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4 AJiATi 1 KAtt -3L ^ ; V VLb I By Anna Katharine Green, J CHAPTER III. Continued. Sclina Valdi! He knew the name. It was that of the young musical d*2)utante who, but a month before, had nn hflffti-o q (rrflAf flCCPmhlv nf expectant listeners, beautiful, fascinating, but tongue-tied. A wonder, with every promise of song in ber blazing eyes and upon ber trembling lijs, but with no voice at her command, no answering sound to the orchestra's inviting tones, nothing save the moan with which she finally gave up the struggle and sank, overcome and annihilated, behind the falling curtain. Selina Valdi! He remembered the name well, and all the talk and criticism which followed her defeat, and, moved by a boundless compassion be took her by the hand. Immediately she added: "At least that is the name by which I was known to my teachers aud expected to be known in the world. My real name is Jenny " Why did she not finish? Why did she look at him so strangely and drop ber eyes and shake her head? His expression bad been one of expectancy. and all bis manner was encouraging. But she seemed to tremble before bim, and did not speak tbe name, only murmured: "But I forgot. I have sworn Dot to tell my name. I am Selina Valdi -without the success which -was to make that name illustrious." "Poor child!" The words left his lips tinconseiously, she looked so desolate and forsaken. "Poor child! your heart was set on success, then! You expected to be a singer." "Oh!" 1 The exclamation spoke volumes. She !had clasped her bauds and was trem- 1 Wing now, not with weakness, but 1 eagerness. i "I had a right to expect it," she deWared. "I can sing; I have a voice 1 that has made every master who has ] laught me patient and gentle and ! eager. The rooms have rung, just ' rung with the notes I have raised, but ; I cannot face a crowd. At the sight ' of faces surging in a sea before me such a terror seizes me that I -want to j shriek instead of sing; something _ catches me by the throat and I am suffocated, lost, drowned in a flood of ihorror, to which I can give no name nd against which it is useless to Strug- ' gle. Oh, is is a cruel fate. But I can Bing; listen!" ^ And with sudden impetuosity her tvoice soared up in an Italian air, so sweet; 60 weird, so thrilling, that he .stood amazed, entranced, subdued, marveling at tiie freshness, the power, jthe soul-moving quality of h-er tones as rrrell as at the perfection of her manner and the correctness of her interpretation. A living, breathing genius, glorying in lier own girt, was before Ihim, and lie could but acknowledge it svith delight. . She saw his pleasure and rose in dig- ( saity and flushed with power. Her :voice left the intricate ways of Italian song and deepened into the broader, , Weeper channels of German opera. It ( ewelled, it rose, it triumphed, till the Strange and shabby room became an ^ ?lysium, and the atmosphere seemed ^ laden with the breath of gods. A g?- j nius? She was more, or seemed so j ;while her voice thrilled and her beauty flushed, but when all was still again, , and she stood panting and deprecatory tiefore him then she seemed only a tender cbild again, craving sympathy and ^Ipecting confidence. h "Marvelous! Marvelous!" So he .spok-?, lifted out of himself, first by iher power and then by her humility. **And with such* a gift as this you Could be discouraged by one failure, overcome by one fright!" "Ab," she murmured, "that is how 1 can sing to you, but I can never sin? like that to the multitude." t , "Never:" J "Never." "But. dear child, you arc not sure cf ' ftliis. You are very young, and alter eouie few months of training yon will ! gain courage and reap a full success. You cannot help it, with your genius. God does not give such a voice to be y smothered in obscurity." "God?" 1 With what an Indescribable intonation she spoke. He looked at her in amaze. "Do you believe in God?" she asked, and her face took on a strange look, almost like that of fear. "1 do," he returned, "and so will you, "when you have lived long enough to realize His goodness." She shuddered', a change came over her; she no longer looked so young. "I have not been taught," sbe murmured. "I have not been trained in jchurch ways and church thinking. iWould It have been better if I had": iYou look so good; would that have made me good, too:" The old simplicity and childlike man ner were coming back, but with something new in it, that, if not comprehended, affectcd him deeply. "Are you not good?" he smiled. "You have committed one sin, I know, but that was the result of frenzy, and certainly does not argue a bad heart. But good, as man reckons goodness, you must be, or your eyes would not be so clear, or your siulle so inspiring. If you were happy " "I" 1 were happy?" A fresh change had come over her; she seemed to hang upon his words. "Then you would no longer query if there were a God, but rejoice in the ftict that there is one." Her face was fallen again, and she seemed to struggle with herself. For ome minutes she did not answer. "Go!" she murmured at last. "I have already kept you too long. Go and forget " sho gasped, gave one look at the crone in the corner to which she had withdrawn, and sank sobbing and troubled in a chair. nc ruruea xu uutry net. ouuiciuuik ."witliia bim told bim tbat be ougUt lo I L . .. * 'ER P LIONS. Ju Author of "The Forwken 1 Inn," Etc. fl BERT BONNER'S SONS. M seize upon this excuse to tear himself away from a presence so dangeTous to his peace. But when he reached the threshold and turned, as almost any man would have done, for a final look, he found her gazing at him with such despair in her large, dark, limpid eyes, tbat he made one bound to her 6ide, and seizing her by the hand exclaimed: "I will not go till I know just what I leave behind me. You have moved me too much. If