The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, May 27, 1903, Image 6
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II LUKE H"
II THE I
11 By Prof. Wm. Henry P<
II Author of tie "TR Stone-CutU
9 ? tt Lisbon,'* Etc.
CHAPTER XVI.
Continued.
"Don't strike me, Luke Hammond?
flon't! I'm old enough to be your
TTAH lrnrvor Q TiOAT TCPQ If h.llf
UiUlUCXt JUU auun u |/W*, " w?,?, ?.
mad old 'wretch?my children?did you
know I had two??of course not?who
knows anything about me?nobody, nobody?but
the dead?but my children
made me what I am, Luke Hammond?"
"Curse your children!" roared he, un ble
to jerk his arm free 'without
dragging the old wretch down, for
Fan had grown feeble and tottering
ever since she saw the falling of James
Greene.
"Good?curse them for me, Luke
Hammond," laughed Fan, now grasping
his arm with both hands. "Curse
them?how often I have cursed them?
Bon and daughter?cursed them on land
and sea, In field and town?cursed
them everywhere and always! If It
wa'n't for the pleasure It gives me to
curse them, I'd cut my withered old
throat?I would. But about my dream
?I saw him?he came in a cloud?
black, grand cloud?the cloud grew
' email and then he said something?I
didn't hear It, but It meant that I w&s
near my death?that I had b$en very
wicked, but that I would have been
pardoned If I hadn't had a hand in
murder?you made me do it. He told
?ne I was going to die, but that I
t ahould see my children and know them
flrst. Now here's what I'm going to
do?I won't go out of this house?I
might meet my children?I don't want
to die?I won't. I'll stay in this house
and they'll never see me, and?ha! ha!
I'll live forever?live forever!"
With a howl of rage and terror Hammond
darted away, and pale, panting,
breathless, sank into his library chair,
exclaiming, in a voice of horror:
"There is no doubt of it! That old
hag is my mother!"
? Then placing the brandy decanter
to his parched and quivering lips, he
drank lone and srreedilv.
"Ah!" he sighed, as he drew a long
tjreath, "this business over, and once
more rich, I will fly where no one of
my kindred shall ever meet me?no,
not even Nancy Harker. I must see
her."
He pulled the bell-cord and shouted
through the tube.
"Mrs. Harker! Come! Important!
How is Catharine?"
The answer came after a pause:
"Bad! delirious."
"Delirious!" said Hammond, and be
Bhouted back: "Stay! I will come to
you."
He drank again from the decanter,
and departed, saying:
"Delirious! I expected it. I will let
Henry Elgin see her thus. The sight
mav moTP his heart to mv wishes."
CHAPTER XVII.
tiie phantom-name!
Hammond hurried to the "white and
gold chamber.
He found Kate Elgin pacing the floor
with rapid steps, and Nancy Harker
watching her as a cat watches a
mouse.
Hammond saw by the wildness of
Kate's countenance, her feverish look
and unnatural agitation that she was
not conscious of her actions.
"Are you ill, Miss Elgin?" he asked.
Kate glanced toward him as he
epoke, and the sound of his voice
seemed to curdle her blood, for she
grew pale and shivered as if "with cold.
"I thought I heard his voice," said
Kate.
. "Whose voice. Miss Elgin?"
"Luke Hammond's voice,' said Kate,
with a vacant look and leaning against
the wall.
"I am Luke Hammond," said he.
"You! Ah, no! Luke Hammond is
not a man, he is a devil. Who are you!
Have you seen James Greene? I am
to meet mm at seven?is it seven
Poor Kate continued to talk in wild
delirium, sometimes walking, sometimes
leaning against the wall.
"Why do you not persuade her to lie
down? Why did you let her rise?" demanded
Luke.
"If I go near her," said Nancy, "she
screams and seems abou^ to fall into
convulsions. She was sleeping nicely
a time back, when some one rushed
through the hall?you, I think?making
a great to-do, and she awoke as you
Bee?out of her head. She got right
up. and will not lie down. It is nothing
serious. You needn't look so
grave. It won't last very long, and
will end in a fit of tears."
"You are sure of that?" asked Hammond,
and after a few moments of
keen observation of Kate's appearance
.be added: "You are right, Nancy. A
good flood of tears will relieve her.
.Where's P'an ?"
He turned around and started as he
saw the old creature squatted in the
doorway, eyeing him and his sister
with a sharper gaze than he had ever
seen in those twisted orbs before.
"I am here. Luke Hammond," said
Fan. not moving, but rolling her eyes
from him to Nancy, and from Nancy
to him unceasingly. "I am thinkingthinking
"
"A plague take your thoughts!" said
Hammond. "Get up and go tell Daniel
to roll Henry Elgin's bed hither.
Go. old simpleion."
"Yes. I will," said Fan. crawling up
the side of the door until on her feet.
"You don't know how weak and shaky
I am now. Yesterday?why thi6 morning
I lifted the big tub of water easier
than I can a cupful bow. But I was
thinkinc. vou know whnt o r*Q?r nf
fiends you two be?you and Mrs. Harker?gay
fiends! You ought to be kin
?close kin?you look alike about the
?yes and mouth?hard, cruel?"
"Silence?" said Luk*> fioropiy. "(Jo
4J0 a? 1 ordered." j
. ''
H. t
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\MMOND, ] I
rtlSER.. ||
!ck, Copyriirht 1896, ? Hi
I by Bobui Bonnk&'B Sons. | g
B {All rights reserved.) S ?|
"Yes, yes?more devil'ry," said Fan,
turning away, and muttering as she
passed through the ante-chamber into
the hall, "Two gay devils! Devil burn
me if you ain't the gayest pair I ever
knew?but one pair?my boy and girl?
they were a pair?gay fiends?gay!"
"Nancy," said Luke, looking at his
6ister, half stupefied, "what are you
thinking about?"
"About Fan," said Nancy.
"You must not do It, Nancy, Harker,"
said Luke. "We axe uneasy enough
now in suspecting?we would be mis-1
erable in knowing."
