Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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4 If LUKE H || THE 11 By Prof. Win. Henry 1 fl I Author of the "T5? Stone-Cu jg f of Lisbon," Etc. CHAPTER XIV. . Continued. lie extended bis band as If to touct her wrist. She raised It qaieklj with an expression of disgust, and i knife gleamed in ber sleeve. Hammond started back. He glancec toward tbe dishes on the little table and saw that Kate had secreted th< knife brought for use. "I ordered you, old fool," said h< to Fan, "not to bring knives to tb< prisoners! I said carve the meat be fore you take it to them. And nov she has a knife." "I forgot?my head is all a-pieces,' said Fan, shaking her bead sadly. "1 am of no use .to anybody any moreyou see I can't think of anythinj but " "Silence!" roared Luke, stamping bis heavy heel fiercely. Old Fan drew herself closer together and closed mouth and eyes in a spasm of fear. Fear of the thing in the wellfear of the man that put it there. "Miss Elgin." said he, "you have nol tasted food. Why?" "The wretch that dares to imprlsoi me would not hesitate to poison me,' said Kate. "You have secreted a knife. I se< It in your sleeve," said Hammond "Why Is that?" ; "To defend myself." "Defend yourself! You dread vio lenee?" "Everything dreadful and barbaroui from you," replied Kate. "You are still untamed, Miss Elgin ,You will eat ere long. I have knowi starving men eat rank poison, rathei than endure the pangs of hunger. Bui do not fear poison from me. Your lif< Is as valuable to me as my own. Youi tieart is strong, your will that of t 3in?/\<na T tni^nro vnn if T VCIVIllCi A UilgUV iVkWMAV JVV -? -wished. What hinders me? But t( bend such natures as yours we musl assail the soul. There is one tbougbl that sustains your, courage. You think James Greene will $eek for you." "I know he wiil? cried Kate, proudly, as she thought of him she loved. "Catharine Elgin," said Hammond, taking a seat near her, "I am going to knock away one of the props of your courage." "Strike them all to the earth," snid Kate, "and yet one will remain that Luke Hammond and all his assistant demons cannot strike down?the God of heaven." "The days of miracles have fled forever," said Hammond, coldly. "I fear mortal foes alone. I am here to tell you that James Greene has been here to-night." "Yes," said Kate, "he came, you lied to him, and he was deceived. But he will pnmf? .urnin nnri nimin. You can not deceive him forever." "He shall be deceived no more," said Hammond, gravely. "Fan!" The old creature looked up. "It would do you good to tell what you saw to somebody who did not, wouldn't it, Fan?" asked Hammond. "You told me if I told, you would kill me," said Fan. "But I would rather tell it than handle a piece of new-coined gold. Ah! it lies so heavy right here?on my heart?so heavy and hot?hot as my irons get when I leave them in the fire?heavy and hot?cold as ice, too?It's dreadful! dreadful!" Fan shivered, and drew herself close again. "You may tell it to Miss Elgin. Bui apeak no names." "Names!" said Fan. "Names arc dangerous things. I know a name I've ; kept safe?safe as miser's gold these thirty years." She forgot she had uttered it tc Kate Elgin the night before.. Hammond and Nancy Harker ex changed a startled glance as Fan said "thirty years," and poor Kate, expect ing a tale of horror, scarcely dared t( breathe. "What is that name, Fan? I will give you a dollar for every letter ir It," said Nancy. ? "Not a cent?not a cent!" exclaime<] Luke. And then to Nancy: "Silence Did I not say the thing should remaii wnsearched? Better ignorance thai agony?to her, to us?perhaps. Come Fan, tell Miss Elgin what you sivw." But the mind of the old woman wat dwelling upon Nancy's offer. "A dollar for every letter of tha name!" she said drearily. "A dollar A diamond for every letter of tha name woulid not tempt me to speak it "rwas a good name once?written 11 diamonds. It wasn't any brighter t< me. nor among men, than in plain honest ink, Mrs. Harker. A dozei dollars and a dozen diamonds a dozei times over could not buy my tongu< to speak it, and know I said it." "A dozen," thought Nancy, count tag in her mind, and shunning th fierce glance of Luke. "She dwells 01 the number without knowing it. Ther were twelve letters in my father' name. I must not think of it. I sbai discover something dreadful." "Come. Fan," said Hammond, "eas your mind, and tell Miss Elgin wha you saw." "Ar'n't you afraid to have it tolc Luke Hammond?" said Fan, rollin ber oloodshot eyes fearfully. m "I command you to tell her." "I will," said Fan. "It will do m good." "No names. Fan." "Oh, no?names are dangerous, o sacreu ininjje, repneu ruii. x *? tell you, young lady. An old an wicked wornau?not so old by a thoi Band years as she was wicked. Missled a young and handsome manwonder if he ever robbed bis paj ents " "Go on! and no wonder about it! thundered H.urmond, while Nanc grew pale and diuy. . . - * . * : r-J ammond" ]] MISER. |j Peck, I Copyright 1896, S ? ^ I by Bobibt Boskxtl'b 8o*?. | j? 8 (AU rights reserved.) | "Yes," said Fan, "the old and wicked woman led the young and handsome j man Into an old store-room?dark, chilr ly place?my flesh'creeps to think of it t And the old woman knew there was a man, a desperate man, watching her j to shoot her if she paused. Then the old woman left him in the store-room, [ ?left the young man?left him 6tand-1 ing on a trap door, right over a deep, j dark pit. Augh! so deep and dark." j I She shuddered, and Kate Elgin's face grew terrible in its gnasuy auenuou. 