University of South Carolina Libraries
% / LUKE H I THE i I j By Prof. Wm. Henry P jfl I Author of the "T5? Stone-Cut i ? of Lisbon," Etc. CHAPTER XIII. WARNING FROM THE DEAD. "You will listen patiently, now. Johr Marks," said Nancy Harker, -with f grim smile at his position. "As Luke Hammond will have mj life at hig command as much -when be fore me as there where he is," saic VCo.tro a o-hnatlxr smile. hrave ai luaiaa * QMv.v.v .. ? be certainly was, "I think I can under stand what you say much better witi cold iron further from my ears. A pis tol is liable to go off of Its own accord you know." Hammond came around to the front and sat down with the table betweer them, yet retaining the pistols read] for service. John Marks heaved a long sigh 01 Infinite relief, and nodded to Nanej Earker to continue. "Our child still lives, John Blarks?? grown-up man; your image, too, wher 1 last saw him. We?Luke Hammonc and I?alone can restore him to you but to regain your son, you must ac with us, and do as we shall dictate.7' "I agree," said Marks. "You hav< been deceiving me; but for the mer< hope of ever greeting a son, I will ac mn T.aot 1'nil tnld 1I1P VOl would need me in three days. Is thii the need you have of me?" "Not all?partly. I am glad you hav< come, however," said Hammond. "Ani now tell us how Harriet Foss tracec us to New York." "Give me some confidence, also,' said Marks, warmly. "Tell me whs this woman. Harriet Foss, so hates you both. She came to New York or the same steamer with me; I recog nized ber, and so she did me. She in quired very cunningly after you, bj the name you bore when you were hei sister's husband; but I could give hej no information, for I had been so long a convict that I had lost all trace ol you. She told me that, after I was transported for that unfortunate Durglary affair, some twenty-four years ago, you murdered her sister, then youi wife, and that she had sworn youi destruction. That at the time of hei sister's death she was in Paris. On hearing of her sister's death, she hast' ened to London, but was taken suddenly ill on the way; and when she reached the city, some weeks after, you had fled, having first converted all her sister's estate and your own into ready money, as well as having fleeced her, Harriet, of much of her own patrimony. She told me she and her sister were twins, and orphans at the time of your marriage to her sister; that she bad trusted you with the guardianship of her estate. "You will remember that Harriet was of a totally different temperament from her sister. Harriet "was quick, passionate, impulsive even to fierceness, You remember she shot and severely wounded an officer who trifled with hei affections." "What is her appearance now? Has ehe never married?" asked Luke. "She lias never married, so she stated to me," replied John Marks; "and I know of no reason to doubt her word. Harriet Foss, impulsive and passionate as she was, was and is one of those women who can love but once, in their youth,, and when they once love, they pour forth their whole soul and being at the feet of the beloved one. Harriet Foss devotedly loved the officer whom she shot, but when he trifled with her, her anger flamed to very fury. She told me, on the voyage to New York, that she had now but one object in life ?revenge for her sister's death. You ask of her appearance. She is still a fine and stately looking woman, Jet black hair and eyes, in her fortieth, perhaps forty-fifth year." "She is forty-six, my age,*' said Nancy Harker, decisively. "She does cot look so near to forty, madame, as you do to sixty," said Marks, with a grin of malice. Nancy took no notice of the sneer; she had long since ceased to care for her looks, good or bad. "But how came she to think her sister had died other than a natural , death?" asked Hammond; "and why lay it to me?" "She says," replied Marks, "that hei sister died at But let me ask a question, Luke Hammond?merely tc satisfy my own mind. Cn what day did her sister die?" "On Tuesday, the 11th of August," said Hammond. "Ul IUC llUUl'e UJL Ul'i ucaill 1U IUC London papers stated Monday, the 10th. Harriet Foss showed me two old gazettes with it so printed," said Marks unsasily. "This mistake arose," said Luke, "ic the incorrectness of the timepiece tc which I referred when Harriet's sistei breathed her last. I immediately wrott * notice of it, and sent it to the papers that it should appear in the next issue The timepiece at which I looked Indi cated live minutes of twelve?five min utes of midnight; but I afterwards no ticed that the watch was not running und on comparing my own watch witl that of my sister, who was present, w< . - 1 iK-i tiftonr L'OUL'lUUeU TiJUl Illy YYiitr uicu at minri minutes after twelve, on Tuesday, th< 11th of August." "Great heavens!" cried Marks, start tag up. "Luke Hammond. thes< dreams and visions have some terribh meaning!" "Ah! what do you mean, Johr Marks?" said Luke. "This," said Marks. "The sister ol Harriet Foss died and was buried, anc flo suspicion of foul play entered th( mind of any cue of all who knew hei nd you." "True." said Luke. "I fled from London to appropriate the proceeds ol a forced sale of Harriet Koss's estate and tu'eadiug to meet her. There was ' . -v.,-'. . AMMOND, 1 MISER. I eck, I Copyright 1896, | 5 ^ I by Robikt Bonkeb's Sokb. | S . ] (jIH rights reserved.) ^ ,?j I no suspicion of violence, poison, or of anything not natural." j "Then listen to what Harriet Foss l told me," said Marks. "She says she was in Paris, France, dancing at a r ball, on the night of the 10th of August. 18?. and. while dancing, a sud j den weakness seized her limbs, and i feeling as if about to faint, she retired to the dressing-room, and lay down on j a sofa. A moment after she saw standing by her the form of her sister, clad in white. 'Look at your watch!' said the image. Harriet, half dead with f-ear, looked at her timepiece ' which she said she had set by yours, 1 a week before. In London. The hour 7 was fifteen minutes past twelve, on Tuesday, 11th of August. 'I am no more of earth.' said the apparition. 