you are a true woman you will tell me all that a friend should know, or else dismiss me without this look of grief which holds me bflck in spite of my better judgment." "I cannot help my looks," she said, "but I can restrain my words, uut i will not. I long to have an adviser, I long to have a friend?outside of the profession," she added; "outside of that selfish world where all is rivalry, jealousy and distrust. Can you spare the time to listen, or will you come again to-morrow?" "I had rather linger now. It is not late. See. it is barely 10 o'clock, and I am impatient to know my new friend better." She sighed, and something like a spasm passed over her face, but it was an innocent face; he had no doubt of her, and he listened with irrepressible emotion to the pathetic 6tory which she proceeded to tell him. CHAPTER IV. THE STORY OP A STRANGE GIRLHOOD. "I shall not say much about my childhood." the Signorina Valdi began. "It was like that of many other girls I/iff irt rrrnirr nn in n rrrp.lt fitv. ill the shabby gentility necessitated by small means. My father was a doctor and only half successful, and that in a quarter of the town where mosj; of the patients never pay, and the "few that do, pay so littli? that comfort is scarcely known in the house and luxury never. My mother was an Invalid, and, there being no other children, I ?rew up in the comparatively empty aouse a creature of fancies and dreams. My voice was my great companion. I 3ared not sing in the parlors or where my mother could hear me too plainly, but would go away into the garret, where in undisturbed possession of so much empty space, I would sing and trill till I was utterly exhausted or my stock of songs gave out. Later, I took to acting, having seen one opera rhrough the kindness of a school teaehiv of mine who knew my passion and had accidentally overheard my voice ine rlnv. For even then I never sane before any one, and if by chance I :aucbt any one listening my throat ?hoked up and I broke out Into a cold perspiration. But this was insxperence, as I thought, and I went on cherishing my dreams and acting over and )ver imaginary scenes, from operas tvhich I knew only by name, creating songs and manufacturing situations tvhich must have been sufficiently :rude and ridiculous, but which gave ny voice a chance and allowed enough jf my fervor to expend itself to prerent me from falling ill or becoming losperately dissatisfied or unhappy. "When 1 was fourteen, my mother lied, and two years after this, my \ither. But I was not discouraged. : had my voice, and, child that I was, [ imagined that I had only to lift It in public.to have fame and fortune lavshed upon me. I was soon undeceived n this regard; for, in the first place, [ could not raise my voice in public, ind, in the second place, the very first nusical adept I saw explained to me iow much study and practice were necessary to achieve even the smallest success. Study I did not shrink from, md practice was simply a delight. But , [ hail no money, and training is expensive, and so is merely living. I found lifficulty in existing till one happy lay?was it happy??I let my voice out in what I supposed to be an empty :hurch, but which in reality contained ;i great teacher, who, hearing me, thereupon took me in charge and started me on a career which he said would end in wealth and adulation. "Alas, for me, I believed him. and vas no longer hungry or cold or meanly clothed. At least, I did not feel my hunger or the chill of the room in which I worked at sewing or copying, or anything which would furnish me with daily bread. And as for my (.Iai-Uac -tVtA-rr travA oa norfotnlv Zlpcfinprl LiUlilCO, t?U\. V TT Vic OV v.\,ivu.wit, to change into the silver and gold tissues befitting an opera queen, that I have sometimes laughed, In passing through the streets, to think how the men and women who jostled me so rudely would one day feel proud if I east them a glance or bestowed upon them the haughtiest of smiles. "My companion and the only confidante of my dreams was this old Portuguese crone whom you see with me new. I had made her acquaintance in the depths of my poverty, and being none too well off. had found no other friend who could supply her plate in faithfulness and devotion. She is not prepossessing to look at, but she loves me; too well I fear, for she would not even let me die, though she knew my secret desperation. "But this Is hurrying on too fast. I studied then, long anil faithfully, and practiced every hour, when I was not obliged to work for my subsistence. Hope sustained me, and the days flew by on wings. My eighteenth birthday passed, and the day was set for me to try my voice in concert. Had I carried out this intention, I might have been saved two more years of useless labor and vain hope. Cut unfortunately, at the last minute, a spirit of opposition siezed me and I refused to test my powers till I could do so with ail the eclat of scenery and costume. I would appear as Margherita cr not at all, and my foolishness was listened to, and my debut postponed. "A new tcacher now took me ?n charge, i was able to pay him something, but not much. Never mind; there was a future in store for me; I tras tint running up a debt "whlct I could easily liquidate by one nigbi of triumphant song. If be were "will ing to wait?and he seemed to be? 1 certainly coull do this, for my voic< and manner and style were improvini daily, and ere long the doors of thi theatres must open before me, ant wealth and honor take the place of in digence and obscurity. Looking at me now and remember ing my failure, can you imagine sucl folly? You must be young and pooi and have a voice to do it Why, thii room has been peopled with visions I have seen myself in the possession ol every power, every happiness. Whet my fingers have ached with writing, ] have thought of the day ;n store foi