7 Kate's eyes were fixed upon Fan's livid face, but her body was slowly lean< ing more and more towards Hammond, ^ who expected to sea her swoon and fall every instant. j Fan continued: t "The old woman left the young man , there and fled. Suddenly it grew as light as day, and looking back, the i old woman saw the desperate man she* j knew had followed in the dark. He . had a pistol in one hand, a rope in the other. He said something?the old f woman did not know?she was all fear ?he pulled the rope, the trap-door fell, , the young man vanished?he is in the > well now!" "His name?his name!" gasped Kate, ; her eyes wide open, her lips all white. "Was James Greene!" said Hammond, opening his arms to receive her If she should swoon. Like a tigress from her lair, like an ownw -fmm n tinw.uh'lni' TCfltp Elfrln 3 darted in between Hammond's arms, and shrieking: "Die, assassin! die, SatanI if death i6 i in you!" and plunged the secreted r knife twice into his breast with all her ( strength. ? Hammond staggered back, clear to r then wall, and his own dagger was in i his hand in an instant. [ Kate Elgin glanced at the knife in > her hand. The miserable blade, a mere t table-knife, blunt and weak, was bent t as if of lead, and save Hammond's ; sudden fright and surprise, he was unhurt. . * "O, He?ven!" groaned Kate, dashing the useless, faithless knife away, "does , thy justice, thy mercy sleep! Oh,. ; James! James, my lover, my darling! James! dead! murdered!" She clasped her hands in agony, and 1 fell lifeless into Nancy Harker's arms. "Place her on the bed," said Luke ; "She has fainted?nothing more. Fan, ; there's a gold dollar for your story. You told it well. Nancy, when she . shall have recovered, use your influence to bend her to my will. We have no [ time to lose. My purpose accomi plished, we will fly to South America. This news of.James Greene will weakl en her greatly. She would not have i believed it true if I had told it; but as old Fan related t, Kate Elgin cannot doubt. If you want anything, let I Fan get it I am going to the crimson chamber." He departed] exulting in his villainy. : and old Fan muttered, as she secured the coin he had tossed: "A brave man! A dreadful man! I My son must have grown up just like him! Luke Hammond and Nancy 1 Harker! Two gay imps?gaj imps? they ought to be brother and sister. I yes, and begun by robbing their pari ents. But I feel oetter?better now 1 after that easing of my mind." Unfortunate Kate recovered soon, i and found some sad relief in a tor rent or tears, a tempest; 01 boub, u i whirl wiijd of woe. And fh?n, weeping, she fell asleep, i with Nancy Harker glaring hate and > triumph by the bedside. > Old Fan, not wanted there, crept away to hide her "yellow birdie," and i silence reigned in the white and gold chamber at midnight I CHAPTER XV. JAS1E8 GREENE BEGINS TO WORK. ) Leaving Hammond on his way to the crimson chamber, let us look after the 1 welfare of James Greene, whom we i left bruised, stunned, but not dead, hanging by his clothing to a broken I iron rod ten feet below the brink of ! the well beneath the old store-room. i When James Greene recovered his i consciousness, he opened his eyes to , find himself in total darkness, and breathing an atmosphere that almost 3 suffocated him. Feeling too weak at first to move a muscle, he waited to t reflect upon his dreadful situation be! fore attempting to stir. t From his posture he knew he was suspended by his clothing; but how, or i where he w?j. he had no conception. > Growing stronger and stronger, and , feeling the blood gathering in his neck i and head, until the pain was terrible, i he ventured to stretch forth his hands, e His left found nothing, but his right touched cold and slimy stone. Sweeping his hand as far around as possible, e he suddenly paused, and said: q "Heavens! I am in a well! I feel e the curving of the stones. I must have g fallen here when the trap was sprung LI by Hammond." Reaching utf with immense difficulty, e for he hung face downward, he at t last suceeded in grasping the iron bar above. 1, "I have lodged in falling," said he. g "My head is bruised and bleeding. It must have struck the edge of the floor as it fell. But for the strength of e Hammond's overcoat, I were now dead. I must get out." He beard a great noise above him. ir as he swung himself up, so as to sup11 port his body by swinging upright, d with the iron bar under his right arm. i- "Hammond is not satisfied," said he. - "He comes to make sure of his murI der." And though brave and noble as man could be. James Greene felt an icy horror gripping at his heart. " "He is nailing fast the trap!" be r said. "I am to be entombed alive in j this horrible fiiavtf." Twas not Lake, but old Fan nalllnf and securing the trap-door. The noise at length ceased, and James Greene thought: "By the sound I Judge that X am not many feet below the trap-door. There must be some small Interval between the door and the edge of the wall. The area of the door, as well as I can remember It when it fell, must be at last four feet square." He swung his feet out boldly, and he touched the other side of the well. "Good," said he, quick and true in measuring. "The well is less .than five feet in diameter. The trap-door must have swung downward to its full length?say four feet at least. Therefore there must be a space of four feet at least between the level of the floor and the mouth of the well, for otherwise the door would have struck the combing of the well, and so shot me aside; whereas, from the sound I have just heard, the door is right over my headL As near as I can judge from that hammering, I am only ten or twelve feet from the level of the trap. Take the swing of the door from that, and I am six or eight feet only from the edge of the well! I must try to stand up!" This cost him much time and labor, for the well wall was 6limy and smooth. At length he found an Iron bar, or spike, a few Inches long, sticking out of the stones Immediately at his left. This was once a part of the same bar he was swinging on. James Greene we know was a carpenter, and as a general rale carpenters can climb like cats. Give a spry carpenter three strong nails and a hammer, and he can go anywhere. Greene was bold and active, and in spite of his slippery footing he finally stood erect, but with one foot on the first bar that had saved him, and the other on the last found iron fragment. He was clear six feet in stature; but as he now stood, his feet wide apart, and bracing his body with his outstretched hands against the wall line, a line drawn from his toe to the level of his head would not have measured four feet ATI An A f AA+ W X lliUOL 11J IV OIUUU UU UliC 1UUI, said he, "If but for a second." At an imminent risk of falling to the bottom of the?well?and of its depth he had no idea?he arose on one foot, and at the same time threw his arm upward to its full length. To his great joy the first joints of bis fingers clung to the brink of the well. "Will it bear my weight?" was his next thought. "I have hold