Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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9 f I ""l" W -w-w ir mm M yVMATl IBy Anna Katharine Green,! J COFTRICHT. 1990, BY ROBI CHAPTER II. * Continued. 1X3 But this, -which was ordinarily a simpie matter for him, had become all at ? once a most difficult task. He delayed z" and asked himself questions, feeling the mystery of the situation almost to fc' ithe point of oppression. Who was this ** young girl? Who was Andrea Montelli? Who was even this old crone? r~ iWhat was the disease which had taken ' lhe life of this beautiful creature without leaving a trace of its devastating *c power upon cheek or brow, or even on 1 the dimpled hands that just vaguely ' showed themselves amid the folds of p< the drapery that covered her? Had she perished naturally? The thought would come. Was her portrait wished by father and friends? Or was it re- *E quired only by disinterested officials, . and for purposes her beauty made him u shrink from contemplating? The presence of this old woman seemed to point L to the former supposition as the true m one, and yet might it not be the best P( proof in the world that it was simply d< hard, 6tern justice which demanded ai 4he reproduction of these features, cr - J J ?w Bince it was an easy ujauei iu uuumetand how such a person might he in m ihe pay of the police, but not nearly t0 co easy to be comprehended bow 6be st could either be in pay or the confidence of any friends of so dainty and beauti- b< iful a creature as she who lay before P? &im? The contrast between t-he two was ^ Tlvid, as were all the accessories of the picture he was expected to draw, to the remaining appointments in the room. Near her and surrounding her ~ ;were fabrics of softest wool and purest * eilk, edged with the richest embroider- * les and covered with costliest blossoms. Beyond her and outside of the ^ charmed circle created by the prodigal wax tapers were worn and dingy stuffs and dilapidated furniture. ^ Not an article trom window to door, caring those which were associated . rwith tbc dead girl, expressed aught but . discomfort and poverty, while with *n nn/l ohAiif liTi'nt'A InTiirr TCOflltll iivi auu avvui, uva h vav *j , * vm>?m and beauty. * It "was strange, and, as he considered the matter further, he became more ' and more convinced that the police had nothing to do -with this display of ^ splendor. No^ if they had wished her 1 picture they would have sent for the < photographer, and there would have been no draperies nor candles nor ^ flowers. Some relative, some friend, w. or, stay?could it be eoine mere art- f.1' lover had wished to preserve on im- * perishable canvas the extraordinary , loveliness which he saw about to van- <4 Jsh forever, and so he bad been called fn with pencil and paper, and paid for ? his work beforehand that he might not ? jretreat fropa the task Tyben he found : that it involved mystery.? , ; fcJBut why should it involve mystery? . ' IWhy should there be no one in the ^ house from whom tie couiu oDtam in telligible replies to his queries? Was b this merely accident or was -it design? . ^ -The one person he had encountered .. Whose face bespoke intelligence and a tJj tiesire for communication had 6ur- ^ prised him so much by the coincidence nc between her presence and the picture had painted that he had been made lor the moment powerless, and so lost She one opportunity offered him to 1 make himself acquainted with the true fe Meaning of the adventure which had , befallen him. Was this fortunate or op was it not? Was this wealthy lady of high position and incomparable taste _ the friend or art-lover who had drawn him there? What could be more probable? And yet how greatly was the mystery enhanced if this were . ' the case. 5 an He "was gazing steadily at the im- ol( movable countenance before him when this idea came, and, fascinated as lv? A, was by what he saw, there seemed to he rise a film between him and it, out of u], which there slowly grew on his gaze. th the face of the unknown visitor. Not ut the face he had put upon cauvas and jn which was at this moment illuminat- jja ing the dim recesses of his studio, but ju ?f herself as she stooil there looking at in him wiWi a most human expression of tb pleasure and appeal, st&rtlingly in contrast with the sumptuousncss of he:apparel and the dignity of her bearing. A true face, a good face, with featui\?s perfect enough for art, and a ' smile tender enough to satisfy the se most exacting nature. Why did he not lil thrill before it? Why did not the feel- H Ing of contentment which swept over th him at its remembrance till up the void se in his heart and make this second rec- m< ogoition of her charms one of promise th urn! iinnllnvoil dplip-ht'> v?r> t./i had ceen something move winsome; ce- wi cause she was the Dream, while before he him lay the Reality; because his taste th and judgment alone awarded to her the th palm of beauty, while his heart he throbbed to what was expressed in to this other face, this other form, which, Tl if dead, had touched a chord in his na- vi ture never sounded before, and, as he th br-gan to think, would never be sound- fe ?d again. he The Reality?yes, he had found It. re 'Aj; this belief seized him he grasped his it; pencil with avidity. He no longer felt tli himself held back by doubts. He dc "v'ould draw the picture before him, ra tut as he did so he would draw anoth- a - T in his mind that should be a basie w f:r his long hoped for chef d'oeuvre. w Mot for the unknown Moutelli alone m (hould his pencil flj over the paper, crystallizing into perpetual existence bf this drfam of fad ins loveliness. He loi would earn lor himself more than the ou paltry dollars he felt burning in his eh pocket; he would earn a right to the no reproduction of this face, which must ri] henceforth be the expression of his loft- ku lest instincts. dr Flis pencil obeyed his enthusiasm r ' the feautrcs of the unknown began to no fihotv* themselves upon th? broad sheet tei of paper before him. co ER * P r TAVC 1 LIUIYO. J3U Author of "The Foritken 1 Inn," Etc. I :rt ionncr's sons. m He was very much absorbed or h< light bave taken a look at the olt one seated in her low chair behinc im. If he had done so would he no ave lost himself in further questions' A 1? ? ? ? nrrVit? cVl/ /0U1U. He noi nave wuuucicu ized at him so intently, with eyes iat were certainly