me, when just my signature would b< worth gold. Till then I wanted n< companionship, and felt myself un tempted by pleasure or wealth. Till ] could enjoy all, I wanted nothing. ] preferred to take my happiness at i bound, and from these rooms of fadet grandeur and sordid suggestions, ster at once Into the palatial apartments suited to the successful prima donna. "You can Imagine, then, the excite ment of those days, when I was in formed by my enthusiastic teacher, that the time had ccme for my appearance, and that after two short months of rehearsal, the stage of the should be ready for my debut. If time flew before it halted now. Never, never, would those two months pass And yet they ought not to have gone so slowly, for I was very busy. The rehearsals themselves were enough tc absorb me; and they did, but thej never left me satisfied, and I longed to end them. Somehow I needed an audience, or so I thought. I could nol warm up to empty benches; but my manager seemed satisfied, and fed me with flatteries, and expended greal sums of money on my toilets and the stage accessories. He was sure of success, but not so sure as I was. I can say this now, since I have so egregiously failed. I neither doubted my voice nor my training nor my spirit I left this room on that fatal night, calm. I took what I thought to be my last look of these miserable apartments, with the quiet farewell of one who feels her fortune assured. I left behind in it many memories, but Ivwent forward to great hopes. "When I Ward the door close, I had the feeling of something shutting upon my past, and went downstairs and out to my carriage with a different step than that which had been accustomed to mark my departure. "TKio foollnrr fAllnTrrnr! mfn tha Ihn. atre and increased, rather than diminished, with the putting on of the dainty robes which another's enthusiasm bad provided for me. Nor did the sounds of the orchestra make me quail, nor the voice of the call-boy; nothing moved me till, having crossed the stage, I caught a glimpse?or did I feel the presence?of the vast crowd that awaited in eager expectancy for my first notes. Then, indeed, a dagger entered my heart, and terror, such as the victim of the amphitheatre alone can know, caught me in its clutches, paralyzing throat and limbs till I could have welcomed any death that would have_ annihilated my consciousness. I was" before the footlights; I was in the spot where I had pictured myself for years, and I could not sing a note; I could not even fly; I must stop and face the wonder, the pity, the disgust, that must be on every countenance, till Fate should come to my aid and break the spell that bound me. "It came in the shape cf a few stray efforts at applause, doubtless meant for my encouragement. The sound?it was the first I bad heard?seemed to loosen the icy fetters that held my limbs enchained, and I sank, suffering frightfully, upon the floor of the stage I "was never more to mock by my presence. The curtain was rung down and I was carried away, whither, I hardly knew, and to what I could even then dimly guess, for my heart was broken, and my earthly hope was at an end." "But," eagerly interposed the artist, "you may be mistaken aoout thisT Stage fright is common. Our greatest actors are subject to it. It is rather thought by them the token of genius, and a promise of future success} Surely, your manager " To be continued. The UnKallant Von Menzal. If there is one public man in Germany who detests being lionized, and, at the same time, rather dislikes women, it is the celebrated painter Adolf von Menzel, Knight of the Order of the Black Eagle. He went to Ki6sincen this summer, as usual, to take the waters, and while there a young lady from Berlin saw him one evening sitting over his beer in a beer house. She was a collector of picture postcards, and, of course, she wanted to get one in a surreptitious manner from old Menzel. She accordingly edged herself up to the painter, with whom she was not personally acquainted, aud said: "Herr professor, may I send you a postcard now and *heu':" Receiving no reply, she reiterated her question. Menzel ended by nodding his head. "I may, then?" "Send them, if you like," said%Menzel; "I have a good large waste-paper basket at home!"?London Telegraph. The Last of a Specie* of Parrot. Ornithologists will regret to learn that Guilding's Amazon parrot, a rare bird inhabiting the mountains of St. Vincent, has in all probability become extinct, owing to the recent volcanic phenomena in the island. The species was said formerly to cccur cnly on the Souttriere, hence it became known as the SouKriero bird. The great eruption in 171S drove mauy specimens tc seek shelter in the other highlands ol St. Vincent, but their numbers were considerably reduced 1 y the fearful hurricane of IS'JS, and there is reason to fear, so 1 am lold by an ornithological friend, that the few survivors have oil nnri?lir>d in t!ir? pruntion of Mnv last.?Lontlou Correspondence of Tiic Gcotsiuau. Qullo Ui? to Expectations. "Yorv father -was disappointed ir your monthly report, of course?" sale the school teachcr. "No. Lia'am." replied the dull scholar "No? You dou't mean to tell me h? was satisfied with It?" "No, ma'am, but lie said he hadn'1 expected to be satisfled with it/"? Philadelphia Press. ? The Boodle airship is slighti.v heavier 1 than the air, and has the nsual elon* sated balloon framework beneath, and screw propeller behind, but it is steered * by a front screw in a movable pivoted i I r..i>fnanv.ri- Tho twplvp-foot model is " easily raised, lowered and steered in ' any direction. f "Siloxicon."' containing silicon, oxy1 pen and carbon, is obtained by the ae[ lion of carbon on silica at a tempera ture of 4500 degrees to ."000 degrees ; Fahrenheit in the electric furnace, the > carbon being insufficient in quantity to cause complete redaction of