enough to lift me until my left hand can take a firmer grasp. But the stone seems crumbling, or 'tis mortar und'jr my finger tips." He paused awhile in great ?oubt; the peril -was terrific. If the stone should crumble his fall would be certain. Something splashed in the slimy ooze far below him. He listened. Another splash, and a squeak. | "Rats!" said he. "They have discovered my presence, and will doubt? less attack me. I must trust in God and act." And commending his soul to bis Creator, he swung his body out from the wpII And thrpw ur? his left arm. The stone did not crumble; it was firm in its place. Drawing himself up as bigb as bis breast, then throwing up his knee and gaining additional brace, he was soon seated upon the brink of the horrible grave from which he had escaped. "Thank Heaven," he murmured, as he took breath after his labor. "So far I am safe." Feeling about, he found a large stone lying loose. This be dashed in the well, and the splash of its fall routed the squadron of ferocious rats beginning to move upward for assault "And now to explore; for my work is but begun," said he, groping about with extreme caution. After about ten minutes spent in this manner, he paused and reflected: "I am in a square prison?fifteen feet from wall to wall. The well Is in the centre, and the floor of the trap about five feet from the ground. I am here, walled up as it were. Ah, Katy, if you knew your love's situation, how your dear heart would bleed! To what horrors are you exposed In the power of that outrageous villain, Luke Ham' rnondl" To be continued. The Island of Samar. The Island of Samar is the third Island in size in the Philippine Archipelago, being 15G miles from northwest to southeast, and seventy-five miles from east to West, with an area of mainland 5198 square miles, and dependent islands of 290 square miles, or a total of 5488 square miles. It te 498 square miles larger than Connecticut, twice the size of Delaware, and over fVmi* on/1 a half iimoc ?io lorco ns "Rhnrta " *"? Island. The island is almost a continuation of the southeastern peninsula of Luzon, being separated from it by the Strait of San Bernardino, only ten and onehalf miles wide. A mountain chain of moderate height, scarcely exceeding 1700 to 1800 feet, trends from north to south, with lower hills toward the coast. The extensive valleys between these ranges are watered by a number of rivers. There are also four large lakes, one of which, Calibga, is a natural curiosity on account of the enormous boulders which line its shores. The Food of the Bine Jay. The common blue jay is well known all over the United States east of the i. n grt'Ul piuius. . v^ujic a uuuiua vl uijuitbologists and local observers conteDd that in spring and early summer a large portion of the food of this bird consists of the egg and young ot smaller birds. Some farmers claim that jay birds steal considerable corn from their barns in the fall of the year. But while there may be some truth in these accusations, an examination of the stomachs of several hun dreds of these birds at different periods of the year, show these charges to be largely exaggerated. The food of the blue jay consists principally of mice, tish, salamanders, snails, beetles, grasshoppers, caterpillars, spiders, etc.?Atlanta Journal. The Best Choice. It's better to be a live mun in a dead town, tO-'iii a dead man in a live town. 1 ?New 1'ork News. 'A SERM0N FOR SUNDAY AN ELOQUENT AND CONVINCING DISCOURSE ENTITLED "IMMORTALITY." The Rev. St. Clair Heater Deliver* a comforting iMeiiace to Those Who Are Wavering in the Belief in Regard to a Life Everlasting. New York City.?In the Church of the Messiah, Brooklyn, Sunday morning, the rector, the Rev. St. Clair Hester, preached on "Immortality?The Longing for It, Proposed Substitutes. Man'fc Right to It." The text was from Job xiv: 14: "If a man die shall he live again?" Mr. Hester said: The irrepressible, ubiquitous question, repeated again and again, world without end. Men like Job were asking it centuries before Christ, and men like Job are asking it centuries after Christ. It is in* vestea with perpetual youth and the world never tires of hearing answers to it. A father afflicted by the loss of his only eon in the morning of a beautiful youth writes a book entitled "Life Beyond Death." His dedication is a letter to hi? boy, beginning, "My Dear Phil," and clpsing with these woras: "God bless "you, my boy, till the eyes which I closed I see open again and looking into mine. Lovingly, father." This is the answer of one in grief. Under similar circumstances could you, would you, want to give any different answer? A w?fe bewails the sudden decease of her husband. She finds great com? ? tVirrmnrh his sermons and gathering fiom them and publishing every sentence that bears on the subject of meeting again in the world to come. Her heart is constantly singing: "Soul of my soul, we shall meet again, And with God be the rest." Hers is the answer of one in loneliness buoyed up by confident anticipation. Who in such a position could or would want to give any different answer? The thoughts of .men on the subject fepeated, reiterated, reaffirmed through thousands of years of human history, form an accumulation of evidence from which it is difficult to escape, evidence .aat gains emphasis by its repetition, evidence that arouses deepest feeling by the very earnestness of its utterance. The answer of Jesus Christ is the only answer that entirely satisfies the human mind and heart, it was proclaimed amid rejoicing, melody and song on Sunday last in all the churches. The echoes of Easter have not vet died out. Their soul has gone into all tne world and their words unto the ends of the earth. The echoes that come from the rock-hewn tomb within the Garden of Joseph of Arimathea are not like those we shout among cliffs and canyon Avails that gradually soften and die away. They are withm the realm of the spiritual world and they increase rather than diminish. They grow from soul to soul, from the soul of the risen Christ to the souls that believe in Him, and so they grow forever and forever. If Christ alone of all who live or have lived upon the earth is to live again after death, the resurrection of the first Easter day is nothing more than an amazine exhibition of Almighty