7 *My husband and his sister have suffocated me!'" j There was a groan and a crash as j John Marks uttered these words. . Nancy Harker?hard-hearted Nancy ^ Harker?had swooned and fallen upon the floor! s "Great heavens!" said Marks; "this \ is terrible!" j "And true," said Luke, with white j lips, as he raised his sister and placed , her upon a settee. "It Is needless to ' attempt concealment from you. The 1 sister of Harriet Foss died as the apj parition stated." j "Why did you and that wretched woman commit the deed?" demanded ( Marks. "My wife had discovered that we ' counterfeited the notes of the "Bank of k England," said Hammond. "She upbraided us, and threatened to denounce us to the law. Though a mild woman, r she was firm; and being absurdly pious, . deemed it her duty to inform on us. I . think I might have changed her | tention, had not my sister urged me I to the deed, saying that my wife would ! not fail to tell Harriet; and as Harriet hated my sister terribly, there was ( reason to believe that the dangerous . secret would leak out and the punish"1 i . ment would have been death." Nancy Harker here opened her eyes ! and sat up. "Tell me," said she, staring around, "have I been dreaming?" , John Marks, wicked as he was, was no murderer, and he shrank from her ! ns from lenrosv. i "No dream," said Hammond, in a hollow tone. "Harriet Foss " "I remember now," cried Nancy, as , if the speaking of that name was an , electric shock. "Go on with your story, | John Marks." ' "After her sister's spirit?for such it must have been," said Marks, "had said, 'My husband and his sister have ' suffocated me,' Harriet Foss instantly left the ball and hastened on her journey to London. As she told me she fell very ill on the way. and when she arrived in London you were gone. All the rest of her life has been devoted to a search for you." 1 "But how was she directed to New York?" asked Luke. "You son," said Marks, "is your facsimile when you were of his age." "Ah! she has seen my son, Charles!" exclaimed Luke, clenching his hands. "She saw him one month ago in Liverpool," said Marks, "so she told me. I But did not know he was your son. Yet ' the resemblance to you, whom she sought, was so striking that her suspicions were aroused, and she managed to learn bis name, bis business, and. In 1 fact, all about him." "Ungrateful wretch! Why did you 1 not tell me this last night?" cried Luke. 1 "Because she did not tell me of the trace she had found till this night?not two hours ago," said Marks. "I was trying to persuade her to embark for Cuba by telling her that I had good I cause -to believe you were there, when she checked me by saying: 'I have a , clue of my own. I am waiting for the 1 bark Gleaner,' and then told me, as I have told you, of Charles Hammond. ; You had paid me well, and I told her ' that I once knew the father of Charles in Australia, and that, though the re. semblance was great it was a decepI tion." "Then what said she?" asked Nancy. "That she had learned the name of the young man's father. That it was 1 Luke Hammond, and that she only 1 waited for the bark Gleaner to have Charles Hammond redeem his promise made to her in Liverpool to Introduce her to his father." "Cunning, terrible woman!" cried ! Luke. "The bark Gleaner haa been re? ported in the bay; my son is undoubt1 edly aboard. She will accompany him, ' that there may be no deceit practiced upon her. TVe are lost! She must die, i Marks!" ) "I fear my alarmed visage excited her suspicions," said Marks. "For 1 ? noticed that as I left the Astor House? . we stoi> there?some person dogged me . rather closely, and, fearing a trap, 1 - walked and rode at least ten miles out - of my way in getting here." "John Marks." snirt Hnmmnnrl sit . tins down and writing rapidly. "I have 1 a plan to baffle her. Its success dei pends upon speed. I have written: 3 "Charles?Place entire confidence in 1 the bearer, John Marks. Your father, "Luke Hammond." Haste with this. The storm has fortu? natel.v delayed the bark Gleaner. Use? any means to board her. If Charles is aboard you know what to tell liira. Tell 1 him not too much. Warn him against that woman. Spare not gold. Take tliis purse. Employ some one to guide I you; and haste! haste!" ! lie rang a bell, while Marks made ' ready to depart. Stephen appeared. i "Show this gentleman out by the ! rear. Go with him, in fact. He is un > acquainted with the ci?y. Hp will tell : you what he wants. Haste. And. I Marks, tell my son not to come here un- ' til be sball hare received a letter from ' me. Go! Haste!" "Remember," said Marks, sternly. "I j am serving you for tbe hope of regain- j ing my son." "Right," said L,uiie. "me nope suan , be mnde a reality if you perform as desired." "I swear It, John Marks," said Nancy. Marks and Stephen then hurried away, "Now," said Luke to Nancy. "I feel ; easier in mind. But will you keep i your promise with Marks?" ! ; "Perhaps?we shall see. Harriet Foss j is not dead yet," said Nancy.. "Come; let's visit our prisoners." said j Luke. "I have brave news for Kate Elgin." "I hite her," said Nancy. " 'Twas vice hating virtue. A devil hating an angel." Lighting their lamps, the wicked entered the eastern wing. CHAPTER XIV. POOR KATE'S MISERY INCREASES. Hammond found old Fan croucning i in the antechamber of the white and gold apartment. "Why are you here?" he asked. "I was lonely, Luke Hammond." She had dropped the . Mr. from his name. Id her opinion a damnable deed bad made them equal. "I was lonely, and afraid to be alone. I came here where I can hear Daniel walking the hall, and know some living thing is near me. I'm very old and weak?very old?not so brave as I was." "Old fool," said Hammond, "you have slept in that part of the house alone, off and on, for a year." "I know it, yes, true," said Fan. raising her head and nodding It. "But then, you know, there was?nothing in the old well?augb!" She shuddered and drew herself into a heap, tlie light from the lamps borne by Hammond and his sister shone on her hideous disease-distorted visage, and Luke wondered at the change that had passed over it. Old Fan looked like a living corpse, Quailing amid a myriad dreadful deaths. "Get up, old fool!" said Hammond, sternly, and