not lacking ir lrnestness if they were 3n candor! nd would he not have queried wh3 ?r glances only left him to travel t( le clock, and so, with one quick flash the young girl and back again t( m. There was mystery in all this, i) i could have seen it. for there was ex station in her look; an expectatior lat increased as the minute hand ol ie clock moved on toward 9. and ex ;ctation here meant interruption, anc iterruption meant?what? The slj ce of the crone made no revela ons. But he saw nothing behind him ife, hope and love were all. for the oment, concentrated in the end of his ;ncil, and not the sound of opening jors and hurrying feet could have oused him now from the dream ol eation that engaged him. But there as no sound; all was still; even the ysterious watcher behind him seemed hold her breath, and when the clock ruck, which it presently did. the tint noise seemed to be too much foi ?r agea nerves, ior sne aau rostr, am mtingly sank back again, clasping ?r bands with energy, as if to still ie beatings of her heart. But the artist worked on. Suddenly there was a change in the torn. No one had entered it, and yei seemed no longer like the same spot, jmething strange and unaccountable id occurred; something which caused ie moisture to start on Hamilton De aw's forehead, and the expectancy the old crone's look to deepen into rong excitement. What was it? The list, catching his breath, listened, 'hat silence! What an oppression ol lence! And yet there it comes again, at soft sigh, so light as to be almost audible, and yet, to his ears, so thrillg with promise that he leaped to bii et like one who breaks some bond under. At the- sight of his eagerness the old one, who had risen also, smiles hunily to herself. If she has heard the also, she shows no anxiety to adince, but stops where she is. content at he should take the precedence and and first at the young girl's side. He as there in an instant, and though no jns of life greeted him from the mojnless form he could not tear his gaze pay from her face. "Sweet one," welled np front his lips, ras that the sigh of your departed irit grieving it had left a body that uld be so loved? Or is life but pausg; jn these pulses, and will it?" He " does not finish. How can he, hen at these muttered and well nigh coherent words he perceives the intest flush of color suffuse the eeks? Or was it but a fancy? It :s fled now, and the breast does not ave. It must have been a hallucina>n like the sigh. And yet?and yet? ose lids seem to lie less closely, lere is something in the face he has it seen there before. It is not life, id vet. surelv. it is not death. Where e her friends? Where is there a pby?ian? Why is hp not one Jnstead of ing a useless artist? With a cry he rns to the old crone. "Help!" he shrieks. "See! her lips e growing red! And look at her ,nds; they are becoming warm! Now aow, they flutter! The roses on her east are disturbed! She is not dead! e shall have her again " He paused, struck even in his frenzy the abandon of his own words. ,-I a a fool," be muttered, "but then the 1 witch docs not understand me. ill she understand what she sees?" id bounding to the old woman's side drew her, wondering and chattering, ) between the candles and pointed to e young girl's face. As he did so he tered an irrepressible cry, for in the stant lie bad been gone the miracle A honnanA/l arwl +tx7t? toMo avLr oroc >U UU^p.iJtUt UiiU l?? V u 1UV UU1U. v-J tk'l minous "with wonder, stared back to bis from amid the wreaths of ose tangled locks of hair. CHAPTER III. THE END OF A GREAT AMBITION. l'here are some moments whicti to a asitive mind seem to be of a dreamce or supernatural character. To amilton Degraw this was one of em. Never did It, never could it, em real. Lost in its wonder he stood otionless, petrified, gazing back into ose orbs which in the glare which iw fell upon them seemed welling itli light. Had it toen death to her could not have moved. Not till she rew up her arms, scattering widely rv KAH A\A v aivm*ci? iiiui iuy uii iivri uicaiii, uiu feel the spell sufficiently broken comprehend what had occurred. l>ongh he had begrudged death its ctini, though he had longed to see is young girl live, and for the Inst w minutes had only existed in the ipe of doing so, he quailed before the alization and questioned his own sanY iu believing it. Even the shrill cry ;at now left her lips fell on well nigh iaf ears, and when, next moment, she ised herself and spoke he roused with start, flushing from chin to brow ilh joy, though the words she uttered ere full of tenor and suggestive of ystery. "Alivej" This was her cry. ' Then ive they deceived me." And she oked wildly around till her eye rested i the old crone. "Annetta!" ?he exlimed, with something more he covild it understand, for her English had .1^.1 A# UfA jpii'U u". iuiu iuv x\Laiig,\z i;uu IIIIio\vu language of tlip person she adessecl. rhe old woman, eager and rcsSltsc w, answered her in a few quick ?st?un<\>?. at which the maiden?for who uld doubt lier such??covered her eyes wttb her hands and sobbed. But instantly recovering herself she looked up in despair, and encountering the artist's gaze seemed charmed by it so that she forgot to speak, though words of grief and shame "were evidently trembling on her tongue. T"^ Vv woe rl a! * rrVl t fill I1 UI UiULi IliC UiVXUtUl nuo uClijnU^ vm He returned her look and his self-pos? session failed him. "You are not dead," left his lips in I almost childlike simplicity. "Thank God that appearances deceived me. You are too young, too fair to yield thus soon to the great destroyer. I am glad to see you living, though I know, nothing of you, not even your name." i She smiled faintly but piteously. 