the silt ica. The new material is attracting ? attention as a high-temperature resist' ing substitute for refractory clays, I magnesia, iiuie and graphite. i Certain spiders sail in airships made of silken threads, and now an insect that travels in balloons has been re ported by two American naturalists. , Small balloons, a quarter of an inch . im-in- niiri rvnnnnspd of tinv bubbles. i having been observed, it was found that each carried a fly (genus Empis), ; resembling the hornet-fly. with a dead , fly. supposed to be food. As the males ! also attract females by the balloons, i Henri Coupin suggests further study. i In the pilot chart of the British me' teorological office for March many obI servations of the singular phenomenon i called "white water' are collected. It : is more frequently seen in tbo tropical parts of the Indian Ocean than ilnyi where else, and it impresses some observers as weird, ghastly and awe-in! spiring.' The ocean has a milky look, and the ship seems to be passing i through a kind of luminous fog, in which sen and sky appear joined and i the sense of distance is lost. The pbennmwiftn is believed to be due to some form -of phosphorescence, but a satisfactory explanation of it is yet Jacking. i The American Museum of Natural History in New York City lias come into possession of what is believed to be the largest whale ever exhibited on land. It is a female finback, sixtyi eight and one-half feet in length. Its body, in life, was thirty feet in circumference. It is estimated that at least fifty men could be enclosed within the interior of this gigantic animal. The full-grown right whale, which is the species usually hunted for its blubber and whalebone, averages from forty- ; five to fifty feet only in length. The whale whose skeleton adorns the mu- : iseuiu was washed ashore dead, near EVirkeri River. New Jersey, last No- | . vember. Scientific theory avers that the ancestors of the whales were terrestrial' or land mammals, which gra- J dually became aquatic ia thoir way of , living. Security at Sea. Within ten years, thanks to belte* ships and better navigation, the death rate of sailors has decreased one-half, I and is now only thirteen per 1000 or forty or fifty per cent, below the rate ! for all inhabitants of such cities as ' Boston. New York "or Chicago? though, of course such a comparison must not be pursued to its last analysis of why or wherefore, but taken for what it iis worth as a sufficiently surprising statement of an actual fact. Out oI 30,000 accidents reported to the Trav- ( elers' Insurance Company. 2413 occurred to pedestrians and 1SS0 to persons who were combortably at home indoors. No fewer than 1.81G accidents were due to riding or driving, 089 to >"i?!mc cnni'tc 40fS to hiCVCliUC aild 477 to railway travel, while only eov- j enty of these 10,000 accidents occurred upon the ocean. Making all due allow- | ance for the obvious fact that there are always many more persons walk- I ing, or Indoors, or engaged in pastimes, j or railway journeying than there are j at jea, these figures are still signiti- i cant. '***???? One great steamship company, with forty vessels, lost only one seaman in a I year, and it was recorded of the eele- J brated Inman line' seme years ago that | it had conveyed, without one death. 1 a million passengers. In the year 1S90 , the trans-Atlantic liners made nearly j 2000 voyages from New York to the | \ arious ports of the United Kingdom j and the continent, carrying 200,000 ; cabin j'.nd 372,000 steerage passengers ! across 3000 miles of boisterous ocean, j i And yet in this entire year there was j I not cue accident costing the life of a j ! single one of these more than half a j ' million people.?National Magazine. Uncle Daniel's Oooil L,uck. "Dear me," a lady'on the street car* was overheard to say to another lady, j "Is your Uncle Daniel married again?" "Yes?he is," the other lady replied, "and eighty-seven years old. We think he ought to be ashamed of himself. He has three widowed daughters to keep house for him and ma lie ; hiin comfortable, but he managed to ! evade their watchfulness and go courtI lng. Maria, Rebecca and Eliza are 1 highly indignant with liim. He was married out in the country, and brought his new wife home before they had heard he had any such intentions." "How did the artful old man ex plain himself?" asked the listener. ! "Oh, the letter he wrote us was very amusing. He said that he decided to get married the third time because he hnd already had two such good ?T"1 n + WAi f Pl'QCC 1 >VJYl*S. ? l x & I Sad Feature of Keunionn. "I'll do anything in my power tot i oitl soldiers, collectively or individually," said mi officer who served in the i Civil War. "except to attend Grand I Army meetings, reunions and places I t where they assemble. To soe them . getting older and feeble, to see how > the ranks are thinned year after year, - makes me feel mighty uncomfortable. ; I keep up my affiliation in the post, nnv nil inv dues and contribute to all the soldier charities, but I simply can't go among them at these celebrations. It makes me feel more as if I v/ere at* . tending a funeral than a festive occasi?n. I don't like to see the soldiers gel old."?Washington Star. > Uncle Ebon'* Experience. "It "pears dat de opportunities of dis life," said Uncle Eben, "is a heap like fish. It's alius de biggest ones dat gite away.''