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/ 4 Amati * Mil By Anna Katharine Green, J ^ COPYRIGHT, 1?30. CV RC CHAPTER IV. Continued. "Do not speak of him. or of my masters. I shudder at the thought of their auger and cruel disappointment. I Lave never been able to face them, nor never can till I become able to reimburse them for all their useless expense. As for making another attempt, that is impossible. I had rather die! At the mere thought of confronting again that cruel sea of faces, the blood stops flowing In my veins and the world turns black before me. I was not made for a prima donna, or rather, something is lacking in me necessary for success upon the stage. Yet that success is all I have lived for, and without it, what am I ?' "What are you?" The voice of the artist trembled, his eyes spoke the admiration he could not suppress. "A young, beautiful and pure girl. Is that not enough? Most persons would think it -wealth." "It will not get me bread," she murmured. "It will not pay my debts, those horrible debts, that weigh upon me like lead. It was this thought that made me return to these walls so bitter. It was this thought which, day by day, forced me into a deeper despair, till at last I only longed for death, as a release from my perplexity and pain. It was a wicked longing, but it was the only one I knew, so last night I sent Annetta for a deadly poison (she liad often told me she could get me VUt*/ auu uaicnti^ iuat mc which she brought me was what she said it was, I took it, and lay down on my own little bed to die. The result 1s what you know. She deceived me, and gave me a preparation which merely simulates death. Was it wise Jn her? Time alone can tell." "Signorina!" It seemed the natural tvord for him to use, though every feature of her face and every grace of her person proclaimed her to be an American girl, pure and simple. "I cannot doubt but that the Portuguese did well. I cannot doubt that the future holds for you all that even your ardent spirit can desire. But " He paused, affected by her look. From a sad and despairing creature she had flashed, as it were, into one all cheerfulness and hope. The change was marvelous. He hardly knew the beaming face, the glowing eye. Had his heart betrayed itself in his words? Did eh** cno nml rpsrtnnri to flip mission which every moment of this sweet but dangerous intercouse was deepening within him? He dared not search her eyes to see. He was content to feel her joy and to warm himself at the fire of her growing hope. "You do not go on," she breathed. "You think we have talked long enough for to-night Well, you are right. You have heard enough of misery aEd I have gained enough of strength to make parting between us easy, just now. So, good-bye, sir, till " She looked up and smiled. Ah, how sweet that smile was; how innocent and confiding. He drew hack from before it slowly, but firmly; he had fears of his own judgment, of his own strength; he would say good-night and come again when reason should be more under his own control, and he could weigh the treasure he coveted before bo tcok it for his own. But two paces from the door, a fresh thought struck him. The mystery of her awakening had been revealed, but not that which surrounded the picture lie had been paid to draw. Till he understood the purpose for which a copy of her face and form had been requested from his pencil, he could not go. The story she had told of her lonely struggle and disastrous failure only made his desire greater. Since there was nothing in her history to account for this mysterious circumstance, how could It be accounted for? Were there facts in her life which she had omitted to relate? He must learn or pass a sleepless night. Coming back, he confronted j her again. CHAPTER V. AN IMPORTUNATE SUITOIt. "Pardon me," he entreated; "but you have not told me what your pleasure :s in regard to this sketch I have made. Shnll I flPKtrnv it nr rtoiivpr it 1r? th(> person who ordered it?" 'Terson who ordered it? You confound mo," was her hurried response. "I had forgotten the picture and aU connected with it.. How was it ordered and when?" He took a crumpled note from his pocket and showed it to her. By the nearly consumed candles she read it, puzzled aud wondering, to the end. "Andrea Montelli!" she cried. "I know no such name. It is all a mystery to me." At once and without his volition and encouragement, Hamilton Degraw felt himself seized by a sudden doubt which At-AHrfK.'nr* KI \ ")1 uuiiwiivu c?cijiaiU^ utiViC liiiu. -TXii n mystery to her! How could that be. He looked at her and hesitated. Never tiad she seemed so childlike, so innocent or so pure. Her large eyes, turned up to him. were full of question; her very attitude was one of waiting. It seemed as if she expected him to explain what