1 "Nor do I know you," she cried. "I I am a child lost to the world, lost to life, t lost to everything. I should not be ? here, speaking, breathing, living, sufi fering. I expected to die. I wanted to s die, but some one has deceived me. and i I am alive. For what? Oh, for what?' ? The artist stared amazed. r From an image of peace she had be* ) come an image of despair. He did not , love her less thus, but he felt vaguely ) out of place, and knew not whether to I speak or fly. She saw his trouble and waved him i back. I "Since I must live," she murmured, "let me leave this bed of death." And I -without waiting for any assistance she ' slid to the floor and 6tood tottering there, clothed in a long, white garment, bordered with gold, as beautiful as it was odd and poetic. "What trappings ; are these?" she tnried. pointing to the bed and glancing down at her own garr ments. "If I were not to be allowed to J die why this wealth and beauty of f adornment? I am still dreaming, or?" > Her eyes fell again on Annetta and she > asked her some other question, I Meantime young Degraw had ; stepped back to the table upon which ? lay the sketch he had been making. Lifting it up he turned it toward her. I "Jbei TOiS expiaiLl JJij' yicaTrutc u?c, : said he. "It may also make clear to [ you what otherwise must seem wrapped in mystery. Your picture was desired. I was summoned here to ? draw it. You must know by whom. The name accompanying the request reads like Andrea Montelli." , She left the old crone and took a step l ,in his direction and that of the picture . he held. A flush was on her cheek, a r flush that vaguely irritated him and , made him, for the first time, question , who this Andrea Montelli really was. "I do not understand," said she. "but ; it is of no consequence. Nothing is of any importance to me now. I am living, that is all I can think of; I am liv. ing and the struggle with my fate must . recommence." 1 This expression of grief at finding herself once more in the world of huI man beings both shocked and touched him. Though he felt she- ought to have some one with her of her own kindred, or, at least, of her own station and sex, he did not see how he could leave her with no one to soothe her but this old woman, who was at once so coarse and so ropellant. ."Have you no friends in the bouse?" he asked. ^ She sadly shook her head. "Is there no one I can call?" he persisted, turning now toward the door. She shivered aud-caught him by the hand. "Do not leave me,'' she entreated. "Do not go till I have told you why I wa9 so wicked; for you must think me very wicked to try to take my own. life." " "And did you " He got no further. for the tears which now filled her fathomless eyes called up a suspicious moisture to his own. Strange and wrong as it all was he had never felt himself so affected. "Tell me your trouble," he pleaded at last. "Why should one so young and, pardon me, so fair, wish to die before the possibilities of life were fully tested?" .Because," ner eyes nasneu are aiiu a color broke out on her cheeks, "because I had failed." "Failed!" "I am Selina Valdi!" To be continued. " A. Verj Clerer Swindle. For some years a little wagon has come into Paris daily from one of the suburbs and in accordance with the regulations it has been examined at regular intervals by custom house officers. Their task, however was easy, fpr they never found in it anything but J fruit and vegetables, which are free of | duty, and so they naturally regarded | the driver as an honest countryman, who was taking to market the produce from his little farm. The other day through a mere accident they found out their mistake. A brewer's wagon came in collision with tiip mtip rnrt. and. as the heavy shaft shattered one of the sides, a stream of rich oil gushed out on tho sidewalk. As there is a heavy duty ou oil the custom house officers arrested the innocent looking countryman and discovered, to \ their amazement, that there "was a false bottom in the cart, and that concealed from view-was a tank capable of holding several quarts of oil. Subsequent investigation showed that 1 oil had been brought for a loug time 1 in this surreptitious manuer to a dealer in Paris, and the authorities are now carefully examining every little wagon that enters the city, in order to find out whether it also has a double bottom or not. Man nml His Speculation. Once upon a time a hungry man, without a cent in his pocket, was | standing in Wall Street at the noon hour, watt-hills a wild rush to and from the surrounding restaurants. Then he fell (o speculating on his pi Liable condition, turning the situation over in his mind, and viewing it in all its different aspects and relations. He meditated cn the theory of square meals, and though his contemplations were deep and earnest, he remained hungry. Moral?A man can speculate iu Wall Street without capital.?New York Herald. Monotonous Poverty. Poverty would become monotonous if cue didn': have to stop hustling for broad and meat occasionally In order !o hustle for a few other things.?New ' York Herald. A SERMON FOR SUNDAY AN ELOQUENT DISCOURSE ENTITLE! " PRESENT-DAY INCARNATION." The Rev. C. R. McNally Gives an An nwer to the Question, " What All* th Church ? "?She Has Forgotten He Iteal Status in the World. New York City.?The Rev. Charles F McNally, the pastor of the Sixth A'-enu Baptist Church, preached his first sermoj in his new pulpit Sunday morning. Hi subiect was "I resen; Dav Incarnation.' took his text from First Corinthian xu:27* "We are the body of Christ am severally members thereof." Mr. McNall said: Throughout tne land, witn somewhat c a wail, the question is being asked. "Wha ails the church? "That she is sick seem to be a foregone conclusion. The relieiou periodicals and some others are quick t give a diagnosis of the case. It is beeaus the pew has been elevated educationally It is because the ministry has lost celf-re spect and prestige. It is because mei everywhere are too busy to attend to th concern? of the soul, or because unristjau ity is so "other worldly" it is not sufficient ly practical for tke practical life of to-day Many other reasons are given for why th church lacks power. Is this charge against the church just If statistics may be trusted, it is. The las religious returns for the nation disclose th lamentable fact that Christianity has mad no gain that even her warmest friends cai call proportionate to the increase of popu lation and the mighty development of com mercial interests. In the city as well as ii the rural districts, the preachers of the gos pel arc finding it hard to get enough pec pie to take a hold of church affairs to mak ' the church live with a commanding infhi ence in the community. The .land is fu] of reports of man's greed, his tricks o trade and other disregard of sacred obliga tions. Men are looking to the church fc stem the tide of moral recklessness. I must be frankly conceded that the churcl has seemed to he powerless to arrest th I drift, ihe masses ot me pcopie pass ue ; doors or rarely enter. Her hold upon pul lie morals does not seem to be verv strong Her