"Luke," said Nancy, sternly, "you do
know it, or believe it. She lex slip that
there were twelve letters in the name
of some oae whom she iovea. it may
be only a coincidence, but taken -with
other things, it looks like ? fatality.
See."
Nancy Harker stooped and wrote
with red chalk upon the white matting
this name:
NICHOLAS DUNN.
"That is a name, Luke, that you and
I have not spoken aloud for years?
the name of our father. Count the letters."
"Twelve!" said Hammond, uneasily.
"But it is nothing more than a coinci- j
dence. Let the matter alone, Nancy." I
"Suppose she, old Fan, is as we
think," said Nancy."
"But she 1b not, confound your curiosity,"
said Hammond. "She is not?
3he shall not be."
"Luke," said Nancy, speaking very
low, although poor Kate seemed far
from understanding or listening.
"Luke, if it should be true that Fan
was Tne wire or tne man wuose uame
I have written there, and whose children
we are, and she should discover
the truth!"
Hammond turned deadly pale.
"Luke," continued Nancy, "she would
avenge the death of her husband as
sure as you are standing trembling
there!"
"Trembling! Do I tremble? So do
you," said Hammond.
"I do?I know it" said Nancy. "I
tremble for two reasons. First, because
in Fan, as we call her, we may
find an enemy no less ferociously vindictive
than Harriet Foss. Besides,
Fan is half crazy, and her vengeance,
hate or whatever feeling may urge
her to our destruction if she finds out
who we are, and if she is the person
we think she is, urge her to our destruction
with means which would be
all the more dangerous to us because
she will not pause to sacrifice her own
life in her fury."
"She may have a feeling?the feeling
of a mother, Nancy, for her offspring."
"Our mother," said Nncy, "never
loved us. She was devoted to her hus
band alone?you know it. Her soul
was with him. Was it our desertion
that made our mother a lunatic? No,
our desertion killed our father, and
that crazed our mother."
"Well, let's hear the other reason for
your trembling."
"If Fan is our mother," said Nancy,
"she is a deadly enemy. How do we
deal with deadly enemies?"
"But if it comes to a question of her
life or our death, Nancy, what then?"
"It must not come to that," said
Nancy. "That would be horrible. We
must get rid of her?send her away?
not harm her."
"Too late," said Hammond, clenching
his fists; "too late, Nancy."
"Why too late, Luke? Is It ever too
late to prevent a crime, which we fear
we may be forced to perpetrate for
our own preservation?"
"Yes, it is too late," continued Luke.
"'Fan is not the same woman she was.
I Intended that she should perish with
James Greene, but her cunning baffled
me. Since then she thinks she must
tell of the scene to all who know nothing
of it. That desire is increasing in
her heart. If we send her away she
might tell of the affairs of Luke Hammond,
sad then?ruin to us! Besides,
we should need another in her place,
and already we have too many accomplices.
Let that name that you have
written remain upon the floor. Watch
Fan when she reads it."
"She will not understand it," said
Nancy; "she has often told me she has
forgotten how to write and read."
"She may have been lying."
"If bo," said Nancy, "seeing that
namfc there she will connect it with
our presence here, suspect and leap to
a conclusion at once."
"You talk as if she was in the full
swing and sway of her reason. You
forget she is half crazy, and though
'tis said crazy people are extremely
cunning, they cannot reason, or. if
they do, not long in a single, connected
train of argument. Besides, if she
asks of it we are not to see it?let her
think it a vision of her own."
"And if she proves to be our mother?"
"Proof is impossible. We can only
r>r>nr>lnrif? Imnfrino ciinnnco iinlocc chu
avows that she is Ellen Elizabeth, once
the wife of "
He pointed at the name written on
the white matting In blood red lines.
"And then, Luke?"
"And then?and then?well, we will
talk about that afterwards," said Luke,
placing a piece of gold in the centre of
the great D of the name.
"Why put that money .there?"
"That she may And the name and
not be told to look for it" said Hammond,
with a grim smile of cunning.
"Old Fan can smell gold as a rat
smells cheese."
"You are lavish with your money."
"My money!" laughed Luke. "Henry
Elgin's money, and I use it to gain the
whole!"
Here Kate Elgin advanced and said
In a plaintive voice:
"Please tell me if James GreeDe has
called. I am sick and cannot meet
hiin. When he comes let me see him."
Certainly," said Hammond. "Would
you like to see your father?"
"He is in heaven, with my mother,"
said poor Kate. "Who are ypu?"
"Don't you know me, Catharine? I
im TTnim nrclo T.nltP TTnmmnnd "
"You're a man, are you not, sir?"
asked Kate, but combing her long
curls with her fingers, and looking at
the ceiling,
"Yes, I am a man."
"Then you are not Luke Hammond,
for he is a serpent!" screamed Kate,
fiercely, and again pacing the room.
"She is quite crazy just now," remarked
Nancy.
"So much the better," said Hammond.
"But I hear Daniel rolling ]
Henry Elgin hith-r. Remember that I
cannot have my eye on old Fan; watch
her yourself." ;
"I will," said Nancy, as Daniel rolled
the invalid's bed before the door of the
ante-chamber.
Henry Elgin was lying upon it with
an expression of scornful apathy upon
his pale and wasted features, but when
his bed was halted so that his eyes
could sweep through the ante-chambe;
into the white and gold, and as he saw
his beloved child sitting in a chair facing
him he utter a cry of mingled joj
and anguish.
"Kate; my darling! dear daughterr
said he, as Hammond held a lamp near
Kate Elgin's face to show the father
the beloved features, all wan, worn
and wasted. She raised her eyes to
his for a second only, then said to
Hammond, but looking at old Fan,
who stood behind her father:
"I thought you were leading James
Greene to me."
Old Fan shuddered, and looked behind
her, as if she expected to see
James Greene rushing at her from the
deep, dark well.