then he whispered to Nancy, who seemed to shrink from Fan's old eyes. "Watch her ever! Her .remorse or terror may be our ruin." Old Fan rose and made way for^-ammond, who knocked at the door, No summons from within. "Unlock the door, and see if I may enter," said he to Nancy. She opened the door and looked in. Catharine Elgin was asleep in her chair. Poor girl! she dared not lie down upon the bed, lest she might sleep too profoundly for her safety, for she knew not what terrible cruelty her persecutor might have in store for her. Her beautiful head was supported by her hand and arm resting upon the side of the bed, and her rich black curls, all disheveled, fell in pitiable disorder over her face and bosom. She was very pale, and her features miirh .sunken. The food furnished by her Jailers was all untasted, for, I even had she had any wish to partake of It she felt a horrible dread of drugs or.poison. Nancy beckoned to Luke, and he entered on tiptoe. Old Fan, dreading the outside, crept In after and curled herself in a heap near the door. Kate heaved a long and painful sigh, and Hammond saw her pale lips forming words in bi;r slumber. He drew near and listened eagerly. "Father ? James ? God!" were the disjointed words he heard, nothing more. To all of these he would one day have to account! Hammond knitted his brows and muttered: "Father?James?God! The first is in my power, the second is dead and the third"?he paused for a moment^ and then added, "the third made me what I am?an animal, to live, die, and be no more." Kate awoke and drew herself erect; sht flashed ono glance over the group and then fixed her steady gaze upon Hammond's face. "Niece"?he began. "Liar!" she said, quickly. 4ITT_I 1 i:?_ flnin na. \\ uy uui, vuiuunuc "You call me 'niece,'" said Kate, tossing back her disordered curls, to show the lofty scorn of her face, "and I know you lie. Nature's instinct tells me you are no uncle of mine." "Nonsense," said Hammond. "That idea is absurd. You seem ill aud weak." To be continued. Fauncefot?'s Pens. In the Peace Congress at The Hague Lord Pauncefote attracted the attention of the delegates by taking notes with a fountain pen, the handle of which was formed by the shell of a dumdum bullet. One day the representative of a foreign power, excited hv thA hpnt of the discussion in the interests of eternal peace, said to biro, sharply: "My lord, it isn't right for you to use that murderous shell in this congress. The instruments used by persons are almost emblematic. They can become a part of themselves, an ex[ pression of their ideas and of Llieir personality." L.rd Pauncefote smiled, but said nothing. The following day his critic, wanting to write something, turned to the English diplomat to borrow a pen. The , ambassador pulled out of bis pocket an old-fashioned pen made of a gray goose quill, and after the borrower had I finished said: "Mousieui-; it isn't right Tor jou to : I ? "1> nn inclrllniant in this foil- I ' use auLii uu .? jress. The instruments used by persons are almost emblematic. They eau become a part of themselves, an ex- 1 pression of their ideas and of their | personality."?1'aris Lc Gaulois. 1 < < A Sen Sword Mrtal. ? According to liie I.ondou Globe, the J Austrian Government has, it is said, j decided to arm several cavalry regl- f ments with swords made of a new ? metal named ningnalium, -.vbich is as- { serted to combine the lightness of s aluminium w:tL tie fclienstl. ami fl^x- J ibility of ste?-I ! j i SERMON FOR SUNDAY kN ElOaUENT DISCOURSE ENTITLED "INCREASE OF FAITH." j The Kcv. Qnlncy EwIub SIiowb How Thin Kecouirs the Prnyer of Our Soul* When tho World's Perplexities Bear Down Upon Us. New York City. ? The Rev. Quincy Ewing, of St. James' Episcopal Church, Greenville. Miss., who was at one time under consideration for one of the important pulpits of Brooklyn, recently preached a thoughtful sermon on "Increase of Faith." Mr. Ewing took his text from Luke xvii: 5: "Lord, increase our faith." In the course of the sermon he said: We do not know why precisely the disciples should have made this request at this particular time. Jesus had just said to them: "If thy brother trespass against thee rebuke him, "and if he repent, forgive bim. and if he trespass against thee seven times in a day, and seven times in a dav turn to thee, saying, 'I repent.' thou shalt forgive him." Then very abruptly comcs from them the request, "increase our lann. Possibly there was some tone of impatience in their voices as they spoke. They may have recalled that in the old book of Leviticus was to be found practically the same commandment that He was giving them; that in the book of Leviticus they were taught not to hate their brethren, nor to bear grudge against the children of their people, but to love their neighbor as themselves; and they may have felt that there was.no need for them to bear this old teaching over acrain from the lips of the Master: that He was but wasting time in telling them what they already knew so well. So their request. Increase our faith may have meant, "Tell us something that we do not already know?something hid from the prophets and wise men of old times; tell us something, 6how us something, do something which will make us surer that you are indeed the Messiah we and our fathers have looked for; that our hope in You is not misplaced; that Yon are truly the promised Deliverer. Make us more certain that we were justified in breaking away from the authority of the Scribes anH Pharisees, in forsaking all to follow You. Do not be simply repeating to us what we may read ourseives in an ancient book; say something, do something, reveal something which will certify our faith in You US LUC iUbSOiau. Or the request may have had a profounder import and been uttered in a tone of self-distrust, of unfeigned humility and supplication. Suddenly while Jesus was speaking there may have awakened in the souls of His hearers the accusing consciousness that, though they had known for so long the divine law of duty toward their neighbors, yet never had thej[ or their fathers been able to live up to it, to realize in their human life the aivine ideal, and accompanying the consciousness of past failure may have been the reflection that never should they be able to realize that divine ideal, to expel from their human hearts all hatreds, all resentments, all contempts. all unforgivingness and look upon their fellow-men with the steady Christvision of redemptive charity. And so their request may have meant, "Open wider our spiritual eyes, that we may^'Bee^with You; lead us, draw us up to Your spiritual height; let us share with You Your visiUMi of God and man; let us drink from the hmsfbfe--fosntain of Yout vast strength and goodness; Yet. us "know the secret of Your Christliness,"' that we may rise to full sympathy with VtHir di?