?V- tU. tLaUi jITC kb IMP. Aiw uiau wwwm* wmm am h>v>?vm rithout early discovering how poor he i* n spiritual, morel, soul wealth. It is a >lewing to come to this self-knowledge. Fast u the gateway of confession of ignorince bes at the beginning of tha path of raowledge ao does conscious poverty of rpirit lie ao one of tha first steps that all he aona of God and inheritor* of the king* lorn must take. i The poor in apirit art humble in life. Hiey have seen themselves as God eeea :hem, and this humility is the first step oward their beine seen in aD tha glory of the likeneaa of His Son. Humility would teem to be a divine attribute, seeing, that' "i t ia aaid of Christ that Ha waa meek and- J owly, and of the Holy Spirit that "Ba J ihall not apeak of Himself." The heal M preparation for heaven will b* found in he practice of humiHty. and the best prse> ace of this virtue in the followiiK of tha Han who pleased not Himself, who mad* J Simself of no reputation and took apotif 1 Hi? .( . Mvant H But there is a falae humility of which w? | iced to beware. God doea not think anj fl he more of yon because yon tail Him that I iron are a poor miserable tinner: lb 1 mow* it without your volunteering the iaformation. He know* whether yon mead 4 it when yon aay yon are a poor worn of the dust. Perhaps it doea not pleaat Him.' , ] Dhriat came to eave men and women, not 1 to cave worms. If God haa mad* yea in ' Bis own likene** it ia not well to com para , it to a worm. Humility doea not need to - 42! rear a badge or to call itaelf name*. The joor in apirit may be the most dignified. leratcd in life; witnea* tba character of he Master?Ram's Horn. "L4K Ua Tall Jim." j The incident ia related of a voung ioas J irho was inclined toward infidelity, and. I ike other* of hi* age who bar* imbibed m iuch notion* be was more or lex* proud el M sis advanced ideaa. He took occasion oca V lay to go to the atndy of a minister ci bis fig icauaintance and state to him hir doubt* ind disbelief in Christianity, thinking, of rourve. that the minister would undertake in elaborate arcument to prove tlse truth B|f >f the Scriptures tod the reahty oc the re- Hi ipion founded on them. This wo aid fire Bfl um juat what be wanted?the opportunity to argue and combat. SH But the pastor, with a wisdom not bom V }f earth, uter listening: until he bad eott* :laded his harangue. said quietly: "Let us K tell Jesus about it, and dropped on hi* Iraces. The young would-be infidel was ffi mrprised into following bis example. As w the two knelt aide by aide the man of Ood V poured out his petition from a full heart j for the young man betide him, but without inv allusion to his condition of skeptical unbelief. He simply pleaded for him ui tinner needing salvation. The prayer was ^ Lnswcred. Before he rose from his knees ] the doubter doubted no longer. Instead, J be was convinced and converted, and ready ' bo ask, with Paul, "Lord, what wilt Thou , bave me to do?" The answer came, and that young man now preacbej the gospel be once sought to destroy with hia infidel urgumentj. The Mid-Continent, emphasizing the rag* gestivenes* of this little incident, says: A "There it the leason. Will sou]-winner* A learn it? Go tell Jena-tlone, if need be, with those you would win if you can?but^Bj tell Jesus, and aak of Him tba needed pace. It ia not argument with man that. B| s needed ao much u telling Jean*. Take. Him at Hia word, 'Ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you/ Go ani1 tell V Jesus." fl Have Faith la Cad. W Dean Farrar tells how an English clergy* B man visited two line ships about to aail oa jfl their voyage of Arctic discovery into the land of snow and darkness. He found tho brave captains full of confidence, and, raising his eyes in the cabin be saw there, .. it. 1.. M W? AiUiunv iM UIIIJ VI IWIVHt, ?M M ited text, which read, "Have faith in ^1 God." "Ah, there." he nid. pointing to &< text, "then ia the true pole. XmE The Christian Common wealth, of Los* Jon. referring to thia incident, atters eontt^H highly suggestive note* on the power of MB faith aa a guide to the Chriatian life. It^R > "We like to think of thoae gallant mes^EB uxrying with them into the cold and tmaJBBB sight that faith, that hope. It ia ? faitflH arhich will lighten their darkneaa mora^^H than the atari that glitter over the floea ofH ice. It ia hope which will make the hear-HjC ?n* glow with a more Tivid aplendor thftai WB the aurora which flushe* the fielda of enow. bD "Take with you that faith, that hope. You. too, may aai), hereafter, in yoor lit* tie boat of life, into the cold, into the boa* per. into the darkness, into the explore* H Fion of unknoTm hope*. Be sober. be vigi- HR iant. Have faith in God and in Hia Son, MM our Lord Jesus Chriat, and He will givw fou the victory. flag "We cannot see what ia beyond time and earth, but faith gives ua confidence in the unseen." Bifi Dtstiactloas Th?t Try. SB ft is hard to live calmly and work stead* HE Fly and connectedly in the midst of diatractions that try fiber and spirit, but men Jg rhap.'fd with large duties and much rt* HH spor.iiikility must learn to do it. Bethle* h<*m was peace, but the Babe become th? Teacher waa "a man of sorrows."?Ep? worth Era. 9K Vmt C* B# Thaakfal. L*?t n< be tharkful that our sorrow live# in us as an indestructible force, only changing its form and patting from ptit Hj '7^*1 ?the one word which in? BS eludes all our best insight and oar bfft love.?Georze Elliot. lislnstos's Blc Sra Wall. I The corncritonf of the $1 J00.(XW sea wall 19 it CJ.ilreston, Texas, has been laid with inposing ceremonies and a parade of citi:cns and marine* and olficer* from th- I ni* <d State* battleships at anchor in <be harbor. Tlie work on the sea wall has io?rt:.?j*<i most satisfactorily since its be* ;inuing, la?t Oetobcr. it v.ui oc vm mien !onn an<] give abaolute protection to the city, even from a ntagc of water equal io the tidal wave of 1000. nmw tor* ntj i ropaiAimn. The Health Department* estimate the prevent population of Sew York CitJ^BR is 3.732.903, to utcreoac of 283,701 sincS^H 19U0. __ _