"Merciful powers!" cried Elgin, "my
child does not know me! She is mad!"
Kate began to sing a sad and mournful
song, but laughed wildly ere she
finished, and said:
'This is too sad for a bride to sing."
"Luke Hammond!" cried Elgin, raising
himself upon his elbow, "may
heaven blast your soul for this work!"
"Henry Elgin," said Hammond,
"blame your own obstinacy. You are
the cause of this, and I tell you that
until you obey my desires Catharine
Elgin shall suffer."
"Oh, merciful heaven!" groaned the
unhappy father, "take me ? let Thy
wrath fall upon my head?the sins of
my youth merit Thy punishment?but
spare my child!"
"Of what use are your prayers?"
sneered Luka. "Your own hand can
end all this punishment you speak of."
"I pray you let me embrace my
child," said Henry Elgin.
His voice, so sad, low and mournful,
seemed to touch some chord of remomVironna
In nnnv I?r nf a'o m In/1 fr\y*
Ui^UiUlUUVC IU puwi UUIC o UiiiiU, 1U1 I
she suddenly burst into tears.
Hammond hesitated, for old Fan was
creeping into the white and gold apartment,
and he longed to watch her. He
glanced towards Nancy Harker.
Nancy sat near the bed, her hand
hiding her eyes, but Luke knew those
eyes were riveted upon the movements
and features of old Fan.
"I pray you to suffer me to embrace
my chil<V' repeated Elgin.
Hammond took Kate by the hand
and led her towards her father.
"Daniel," said Hammond, fearing
I the scene might soften even the stony
heart of his accomplice, "go to my library?here
is the key?get writing materials
ready, and when I call for them
bring them hither."
Daniel nodded, took the kev and de
parted. Hammond bad made a good
selection of a villain, for Daniel's heart
was as hard as his own.
"My child, my Katy?my poor girl!"
said Elgin, taking the cold, damp hand
of bis daughter in his own and pressing
it to his lips, "do you not recognize
your beloved father?"
Kate seemed deaf, blind and dumb to
all around ber. She shed many tears,
but her eyes were fixed upon vacancy.
"She does not know you," said Luke,
j "Blame yourself, Henry Elgin."
"Liar! Monster!" said Elgin.
He gazed with tearful eyes upon his
child, who stood passively by the bed,
while Luke Hammond turned his head
aside to watch old Fan.
Fan had reached the doorway of the
white and gold chamber, had crouched
down near the door.
Suddenly she spied the coin on the
floor, laughed gleefully, and reached
her hand forth to pink it up. As sud-1
ueiiiy, uuu wnxj it Mjuxp try, BLie Blurted
back and stood as erect as she
could.
Luke moved from the doorway of the
hall eager to watch.
To be continued.
Catting Canaries' Toe Nails.
Much has been said from time to
time of the many curious means of
earning u livelihood practiced in this
city, which in this respect is in every
way the equal of London and Paris*
One man makes a living by cutting the
toe nails of canary birds. This may
sound absurd, but it is true nevertheless,
and shows what is possible in a city
where the people are very rich, very
*vell educated and very intelligent, and '
who. in consequence, have more wants
than the simple folk of a small town ;
in the States.
Canaries, like all birds living in captivity,
and unable to keep tiieir nails,
or claws, or rather talons, down to the
normal size by scratching about in
sand, rock, gravel and wood, have talons
that, unless trimmed occasionally. ,
soon grow to an abnormal size, and
in such condition are a positive hin- 1
drance and clog on the bird's move- |
ments. Moreover, such lengthy talons
are liable to cause accidents that may ;
Jesuit in birdie s death. and so it nap
pens that it falls to the lot of some one '
to pare them down to normal length. 1
This is a task not only very difficult [
and tedious, but one that few understand
or can perform correctly and sat
isfactorily. A slight mishap or bung- ]
ling may cause the death of the canary, ;
and so it happens that a certain enter- i
prising German of this city, who has 1
spent a lifetime handling canaries, j
finds profit and a livelihood in trim- <
ming the claws of feathered pets ic <
every well-to-do household in the city. ;
?Washington Post. 1
1
' One of the important industries of j
I.. col*, mi'nlnr* rTVi/v-n Vi/tlnr*
xwuLLiauiu id ouu ujiuju^. lueic uciuj,
no death penalty In that country convicts
under life seutenc? are numerous,
and they work in these mines.
' " - . ' ' '
k SERMON FOR SUNDAY
*N ELOQUENT, DISCOURSE ENTITLED
PLEASURE AND COD."
rhe Tev. A. B. KtnuolYing Show* That
When the Soul Hal Found It* True
Life the Slmpleit Thlne? Will ServeThen
a Mao's Heart Laughr.
New York City.?The Kev. ur. a. n.
Kinsolving, riictor of Christ Church,
Brooklyn, prerched Sunday morning on
"Pleasure and God." His text was taken
from II Timothy lii: 4: "Lovers of pleasure
rather than lovers of God." Mr. Kinsolving
said:
ihis is one of those biting sentences of
fc-hich St. Paul's letters are full. It occurs
in a hurrying category and arrests our
thoughts at once.
These "two things, religion and pleasure,
have always been nere on God's fair earth.
They are undoubtedly primal constituents
of life, and yet it has ever been difficult
for men to harmonize them and keep them
on friendly terms. Religious people have
often committed the blunder of looking
askance at amusement. Indeed, some of
the best and most earnest among them
have conceived of niety as scarcely less
than a kill-joy. They have represented
God as intensely jealous of life's innocent
as well as its forbidden pleasures, until
their systems have gotten to be so onesided,
and extravagant, and over-wrougbt,
and one-ideaed ana melancholy as to cast
on nwful crlnnm unon communities for con
siderable periods. Such men have missed
altogether the cosmic note of gladness
which shimmers in the sunlight, dances in
the laughing waters, which ripples and
murmurs in the brooks and streams, which
smiles from the blue dome above and
thrills us in the spring bird notes and the
summer, flowers. "The material for enjoyment."
says some one. "is so inwrought
into the world's constitution that we cannot
put a spade into the ground anywhere
without turning it un. By travel, by staying
at home, by working, by resting, by
strain of the muschs or strain of the mind;
by speech, by silence; by solitude, by society;
by helping, by being helped: by receiving,
by giving?by all these different
roads do men reach jov."