?Washington Star. t 1' jthe great destroyer ' SOME STARTLING FACTS ABOUT THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE. rotm: The Jolly Distiller, by Mr*. Frank A. Breck?Howard Russell Say* the Temperance Reform la n Triumphal March?The Sky Red With Promises. Oil, I am a jolly distiller; I'm rich and contented with life; My nose may be red, but I am well fed, And so are my children and wife. Yes, I am a jolly distiller, At morning, at night and at noon; And I never hurry or get in a worry Lest folks should destroy the saloon. Oh, I am a jolly' distiller, I III UU.1I.IC50 ?B uuu llliug, jwu . My gains are immense (at others expense;, And that is convenient for me. For I am a jolly distiller, An' temperance people are fools; But I ain't afraid o' the rumpus they've made, For liquor is king?an' he rules. Oh, I am a jolly distiller, Who knows his position is strong: For all the church ranks, 'ceptin' temperance cranks, Are votin' for us right along. ?Ram's Horn. Victories of Kef?im. The temperance reformation is not a weary journey to reach a destinatien. It is a world-wide conflict against world; working sin, in which many splendid triumphs are alrcadv won. Religiously, the cnurch, as God's, agcncy for reform, for some time right in its "resolutions," is now federating its forces ana everywhere grappling the retail Jiquor trade. Legislatively, three States outlaw the saloon. In sixteen more, fractions of the State as large as counties may. and in the majority of cases do, prohibit the beverage sale. In eighteen others the unit of prohibition is as large as municipal corporation or town. By the power of local prohibition thus provided a majority of the 1 cities and towns of Massachusetts, for example, are free from saloons. Think of Cambridge and Somerville, a solid area, containing 160,000 souls, and no rum shops! Judicially, the trade in alcoholic drink9 is in the utmost ill favor. The Supreme Court has said the business is so vile that the State may restrict or utterly prohibit: that no man has anv natural right to sell rum and that forced by public sentiment out of business no compensation may be claimed. On the other hand, where evil has been wrought by liquor vending damages may be collected bv the injured party. , Industrially, the man who drinks is marked and refused work by the railways and I many other employers, and is less in favor ; as an employe everywhere, even as barI tender. Socially, tne saloonkeeper and | excessive drinker are barred not only from ( the churches, but from all benevolent or| ders. If these arc fairly some of the great vie- 1 | tories of the reform, the sky is red with j | promise of still greater conquests in the j near future. Radiant hope is enkindled by | the federation of the forces now being col| lected. The first fruits are already gathj ered. In Ohio. Indiana, Tennessee, Arkansas, Texas and many other States the saI loons are rapidly being driven out of busiI ness by this combination of their foes. No I wonder the hosts of Beelzebub are appreI hensive. "In the eight of all the heathen," I the unified workers have recently cleansed the parasites from the wings of the beautii ful national capital. No longer does Uncle , Sam knock down the immigrant with a , beer mug upon his arrival. The saloons | are closed at the army post?, and one of j the best acts of the last Congress was the I granting of a cool million dollars for sub- I stitutes lor the army saloon. In view of | these recent achievements of unity, what j may we not expect when God calls out His reserves and hurls against this great enemy of His kingdom all the troops of the line. Let no man be discouraged. Trust thou in God. for we shall join yet more and more in jubilant unisons of praise for His mighty | salvation from the Satanic influences of strong drink.?Howard H. Russell. ?-??Animals aud Drunkards. "I've worked around animals more or less all my life until the trolleys ctid away with horses." said the motornian. "and I have noticed particularly the effect that a j drunken man has on them. A horse hates a man with a jatr worse than the devil , hates holy water, but a doe seems to feel : that a drunk isn't responsible for himself, J and acts accordingly. A dog, no matter how fhp ir - ill npver hitr :i Hrnrlfpn man. He seems to know by instinct when a man ' is under the weather, and treats him as he ! would treat a child. But with a horse it's different. A horse treats a drunken man , with contempt?doesn't want to have anything to do with him. There used to be an old bum who loafed around the car stables, and who somehow or other always man- , aged to keep loaded up to the nozzle. Some , nights he would creep into a stall and go to sleep in the straw. The horses, when they : finished the last run at night, would af- I ways be ready to dron in their stalls, but I I never knew a horse that would sleep with I a bum. Rather than lie down alongside 1 him the horse would stand up all night."?' Philadelphia Pre3?* * > -A Menace. vVhen a great strike is on and there is reason to fear tronb'c from the idle men, ! the saloons are ordered to close, as at Omaha a short time since. When a great i flood has inundated a part of a city, creat- I ing unusual conditions and stopping business, the saloons are ordered closed, as at Kansas City recently. When a mob forms i to storm a jail and a reign of terror ensues, the saloons are ordered closed, as at Evansville. Why. what's the matter with the saloon?the institution in control of men of proven "good moral character," the . necessary "poor man's club," duly licensed and permitted by law? Such instances are ; an acknowledgment that the saloon at such times is a menace to the public peace, a ' constant danger, an inciter of men's baser | passions, a rendezvous for anarchy. It is I ?? aH ^iraan nr>/l m'OriMI! lioro -y r\ f] tllA 1 people ought to learn the lesson.?Indiana Phalanx. Wisconsin's Good Kecord. In Wisconsin's Legislature that has jupt ( closed some fifteen bills, all .tffeotine the j liquor question, were introduced. Seven of these created considerable discussion. Two in the liquor interests were defeated, ' while five in the interests of tcmperance were adopted. l*erliapfl tJie Better TFaj-. A million gallons cf whisky were de- > 6troyed by fire in Glaseow last week, .and only seven liver, were lost. If-the whisky had gone in the usual way the fatalities would have been much heavier, with many , other troubles thrown in.?Rochester Deny | ocrat and Chronicle. The Crusade In Brief. Of 100 crimes alcoholism is the cause of ! ?"ty in Prance and of forty-one in Germany. Miss Hflen M. Gould is at present estab- ' .,i..u r?