> j v..:u Irinc vine purpose auu uuuu xwu x---^ dom of God among men as You wdi^ld have it builded." But whatever may haw been the character of the disciples' request, whether of impatient criticism or humble speculation in the words that came from their lips. Increase our faith, we may all utter the deepest and devoutest prayer of the most needful moments of our human life, "Increase our faith." How inevitably that becomes the prayer of our souls at times when the infinite problems and perplexities of this problematical, perplexing world bear down upon us and threaten to weigh us down; when we are forced to give ourselves to reflection upon the long rind cruel and, apparently, unending suffering of good and evil; the suffering of unnumbered millions; the vast failures of justice and triumphs of injustice; the tragic defeat of right and victories of wrong; the bitter battles of uplifting truth for recognition by the mind and heart of humanity; the painful, questionable progress of indubitable good everywhere upon earth; and, so reflecting, are tempted to cry out in loud desD&ir, or in danger of being mastered by that deep hopelessness which utters no sound and shows itself in no outward 6ign; hopelessness, that a deathless heart of good does, indeed, throb on to victorv in things evil; hopelessness. that the to-morrows of humanity will be gladder and nobler than its yesterdays: hopelessness, that the wrones we know will be done away, and the ^-fiod we dream embody itoeu in fact; hopelessness, that our individual efforts, all that we can say, all that we can do, aVe not mere vain, transient strivings against eternal fate, powerless, as the wings of insects fluttering in the storm, to effect any betterment of things that are! How much that prayer of the apostles, Increase our faith, mav mean, then, to our individual souls! .A silent, unsyllabled cry for rescue to the Invisible Power that made us and the world; a pleading with that Power Invisible, whose name we cannot then utter, whosp attributes we hesitate then to declare, that again we may be privileged to pray, "Our Father;" that again we may feel ourselves His children; that real enough may become His presence in our lives, to banish from us all doubt that the world intelligim st jo '3iq]8i[[aiuiun jo 'a|0 His keeping; all suspicion, that anv good dies, that any right fails, that any throned and crowned power of iniauity can swing this earth outside the circle of His Father's purpose and His Father's love. But it is not only in times of sorrow, sadness, perplexity that the request of the apostles should be our prayer, for that request of theirs points to an eternal and universal need of the human soul, the need to-day, to-morrow and forever of a firmer grasp of God, a clearer vision of His purjjoses, a deeper reading of His will, in order that we may live and save ourselves in the way divine. Perhaps from the standpoint of the need of some of us it is more necessary for us to pray fervently that prayer, "Increase our laith," jn tne seasons of our greatest joy than in the days of our deepest anguish; more necessary at times wnen the woria shines bright about us and we are conscious of the burden of no perplexity and no misgiving, and disposed to be thoroughly satisfied with ourselves, our performances and with thing? aB they are; for then, it may be, we are m greatest danger of forgetting God, of growing unmindful of our personal dependence upon Him, of crowding Him out of our life, of skimming gayly the gay surface of thing? with eyes and ears blind and deaf to their eternal aspect, their profound and supreme appeal, rerplexed, bewildered, crushed, under the stress of deep personal anguish, we may think God far from us, all out of touch with our lives and their needs. But to think God at all, however far we put Him from us, however grimly we deny ourselves all consoling faith in His wisdom and goodness?to think God at all is infinitely better than to forget, to ignore Him utterly, as if our goodness and our happiness aid not need Him; as if the world about us were fair enough and bright enough, and altoeether satisfactory enough with or without His presence! Do you ask what sort of faith this is we need to pray for to have increased? Is it faith in some particular dogma?clearer mpntal pomnrphpTiKion nf snmo sorif>.a nf metaphysical propositions?faith in the infallibleness of some verbal formula? Nay, the faith of our deeper need is that faith which means steadying vision of the diune unseen and the divine eternal; proFound consciousness from moment to moment of what the poet has called "the drcp below the deep and the height beyond the heightnobler conviction within us, beaming ever more ineradicable and unconquerable, that the real value of things is a spiritual value, their real meaning a spiritual meaning, their real end a spiritual end. rhis is the faith upon which depends ultimately our strengthening and saving; the aith which our Bibles, our churches, our reeds, our dogmaS. our devotions were neant to inspire, and which, if they do not nsp'ie. they are but as sounding brass and i tinkling cymbal. This is the faith we wed to pray for. Irrcc'ins in our pews on vandnvs. or busy at our work on \r<'! '< lays, increase of vision, of fatally, to ' I and feel be'ow the earthly deeps and beyond the earthly heights, and when we pray God to increase for us this fundamental faith, be tempted to dictate to God how He shall answer us or when. We j