And vet with our eye upon the history
of mankind is there not abundant reason
for religion's suspicion of the riot of pleasure?
What nation of antiquity has not
been slain by its sensual pleasures? Run
through the list of them?Babylon, Medea,
Persia, the Egyptian monarchy,
Greece, Carthage, Rome?did not the nassion
for licentious pleasure and the effeminacy
which in consequence came everywhere
in the place where manly virtue and
stoic self-control and splendid discipline of
body and mind had been; did not these
undermine the mighty fabric of Rome itself?
Look at the world that Christianity entered.
What made it so hostile to Christ
and His religion? What made it crucify
Him out of its sight and fling His followers
to the beasts in the great amphitheatre
at Rome? Why, more than aught else the
unbridled love of sinful pleasures. With
fierce flashes'of anger these heathen liberals
refused to have their indulgences interfered
with. They would not suffer a faith
to be taught in their midst which they
astutely saw would have the moral effect
of stopping their games, and so they cried
with hellish hate: "The Christians to the
lions," and to the lions they were thrown.
V7e know from the pages of Grote and
Gibbon something of the excesses of the
Greek and Roman national frames and festivals.
"That which began with some 6how
of decency degenerated often into the extreme
of "licentiousness and ministered to
the basest passione. Frequently for days
and weeks together they absorbed the public
mind, making men oblivious to every
moral obligation and deaf to the claims of
humanity." Gibbon sfcys that Rome had
at one time 3000 female dancers and as
many singers, and that when seasons of
famine came, while all strangers and even
professors of the liberal arts were banished
from the city, the dancers were allowed
to remain. Their performances
were characterized by everything that was
morallv degrading, and tHe orgies which
? * J At-, x 1
tooK mace arounn me tempos 01 me uuudess
Flora and Voluptas, the Goddess of
Pleasure, descended into the depths? of
Drofligacy. In the times of Charles VI. of
France, in the times of the Georges, the
Borgias and the later Louis of France there
was only too much to remind men of the
blackest moral chapters .in oast history.
Men "lived in nleasure on the earth and
were wanton; they nourished their hearts
in a day of slaughter." No wonder, brethren.
with such spectacles before them, that
serious Christian people, realizing the deadly
peril from this quarter, should in their
moral earnestness often have gone too far
and failed to recognize that the thirst for
pleasure and amusement is a human thirst,
and must be provided for and guided and
sympathized with, or else it will become
religion's rival and antagonist.
Again, when men have tried to solve the
mystery of iaughter they have advanced
very diverse opinions. Pascal thought that
the passion for amusement was an illustration
of the real unhappiness of most human
lives. It is b/cause they want to get
out of themselves that they flock so to
spectacles of every kind, or gather in
crowds to laugh and talk?it is diversion
they seek, that is. anything to escane from
the somber ordeal of solitarv thought.
kC? fit,
i/vuuuros. uio c.\j;iaiiuiivii 'ita iijom y i-aaw,
but it hardly covers all. Flay and joyousness
are among the primitive gifts of human
nature. The beginning of comradeship
between the mother and child is the
hour when, as she dangles some plavthing
before it. "the little, solemn face breaks
out into a dimpled smile." Humor is one
of the closest bonds of sympathy between
us. The contagion of hearty, genial merriment
is notorious, and the world has generally
rightly loved the people who made
it laugh.
Mr. James Sully, an Englishman of letters,
has just published a book, which is n
sort of philosophic study of laughter, in
which he deplores any wane of this great
human resource, and says that "it looks as
if now only the more sordid material interests
moved the mind, as if eoort had to
have its substantial bait in the shape of
stakes, while comedy must ancle for popularity
with scenic snlendors which are seen
to cost money." However this may be, it
is perfectly certain that the pleasure instinct
is a true note of our human nature
and that no life is whole without it. It is
the lighter torch of this charming gayety
which gives that large freedom and mobii
ity to life which it needs for its complete
expression. Amusement, relaxation and
happiness are certainly part of the cosmic
scheme. If at any period God should look
down upon His world and see only solemn
faces and hear no notes of ripnling laughter,
I think it would grieve Him at Hip
heart. But here they are ever 9ide by
side; lift's laughter and tears, and wherever
innocent, we can only imagine the
^reat and kind Father looking down benignantl.v
upon all. Nothing is more conspicuous
in the character of the Lord .Te?us,
with all His intense moral earnestness,
than the beautiful simplicity of His sympathy
with what we may call the joyous
background of life. He begins His wonder-workm?
at a marriage feast at Cana,
to which He had been invited as a matter
of course The prodigal in his story comes
home to music and dancing. The kingdom
of heaven is itself like?not a funeral?but
a feast. He was the enemy of every burden
which galled the necks of men and defrauded
them of their rightful happiness.
Doubtless many an hour in the intervals
rif work His soul was soothed by the lyric
jov of nature?bv the gentle starlight, bv
the song of birds, by those Syrian fields
earpeted with unrivaled flower*, by the
choral glee of young children on the hillsides
and around their homes.
But, my brethren, what, think you.
would the Christ have said to people who
had come to nut pleasure before God? He
ivho said "My meat is to do the will pi'
Him that sent Me and to finish His work."
ind again, "The Son of Man came not to
be ministered unto, but to minister and to
zive His life a ransom for many." He who
Found the deepest satisfaction in life in
ioing His duty and revealing God's prin
:iples and love as the redemption of mankind?how
must this Christ think of those
ivho negiect their divinest duties for the
ittle, teasing, diverting amusements, the
ittle yieldings to the spirit of sloth ami
dleness which so frequently fill human
ives. "What is your occupation?" was
isked a young Frenchman some years ago
lis ren'v was "J& m'am'ise"?I amuse mylelf.