ability to mold the ethical life of th world does not seem to be adequate to th needs. If the conditions are what th?; seem to be. if the church is really failing t enlighten the worid by the ethical stand ards of Jepus Christ, 6omethine is surel; wrong, ar.d the church should quickl; awaken to a realization of her real condi tion, and take measures to strengthen he hold upon the life of the nation. Where doctt the difficulty lie? I believ in this: The church has too much forgottei what her real statu9 in the world is. Sh has in her effort to solve the mighty prob lems that the last few generations hav presented to her, gone away from the aim pie teaching and simple method of Christ | her founder. The ministry has too mucl I given itself to the work of education, o ! culture, of reform. The pew has too mucl 1 demanded these things. The result is th I hearts of men have been spiritually starved Many who would have waited on tne nun istration6 of the church have forsaken he: because their spiritual natures were no satisfied and developed. "Education, esthet ics and reform they could obtain from th< schools and the papers of the day. It must be remembered that Christ while incarnate, gave Himself to none o these things. He devoted His entire min istry to lodging in the minds of His disci pies the fact that He was in the world fo one purpose and that to save men from sin To the end that He might save the sinne: from his sin He devoted all His time, Hi gave all His energy, and sacrificed His life The mission of Christ was primarily not i I mission of education or reform, it' was i i mission of salvation. "I come?to call sin ners to repentance." "The Son of Man i come to seek and to save that which wa lost." "This i6 a faithful r?iying and wor thy of all acceptation, Christ Jesua cami into the world to save sinners." When th< church will concentrate her efforts upoi Vlia nnt fViintr?thp SBvincr of sinful mei and women from the power of sin?th< questions of education and reform wfiil taki care of inemeelveBT The status of the church in the world ii pointed out by Paul in the words of oui text, "Ye are the body of Christ." and sev erally members thereof. If Christ gav< Himself while in the flesh to saving mer from sin bv manifesting to them the life o God, can that body?the church?in whicl He is willing to incarnate Himself, do het: ter that to devote its undivided attentioi and energies to the salvation of men. b.i the manifestation of the life and will o God? The church is the body of Christ In it He has incarnated Himself. Wha Christ was in t he world while in the flesl that the church must be in the world to day. What Christ did for the world whili in the flesh that the church must do foi the world to-day. "Ye," as a church anc as individual members of the church, "ar< the body of Christ." Ye must be Chris to the world. Except the church as a bodj and the several members thereof as inoi viduals live as Christ in the world, thi world will never know Christ. Paul, the master mind, could use such i figure with such potent power. Of all hii figures there is pernana no other more elab orately worked out or more carefully ap plied. The body is not one member, bu many, and the man- members only om body. So is it with the church, and thi church is the body of Christ. Observe that this future permits of a de tailed analysis. \VhiIe the church is thi body of Christ, it is only the body, that ii which Christ has incarnated Himself. I. Christ is the life of the church. Hi is the inner vitalizing snirit which ani mates and directs. The church which rec ognizes this has by this very recognitioi mnrvelously vitalized itself. There are two kinds of churches?thi man-led and the Christ-led. The man-let church gives itself to hero worship an< leans on the arm of flesh. The Christ-let churcfy gives itself to the worshiD of Chris and leans hard on the arm of God. Yoi may be able from the history of your citj to supply an illustration of the fact tha there have been churches where the preach pi' Knti hppn f hp ohurch. When the nreach er has pone the church has gone.*" Marl such a church as one that has been man led. The church has looked to its paste for vitalitv and to lead it. What the hear is to the body that is Jesus Christ to Ili: church. From Him through the agency o the Holy Soirit it receives the impulse o its life. The quickening, vitalizing powei can no more be imparted to the heart o man by the visiting physician. Christ ii that inner muscle at whose every pulsatior the life blood of sniritual power is mad< to surize through the body, lo it Chris' and Christ, only can gite life, color cm beauty. This should be a self-evident fact The fact is. ho?ever, that it is not so self evident as it ought to be. Never hae there been a time when thi churches set so much 6tore by the man their leader, as to-day. Hero worshi; runs rampant. The church when it see';, a leader searches for the orator, the scho! ar, the man of executive parts, and upothe man they depend. Many a church geU all these, but does not fret any rejteneraiu of its life. J lie reason is clear. 1 ney uavi looked to the wrong source for life-eivinj: power'. Christ alone can give it. Upoi Christ, church and minister alike are dc pendent for their spiritual vitality, it i: only as they are together animated by tin warm impulse of His life that t. live a) all. When the church will look to tin Lord of Life for its life, then, and not un til then, will it throb from head to fool with real life and power. Not only is Christ the heart of the church. He is its head. We read that H< was given to be head over all things to Hit church. He is the head of the spiritual body?the head is the "overning or organ izing power of the body. From the hea'l comes the purposes that give direction tc the life. The will sways and t.irects all The government and organization of a church are only the e::- -ession of the will h'Iia Ifiorte nnrl /lirppfc if cn/r. Rests a criterion Itv which wc may judge the church. Jesus Christ has made His will concerning the bodv of disciples very clear. The sole object for its existence is that through it His kingdom may be advanced; i. e., that through it men may be led to abandon toe life of sin and cleave tg the promise of salvation in and through Christ the Saviour. "When this result being accomplished here Christ has been directing the work and the members harmoniously doing His bidding. This test must be applied to every organization connected with the church. Does it directiy accomplish this end? Does it \ T qualify men and women in Drinking to pasi * this derired result? If so it is of Chris and has a legitimate place in the church The thing the church snouid do at all timei ) in all its parts is to discover the though of the head. That is the most perfect body which most perfectly responds to thi direction of the -rain. That is the bes: i- church which sets its If most assiduously e to know the thought and purpose -T Christ 3 ? Uf Y-nnnAri A C In fhn1 Y tlllU ? 