may want one answer; He may know that 1 Al XT'~ ? ?Kaaoo hnrp I we neea anozner. we our answer in full all at once; He may j choose to give us but the first syllable of it l o-day, and to prolong the giving of it through the years of a lifetime, perhaps through the aeons of eternity. We may undertake in our wisdom to impose conditions noon God that we imagine He must fulfill if He would answer our prayer, forpetting the one fundamental condition, that we must impose upon ourselves honest eagerness to hear the higher voices that may call to us from day to day, and to obev them wli^n thev <lo; honest struggle to beu.t back the unholy temptations that beset us. darkening the way to our feet; honest purpose to do the duties that throng us hourly, momently. :.nd in their doing ultimately illumine any darknesa the sou! can enter! The prayer of the apostles was answered hardly as they expected certainly it might I be. but answered nevertheless and to a do gree of richness that they were not able | all a; once to fathom; answered for them, i as it has been through the ases for all their successors by right of spiritual inher- | itance; for them as for him. great and good i apostle unto us of our modern time, who ' walked through the fires of sacrifice and , came ir. and out here among us for a score | of years, fighting hb good ficht, his fight of good, his fight for God and man. whose I words are vital yet within these walls, and beyond them where men speak the English tongue; answered. I say, that prayei for them of the earlier time, for him oi this later, not by any flashing miracle oi 1 Vit- r-nv ctarHincr levelft' tion of a new heavens and a new earth; not by any suddenness of divine destruction and reconstruction; nay, but hy and through a gradual growing sympthj with the purno3es of the Redeeming Mag ] ter; by and through the deepening, widen ing. atonement of their souls and his; bj and through their effort to live the lift that worshiped His, and suffering and eru tifixions. it meant to them to be and d< what should bear true witness to a Christ. And thus only is it that God can fulfil! for any of us the nrayer, Increase oui faith. "The eternal Father of our spiriti ran meet their deeper yearning for largei faith, for clearer vision, only tniough anc by the human experiences He has mad? possible for us from day to day. tk** life ol effort, of struggle, of heroism. He haf made it our nrivilege to live. The readiness to do His will reveals it; the seeking to re' alize His purposes interprets them, anc closer, ever clpser, becomes the meetinj point of our actual earth and our possiblf heaven, as we resolve that our earthliesl efforts shall be noble enough to bespeak j heavenly meaning, and our earthliest hope! heroic enough to prophesy a heavenly consummation^ God'a Education of Man. God's fatherhood makes him a teacher | Man's childhood gives him a claim to bt I fnimKf Fnr mnn is not a finished nroducl of God's skill, but a product in the making. Our will, our thoughts, our knowl < edge, all need training. And because wt are God's children one prayer we may al ways make with confidence i* that of th* Hebrew psalmist long ago: "Teach me Thj will: for Thou art my God: Tny spirit if rrood: lead me in the land of uprightness.'' Tt is unthinkable that God our Father will leave such a childlike, earnest prayer unanswered. Yet some of us are like foplisb children who refuse to learn unless they can go to some famous school and listen ti 1 ""ne well-known teacher. We forget that the greatest instructor of all dwells iu every man who turns to God with true repentance ajiJ seeks His presence with a v childlike faith. "He shall teach you," said \the Master. The place of teaching matters IfMJe if we have God's Spirit to assign and follott\up the lessons, and if we first possess thVy8cholar's willing heart. It is, n??.n, in the common circumstances of our liveK-that we are to learn the lessons of God'&, school. Unusual conditions and experience arc like examinations which test andS declare what we have learned. The orctVarv day, with its routine of drudgery, isNihe time for learning. Wo TOhri Hpsnise.q thisl common school oi life, with ftVTittle tasksVnd opportunities, its frequent perplexities Sfldite recurring weariness, despises the plan iof God s for his education. >n. To recognize God's teaching in vCe*e ex~ periences of common life requires faiV^ and obedience. God's will for daily wot* 1? plain enough in outline through the re??A* tion of the word and the long experience, of His children. If we use our present knowledge and listen for His voice in con* science, willing ever to carry out His will, we shall know of His teaching. All Christian experience is hare at one. He who desires to do shall know. It will not he without mistakes and disillusionments, but in experience with Him our growth in knowledge shall proceed along with growth in character toward a completed strength in Chridt.?Boston Congregationalism Growlnc: Faith. Growth is characteristic of all life. It is an evidence of health and increasing strength. Every soul is born as a child into God's kinrdom. It must bejrin, and all beginnings are small, in our judgments 01 others we ought to remember this fact. One has no right to expect from a child that which belongs to manhood. When j Abraham was first called into God's service ' he came as has every one since. His faitb was untried and his growth just begun. God promised him great things which he hesitated to believe. When toid that his descendants were to be as numerous as the stars he stageered at the thought. All passed like a dream before him. The patriarch was skeptical. "Lord, how shall I know that I shall inherit it?" God's word was not sufficient. He wished some evidence that would appeal to his positive knowledge. He wishod to know. Years after^ that man staggered not at the com* , ni?.r?ti of God when told to slay his own. The difference was not in the quality of of his faith. It was the same man further on. God's laws apply in principle alike to ' all. Abraham's experience becomes in a measure a nart of our own. A living faitb solves all things. Abraham's