evidently amazed her. He mastered>bis doubts and ventured npon a new topic. "When I came into the room." said he, "I found bending over you, as you lay upon the couch, a beautiful lady with fair hair and aristocratic features. She had come in a carriage which stood before tho door, and when I first saw her, was strewing flowers over the bed and you. See! tlioy lie withering now in heaps upon the floor. Her you must surely know, for both her beauty %ad her wealth make her conspicuous." "I am sorry," began the signorlna. *'but I cannot tell you who she is. I might guess." "That may be sufficient." "But I canuot be sure. There is a lady, both beautiful and rich, who; -rixJ v. ^V t-jS V.,v . J&- V^. i ii .. . "ER : P LIONS. JL ^Auther of "The Foreaken^T ? Inn," Etc. * IKRT BONNCN'StOKt. ^ f once took an interest in me. She was a pupil of one of my masters, and though I was never introduced to her, I was given to understand that she was watching my career and hoping much for its success. It may have been she; but why she should have sought me out in my despair, when she held herself aloof from me in the time of my prosperity, and why she should have brought flowers and strewed them over my poor body, I cannot explain. Eut perhaps Annetta can. She was here and may have seen something or gathered something from the lady's manner which will help us to comprehend the meaning of her actions;" and beckoning the Portuguese toward her, the signorina asked one or two questions, which being duly answered she turned cack to Mr. Degraw and exclaimed: "It must have been the lady I spoke of. She came without flowers at first, and asking for me, seemed to be greatly shocked when I was pointed out to her, lying, as she supposed, dead. She attempted to question Annetta, but of course got no answer from her, as my good friend does not speak a word of English; and when the lady went awav she made a eesture that must I have meant that she would return, for in half an hour or so she did come hack, bringing these beautiful flowers, which she at once began to strew over me. That is all Annetta can tell. Would you like to question her further?" "I would like to hear what she has to say about these candles and your dress and the drapery of your couch. It may explain who Montelli is, and this you as well as myself ought to ,know." "True, true," came in a murmur from the young girl's lips. "Annetta must be able to tell .how I came to be dressed thus, though the robe itself is no mystery, being one of the costumes prepared for my debut. But the lights, I Lie UiapeiJ. Uli liiai x ^auuvi, ujauvAstand." And she drew the old crone nearer, and holding her by the arm, put question after question, while the young man stood still, gazing from one to the other, devoured by a curiosity that the signorina's rapidly changing appearance certainly tended to aggravate. For at the explanations which the old woman tendered without hesitation, the young girl's head sank lower and lower In manifest confusion, while on her cheek and brow a flush slowly gathered, which, if it added to her beauty, could not but add also to the watchful artist's impatience and distrust. "What is it? Tell me," burst from his lips as the Portuguese finally drew back, leaving the -signorina standing hv that forsaken couch. "Ah, how can I?" was her cry, though her eyes looked up fearlessly, and the smile on her sensitive mouth was simply a deprecatory one. "It is such a story of?of an unreasoning passion?of?of a love of which I was ignorant, and would never have countenanced if I had known of it, that?" He appreciated her confusion; he loved her for its evident depth; but he would not help her even by a word to speak. This story, whatever it was, he must know. She saw his dotermination and summoned up her courage. "Annetta tells me," she began, "that for the last three uonths I have been pursued by an Italian who has been determined to marry me. She says he found no favor in her eyes, and that she was sure he would tind none in mine; and so, to save me anxiety and pain at a time when I needed my full strength and liberty, sbe had persist cnily placed herself between us, and by artifices and stratagems of various kinds succeeded in keeping him out of my presence. She says that, owing to . my preoccupation and determination to see nothing but my art, she was strangely successful in this, though there were times when he almost brushed my garments in the streets, and others when it nearly took the arm of the police to keep him away from these doors. He had seen me at the theatre cne day, and hidden behind the boxes or among the wings of the scenery, had heard me sing, and nothing could rob him of the idea that he was destined to marry me and make of me the leading prima donna of the world; not even my failure, for