The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, September 09, 1903, Image 6
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