1IILII II1USU 1 V-Opvuuu kv thought and purpose. No man, minister deacon or any other has any authority t< >, he head of the church. Christ is the head e The chief business of the church is t< n know the mind of the Masbr. s Let a church recognize iti' vital connec " tion with .Tesus Christ as its heart, iti ? head, its life giving and directing powers cl and its success as an agency in ejxteodinf y the kingdom is already assured. Such < church will be found much in prayer seek ? ing to know the will of its Lord at ever} J point. It will not be content with 6eatinf ? itself in softly cushioned pews once a weel ? with the feeling that it has fulfilled its re ? ligious obligations. On the contrary, yot ? will find it seven days in every week ou f searching the highways and hedges tryinf (* to inoculate the iiie ot tne ix>ru into a siu I" sick world. As the (trowing lad cannot bu express the superabounding life Jeapinj * through his veins, no more can a church !' tingling with the superabounding spiritua ;* life of Christ fail to give expression to iti ' powers. e But that church has recognized only hal the truth when it has come to know thai ? Christ is the life of the church. The othei t half is that while Christ is the heart ant e the head we are the body. e II. The church is the body of Christ a. Why the Creator saw fit to confine thes< i* spirits of ours in a material body we can i- not know. The fact remains that the sou a must work through the body to find ex i* pression. Why God was pleased to giv< ? expression to His spirit through th< e church or His body we cannot say. H< i* has done it. We are the body of Christ 11 That organism through which He works f by means of which He finds expression t< i- the world. Christ exalted is seated at th< o right hand of God, but Christ incarnate ii t in the world to-day. He lives in and work; h through His body the church. This shoulc e be a deeply solemn and impressive though] r to every church of the Redeemer. Goc i- also manifested Himself in Christ, is mani fpcfc to-dav onlv throneh the church Hif e body. This is why the church fails in hei e mission and lacks power. She has failec y to realized her status in the world. Shi 0 has not sufficiently appreciated her respon !- sibility and the divine dignity which ii y hers. Think of it! You are a hand to dc y His bidding, feet to fulfill His missions i- eves to look to His interests, ears to heai r His truth, tongues to sound forth thai truth and utter His praise. Christ has in e carnated Himself in you. Through yoi a men must come to know Him. e Except the church manifests the life ol <- Christ it is no true church, except it per e forms His mission it is not a church of th< i* Redeemer. As the body is one and hatt , many members, and all the members of the 1 body, being many, are one body, so also if f the church. The body, of Christ ? one i though many, unity in diversity. All the c members are necessary in order that the . symmetry may be complete, and its useful' - ness unimpaired. r Independence is the cry of our time?in t dependence of the nation, independence ol - the individual. This spirit seen everywhere e has found a large place in the church, Witbin limits this is -well. - Within limits, . I say, for just as soon as individuality bef comes obtrusive or obstinate, it has passed the limit where it can be of the most use - to the world. Within the church this if t especially true. It is one body?it is . Christ in the world, each part must be in r closest union with every other part. More i and more the church must work together mnrp and more the denominations mus! * work as one in manifesting the life of God i to the world in the transformation aad sal' * vation of men. s. You have before now seen a couple nl 5 pups get a hold of an old rope and then, - as though life depended on the process 1 one pull one way while the other tugged 2 the other. I have seen churches whose l condition would not be unaptly illustrated i by the dog9. Lack of unity in aim and ef1 fort is a great source of weakness to the 2 church. The spirit of independence, good in itself, runs riot, until concerted action 5 to a definite end is impossible. When inr dependence thus errs against unity it is a . curse rather than a blessing. AH the mem> bers of the body must work together, <vital> ized by the heart, directed by the head, f One of the most beautiful sights in the , world is a symmetrical and responsive human body. One of the most beautiful , sights to the spiritual eye is the body ol - Christ?the church?harmoniously responf sive to .His thought and purpose. Jn the light of Christ's mission while incarnate t in the flesh the church can make , no mistake as to her mission. She roust . save souls. In the light of this purpose a every petty difference s.iould drop out ol i". sight and the whole Christian body be] come one mind in retard to the chief aim g of their existence. The educator will take I rave of the education of the community, r the aesthetic will look after the culture, . the reformer will lead reforms, but the ? church must save men from sin and manifest the life of God to the world. j I have Been in one of the great mills oi , our country two great wheels. Note one point. they fit each other. Moving is . ceaseless unison. If a single point be bro t ken off the machinery zrates, if a numbei ? be broken the wheei sims and the whole j network of machinery is helpless. EacL members of the church has his place. If he . fails the body is hampered in its efficiency ? But while there is to he union in diver j sity. there is also to be diversity in unity Individuality is not effaced by the Gospe, e of Christ. This gives the widest possible . scoDe to the churches' ties which may be included within the church. There is s j place of usefulness for