Thft was o*?l.v a frank admission of
vhat is the only business of a great many
ivea. i
Some time ago I went to call at a. hoti?e
where there were several young men. To
one or two o{ them I bore a message from j
God which I am entirely sure it was worth
their while to hear. And, having failed
repeatrdly to find them in, I took a mother
into my confidence and spoke of my difficulty.
"Yes," she said, "they are so full of
engagements outside of work hours that
they seem to have no time to think of anything
else but nleasure. It is a continuous
round, and while thev are at home they are
so utterly tired out that they rest."
How many does that simple description
...C.I a. ?p Whv
nr.: j?ul wiinu j? luc uuniiw w*. %.. >
this, while life slips rapidlv away God and J
eternal relations are wholly crowded out. j
The young man subsists unon two diets?a j
diet of hard work and a diet of hard play, i
And the motive in the work ic to get the j
means to play, while the motive in recrea- j
tior is often chieflv to get the health with j
which to work and earn. But what a sel- j
fish circle that describes! How narrow and
poor and shallow is the young man who
pri.'es only his eapnrity to labor and his ap- j
petite for play! Who so lightly values all :
thoee diviner elements of his being as to be I
willing t.o make no provision for their culture!
"Lovers of pleasure rather than lovers
of God." It is n terrible epitaph upon
H". whether living or dead: "They worshiped
and served the creation more than j
the Creator, who is blessed forever, wnerefore
God (rave them up to their own hearts' i
lusts." These are words to make us stop '
and think.
I have often noticed that it is apt to be |
the case that it is precisely those young ;
men for whom God has done most who are
aotest to break away frpm Him and live
the mo3t selPsh lives. There are noble exceptions
to the rule, which shine like beacons,
from Moses to Phillips Brooks. But |
too often the privileged life becomes a j
worldlv lifp and does not tell in the kingdom
of .righteousness. Generally the love
of pleasure in some form has in such lives,
likes the weeds in your garden, rooted out
th^ love and service of God.
Men ar.d women, we should try to see
life in its wholeness. A great many people
have too little laughter, too little recreation
in their lives. They would be |
wholesomer minded, freer in snirit. if they |
could get oftener out of their dark passages
and rigid grooves. There are more of
such people than we think, and they misa
a great deal that God puts within their
reach in His many sided world. But there
are thousands of others who make them
selves imbecile by tne neaaiong pursuit 01
mere pleasure. They never read, they
never think, they let their minds go, they
foreet that they possess souls, but spend
their seasons in things that give them a little
passing physical pleasure?in eating for
the sake of eating, and dress and getting
themselves talked about, in contriving to
have their names in some society orcnn,
till these things come to be the absorbing
thirsts of life. What is not sacrificed by
these giddv people on the altar of their
social ambition? Where does not this selfishness.
this love of voluptuous pleasure,
this hard determination to force life to
yield them bodily comfort, even if God's
and nature's laws must be broken to do so
?where does not this spirit lead?
And how ready are our leaders of opinion,
sometimes, speaking great swelling
words of vanity and sophistry, to ridicule
whisperings of an educated and reverent
conscience and to revise for the softer age
the statutes of nature and of God!
Now these are some of the phenomena.
What is the remedy? First, this: Put
Measure in its true place?as the divine
Master did. If vou look uoon amusement
as the. one great satisfaction of life, you
simply invert the intended order, and in
the end are not satisfied. uur aeepcsc
want is the great inner reconciliation. We
may be diverted, we may for a while escape
from ourselves, but we shall never be
satisfied until the soul is at one with God.
A brilliant writer, the author of "Ourselves
and the Universe," reminds us that
i "men called Napo'eon the unamusable."
Talma might play before him * * * but
the conqueror extracted no gavety from
the performance. That is the nemesis of
self. When, on the confrarv, the soul has
found its true life, the simplest thincs will
serve. A man then learns the heart's
laugh."
To make men haopy, my friends, we
must not first feed them with nleasnres of
the senses. The primal condition of haopiness
is that they be true to God and to
each other. "The soul cannot laugh its
own laugh till God has filled it." In that
relation there are the unfailing wellsprings
of pleasure. "In Thy rtresence is fulness of
,ioy; at my rignt nana mere are pleasures
forever more." "These things have I spoken
unto you that My joy might remain in
von and that your jov might be full."
When we know'that satisfaction of dwelling
in God and having God dwell in us. we
have a security against inordinate lower desires
of every kind. One did not have to
warn Washington atrainst wasting his time,
or Gounod or Beethoven against making
discords.
Then we should have a care to retain, as
far as may be, the freedom, the mobilitv.
the wholesome interest in the rightful
amusements of others, especially of younger
persons, which will keep us in touch
with them.
If our diversions and amusements grow
on the same stem as our religion; if they
are part of one organic unity, there will be
no trouble about their regulation. There
will creep in them no poison of wilful law
breaking, no grimace of an uneasy, conscience
stricken soul trying to escape from
itself, no waste of time and facultv, no
hunger for vulgar display. Being in the secret
of God. we shall have entered into the
secret of the child's heart, and livC In sen
Bible relations witn every part, 01 uoaa
great world.
The lasting- pleasures of life are not the
fleeting pleasures of the senses, but those
of the mind, the soul, the snirit, the pleasure
which comes from a cultivated intellect,
from sound and noble thinking, from refined
tastes, from love and sympathy and
service.
Nothing For Its Own Sake.
The Gospel interpretation of life n
"nothing for its own sake." It is only
right also to say that that is the interpretation
of nature. Everything has upon it
the stamp of ministry, searcciy an instance
where selfishness has any play. The sun
shines, but not for itself; rain tails, but not
for itself; plants grow, but not for themselves;
bird3 sing?surely not for themselves
only; trees cast shade, bear fruit, never for
themselves. It remained for a blind man
to talk about things for their own sake;
like "truth for trutu!s sake," "art for art's
sake," etc. There can be no greater fallacy
than such teaching. The sentences
are forceful and eunhonious. but they are
misleading In the measure that they seem
to be strong. It is the principle of selfcentering,
instead oi' true otherisui.