power which wnile it impresses us it correspondingly depresses us Because it emphasizes the difference between us and Him and makes us despair of ever attaining unto such exaltation. If this be your feeling His rising was to no purpose, our preaching is vain. .Christianity is a cruel system 01 deception and we are of all men most miserable. But the truth is His rising was a promise and pledge to us of ours. He was the first fruit of them that sleep. First of all let me ask is it a fact that men desire to live again? Emerson tells the story of two members of the U. S. Senate who were fond of discussing speculative questions. Whenever possible they would meet and find relaxation in conversing on subjects other than shop. Their favorite topic was the immortality of the soul, but they could never find any satisfactory reason for believing it. They separated and one retired to a distant State. After twtenty-five years they met at a crowded reception in the White House. They shook hands cordially, and standing to one 6ide for a moment one of tnem asked, "Any light, Albert?" "None," was the reply. After a pause the other asked, "Any light, Lewis?' The answer again was "None." They shook hands again, looked one another in the eye in silence and parted, never to see each other again. Emerson's remark upon the incident is that the impulse that prompted' these men to try to find proofs of immortality was itself tne strongest of all proof. In my opinion Emerson was right. Yes, men do desire to live again. They are not afraid to die, to have the body destroyed, many of them, but thev shudder at the idea of annihilation, of becoming nothing more than a breath of air or a pinch of dust. Even the barbarian ,and the savage believe in a future life, that somehow the thinking soul may escape the wreck of the unthinking body. In all probability it is an idea that erew out of the phenomena of dreams. While man sleeps nis other self wanJers away at will, and something like this nuy happen, he reasoned, wnen death, the long sleep, comes to him. In after and higher stages of culture the conception of immortality was at first a sad and depressing one. The Sheol of the Jews, the Hades of the Greeks, the Orcus of the Roman, were abodes, of shades, shadows, ghosts?and such a future could only be regarded with fear and dislike. But in time man began to surmise that perhaps the next life might be an improvement upon this one. The analogies in nature around him gave a strong suggestion to this effect. The snake casts its sYin and glides forth in a new and better one. The beetle breaks away from its filthy sepulcher and enters on a new career, and man notice?, it and begins to hang golden scarabaei in his temples as symbols of his hope. Winter retires and there comes a resurrection of flower, foliage and fruits. He sees the silkworm weave its cocoon and die within it, and after a time come forth clad in brighter colors and able to spurn the earth on which it formerly crawled and fly away and then he begins to carve butterflies on tombstones and ventures to hope that he may likewise be freed from the entanglements and defilements of earth aud flesh and range in a freer and happier state the universe at will. All such similitudes, and there are hundreds of them in nature, help to strengthen man's conviction that he will live again, make more, roseate the hope that he will survive the wreck of the universe. The desire for immortality is too apparent to be ODen to dispute. The savage and the civilizea, the illiterate peasant and the profoundest thinker alike want it to be so. Even when some have lost hope they desire it fondly as ever. Even when a man has lost all hope of living again he cannot rid himself of desire for it. That is ineradicable. Now here is the sound and legitimate conclusion. A desire so universal and persistent is the planting of the creative power responsible for our existence. It is a manifest prophecy of what shall be. _ The existence of an organ implies the existence ot a field for its operation?this is an axiom of science. There would be no fins if there were no water to s*vim in, no wings if there were no air to ffv in, no feet if there were no earth to walk on. Now here is another sound and legitimate conclusion? ? '* * - - tt_ 1 i j:_ wnat uoa promises xiu periorms. xiis-viiiii-actor is perfect. To hold any other idea of Him would be blasphemous or presumptuous. To implant this desire and provide no means for its gratification would oe a cruel deception. To make this promise and not carry it out would be a breach of trust as base as the squandering on selfish pleasure of the property the widow or the orphan confides to an attorney's man agement. God has not dealt so in any other ease. He is the rcwarder of those who put their trust in Him. If a man die. shall he live again? The , answer of Christianity is, "I believe in the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting." But this answer is not unani- , mous. Mpdern skepticism and speculative philosophy have proposed certain substitutes for the faith once delivered. Even though the comforting doctrine of Christianity be rejected men recoil from the specter of eternal oblivion. They invent new theories and call them by the old sweet name of immortality, which means continuation without break of the individ ual life. One substitute proposed is absorption into God. loss of consciousness of difference between self and another and between self and God?a melting of human being into Divine Being, just as sugar melts and is lost in the coffee it sweetens. iust as the river flowiug to the sea is swal- < . lowed up in the srcat deep. I Now the loss of individuality, personal ' identity, selfhood, would be a loss of con- i aciousneas and a loss of consciousness ] V / V* r;r- v -f-:.