vision of the smoking lamp an.d parted sacrifice was but temporary. It served him for the moment ; and then became a recollection. But his ! faith became a permanent one. It was a '1 ' iL- 1 ?L L IT? i: lamp mat grew tne origiuer. iiciu iica unc strongest evidence of our acceptance with God. The vine liees because of its attach- ( ment to the tree. It draws its life from j other veins. Is your horizon wider, your ; faith stronger, your sacrifice more willing? These are your assurances of greater things beyond.?Presbyterian Journal. Chriitlnn Faith. "Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear," is a line that ouiht to be said every hour of a Chr istian's life. Some good people are j the prey of natural despondent tempera- | ments. Such need a double supply of grace J and must pray for it. The worries of busi- i ness or household care, the loss of sleep | or the derangement of the bodily machir- , er". put such Christian folk under a cloud very often. To-day they sing like larks. To-morrow the barometer goe3 down and they are in the dumps again. Such people should look after their bodily health as a sniritual duty. Moreover they should keep their Christian faith where it will not be exposed to every east wind or drenched to j death by every shower that falls. Home Thouclit*. High thinking chiscls the features into the beauty of a pure and refinsd expression. The tone of the mind assuredly reveals it- | self on the face. If our thoughts are kind, ! generous and forgiving, our faces will un- j consciously reveal the sweetness of these ! virtues, jtuo a Kina nc.-irt i.oii pours ms j light, which radiates ou the face and makes it fail and pleasing. Chrigtlan Joy. Christian joy is an experience of great j depth and solemnity. It never ovenooks that sadness and sternness of life; it is never shallow or unreflecting; it is restrained, tender, sympathetic, confident. Wc know ii when we see it in the face of any whom we love; it helps us.?11. J. Campbell. Do Good Son. It is Cod that speaks in secret promptings. The Spirit will leave you if you refuse obedience; every warning disregarded h a door closed against future progress. It' you do not now the good which you can the time v.ii ccmic vhen yon ca:i/io: do the vjyci which you-.vyuM.?i'Veicric 11. Ued^e. 'THE RELIGIOUS LIFI READINC FOR THE QUIET HOUP WHEN THE SOUL INVITES ITSELF; Poein: In Hla Step*?What Christ Tcschei About Trust?We Should Cast Powb Our Cares at the Feet of Jesus ? Christians Practice What They French. I said, "I will walk in the fields." God said, "Nay, walk in the town." I said, ['There are no flowers there." He said, "No flowers, but a crown." I said, "But the fogs are thick and clouds Are veiling the sun." He answered, But hearts are sick, and souls In the dark undone." I said, "But the skies are black; there is Nothing but noise and din. And He wept as He led me back?"There is more," He said, "There is sin." V * J itT .11 il 1 I 1 O j. saici, i snail miss me ngnt, ana mena? will Miss me, they say." He answered: "Choose ye to-night if I must ' Miss you, or they." X I pleaded for time to be given, He said, "Is it hard to decide? > It will not seem hard in heaven, to'have Followed the steps of your guide." ?George Macdonald. ??? i V Tlil? Llf? of Trusting. Men are willing to trust everybody andN 1 everything but God. They will trust the | milkman, and the butcher, and the druggist with his deadly drugs, the doctor and the plumber; they trust the man who builds their houses that they will not foil in a high wind, and they trust the man who puts up the chimney that it wiH not get the house on fire. They trust the banks though they often break, and they hoard their treasures in vaults that are somej times broken open. The savings of a lifei time are put into property that they have I not seen, whose title they are not eure of I being clear. They trust their little, helpI 1 poo in fna lian/la nP | cruel servants, and they trust their reputa* I tions in the hands of unscrupulous, unloving friends. But God they are afraid to ! trust. And yet God made them, put them j on this earth, where was all they needed i to maintain life He had created, and still give3 them all they have. | It is sad that even the near and dear ! disciples had to be reminded by this lily j lesson. That a God who had cared to | paint the ephemeral blossom in colors so i rare, and array it in texture so exquisite, ! should forget to give His own loved ones j the clothing they need! How strange that | they or we should think itt And yet it 6eem8 as if we did. j Take, for instance, the man who is coni sidering the adoption of the tenth plan of ' giving. He says: "But I must first support my family, that is my first duty. What if I should give a tenth of my income to the : Lord and then not be able to pay my bills ! at the close of the year?" He leaves altogether out of his calculations the fact that God promised in many places in the Bible I that man shall lose nothing by giving, but only gain the more. Also, ne leaves out of his calculation the fact that God cares about what he eats or drinks or wears. Furthermore, he is putting down his will as - ? ? 1 J _1 _ ! t__ lo wuat styie 01 iooa ana cio^ning snau oe his, whereas the lily takes what comes, whether of white petals, or pink, or yellow, or crimson, as ordered by the Father, and counts none less worthy to be worn because all are designed by Him who knows what color best fits in the little corner of the world, where He means Hie flower to grow. It is time we Christians began to practice tetter what we profess to believe. It is time we stopped fretting lest we cannot buy the new piano that Kitty "reallv aeeds," or lest the summer outing, whicn will make father so happy and so much better able to go through his next year's work, cannot be accomplished. It is time we Bmoothed the fret-lines from our brows and gave our lives the light of trust, not , darkening that light by vain fears and futile planning?, not trying to serve both God and gold, not feeling uncomfortable and refusing to go out because we are not dressed in the latest style. Be sure if we have the lily nature in our hearts