When men were religious for religion's
sake; when religion was the end of religion,
what a caricature it developed of that
which should have been the blessing of the
world. When religion is for anything
other than for life's sake it is a libel on the
Lord and Master; men are not serving
Him so much as they serve themselves.
The so-called dark ages illustrated religion
for its own sake to most elaborate perfection.
When men believe in art for art's 6ake,
they follow in the same path. Whenever
a production of art, no matter of what nature,
fails to minister to life it is a failure,
no matter how beautiful its conception, or
how true to nature it may be. This definition
would take manv. many pictures
from our walls, and doubtless many musical
selections from our pianos.
As one looks at the larger movements of
life, as represented by men and women
working and struggling up the stairways
to a higher existence, the truth of this contention
is yet more apparent. How much
simpler the struggle would be if we let ?o
of those things that exist only for themselves,
and hold on to the things that minister
to real life. What an inspiration to
ncivii?, "Jrnw u. ? u"-,v I
would be all over the world. When Peter *
asked the Lord what he should receive for
following after Him Peler asked the auestion
of the world: What shall w' fiave
therefor?for this sacrifice, for this gift,
for this service to men? Nothing?beyond
the sweet and priceless jov that we have
been ministers to the world, catching ihe
inspiration of Him who lived not for Himself.
but freely gave Himself. ? Baptist
Union.
Enters Into the Maiter'? Joy.
He who lifts another's load, who soothe*
another's smart, who brightens a life that
else would be dark, who puts a music within
a brother's soul, though it bn only for a <
passing moment, wakes even a sweeter mu.
c within his own, for he enters on earth
into his Master's joy, the joy of a redeem* I
ing, self-sacrificing love.?H. Burton, M. A,
7 *
THE SUNDAY SCHOOL
INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS
FOR MAY 31.
Subject: The Iire>fliTln| 8p!rlt, Bom*
Till., 1-14?Golden Text, Bom. rill., 14
?Memory Torse, 1?Commentary on
the Day's Lesson,
I. Freedom from sin through Christ (vs.
* *>\ i arm < a mi. e
i'0). i. inereiore. xmi reiera iu mo
whole previous argument, and especially to
the previous chapter. The apostle has
shown in the previous chapter that the law
could not affect deliverance from sin, but
that such deliverance was to be traced to
the gospel alone. "Now." The last chapter
closed with an account of the deep distress
of the penitent; this one opens with
an account of his salvation. The "now" in
the text refers to the happy transition from
darkness to light, from condemnation to
pardon, which this believer now enjoys.
No condemnation." As condemnation is
the result of disobedience this clearly implies
that the believer can live without
transgressing the law of God?Be may livi
free from sin. "In Christ Jesus." The
whole previous argument of the epistles
makes it plain that those who are in Christ
are those who have been justified through
faith (chap. 5: 1).
2. "The law. A law is a rule of action
established by recognized authority to enforce
justice and direct duty. The word
law here means that rule, command or influence
which the "Spirit of life" produces.
"Spirit of life." The close argument following
implies that the Spirit of life here
ia camp aa tnn Knlrit: r?f And nf
Christ in verses 9. 11, 14; and this can be
no other than the Hoiy Spirit in chapter
5: 5. He is the Spirit of life, for all life
springs from Him. The Holy Spirit is the
Spirit of life because He leads the?oul to
escape the sentence of death, and tBen
"animates it with the energies of the new
life." "In Christ Jesus." Christ Jesus is
the meritorious cause of justification, the
head of the justified and the giver of the
Spirit. The meaning is that deliverance
from sin and death is by faith in Christ,
through the medium of the Holy Spirit.
"Free." Liberated from the bondage
caused by obeying the dictates of evil. This
is not a partial deliverance, but a freedom
from all bondage. "Law of sin and
death." Sin and death are partners of one
throne and issue one law. To obey sin is
to walk in a path marked out by death.
3. "The law." The law of Moses?the
moral code, as is always meant when not
otherwise defined. "Weak." The law was
Eowerless to deliver from sin or to produce
oliness. It could not secure its pwn fulfilment.
"The flesh." The term flesh has
several different significations. In this instance
it has reference to man's corrupt
and fallen nature. "Sending." This refers
to Christ's birth and nlainlv imoliea that
Christ was God's "own Son" before He
was sent?{hat is, before He became incarnate.
"In the likeness," etc. That is, He
took upon Himself a human body, similar
to ours, but not controlled by sin. In Him
was no sin. He was made of our flesh in
the likeness of its sinful condition. "And
for sin." "As an offering for sin." R. V.
"Condemned sin." Proclaimed its downfall
in the human heart. Christ came to
destroy the works of the devil. Through
. the atonement man may be saved from sin.
4, 5. "The righteousness." The demands
of God's righteous law which could not be
met by us when we followed the evil inclinations
of a corrupt, sinful nature are
now fulfilled in us who live and act as the
Spirit guides. "Flesh?Spirit." "Men must
be under the predominating influence of
one or the other of these two principles,
and according as the one or the other has
the mastery will be the complexion of the
life and character of the actions." An evil
frpp Vin'nnra fnrfVi pvil fruit nnH n crnnH trPA
brings forth good fruit.
II. The carnal and spiritual contrasted
(vs. 6-8). 6. "Carnally minded." To allow
the carnal or corrupt nature to gain
the ascendancy and to be controlled and
led by it. "Is death." Not "will lead to
death," but "is death." Such a course
not only ends in eternal death, but those
who are carnally minded are dead already
?spiritually dead: they are dead while
:hey live (1 Tim. 5: 6; Eph. 2: 1, 5). "But,"
etc. On the other hand .to follow the leadings
of the Spirit and cultivate the graces
of the Spirit, "is life and peace"?is the design
of our existence and the only true
path of happiness.