-; . - - /. ^ . , . ' " v/ . * ' J - y would be the loss of everything of impOT* ' tance. If 1 do not know that 1 exist thii is practical annihilation, and this does not j at all meet or satisfy the longing of my nature. This is a theistic substitute. Now I let me mention some atheistic substitutes, : substitutes thnt leave out (iod altogether. One of thew proposes the.idea of ab- 1 sorption into the universe. The particles j of matter of which we are eomposf.d will ( mingle with earth and air and sea anU skv, and live eternally amid their ever varying changes and combinations. All this sounds well, but think of what it means. Life is always dyiug out, and death alone persists and conquers, according to this interpretation. Materialists attempt to dazzle us with an infinite panorama of whirling suns, evolving planetsand astronomical wonders, but. without the self-conscious soul liie is nothing, a series of sepulch.ers, || earth, ashes, dust. There is nothing in prospect to comfort the sorrowing heart. Still another substitute is absorption into the race. Immortality of fame. The great man, it is said, will survive in the memory of his' fellows. Beautiful books, useful inventions aud instructive examples ?thc-so will insure the plaudits of posterity. Napoleon is said to have remarked: "My soul will pass into history and the deathless memories of mankind, and thus in glory T shall be immortal." The objection to this theory is that it makes immortality the privilege of the few. The Alexanders, the Caesars, the Augustines, the Washingtons, the geniuses, are all happily ] Vmf what nf manv who UI UV1UCU lUi j uu v ITUU" V* nave written no beautiful books, who have . performed no heroic deeds, who have left no inspiring examples? Are they to be ' blotted out, punished for not having what was never given them, for not having what they could not possibly get? Is immor- \ tality thus a reward only for the diatin- ! gui<?hed, the gifted Jew? No, it is a false i theory It is pathetic and surprising that men of parts should have stooped to con- j sole and flatter themselves in this fashion. ' Fame alone, be it as great as that of Peri- ' cles or Luther, is not by itself a sufficient and satisfying return for the labor its winning entails; it certainly is not pay enough ; for man's extinction. Fame is something left behind anyway, and those of us who have no fame are like the drop of water that dries up after it has fallen. This substitute is puerile, wanting in dignity. Another one holds that we must content ourselves with immortality of the race. The individual disappears, but the race c'ontinues storing up within itself all that is worthiest of survival. We live in others. They inherit all our qualities, they carry on to succeeding generations the impress of our personality. Is not that enough? j No, it is not enough. It is no consolation 1 to think that others will live after us if 1 they are to be annihilated, too. To claim j that the race lives forever, but the indivia- ( ual dies forever, is to be guilty of a con- , tradiction in terms. The whole of any- ^ thing is made up of its parts; if all the . parts die, the whole is thereby necessarily extinguished. How can the race be im- j mortal if all its members are mortal? , The substitute proposed by the theist, \ the materialist, the positivist. the atheist, do not commend themselves to man's rea- ( Bon or sympathy. They are wanting in j Soodness, in kindness and justice. They ] o not meet the conditions of man's desire , to live again. Only the immortality taught ,-t and exemplified by Jesus Christ finds a , glad and welcome response in the affec- ( tions of mankind. < If a man die, shall he live again? As a Christian I answer yes. Do you ask why? , Because he has a right to do so. Because , God is just. Righteous art Thou in all ^ Thy way, the psalmist sings. Some incline ] to the view that as regards God's dealings , with man, the latter can have no right, j that man is in the position of a beggar, ( ?;lad to receive anvthing, but without any j egitimate claim, lie must call upon God, 1 not because of any virtue in His character, , but because He is all powerful. He made j us, we are His creatures; therefore, He j may act toward us and do with us as He Dlea3es. We are duty bound to obey Hun, ] to be kindly disposed toward Him. but He I is under no sort of obligation to deal generously or justly toward us. All such theories and interpretations are misrepresentations of the divine character, actual slanders UDon God's froodness. God is a ! father, and no father is at liberty to neglect, ill treat, degrade a child simnly be- | s cause he is his own. Indeed, this very , j fact is the strongest sort of reason that he will do just the reverse. We all recog- . nize and respect tjie obligations of parent blojpd. To care for the child's body, to train its mind, to instill moral principle I into its nature is incumbent upon even? I < parent. Some deny tLemselves the high t privilege for fear of an inheritance oi < weakness or disease, and thereby making [ ? the life of a loved one miserable. It is the < veriest sophistry, it is cruel misrepresenta- ' tion, to my mind it is unthinkable, that ? imperfect man is of kindlier nature toward l his child than the perfect God toward His, : a that the finite is under compulsion to do j i right, but the Infinite is not. On the con- c trary, every rise in the scale of being de- I mands a corresponding rise in the scale , J of obligation. The wiser, the greater, the i I better off the parent, the happier his child e is expected to be. The greater his ability j c '* * j- tl:? r to <10, tne more n. ougnu io uu. xma ia the lesson of the parable of the talents. < To one five, to another two, to another c one, to every man according to his several , b abilities. In proportion to the gift so i ought the return to be. He who has little J of him little is demanded. He who has j t much of him much is required. This is , c an immutable law of universal application, j t And God is self limited at least to the ex* , s tent of respecting His own laws. Can and ! 