_ i IJ*5I1IU? c I tiui; iui uiu ,y vuiiK uivit ui living . ton-on-the-Huoson. In oruer to keep them ' out of the fcciloon she is erecting a $30,000 ; clubhouse for their exclusive use. Beer drinking produces rheumatism by producing chronic congestion and ultimate ly degeneration of the liver, thu? inter- j l'eriag with its function by which the food , its elaborated and fitted for the sustenance or the body, and the refuse materials oxi- j elided and made soluble for elimination. L?t the liquor traffic be known as a dangerous trade in itself. Let the saloon never become all-powerful in polities. Evidence has come to light showing that 1 a very serious form of intoxication is in- ! dulcecl in by many boys in Philadelphia, j which js produced by inhaling gasolene . fumes. Lady Somerset, in response to the ques- I tion: "What, on the whole, is the best way J to deal with the liquor traffic?" says: "By | trying to induce good, honest, strong men to dissociate the saloon interests from their 1 power in government." Major-Genera! Davis, commanding tho i Philippines, directed commanding officers 1 to carry cut nn< act prohibiting the sale of intoxicating liquors, beer or wine at any place within two miles of land used by the United States for military purposes. I / " THE RELIGIOUS. LIFE READING FOR THE QUIET HOUR WHEN THE SOUL INVITES ITSELF. Poem: The Hoar With God?Fear of Pnnlshmcnt For Our Sins Doei Not Hav? a Large Enough Part In Oar Religious Affairs?Blight That Evil Brings. My God, is any hour so sweet, From blush of morn to evening star, IAs that which calls me to Thy feet, That hour of prayer? Blest is that tranquil hour of morn, Ana DieBi toat, solemn iiuur ui eve, IWhen, on the wings of prayer upborne, The world we leave. Then is our strength by Thee renewed, Then are our sins by Thee forgiven, Xhen dost Thou cheer my solitude With hopes of heaven. Hushed is each doubt, gone every fear; Our spirit seems in heaven to stay; [And e'en the penitential tear Is wiped away. Lord, till we reach that blissful shore, No privilege so dear shall be, 'And tnus our inmost soul to pour In prayer to Thee. ?Our Young Folks. ??? The Day of Judgment. In a recent sermon the Rev. F. M. Bennett, of Lawrence, Kan., said: "I am not sure that fear of punishment for our sins and evil has a large enough.part in our religious life and our religious institutions. I think a little more fear .-of such things j would be quite wholesome T6r us morally and religiously?not necessarily the old fear of the future punishment and the future hell, but the fear of present punishment and the present hell into which our sins at once plunge us. I think the fear of this , present hell is, in fact, a much more po- , tent influence to cause us to live righteously and religiously than was the old fear of future retribution. "For all souls truly wise, strong and pure the old fear has vanished, and the more potent fear of the present judgment of evil has come to take its place. By no means is it vet strong and fearful enough for our gooa. We are not enough afraid of the present judgment day because we have not yet awakened to its full significance. Our perception of its meaning is dulled by the evil which we persistently harbor in our lives. When we are truly awake we shall heed it, and more thoroughly amend our ways, to escape the direful judgments which it brings. "People sometimes speak with a kind of reflecting horror, a far-off, disdainful pity in their tones, of the pictures of physical and spiritual torture of the future hell which were drawn by such men as the great Jonathan Edwards and the noted revivalists of the past. People sometimes epeak as if they were glad to be released from the old fear of these threats, never realizing that the present hells into wbich they plunge themselves by their sins and i eviJ8 are, in tact, a thousand times more to be dreaded. "That old-time future hell was not comparable to the punishment which is actually given to the evil life now and here. As we sow, so do we reap, evil fruit for evil i seed, and the crop is not long in growing. This is the fact which modern science is continually proclaiming. The hell of science is more sure and fearful than the old hell of theology. The pld theology said you will be damned for your sins. Modern (icience eays, Your sins not only have damned you, but they kill you, body and soul, so that you may drag through this world little better than a corpse, with not even enough life to realize that you are practically dead. "Not only is this physical punishment i for human evil a sure and established fact, but the blight of mental and moral capacity, the perversion of desire and motive, the blunting of the will to live and to wofk righteously which surely follow in the train of all physical sin or sloth, is the most fearful punishment. The destruction g\f imoffi'nof liro nAtpor fV?a + V? s\t rViA ative faculty of the human soul, the loss of power to enjoy the good, the true and the beautiful, the benumbing of the energy to i enter into and be blessfed by spiritual things?these are the hells/into which all our evils immediately plunge us, so that we go through the motions of this life so weakened that we do not know that we are j spiritually blind and halt. "With .heaven all around wto tempt us to fuller life, our haruencd and gross souls blindly refuse it for the sake of the meaner temptation and the coarsei' enjoyment which our too keenly whetted sensual appetites demand. Not only science, but our common daily experience and observation proclaim these truths. Indeed, our consciences accuse \is. Who is there among us who has not injured the spirit through < some form of sensualism? Who is there of us who does not know, at least dimly, that we dwell in hell therefor? Who will deny that he has fallen and thereby weakened his capacity for the fullest, richest life? He who has escaped such sin, let him thank God for the heaven in which "he dwells."