7, 8. "Is enmity." This is stated as a
reason why "the mind of the flesh ia
death" (v. 6); it is opposed to God and
hates God. "Neither?can be." This is
absolutely certain, because it is a carnal
mind and relishes earthly and sinful things
and lives in open rebellion against Goa.
"So then." Because the carnal mind is
enmity against God. therefore "they that
are in the flesh"?those who are led and
controlled by the dictates of their corrupt,
fleshly nature, "cannot please God." and
consequently are doomed to eternal death.
III. The condition of those who follow
the Spirit (vs. 9-14). 9. "But." Paul now
gives the picture of the regenerate state.
The Spirit." The Spirit, the Spirit of
God, and the Spirit oi Christ are merely
different expressions for the Holy Spirit,
f-Vin nurann nf flip Trinifr in
you." The Holy Spirit is often spoken of
as dwelling in the hearts of Christians.
See 2 Cqr. 6: 16; Gal. 4: 6. This is more
than a good influence or disposition; it is
the actual and personal indwelling of the
Holy Ghost, producing all the fruits of the
Spirit (Gal. 5 : 22. 23), and leading into all
truth. "None of his." This is the supreme
test bv which we may know that we have
passed from death unto life: loud professions,
the ordinances, zeal tor the cause,
many prayers, generosity?none of these
can save us.
10. "Body is dead." There are a variety
of opinions as to the meaning of verses 10
and 11. The following from Beet seems
quite clear: "Because of Adam's sin the
body of those in whom Christ dwells is
dead, that is, is a prey of worms and corruption,
but because of the righteousness
which is through Christ and through faith
the> spirit which animates that mortal body
possesses undving life."
11. "But if," etc. Barnes thinks this
verse does not refer to the resurrection of
the dead. But others think the reference
is to the resurrection. "yuicKen." -aiase
alive. The reference is to the resurrection
day.
12-14. "Debtors." We are debtors to
the Spirit, but to the flesh we owe nothing.
We disown its unrighteous claims.
"Shai! "e." If you live to indulge your
camai propensities you will sink to eternal
death. "Mortify." "Put to death, destroy.
Sin is mortified when its power is destroyed
and it ceases to be active." "Deeds
of the body." The corrupt inclinations
and passions, called deeds of the body because
they arc supposed to have their origin
in the fleshly appetites. "Shall live."
Shall be saved. Either your sins must die
or you must. No man can be saved in his
sins. "Led." Submit to his influence and
control. "Sons of God." Children of God.
This expression is often applied to Chria
nans in tlie isiDie.
A Gigantic Water Scheme.
The entire elevated region known as the
Peak of Derbyshire, in England, is to be
made a source of water supply for the four
aties of Derbv, Sheffield, Leicester and
Nottingham. The gathering pound of the
water Ties at an elevation of from 500 to
2000 feet above the sea level, and covers an
area of fifty square miles. All the sources
of the River Derwent will be collected, bflt
one-third of the water is to be returned to
the river to protect vested interests along
its course. There are to be five reservoirs,
with an aggregate capacity of 10.500,000.000
nn/t nr.cf /\f nnnafrnnfinn will Ko
$50.00.000. It is estimated that the work
will take ten or twelve years.
The Aua erlean Nile.
Mr. Forbes, of the Agricultural Experiment
Station at Tucson, Ariz., calls the
Colorado River the American Nile, because
of its possibilities as a source of irrigation
for the alluvial bottom lands around
it. Nearly 500,000 acres of these land have
been surveyed. The Colorado resembles
the Nile, not only in being subject to an
annual summer rise sufficient to overflow
the adjacent lands, but in carrying to them
an abundance of fertilizing silts.
Mnch Mineral Water Consumed.
The consumption of mineral waters in
the United States has been increased enormously
until it now aggregates $18,000,000
worth per annum.
m
THE RELIGIOUS LlfM
READING FOR THE QUIET HotilH
WHEN THE SOUL INVITES ITSELF,
Poem: Create Jn Me. a Clean
Cocalitent? A Word to the Kan Whi^'^B
la Ever Talking of Hypocrisy of Pi^fl
fetied Christian*. 9j
Oh, Father, heed the prayer! In m'e create H
A heart unselfish, freed from worldly "S
Cleanse now my soul from sin's unwortbfv^B
Regenerate by grace the mean and vile; 'H
That mine may be a life of purity. Hj
Be Thou my strength, and bid my /aitfi. HB
increase. Bl
I With human weakness, Lord deal pa*.;H|
Bestow 1'hy love and grant Thy wonr-^Bj
1 drous peace. ara
> Though sin and death abound on every.
Though men are false, in Thee we may
And thpough life's trials this my prayer [
snail be: H
A clean, pure heart, 0 God, create in me;
I Heal all my troubles with the touch divis?^ H
And cleanse and keep this erring heart or H|
mine. ' # v -
-Miss Margaret Scott Hall, in Xew York H
Observer. Ha
What "Con?Ut?ncy" Leadii To.
iTcu will not join a church because of in*"*
coDeibtent church members! Consistency*
then, is the word you wish to emphasize.
Very well, replies Rev. Newell Dwight Hi?lis.
Here is the world oi trade and cnm- '
merce. To-morrow, merchants will adulterate
their goods, traders will tamper
with their weights, milkmen will water,
their milk, drapers will sell cotton for silk-^
clerk? will steal monev from the bank, ana
the whole kingdom of trade standi for hypocrisies
and lies. Since you do not care?
to associate with hypocrites withdraw
from business, and pledge yourself never
again to enter the kingdom of commerce.