1 ought are reciprocalities of goodness which ! c God exact6 of man because sacredly re- , J garded by Himself. If man can do and \ does do so much for his offspring, it is <j hardly possible for us to conceive of what j J God can do and does do for His. j 1 We are not mere objects?stones, sticks, ' shells?but animate, intelligent beings, into j J whom God breathes and builds something j 1 that identifies us with Him and His nature, j 6 The difference between God and man is , ? more in degree than in kind. The two are t ( of the same spiritual essence. There are faculties the two have in common: Reason, conscience, will, are specifications in point. Man is endowed with them and the consti- < tution and course of nature reveal their ex* 1 istence in the workings of God. By resem- t bJance ot attribute ana identity ai me wc i are proven God's children. And will God i kill His own children? kill us before we have fully realized what the life He ha9 given is? We long for happiness and vet we get comparatively little of it here. We cherish an ideal of perfection and vet we never attain it on earth. Wc are but beginning to understand what a grand and noble thing life mav be when we have to lie down and die. We are just on the point of reaching the rewards for which we have waited and toiled when the end comes, and if we are ever to enjov them it must be in another world. Now is God in all this and all the while deceiving us? When we desire the bread of everlasting life will He give us: the stone of everlasting death? After we have prayed to Him, trusted in Him, lifted up our hearts to Him, tried His works to do. loved Him and longed to be with Him during our residence on earth will He welcome us when at last we come to Him with annihilation? If so He is not good. If-so He is not God. If bo there is no God. If so on the throne of the universe is seated not a loving father but a ] jeering fiend taunting us for our helpless- , ness and delighting in our misery. Right- { eou3ness, eternal righteousness is against ^ any such supposition. It is not possible ^ that the devil is supreme. It is not possi- , ble that man is more kind, more humane . and considerate and sympathetic than the < God who made him. It is not possible ] that He who made conscience nas no conscience. If anything stands the test of reason this does?that He who implanted the sense of justice within us must Himself be just. Amid all the darkness the sor- 1 rows, the riddles of existence, let us not de- 1 spond or despair, let us look confidently 1 for the greatest gift, the gift God owes it to Himself to bestow?eternal life. "Tn nil thp maHrlpninc maze of thines And tossed by storm and flood. To one fixed state my spirit clings? I know that God is good." Therefore. He will never leave or forsake us. either in this life or the world to come. Let us hold fast to this truth?God is good?and when the end cometh all will be well with the soul. Tlie Gambling; Spirit. ! He must be blind who does not note a very dangerous growth of the gambling spirit in American life. There is a great demand that somebody shall call a. nalt. i'he women should do it. The girl gambler . is fhe stormy petrel on the social norizon to-dav.?The F.ev Dr. 13ank.<?, Methodist, * NTew York. ffiE EELIGIOUS LIFE HEADING FOR THE QUlfcT HOUR WHEN THE SOUL INVITES ITSEL?. Poena: The M?rcy of God?Tbe Snare of Self-Pity-Bobi Life of All It* Hero* lam?Self-Denl?l Is the Opposite and Nobler Trait. There's a wideness in God's mercy Like the wideness of the sea; There's a kindness in His justice, Which is more than liberty. There is welcome for the sinner, There are blessings for the good, There is mercy witn the Saviour, There is healing in His blood. For the love of God is broader* Than the measure of man^ mind;* And the heart of the Eternal Is most wonderfully kind. If our love weVe but more simple, We should take Him at His word; And our lives would be all Sunshine In the sweetness of our Lord. -F. W. Faber. Don't Pity Yourself. Sympathy is a very beautiful thing when kept where it belongs. We cannot have I too much sympathy with those who need 1 it. But there is one person whose need oi n is more man aouDtiui, and tnat person is one's individual eelf. Pity is akin to love, and self-pity is so close a relative of self-love tnat we, are wise if -we i definitely refuse to let it enter the door* ' of our souls. " Yet at some time in every life it seeks entrance. There is no lot wnere, in youth even, there is not some opportunity for self-pity. "I am poor," "I am discouraged," "I am misunderstood," "I am jfighted," ,"I am overworked," there is no ?nd to the whispers that self-pity makes in our ears. If we yield to these suggtestions, however, we soon begin to feel tnat the situation gets worse every day. We find our cotfrage waning, our despondency growing and all possibility of cneer ana rictory receding in the distance. Sympathy for self is a paralyzing and fatal sympathy. Unlike the sympathy of a wise friend, j it brings no new point of view and suggests oo fresh plan of campaign. A man who sympathizes with himself ilways has an over-prodnation of grievances. If he undertook to explain some of bis minor miseries to even hia best friend they mignt seem email, but self treats them respectfully and sympathizes unfailingly. Let the habit of self-pity be once established, and happiness is gone forever ind a day. The tiniest trouble becomes a thing to' brood upon. Health of soul is jone and soreness of spirit has taken its place, until at last the self-sympathizer becomes one of those miserable persons svho proclaims: "Nobody has such a hard time as I have." When we get to saving that, we are 3own in the pit of folly and selfishness indeed. No soul that makes that wail is arasve or noble or deserving of much symaatRy. When we once truly look about us md see or guess the crushing burdens other souls are bearing with patience and with)ut complaint, we shall be ashamed of such lowardly whining. Whatever lot we may have in life, we do not know what its possibilities really are until we have cheerfully and courageously ried them. Self-pity blinds us to the silver lining of the cloud, to the discipline hid inder hardship, to the strength brought by burden-bearing. "Blessed is he that jvercometh." Shall we swh because we save a chance to win a clessing? Shall we be caught in the snare of self-pity and lever get free? It is a foare that tangles nany young feet, and the sooner we learn :o avoid it the better. The brave life never sits down to brood. I [t pushes ahead, sharing its crust with an* | ither's need, shifting its burden as well is it can so as to lend a hand to a com ade's load, trudging steadfastly forward :hrough ram and shine, and sure to get o the goal in the end. It takes self-denial, lot self-pity, as a guide, and for him who nakes tnat choice there is no such word ! is failure, though all fate seems against iim.?Young People. Looking Buck. "No m^n, having put .his hand to the )low, and