?Christian Register. Thoughts For the Twilight. A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver.?Proverbs. He does not care for his character who is not careful as to his companions.? Ram's Horn. A brave man knows no malice; but forects, in peace, the injuries of war, and gives nis dearest foe a friend's cmbrace.?Cowper. Little do ye know your own blessedness, for to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive and the true success is to labor.?Stevenson. Let us beware of losing our enthusiasm. ,Let us ever glory in something; and strive to retain our admiration for all that would ennoble, and our interest in all that would enrich and beautify our life.?Phillips Brooks. To me it is the truest and most glorious- I ly ;beautiful solution of the riddle of the universe to believe that God has knit it together in the bonds of law, and breathed into it spiritual life to the end.?Richard A. Armstrong. Measure of Falthfaloei*. Not our particular position or sphere in life, but the spirit in which we do or bear what is set before us or is laid on uc, measures our iaithfulness artd our influence in the sight of our fellows, and in God's sight. Our opportunities, just where and as we are, may be the means of fitting us for highest good to those about us and for fullest appreciation and improve* ment in our place in God's service. Secret of JLife'? Victory. Not in careless - leasure, but in watchful love and trust of God your Father, in faithful and fervent desire to be His child, is the eecret of life's victory and of the : u,. lit* \ uvenuuiiLiK vi ucavu uy 411c.?kjbuuiuiu -4/ Brooke. Religions Trutha. All God's paths lead onward and lead j home.?George Adam Smith. Now God be with you through this year! And please see the blue in the sky; there is always more than we can see.?Henry Drummond. \ Failure in life is impossible to him who can say: "I can do all things through Christ which strengthened me."?United Presbyterian. He will not send thee into a wood to fell an oak with a penknife. When He calls thee to work thou never didst, He will t^ive th--e the strength thou never hadst.? ,/ohn ilason. A Census of Headlights. Fully 37.450 of the 41,300 locomotives of the United States still retain the oil l^jnp and ordinary planished reflector for headlights. About 3200 have electric head lights, using the ordinary reflector, ana | generaiing (Hectricity jvith email steam motors 01 the reciprocating or turbine type. There are some 1050 acetylene generators I now in use for generating gas for locomoj tive headlights. niiiiAVAr Hold in A reDort from Valparaiso ie to the effect that the Boer colonists, who recently arrived from South Africa and settled near Pitrufguen, have made important gold discoveries in the ridgee near that place. THE SUNDAY SCHOOL INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS FOR SEPTEMBER 6. Subject: Death of Saul and Jonathan, % Sam. mi,. 1-18? Golden Text, Ptot, xlv., 12?Memory Teriti, 6, 7?Com- /j mentary on the Day's Lesson. 1. "Men of Israel Fled." It is supposedthat the battle was being fought in theplain of Esdraelon and that the Israelite* fled before their enemies to the slopes of Mount iGlboa, whither >.he Philistines followed. ''Fell down slain." It was impo?- ; sible for them to rally. Saul and his sonsfought like heroes and no doubt threw; themselves into the forefront of the battle, but all in eain; God was against them. , . >vj 2. "Followed hiard." The onset of the Philistines was directed mainly against that quarter where Saul and his sons were fight- ' A ing. "Slew ... Saul's sons."1 Jona-Y- -1% .4.1 /-II- ?:4V ii. _?* 1 tuaii laiio wjuj iuc icei. a. vjwu nuuiu hereby complete the judgment that was to be executed upon Saurs house. 2. He would make David's way to the crown. clear and open. 3. God would also show. ua th: ; the difference between good and bad is t9 be made in the other world, not *3 in this. Whatever may have been the character of the others who fell. Jona- . ? than's fate, was not the result of his personal transgression but of his father's sinr and says to us in plain language that no siner ha;ms only himself, ana that the good often in this world suffer because of the bad. All relationships of life have some influence upon our e.irthly deetiny, but no other i'b so potent for -good or ill as that which a parent holds to hi*. child. But if Jonathan is a sad illustration' of this truth, he is also a cheering proof that if a son must suffer for his father'# character he need not walk in that father's. 1 footsteps." II. The death of Saul (vs. 3-8). 3. "The archers." The men who shot arrows with the bow. "Hit?overworked." After the death of Saul's sons the archers singled - ] Saul out and pursued him. Their missile# , were aimed at him and some of them ' may have hit him. "Sore wounded?great" lv distressed." The Revised Version gives < the correct meaning. The word nowhere means to be wounded as our version has it here. He saw that he was the mark of the Philistine sharpshooters, and he therefore -writhed and quaked with terror at _ the thought of falling by such hands. 