all. Each one is tc find his or her place and then in unior , with the whole body work for its highesl j efficiency. I When the church of Christ awakens to a j full consciousness of its status iq the , world, no longer, will men call hert sick j Within her borders there will be cries ol . joy over many sinners that have repented [ and tested the power of Christ to save, This church will realize her highest usefulness when she writes over her activities, "We are the body of Christ?Christ incarnate in the present dny?and severally,wc nre members thereof." Resisting Power. f When a physician is called to a case f of severe sickness, the first thing that he P estimates is thp resisting power of the f patient. The chances for his recovery are , in proportion to his vitality. If there be , little of that at the outset there is small j hope of over"oming the disease. The resistI iug power of persons in hill health is such ] that in an epidemic they throw olf the disease germs that prostrate others. One 1 cannot always tell from appearances just how much ability one* has to withstand , the inroads of a malady. Some who ap" parentlv are robust almost immediately ; succumb, while others who look frail recover from Violent attacks. Of course dis* sipation, unhygienic living, unhealtliful sur, j raundings, sap one's resisting power, so . | that when a virulent ailment makes an ' i -ittack one has strength insufficient, to fight . it off. r You see that it is not so much the malignancy of the disease as it is the vital. ity of the man that dcteimines the result. 5 .Tust so it is also in the moral world, says , Wellspring. There are some persons livi ing lives f;o upright, so spiritually healthy, I that they are practically immune from temptation. And when thev are over ,1? 4i?:?1.,?? k cjome, inty suoii itxuvn uu-niM-jv*n, jui tlieir power of resistance is great. On the , other hard, there are those who after suej cumbing to one temptation are completely | swept away by the power of evil. How can I that be accounted for? Obviously in the . same way that the ability to resist phvsij cal disease is to be explained. There baa | been unwholesome moral living; the mind has been permitted to become familiar with | evil thoughts; the soul has breathed in I miasma and corruption, until one has no . ability to put away temptation. , All this suggests the need of resisting J power both against disease and against sin. , A pure, clean, wholesome life, physical , and mora!, will make one secure against any harm that either can do. ( linn TVil 1? Patience. It is not* talent or genius that enables one to succeed so much as perseverance. we win 1101 Dy me suquen spurt, Dut oy keeping persistently at it. One may tire himself more bv running a mile than by walking live. If we must run. let us run with patience the race that lb set before us.?United Fresbyterian. , THE SUNDAY SCHOOI t s INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS b FOR AUGUST 30. t " T Subject: David Sparc* Snl, 1 Said. xxt(, ? fi-12,21-25?Golden Text. Lake !., 27" Memory Verse, 21?Study Tercel, 1-25? Commentary on the Day's Lett on. I. David in exile. These long years o i exile mnsfc hfivp hppn Vinrrf inrlppH fnr T)avi< to bear, and vet they -were important year in his life. The Lord has frequently seei s fit to give those whom He has intended U , perform some important work just sue! 5 a severe training. Moses was forty year i in the desert ana Paul was three years ii - Arabia. These years with David wer j most fruitful "as his apprenticeship fo ; . the kingdom, as his schools and school ? mar.ters:" (1) By his exile among othe . nations he learned their characteristic i and how best to deal with them. (2) H t could contrast the effects of their religioi j with those of the religion of Jehovah . and thus become confirmed in true religioi t and patriotism. This led to the marvelou 5 development of religious institutions am , of the service of song under his adminis I ) tration. (3) The exile experiences pre 3 Berved him from the dangers to which hi i sudden elevation to power and popularit; f would expose him. He learned his weak t ness and his need of divine help. (4) H P had the best of opportunities lor becom j mg acquainted with the people, their griev I ances under Saul, their needs, their die | positions and tendencies. He understooi j : their spiritual as well as their tempora I i wants. (5) He had practice in the art o 1 ! governing:. (6) He gained experience ii . I war. (7). He obtained a knowledge o ? ! the country. (8) In this school .of finntini I j men were trained those generals ana wis ; , strategists who in the golden days o ! David s rule commanded his armies, am raised Israel from the obscurity of ai J "Arab" tribe, who with difficulty heli , their own among the ancient Canaanitet j to the position of one of the great nation , of the old Eastern world. (9) He hai j around him a, trained band, like "the Oli t Guard," whicn enabled him to take imme i diate possession of the kingdom when th time came. (10) Many of his sweetes songB' were wrought out by this long an< hard experience, lor the comfort and hop not only of his own people, but fdr Goa' children in all ages, (ll) In spite of hi few lapses from faith and perfect truth he grew in character and manhood, he be came strong in faith and virtue, large hearted, wise, noble, consecrated to God. II. Saul's life in David's power (vs. i 12). David, with six hundred men, wa secluded in the hill of Hachilah. The Zip bites informed 8aul as to David's where abouts. whereupon Saul took three thou . sand chosen men?his select standing arm; _ ?and went in search of David. Whei T)nviH hpxirH nf finnl'a n-nnrnflnh hp upnf. ' spies to make sure that such was the ease | A moat wily chieftain was David, an< - not to be taken unawares by Saul, or an; J other foe. [ 5. "David arose." Probably soon afte: ; dark. "Came to the place." David wa : not content with the report of his men he wished to survey the situation with hi own eyes. "The trench." "The place o : the wagons."