looking back, .is fit for the kinglom of God." We learn from this saying hat it is impossible to serve God with a livided heyt. If we are looking back to inything in this world, we are not fit to be lisciples. Jesus will not share His throne vith any one?no, not with our dearest relitives. He must have all our heart, or lone. No doubt we are to honor father ind mother, and love all around us. But vhen love to Christ and love to relatives :ome in collision, Christ must have the ireference. We must be ready, like \braham, if needs be, to come out from tindred and father's house for Christ's ake. We must be prepared, in case of neessity. like Moses, to turn our backs even >n those who have brought us Up, if God rails us, and the path is plain. Such deeded conduct may entail sore trials on our iffections. It may wing our hearts to go ontrary to the opinions of those we love. Jut tuch conduct may sometimes be posiively necessary to our salvation, and withnit it, when it becomes necessary, we are infit for the kingdom of God. The times ire undoubtedly much changed since our liord spoke these words. Not many are ailed upon to make such real sacrifices for Christ's sake as when Christ was on earth. But the heart of man never changes. The lifficulties of salvation are still very great, rhe atmosphere of the world is still very infavorable to spiritual reliarion. There is till a need for thorough, unflinching, whole learted decision if we would reach neaven. L?t us aim at nothing less than this deciion. Let us be willing to do anything, and mffer anything, and Hive up everything for Christ's sake.?Our Young Folks. Making Men Believe In Too. You must win men's taith beiore yoa :an do anything to make them wise or. lappy. Therefore it is that the mere imount of a man's intellectual power or ;he mere degree of truth in a man's doc;rine is never a complete test or assurance >f the power he will have over other men. In infidel will make the whole world listen ind fill men with his folly if he can only nake men believe in him, while wisdom lersclf may cry aloud in the chief place of :oncourse and no man hear, and the whole :rowd go awav as foolish as it came. If you Teally want to help your fellow nen. you must not merely have in you vhat would do them good if they should :ake it from you, but you must hie such a nan lhat they can take it from you. The mow must melt upon the mountain and :oroe down in a spring torrent before its ichness can make the valley rich. And y^t n every age there are cold, hard, unsvmpa;hetic wise men standing up aloof, like mow banks on the hill tops, conscious of ihe locked-up fertility in them, ana won* lering that their wisdom does not save the vorld.?Phillips Brooks. Universal Gifts. It ir not rare gifts that make men happy, [t is tlje common and simple and universal ;ifts; it is health and the glance of sunAine in the morning; it is fresh air; it is :he friend, the lover; it is the kindlinesss that meets us on tne journey; u may ue >nlv a word, a smile or a look. It is these ind not any rarity of blessing that are Sod's gentle art of making happy.?G. H. Morrison. Right Mnke? Might. Let a man try faithfully, manfully, to be right, he will daily grow more and more right. It is the bottom of the condition on iraich all men have to cultivate themselves. Tlie Hare'l Vinfulnet*. In the economy of nature the hare is he one creature that stands between most f the carniverous animals and starvation, n the northern woods, where snow lies on he ground for more than half the year, nd where vegetation is of slow growth, the tare serves as a machine for converting lirch twigs into muscular, lean meat and irovidinz it in such quantities that hawks, wiMMfa wpa^pIk and foxes can live ti comparative luxury. A pair of hares unler favorable conditions produce 70,000 inlividuals in four years. Electric Cars In India. Electric tramways have been introduced .1 Calcutta, and will soon be introduced in tombay. _ 4 i w ' i:Z: THE SABBATH SCHOOtB . rag INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS. M FOR MAY 17. >H i M Snbjeot: Paul Before Felix, Acta **! " B0 10-16, M-i-26-Golden Text. P??. xxlil., 4? Memory Vcries, 14-10?Stndy Ver??t |BH 1-27?Commentary on the Lemoa. - ln| II. Paul's defense (vs. 10-21). 10# Hfi "Paul?answered." Although twice before H3 Paul had spoken what he called a defense H| ?first, before a vast crowd of Jews in the temple avea^ and again before the ae?em* Diea csanneuriH ? yew iliib ? um iu? ual defense, as he now stands before an im? perial ttibusal. the Governor representing the person ana authority of the Emperor* "Forasmuch as I know." It is remarkable JflH that Paul did not begin his speech, aS Ter* tullns had done, by any flattering address, MM cr by any of the arts of rhetoric. He founded his plea on the justice of his cause and on the fact that Felix had had so much' experience n the affairs of Judea that he HI was well qualified to understand the met* 'Ml its of the case and to radge impartially, Paul was well acquainted with his charae* jH ter, and would not by flattering words de> H care mat wrncn was uui> *wtvw/< "Many years." For the comparatively long > period of six or seven years Felix hnxi been H in Jerusalem and Caesarea. - "A judge." A magistrate, or one appointed to admin- H iRter the affairs of government. "More cheerfully answer." Because of Felix's un- X usual familarity with Jewish questions. -Vj The fact of his Knowledge is attested in v. 11. "Mavest understand." From the SH shortness of his stay in Jerusalem, anj of* IBB fense committed there musfrJteTe been re- ? cent. There could be no difficulty in ob- .'M taining witnesses and ^proofe. 'Twelve ciays. from me uiuc x am *uu until his return was only nine day*. Only ' 39 eight of the twelve days had been spent in ":m Jerusalem. His design in menti^ttrag' the number of days was to show' the improba- 1 bility that in so short a time lie conia have produced a tumult. "To worship.'' He Vfl ! went on purpose to worship and had no ->Hm thought of producing a tumult or of pro- 1 W ' faning the tempi*. ' ,?