our God k will see that we are fitly clothed when His \(ime comes to glorify us before others. Atwi. the despisea garments we sometimes have\o wear may be in Hie eyes as fair of fashioning as the veined petals of His flow ?rs. 1 Then, if wK^re to be Christians at all, we should be tKPBtful Christians, for how is our lot better than*ofthe if we may not cast down our care at thJ? of Him who has borne it for us. and\wnat 19 our J?y i that we have a Father if w?may no' come to Him for everything? .. . ' And in this life of trust'in^J6 1S, not meant that we should nezlect ai^F ?f our duties, onlv that we should "first of eager about His kingdom and about wm^ -^e thinks is right," and after that we n?ye a right to go singing and trusting on ?i"" way.?New York Mail and Express. \ I Brooding Over lllatilcei. Probably the one thing that does thb most to make men and women grow; old and to wear out the springs of energy is the habit of turning over in mind what might have been. We brood over past mistakes and see how at some turning point we made a wrong choice, and then narrass ourselves unceasingly by imagining what we would have gained if we had taken the other path. Somehow we cannot eet the bright alternative out of mind, and its very brightness makes the conditions in which we live abnormally dark. Sometimes we doubt whether forebodings as to what may come, or regrets for what might have been do the more to cloud _and depress sensitive spirits. But this is a case in which philosophy and faith have their say. Suppose you had made a better choice at that crisis, there is no certainty that you wouia nave contmuea to mane wise choices to the end of the chapter, and subsequent mistakes might have been as ruinous as the one you now deplore. Furthermore, no amount of regret is going to bring back the lost opportunity. You have to take things as they are. and the very weakening of your powers through vain regrets will certainly prevent your making the best of your present opportunities. Above all it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps. If there is a God we certainly are in His hands, and the final issues of life are safe with Him. Very often, even in this life, wc come to see that what we deemed to be errors, were working out higher purposes of good. The faith that all things, even our blunders and mistakes. work together for good to those who in rrtf Via ViAiiro nf devotion, but to be taken boldly into the interpretation of daily life.?Boston Watchman. True Heroism. Heroism is largely based upon two qualities?truthfulness and unselfishness, a readiness to put one's own pleasure aside for that of others, to be courteous to all, kind to those younger thnn yourself, help to your parents, even if that helpfulness demands some slight sacrifice of your own pleasure. You must remember that these two qualities are true signs of Christian heroism. If one is to be a true Christian, one must be a Christian hero. True heroism is inseparable from true Christianity, and as a step toward the former I would urge most strongly ar.d urgently the practice of the latter.?G. A. Hentv. lie TeiHe-l Tlielr Vlcilnnoe. T1>? n!linr niwllt PfPOnil Wai'dcil E. Mel'hcrson c'.imbcd I lie penitentiary wall at Salem. to teat the vigilance of t!ie quanta. M-'Pherson's feat was performed at the risk or his life, for had he been discovered he would probably have been shot. .He placed a ladder against the exterior of the fall, climbed up, lowered his ladder into the jail yard and descended. He went through the prison shops, and as a final touch carried away the coat and hai of one of the guards. It was from this jail that the famous Tracy escaped last summer. and it is supposed that the rifle with which he fought his way out was taken into ;ho prison over the yard fenc.-. J THE SABBATE SCHOOtfl INTERNATIONAL LE&ON COMMENTS MB J,FOR MAY 10. Hfl Subject " The Plot Against Panl, Act* xxill., 12-22 ? Golden Text, Act?, xxill.,. V 11? Memory Verses, 20-22?Study Vex*' ti, 10-35?Commentary on the Uimu, 19 I. The conspiracy against Ptul (vg.l2? K9 15). 12. "Was day." Thursday, May 25, "lJanded together." Made an agreement. "Undei a curse." Literally, placed them- RgB oolvou un^pr an anathpma. It' was an in* ifir vocation of God's .vengeance upon thesa- 91 selves if they failed to do the work which JM they undertook. But they could be ab* solvedirom this vow by the rabbins if they j -were unable to execute it. Such oaths apf^BS Sear to have been common among tne^B| cws. Josephus tells of a similar conapir> B acy against the life of Herod into which a jH party of ten Jews entered with a like fail13. "More than forty." This large num- B ber of desperate men, backed up by th? Sanhedrin, the highest counsel among the .fl Jews, would be likely to succeed in their -Hp* murderous design, and Paul's life was in great danger. "They ma/ have .been prompted to this method of getting rid of ' I i the apostle, because they aid not have the B | power of life and death any ionjnr, ana I were jot likely to procure Paul's death at ft* 1 i the hunda of the Koman authorities, on'^H any accusation connected ;'etigioqp.JjH ^ 14. "To the chief priests ." Thq plotters jfl no doubt went to the chief priests and eMera who were Sadducees, as thwerer^H strongly opposed to Pan) (vs. 6-10) and would be glad to see ium. put ta death. JBS "We have Dound," etc. Liteyallr.' "witha yxurse havgwe cursed ourselves*' \A He* pM Ctew mode tsi'expressing' the iotensity and ? earnestness of any action. How firm they made it, imprecating the beariest; <nrsee MB upon themselves, their souls, bodies and SB iamiues, jl lucy uiu wi iuu nan^ auk"7,hu[ men must hqye believe34hat Paojf'fcas the BS -worst of irien, an enemy tp 'Qod'aia^ rclig* ion, and the curse ana Wegener- flEc ation, when really htt< changes' una the Hjj reverse of ail thig. There Are-up laws o! |^H truth and justice so sacred ere *&&&. thatr^B malice and bigotry will not 15. "The Council." The Sknl&irin, thBM greatest Jewish Council. ].wm. coai^^B posed of.. seven ty-ona, .awanbarsyi chielHH f nests, elders of the people aa^'fcribes.