?R. V. The word may meai E either (1) the circular rampart round thi 1 camp; or (2) a barrier formed by the bag gage wagons round the camp; or (3) th > place wnera the baggage wagons of th ; army were kept. 6-8. "Abishai?Joab." These men wen : brothers, David's nephpws, sons of Zeruiah 5 David's sister. Abishai distinguished him 1 self by saving David's -life in one of hi 1 Philistine wars (2 Sam. 21:17). Joab wa put to death by Solomon's order (1 King 2:2834). "His spear:" When David am ' Abishai reached Saul's camp they say Saul's spear stuck in the ground at hi head. It was the custom for a king to al ways have his spear with him. The Arab still have the same practice. "Let mi smite him." Abishai asked permission o David to smith the king, and promise< that the execution woula be complete a the first stroke, that there would be n< need of smiting him the second time. 9. "Destroy him not." Saul had beei ill uu.v1u a power uu a (jicviuub uwimui (1 Sam. 24:1-7), and David would not in {ure him. "The Lord's anointed." Sau laving been made king by God's specia appointment. David looked upon it as t high crime to offer any viole^-to him David's heart smote him before-when hi > nterely cut off the skirt of Saul's rob ' (chap. 24:4, 5). 10-12. "The Lord shall smite h^D-" Hi [ shall die by a, stroke of the divine judg ment, or he shall die a natural death which in the course of nature will be be i fore mine, or he shall fall in battle by thi enemies of his country. "Cruse of water.' ' A small jar or flask. It resembled ii > some meaaure the canteens of our soldiers ( The cruse of water at Saul's head is ii f ; exact accordance with the customs of thi people at this dav. No one ventures t< l travel over these deserts without his crusi | of water, and it is very common to plao , one at the bolster, so that the owner cai , j reach it during the night. "Deep slee] ! from the Lord." The word used nere i the same as that used in Gen. 2:21 to de scribe the sleep which God caused to fal : ! upon Adam, when He tormea i^ve out o j his side. Thus we see that divine provi i j dence favored David in this daring enter prise. , m. A conversation between Saul an< s David (vs. 13-25). It was probably earl; t t the next morning that David took hi i j position on a hill so a vallev would be t. . j tween them, and called to Saul. The peo i pie in these mountainous countries are abli . 1 from long practice 60 to pitch their voice I as to be heard distinctly at distances al i most incredible. David expostulates wit] t Saul and refers the whole matter to Uo< i , as the vindicator of the oppreased. ? I 21-25. "I have sinned." David's word l ' had a pood effect on Saul. The king sar ! his wicked course and admitted that h I had sinned; but this did not pardon pas l ! offenses or cause him to live right in th : future. Saul needed what^every sinne . I needs?a new heart. "Piaffed the fool.' t ' Saul humbles himself exceedingly. "Tb I ( Lord render," etc. David here refers ti . t himself. He is not sounding his owi I praises, but, as before (chap. 24:12), i , I declaring his confidence that God wil ' eventually recompense him for his uprigh ! behavior. "So let my life." He pravs tjoa God would show mercy on him and spar hie life as he had spared Saul's. "Messe< be thou." Saul perceived that it was use 1-? ?~ /.?(? !/) lnnfTpr nerAi'nsfc David I | Jtrao (,u , whom he saw God intended for "grea J things." "To his place." To bis aomi , ^ in Gibeali. They never met again. It YFill Irrigate 250,000 Acrc*. i I In a gorge of rock a little more than 20 feet wide the United States Governmen t has decided to construct a dam of soli* i ! masonry, the first under the Hansborougli ; j Newlands act, at the Tonto basin site, tha . , will create in the valleys of the upper Sal ! River and 'lonto Creek the largest artificia j lake in the world. It will irrigate 200,00 *?CT?S. i , Contortionist a Clever Swindler. A contortionist has been swindling thi car lines in New York City and Philadel I phia by allowing himself to be struck bj trolley cars ana then obtaining damage for the "accident." He evaded capturc fo. seventeen months. The Oldest Ship. The oldest ship in the world. tht> mni' schooner Vigilant, running into St. Croix F. W. I., although now under the French flag, was built of Essex oak at Essex, Mass., in 1802. j Trent Caught in the Ocean. ' Trout are believed to be exclusively fresli water fish. Jt happens, however, occasion ally, that some are caught with the herring in the German Ocean. The Age of the World. In an article on "The A^e of the World" Sir Edward Fry, the famous Eng lish geologist, declared that 430.000,09(1 yeir3 must have elapsed since the existence of life on the globe. I Vessels to Prevent Blockades. England has nine submarine war vessel ' and France has fifty. Their presence is ex. pected to make blockades impossible. Where Silkworms Thrive. Silk worms are plentiful in Istria, Au? tria, and a good silk season ia expected. f .'V'<">--v;w Hbe beligious lifb i i READING FOR THE QUIET HOUR "| WHEN THE SOUL INVITES ITSELF. Poem: Prayer?Fire E?cape??Law of Splr? Jtaal Self-Preservation Warns A pains* Taking Chance* When Forming Habit* Gambling is Xo-Day's Especial Peril. . l j .My soul in search of rest, < j And longing to be blest, 8 Would lean upon Thy breast? i Come Thou this way. \? If I have wayward been, I And prone to look on fin 1 Without and not -within, 1 Forgive, I pray. 1 Take this soiled garb from me, ' A?/l ??alfn tyi%? rrtho Ko , [, J-JLllKl IXJOAW ai.T ?WUV iw UV -jm t Of seamless charity, t , Where'er I go: " And for my way prepare a A light of sacred prayer, That reaches everywhere, 3 To friend and foe. j To pray with equal zeal *JJ Jor them whose hate I feel, j. And my good name would steal, a Is hard to do; y But who, with base deceit. Would rob me of life's sweet? j e Sow tares within my wheat, 1 t. Forgive them, too. -vl P i. To pray thus. I opine, ,"!* j Will bring this heart of mine A ] Nearer to truth divine, W j Taught in Thy word, u And if I ever see | The heights of Calvary, T nnipifipri tyuirLVip e With my dear Lord. f -Harriet H. Dutcber. in Chicago Standard. . ^ 9 Don't Gamble Away Life. d Going down the street the other dajr, '\%g| ii says a writer in the Chicago Interior, walk- . 'S s i ing toward the lake so that the fronts of d the buildings between us and the water's j J edge stood clearly defined against the 4 i cloudless 6ky, we could not help noticing I s , how the facades of all were hung with alt mose innumerable fire escapes. Like great J webs for gigantic spiders they reached o,. from story to story, and silhoutted against s the azure background they formed a very S conspicuous feature of the scene. ^ It was evident from their numbers lhat . ;* * their presence was not accidental. With? JjfM out Knowing iujjj me icgisiauuo nuvcru- j <<* . I ing their construction, it seemed oertaif|/ $3 Y that the state had made their erection' 8 compulsory. Past experience had taught h the citizens that many a .'