4. "Would not." The armorbearer, who, v according to Jewish writers was Doe*, would not yield to Saul's entreaty. It was his duty to protect t"he King, and he-..J. was responsible for SanPs life. He dared/' not stretch forth his hand against the'' Lord's anointed: the verv thouent of such an act filled him with fear. "Fell upon it" Thrust it through himself by falling over , upon it. It iB believed by many, from the' construction of the original, that SanJ ended his life with the sword of the ar- . , morbearer. If this be true, then Saul and Doeg both fell by that weapon with which they had before massacred the priests of God (1 Sam. 22:18). This account of Saul's.' , death is every way consistent with itself . and with Saul's character, and is to be regarded as the true and authentic record jd of the sacred historian himself. The storv.-^jjfl of the Amalekite, who stole the king^ cro^n and bracelet and brought them to David (2 Sam. 1:4-10), is to be treated as JM a fabrication. 5, 6. "Saw that Saul," etc. He probably^^^H drew the sword from the king's body an^^HBj did what he could to save him, but it wa^HBH too late. "He fell." Being answerable fo^BWS the king's life he feared punishment; oflNH from a nobler motive of true fidelity, rfl fused to survive his master. "So Saul aied^^HSffi The real ground of Saul's last dark act self-destruction was not the extremity^^HS^H the moment for fear of insult from enemy, but the decay of his inner life the complete severance of his heart God. He who would not leave the orderiin^SSf of his life to God would neither permicl^HH Him to order the manner of his death. Suicide is a great sin. 1. Note the causes: (1) Not merely accumulated misfortunes, ^ but long-continued wrong-doinsr. (2) Cowardly feo of suffering. # (3) Caring more for disgr .ce than for sin. (4) Abandonment oi irust in God. as to this life and the future life. 2. Note the'effects: (1) Others led by the example into the same sin. (2) Personal dishonor not prevented. (3) A crowning and lasting reproach to the man's memory. (4) The eternal loss of the soul. "All his men." Compare 1' Cnron, 10:16. Some think this refers to his bodyguards and means that they were all slain; others think the reference is to all .his household who went with him to the war and on whom his hopes for the fututo:' hune. III. The Philistines victorious (vs. 7-10). 7. "Other side of the valley." The inhabitants on the opposite side of the great valley of Jezreel. The district to the north is meant, in which the tribes of Isaachar, Zebulun and Naphtali dwelt. "Other side Jordan." The panic spread even to the eastern side of the Jordan. But possibly the nhra9e here means "on the side of the Jordan," that is, in the district between the battlefield and the river. "Flea., It was very natural for the people in the towns and villa^s there to take fright and flee, for had they awaited the arrital of the victors, they must, according to the war usages of the time, have been deprived i either of their libertv or their lives. 8-10. "The Philistines . . . found." On discovering the bodies of the king and his sons on the battlefield, they reserved -?? them for special indignities. "Cut off." J The anointed of Jehovah fares no better / than the uncircumcised Goliath, now that j God has forsaken him. "To punish it." r\ "That the daughters of the heathen might rejoice and triumph" (2 Sam. 1:201. Sanl's head and armor were the siens ox victory. 1 "Of their idols." Their idols were ro?, < parded as the givers of the victory. The Philistines divided the honors among their deities. "Ashtaroth." A heathen goddess whose rites were filthy and abominable. > fA Knrfl wo a ^rmVifTpoa X x?ic Wiuyic - - _ the famous temple of Venus in Asketon / 1 mentioned by Herodotus as the most an- J cient of all her temples. "Beth-shan." f } The modern Besian, between the moun- . tains of Gilboa and the River Jordan. } IV. The burial of Saul and his sons fvg. ' 11-13). "11-13. Inhabitants of." Mindful of the debt of gratitude they owed to Saul for rescuing them from NAhash (chap. 11). "Went all night." They made a journey of about twelve miles, secured the bodies, _ and returned to th?ir own side of the Jordan in a single night. This exploit was, 1. A brave deed. 2. A patriotic deed. 3. A grateful deed. But the bravery, patriotism and gratitude had been better shown before Saul's death by helping him. Honors after death make poor amends for neglect and unfaithfulness during life. "Burnt them."' This was not a Hebrew custom, and was either resorted to prevent any further insult from the Philistines, or, more likely, seeing that only the flesh was binned, because of the mangled condition i of the bodies. "Fasted." This wa3 a slcn of i**i*ral mourning. History of the Electron. j Dr. Kaufmann, of Uermanv, in a recent lecture traced the history ot the develop- 1 ment of. the electron, The roots of the idea go back about twenty-five years. The growth of the stem has taken place within" the last ten years, and now we have a flourishing plant and a large literature on the subject. Broadly speaking, the latest theory accounts for inertia, suggests a cause for gravitation, explains the leading phenomena of the spectra of hot gases and co-ordinates hypothetical]*- a host of minor phenomena that seem at first sinht to have no discernible mutual relationship. An Inextinguishable Light. A Chicago inventor, George Magrady, has discovered a proccss of manufacturing a thirty-six candle power light that will never go out. While experimenting with photographic chemicals four years ago Magrady s attention was attracted by a glow 111 a small globe. The glow was cauaea by a chcmical which the inventor keep3 secret. Magrady enlarged the glow and perfected the light by placing it in an air-tight glass. He says there is no reason why the light will not remain brilliant forever if it is?not broken. A patent hood tits over the globa and covers it completely wheu the light is uot needed. Cotton Ming in Italy. In Italian cotton mills men receive forty* two cents a day, women thirty-three cents and children sixteen cents. Of the cotton used last year 93,000 Ions came from the United States, 14,000 from India and 7000 torn Egypt- 4