^B ts meeting place adjoined tjig(j$ttnp]e on the east siae. It met daily except on the M Sabbath and festival davB.' It'had jnthority to' interpret^thc ta,deci^;j^ ou me quiuiiicatiuu ^ those accused of idolatry, and- fiW Jjroph* VH ets and heretics." The authority'fa pro* ' nounce the death sentence was taken from fl it by the Romans about three*jrears before, the crucifixion of Christ.''Rftttf,* cto. < I Lysias was to be asked tp btoi&Paal-down from the tower of Antoni* to place > where the Sanhedrin iksi<L its xapetings. 'W "Ready to kill him." They'intended to a kill him while on thcwajrt^'tWr^uncil. And to tfaicr "plot the highest dignitaries of J the church gave acteAcf. ,8fogh a course, j however, seems to be in. perfect accord 1 with the Jewish opinions and practices of those times. Philc,.a great Jewish writer, in sneaking of the course to be t?ken towards a Jew who has forsaken the worship -' V'j of the true God saya that it is *highV proper" to inflict "immediate punishmenJvJjj anA^fofOfl " flrtf VU OUCU luipivuo ajwvwvwy Mwr time to' carry them before any cbirt or jH magistrate, and this shouM be done be- I cause of au abhorrence of evfl 4nd"a lore IT. The plot disclosed (vs. 16-22). . Iff. |l "Paul's sister's son." This it all that <talB know of the family of Paul. Nor do we know for what purpose he was at Jerasa' flj lcm. It is possible that Paul might, have a ] sister residing there: though, as Pkttl him- I self had been sent there formerly for hte W education it seems more probable that thia 9 young man wae sent there for the same H Eurpose. "Heard." The secret ?f the plot ad too many keepers to be Veil kept. -1 "Into the castle." Thus it appears that Paul's friends had free access to him. fl| 17, 18. "Paul called." He had receiv?4^M Christ's own promise of protection, (v. 11), but he did'not on that account neglect to ;1 avail himself of the ordinary menu otpnK^n tecting himBelf. God's promise; encoRr*- ^jJ aged him to pat forth fas ,pffn ex?tion#>*rS for his security "Yoang man." We do % not know whether this youth was a Chris- 1 tian or a Jew, nor do we know .^ ma?Dlf ^ by which he discovered thq slot;, it-.ia '/? enough for us that God was pleased, on this occasion, to employ a lad as the guard- i ian angel of the apostle. "The prisoney/7 A name which St. Paul was often af&r- i ward to employ to himself. 19-22. "By the hand." To encourage the young man and to allay any fear be might' / nave, and as an expression of kindness and - P-i civility. The plot was disclosed to Ljrsias ' with clearness and conciseness, and be ap*. Jfl peared to know what to do immediately. III. The journey to Caesarea (.tfs. 23- I 35). As soon as the chief captain learned j of the plot he ordered 40$ infantry and aev-' enty cavalry to be ready to leave Jerusa- . lem at 9 o'clock that same night. _This was. probably the largest bodyguard J*au1 ever had. Beasts were also to te provided for \ Paul, ^nd they were to go with the greatest , * despatch to Caesarea to Fell*, the Govern- | or. The letter Ljrsias sent snows tib that v he was favorably impressed with his pris- S oner. Paql probably reached Caesajrea by " *? Njtfce next evening. He had left Jerusalem i?ever to return. That infamous city was itill rejecting those that were sent unto ? them and fact rushing, on to its own de- V tstruction?the most terrible destruction tha ? F Vorld has ever 3een. It was wise for Ly- fy*. 8i?8 to send Paul to Caesarea, for there he :Vi woWd be 6afer than at Jerusalem, 'and it %rouW be easier to rive him a fair trial. PaulV"33 not confined in. to ordinary prison, ^>ut resided in the palace of Felix; thus the\P?3tIe remained fo* two ye?rs. Thoughtfc~~G?d'8 under His % especial carA The Lord is ?ble to over- ^ throw the r?ftn3 of kicked itren. We should always ready to ftssist those in trouble. Even \n"dren can sometimes do ; very important \(Vor^ f?r God's people. . Wicked men 6om?ime? resort to the most diabolical methods Vf order!lo destroy tip ; influei.ee of God's saw1*?*' Those who trust ) and obey need have ndy*64* of evil workersi JHobin C!iauj;ln?^JHabits. ^ A writer in Country maKesiceiii- 1 teresting suggestion that tnek1"?"1" M graa- I ually changing its habits becoming J crepuscular lite the bat. Wne^t m . ? *1 gathering dusk of evening, you cat? Jus. vj catch sight of a small bird that <&ts lentlv and suddenly across yonr patnV^bu may be almost sure it is a robin, and in I the grey dawn it is the robin that geta up before your feet from the roadside. Already, too, the. lobin owes a good deal of ' 4 its beauty to its large, full eyes, indicating powers of vision in such scanty light as would render, say, canaries, with their i Ettle beady eyes, practically blind. * i Judge Found Unllty of b a rotary, a A opnsntionai trial at Moscow has rc- I suited in Judge Vladimir de Hatzuk being a| condemned to serve for three years as common soldier. The charges or which he jt was found guilty were that he had com- M mitted burglary and arson. Needing money S he had broken into a neighbor's house. V and with the skill of an expert burglar bad forccd open the safe. After taking away I money enough to meet immediate require- ~ I ments he concluded by setting fire to the I house. As the .Tiul^'e is a nobleman the I sentence must be sanctioned by the Czar 9 before it can be enforced. Fined For Impatience. i Postoffice clerks ir. Paris are proverbially slow. It frequently takes fifteen minutes to buy a stamp or obtain a postal order. After waiting for a considerable time with- Y out receiving any attention a worthy citizen named Mozohier the other day exI claimed to one of the employes. "You are I slower than any snail." For this he was fined $3 and costs, the offense beinjt that he had insulted a public official in tbe execution of his duty. > Y Hybrid Plant Developed. Attorney-General Douglas has in ^ his office at St. Paul, Minn., a hybrid plane which at the roots is putting forth pota-'^SR toes and above the pound several well de- H vcloped tomatoes. It was produced at thff qH State experiment station by grafting a to- ^ niato vine to a potato plant. 5 Wondorfnl Chronometer*. v ; Chronometers now record the millionth part of a second of time.