/fireproof" stoic5- ' * ture goes up in smoke, and that under cer* j l* tain conditions even stone and mortar' melt. . 1 with fervent heat. Those who saw the J greater part of Chicago dissolve into * cloud thirty years ago nave not the con-v \Js L- fidence in builders' assurances that they , ~;-S * once had. Even when entering the most ,;i y substantial structure they have the habit I of looking round for means of exit. Taught </ r by what he has endured, a Chicago pio neer would not care to spend more than ? one night on the summit of Mount BJan<r ,.^ji ! unless it were provided with a fire escape. v:-r 7 jj i Why should men be less careful of theur^fH , spiritual than of their physical safetft^^^fl 1 > Why should a man who would not: rent^HH p an office or accept a sleeping ;chambedMOa I without first looking up the fire ,e?cape^HS| ' enter upon habits of life and customs of so^^HR B , ciety without a moment's thought of th^Hfllj risks 'involved? Are there not apiritu^^QM ' 1 "death traps/' well known to the wia^HSH ? where nevertheless the young and thoughtless blithely resort for the carel^HjHE j , enjoyment 01 pernous pleasures: jx quires no special genius to enter upon prodigal's career; but how (s one to be^HR^H , livered from its consequences? Wben . : purse is empty, is there an easy way bl^HKH to affluence? When the eye sparkles anWB ? | the pulses quicken under the gentle stimnr^^HM i lus of champagne, would it not be the part (. | of wisdom to ask where is the way to . 31 - ' safety if the'eoul should suddenly become i I conscious of approaching peril? Suppose : -M } I the pace begins tb tell? Suppose the man .|i , awakes to fand his account overdrawn, hja , ^ . i health impaired, and his name under ail M I I eclipse? Is there a fire escape leading j j quickly and easily from this club-house V % j : life to his old-time freedom and safety? A _ | .Have bis new habits given him a stronger * j ! will, a clearer conscience and a more inti?- . , e i mate touch with the redemptivo elements :? i of society? Before making one's home here '-t c ! would it not be the part of wisdom to know 'M w j whether there is from such a career,an | easy retreat, or 'whether the soul waking ?. | iu an muui vi uicuaviu^ pv11i itbauu yu?j B to find itself "more engaged while atrug- J ? gling to be free?" A j The special peril of our day is gambling. 9 L Unscrupulous dealers tempt little children fl i and foolish hoys with multitudinous de- fl e [ vices, through which thev can be intro 3 I duced to the iascinations of chance going. 1 e I But where is the fire escape? When the 1 b flames are all about you, and the danger is I j imminent, and it is a question of flight oi I p death, is it easy to unlearn all these dia- J 8 bolical habits? It is a simple matter to ea- fl >. cape the fascinations which attach them- M 1 selves to all forms of hazard and of chance? fl f The wise man knows that it is-easier to H t- keep out than to get out. s Ringed about with flames, the unhappy victim of sin's fire traps plunges for a.few ] tragic moments hither and thither, aU in Jfl v vain, and then, as we have so lately seen fl i in the fashionable life of an eastern city, in sheer despair leaps upon death and per ishes "with all the- imnerfections on hi? 1 ri head." Do not foolishly "take the ii chances" when they are too evidently all MjBto asainst you. Do not make any mode of i life even your temporary home if from it 1 vou fail to find a plain and easy path that ^KH leads to a peaceful and secure life, a life s "hid with Christ in (Jod." jfll S Helpful and Trap. ' Practicality is the spirit which Tecog? e nizes and grasps the moral opportunity T, present in every phase of life.?Mr. Storra. Intellect may give keenness of discern- pBj 9 ment. Love alone gives largeness to tbo j CT 3 nature, some share in the comprehensive^ 1 ness of God.?John Hamilton Thorn. wjH ! Great occasions do not make heroes or * cowards?they simply unveil them to the : eyes of men. Silently and imperceptibly, * as we wake or sleep, we grow ana wax >^K| f strong, or wc grow and wax weak, and at last some crisis shows us what we baijc become.?Bishop Westcott. nH I Disappointment is like a sieve. Through HR | its coarse meshes the small ambitions and * hopes and endeavors of a soul are sifted out relentlessly. But the things that are big enough not to fall through are not in the least affected by it. It is only a test. Hi ^ not a finality.?Welkpring. Kn I Br Good to Others. Consider this: Your goodneBs is of no ^Hj t nse if you are not gooa to others. The t good of goodness is that you can wrap ] others inside it. It ought to be like a big ij cloak that you have on h cold night, while the shivering person next to you nas none. fl| If you don't make use of your goodness, what is the good of it??Mrs. Clifford. 8 The Only Cure. Sffl , The only cure for indolence is worjc; 3 the only ture for selfishness is sacrifice: the only cure for unbelief is to shake off the ague of doubt by doing Christ's bidding; the only cure for timidity is to plunge into some dreadful duty before the I chill comes on.?Rutherford. jgB j Never Betray a Confidence. , To betray a confidence is to make yourself despicable: many things are said fl rniiong friends which are not said under a H seal of secrecy, but are understood to b< H confidential, and a truly honorable man i will never violate tiii< tacit confidence.-" 90 1). Hartler. A Stork-IIaisintr Country. It is asserted in the Department of Agriculture that cassava will make the Southera States a great stock raising country. oi.1 :j_j frrtm tlir> nino fnrPKta I I OJUU-SIUCU VUno i?V... , which were fed on cassava more than HB l I doubled their weight in seventy-five days. The cost of the live weight produced was one cent a pound and tne profit made in fattening beef fifty-nine per cent. Hog3 jHj did equally well. 1 Tlie Snake'* Venom. 3m The venom of snakes contains only intermediary bodies, which alone would not be virulently poisonous, but the normal blood serum of susceptibie animals contains the JB substances which, hy conjoint action with the intermediary Ixidint of the venom, cause tbe deadly poisoning. H| I J