It inconsistent members keep you out of
church, why do n?t inconsistent members^'
keep you out of business? Here is the*
kingdom of law. To-morrow lawyers will
be tricksters. They will suborn witnesses^
?> 1 ?:J tm? ?wni
i.ney win cunce&i cviueutc. iut; ?iu ww^
in subterfuges. But because some lawyer**"
are unprofessional will that compel yon to
stand aloof from the study of jariapro*
.dence? Here is the kingdom of love and
marriage. To-morrow some man will play
false to his marriage' vow, and some won*-''
an will profane the holiest sanctities/and
those who have solemnly pledged themselves
to the law of love will stand'forfii!
clothed with hypocrisy as with a rartoent,.But
does their inconsistency meanutot yoa. }.
can never found your home, and that yo?iv?
can never stand at a marnage altar, and
never swear fealtv in the name of an eterV^
nal friendship? Why, there are spots oii the
sun, but we neea the sun for harvests .
rr- v. ?j. f
J.U UC I'UIISIOICU W; ?U U U1UOV up vtm^
Venus de Milo because there is a flaw ik
the marble. We must pull down the Parthenon
because there are black stains on' ,
the columns. Now, something is wrong*Ht '
the man who refuses allegiance to the '
church because of inconsistency, but torn* *
around and gives allegiance to a hundred :
other institutions, in the very face ofgreater
inconsistencies.
The time has gone forever for men
plead the bigotry and bad lives of the
worthy disciples of a Master who confegfe*
edly is worthy. Peter and Judas were not .2
Christian and misrepresented their MasterBut
in that hour of misrepresentation they ;
ceased to be disciples and became hypo? j
crites. Let all those who dislike hypocrw/ ?,
leave immediately the comnariy of Judas- 1
and Peter' with his denial and- join the- .
ranks of the other ten. We grant that ~
there are men outside of the church "whe- <
i.1.? . -
arc oenti ^tiiuu suuc iu tuc vuiuvui
and then a youth appears in the.realm of jfl
art who is blessed with such native genin* 9
that instinctively he understand* the kits 9
of drawing and perspective and the law* of a
harmonious color. And side by side witit m
him is another youth who for years ha? If
been in the school under a great artist*- ;m
master, and after long drill can scarcely .11
eoaal his brother, who is self-taught. But ;.fl
shall this gifted youth who has received: j I
so much from his parents and his God de- JS
claim against his father, or despise tbfty'fj
school of art? ]
There are many poor pupils in school* '3]
and colleges^ but when you find some .4 j
youth who is far from being the
scholar, do not rail against the college and gB
the university. The poorer the scholat the^jjH
more necessary the maintenance of tbe*:3|.
school in which he studies. Not otherwise,,
if men in the church are sinful and Teak
and full of error, it is the more necessary
to strengthen the church, that manhooa J
later may Decome strengthened. Uncon- I
sciousiy he who urges the inconsistency of
Christians^ and rails against their errors-"
has lorged a weapon mat iunu sguwv.
himself. j
How ungenerous are all these ereuses, as. J
well as how wicked! We live in God's j
world. He hath fitted up this world-house- ]
as no prince hath ever fitted up the halls- of
a palace. We breathe His air, are J
wanned by His summers, we feed, upon/- M
His harvests, we are pilgrims who stoop ,1
and drink at His fountains. The angel of j
His providence goes before us to prepare
life's way; the angel of His mercy follow* s
after us to recc -er us from our trantgrefr^jff
sions. And how shall men meet such ov?r* > 'j?
flowing generosity save with .instant obe- ' &
dience? What mark across the page of w
memory so black as the mark of ingrati*' 5
tude? . - ^1
Duty by itself is a hard taskmaster. It
does not touch the deepest springs of joy. j '-j
If we depend 'non the duty sense alone -f',
we bhall find it comfortless, cold, lonely? afy
there will be a minor undertone of spiritual
sadness in our lives. The present age
not one of wanton Dursuit or pleasure ana < *
excitement, as is often said. It is a duty- ?
loving age. But -c is characterized by a
settled sadness. People feel the. duty of %?>
engaging in the various works of thechurch
and of defending its creeds and doc- J
trines. But this is malting of our religioa !
what has been called something harsh and '
strident, something to be tenariousiv held
and asserted, rather than nobly held and
lived.?The Rev. Dr. Greer, Episcopalian,
New York.
Trusting the Unseen.
Are we not daily all through life's journey
trusting ourselves to bridges whose
supporting piers are away down beneath
the water, believing in their strength without
a doubt, wondering or complaining
when by chance one of them trembles or 4
swerves a hair's breadth in the storm? We :
walk the bridge of life. Can we not trust
its safety on the great resting places of
God's wisdom that are hid from us in the I
depths of the two eternities??Phillip* I
Brooks. a
Phantoms. |
He who spends his years chasing phan- * '
toms will find what he sought at the end
of life.?United Presbyterian. ^
t
A Heart Keligton.
A purely intellectual Christianity, to
which the mind accedes, but which does
not enlist the heart's affections and con*
tro! the motive and spirit of a man so that
his temper and conversation are mastered
by it, has no influence or power for Christ
before the world. It is only a heart relig- '}$
ion that rings true in the market places of
60cial fellowship.?Rev Louis Albert Banks. Leave
Anxletlen to God.
Let us leave anxieties to God. Why need
we bargain that our life should be a sue- ;
???.' etill tint it cVinuM nnt a siirv
cess purchased by sacrifices and sufferings, 'v*
?James Hinton.
The Fepper Tine*
The United States Consul at Bombay
sends to the Bureau of Foreign Commerce,
some interesting information about the
climbii^j vine to which the world owes ita1
supply of black pepper. It is found wildj
in the forests of Travancore and along the,
Malabar coast, but is cultivated in Southwest
India, whence it was introduced into'
Java, Sumatra, Borneo, the Malay Penin-;
sula, Siam. the Philippines and the West t
Indies. Tne vine has spikes of white flow-;
ers?twenty to thirty flowers in each spike I
?which ripen into fleshy berries the size of j
a pea. Each berry contains a single seed,
and the seeds., when crushed, make the I g
black pepper of commerce; if the cortical
be removed white pepper is produced. j