\T . , vJ? 12, 13. "Neither' found me," etc.' In terms of unqualified denial be meets;the fl first charge?of sedition. -Worship, : not 9 the plotting of insurrection, was the object M of his recent visit to Jerusalem, arid while 9 worshiping he was found una arrested. He had not even spoken in ptihHc, ranch fl less by artful harangue sought to gather 9 /lioiffantaA naraftna in ,'tTiP fpnTI^O, 'fl the synagogues or the city; < ^Neither can . they prov<*." Here was the pith of' thea^B case. This appeal is boldly madef he ehal- ' lenges investigation. They hadmade vagjle, wild assertions about Paul, hoping that the . JH Governor might be influenced to condemn 9 him without trial, as doubtless he |wd I have done but for his Roman citizenship. . Tbev very well knew that their charges I eouM not be proven under the'Roman law. ' Accusation is not proof. / yfl 14. "This I confess.'" This verse and the - a following contain Paul's reply to the accu- "> q 8 sction of TertuDus, that lie was a ring* ?*{jfl leader of the sect of the Nazarenee. He - J boldly and joyously confesses that be is * 'v,rS| "Kiif of fKa flam* Hmp Hw?lina "* 3 to acknowledge the opprobriov* term need. I by Tertullus. "The way." The way is ;.l here uaed by Paul to signify the Christian '/Hi . religion. See chap. 9: 2. "Heresy." &Vfl sect. The word used ia the same that Ter- '.fl tullus- used in verse 5, when making his , fl charge. They had called the Christian* a . "sect," and Paul does not disown the ^M name. "So worship." See R. V. It is aa'v '81 if he said: After tiie way which they call r 8| false and erroneous, but which is accord- ./ ] I ing to the inward light given ine, worship JB I my father's Ood, Jehovah; the God myf^fifl ancestors'adored. i 15, 10. "Hope toward God." Having. hope of the resurrection of the dead, which '. 3m arises from the promises of God. He de- ->|H clares that, in common with many of his - ' J f flccimers. and with the mass of his nation, be holds steadfastly to the hope of a resnr* ,< rection from death, through the promise :,'9H and power of God. "I exercise myself He strives as the athlete or warrior, only his struggle and warfare is within the eooL'. M His supreme aim aud constant effort waa ^,9 to keep his conscience from striking against J J stumbling stones of accusing purpose. M wrong thought or evil deed. "Conscience. * The conscience does not tell as what is. rigbt, but urges us to da what we know to. 39 be right, and rebukes us for doing what #e know to be wrong. . : 17. "After many years." Paul refers ifi. the four years which had elapsed since lua last visit to Jerusalem (chap. 18: 22). ... 18-21. "Jews from Asia." Pant justly complains that the very persons who alone * could testify against hun were absent, and showed that there was really no well- t founded charge against him. They alone [< could testify as to anything that occurred" ^ in the temple, and as they were not pres- v | ent that charge ought to be disnusaea. : -m "Or else." Paul turns with a bold challenpe to the Sadducean Jews present. He demands their own personal testimony upon t?e facts that occurred when he stood before the Sanhedrin. With a keen thrnst he asks if the utterance of the hated truth of the resurrection was not the only ,Wj charge of evil doing they could bring. :yjgj III. Imprisonment at Caesarea <vs. 22- . '(Wi 24. "When Felix heard." Th.e .Governor ! virtually decided the case in favor of Paul, .j&j But he wished to keejj the good will of the Jews. So he deferred an answer irom flme to time, in the meanwhile allowing PauK^Mj much liberty and the company of hia friends. "Having ? knowledge. Felix TSmj knew more than most rulers about Chria- 4. -J tianity. He evidently knew the character .ifcj of the disciples and that what Paul said 4J was true. And yet he "deferred" the caeo because he did not wish to give offense to -'TBli the Jews. "After certain days." Felix came into the audience chamber with his\?J?| wife, Drusilla, and the prissier was aomnnnoH hpfnrp them. Thus Paul had an op- ^"J portunity in his bonds of preaching thft t -J gospel, and such an opportunity ashe -*jl could hardly otherwise have obtained. . sal 25. 26. "Reasoned of righteousness/' etc. Jyl Paul preaches as a faithful apostle should I have preached to such hearers. They sent I for him to hear about Christ. They heard J much more than they cared to hear. Paul's I boldness is all the more striking when we . ?' remember that he was dependent on Felix -il for pardon. "Felix trembled." In view I of his past sins, and the judgment to come, vl The prisoner preaches,-the judge trembles. "Go thy way." Felix was troubled, bat instead of asking thie way of peace, he sent the messenger of warning away. He die<f M as he had lived. "Convenient." ^he sinv-^l ner is always looking for a "convenient-sea- I son" to turn to God. A season when noth- I ing will stand in his way and hif* worldly I relations will not be interfered with. But I - n ? "W- " J sucn a tiroc win ncvci wwc, etc. He hoped that Paul would pay for his freedom. He knew that Paul hadl many friends, and 'that "they were not too poor or too selfish to assist one a? 1 other." 9} 1 Motor Car* In Fortojr*). I Motor care as vet show no sign* of being -* - 4 used in Fortugal. Last year only, twenty M were imported, of whicn eighteen; vere fl French, one English and one German. The * bicycle trade is also languishing; only ,572 " bicycles were imported in twelve monflit? -t 222 from the United States. 151 from France and thirty-five from the United Kingdom. The population of Portugal is ibout tne same as mat ul jjvuuvi*. t m ' Blue Paper For Horse Sausages. The canton of Geneva, Switzerland, has recently passed a law which makes it compulsory that butchers who sell horse sausages must wrap them up in blue paper, so as to avoid confusion. The butchers are in high dudgeon, and have complained to the . Federal authorities that the new law in- v terferes with the freedom of commerce. ' 3 ' liwi Control Tnsect Growth. Warren T. Clark, of the University of California, has demonstrated that the wings of the rose amphis can be developed or modified by chemical excitation, and that by changing the food he can alter and control the growth and development of the insect. j % I A Motor 'Bun. H An excellent motor omnibus has just I made its appearance in London, and from J the moment that its speed, reliability and -M comfort are proved that utter abomination, of locomotion, the 'bus, the despair of all students of traffic problems, is doomed.