he was present at that, nor ray consequent persistent shrinking from sight into the obscurity that became me. Nothing affected him or changcd his mind; and, while he showed some sense In not attempting force after this, Annetta knew that, sooner or later, he would find some means of crossing this threshold and offending me with offers she was confident would meet with a rebuff that would only add to the annoyance and danger of the situation. For he is an ugly man and coarse beyond expression, though seemingly honest and very determined in his wishes. So. when she saw me sunk in despair and anxious for death, she did not attempt to reason with me, but rather humored me in my determiun lion, promising me an effective poison, while sccretly resolved upon furnishj ing rr.o with a drug that merely simulated death. For if she could sliow me to tills Mouteili in a state that forbade ;ill further hope on his part, she thought his persecutions might ce;:.ce and tu.it we might obtain the opportunity for escape which seemed our only security. But when the drug having worked, she let the miserable creature in and showed him the result of his importunity and my distress, he was so overcome by what lie pleased to call the beauty of my face thnr his passion took a new turn, and he only thought of having my picture painted, and. by means of Its exhibition, reap that fortune from my features wluch he had failed to obtain from my voice. "It uiakes mc blush to lell you this, > >l'? .'-J .1 but Annetta felt powerless to refuse him. So merely eliciting from bim the promise that be would leave me hereafter undisturbed, 6be accepted from him the money which was necessary to robe the couch as he desirwi, and perpared to receive you, whom lie designated as the artist he meant to employ. That I should wake, she 1 U..A tvLlfW, uui sue u uaieu mat we miuuiu find you a gentleman, and we have, so much so that I do not "oelieve you will betray us, even if this fanatic insists upon having a painting completed from this sketch."' "A painting? He shall never have the sketch even!" exclaimed young Degraw. "See your features in the grasp of a coarse man anxious to make money by exposing them to public view! Never! Not if I have to destroy " "Don't!" she cried, grasping his hand in hers, for he had made a movement as if to tear the drawing he had made, "He is a dangerous man. Annetta says he is not to be trusted. If he detects the deception to which this oid friend of mine has subjected him. what may wp not exiiect in the way of persecu tion? Indeed, I dare not trust myself to this unknown man's mercies. I would father he thought me dead till " "Till what?" "Till I can fly his reach or so merge myself in some other identity that he will never dare approach me again either as a lover or a friend." "Pretty coward! And so yon will not trust me to manage this man. I do not fear him." "You are not a woman." "True. Well, I will humor this whim. I will take the picture, and to-morrow Annetta may send him to my studio. Meantime, may I hope that you will sleep sweetly, and without fear?" "Oh," she murmured, as she caught his look, so unmistakably full of suppressed love; "how can I thank you for your sympathy? How can I re ward you for your goodness?" "By such sleep," lie answered. And taking her hand in his, he carried it to his lips, when, suddenly, from the doorway communicating with the other room, a voice penetrated harshly through the apartment, crying, with a marked foreign accent: "And who may you be, sir, and what is your business here?" CHAPTER VI. A SCRrfUSE. To the souud of a scream from the signorina's lips, young Degraw turned. Before him, in the doorway I have mentioned, he saw standing the slight, dark and unprepossessing figure of a man so evidently Italian in his appearance and bearing, that it did not need the hurried bound and startled exclamation of the Portuguese for him to recognize in this menacing intruder the Signor Montelli. "So, so, we are to wind up with a scene," thought he; and instinctively stepped between this stranger and the shrinking figure of the signorina. But the precaution seemed needless. At the first words uttered by the Portuguese, ths Italian broke into a harsh laugh, and drawing the old crone arter him, left the room and shut the door behind him. Mr. Degraw, surprised by this sudden departure, stood staring, while the signorina trembled so that she seemed in danger of falling. "It is very strange," quoth the former. "He did not seem to notice that the couch was empty, and that you stood living and breathing before him. The Portuguese cannot be as true to you as you thought. She must have told him that you would wake?" "Oh! oh! hush'!" broke from the young girl's lips, as the door opened again and the old woman stepped in. "I am so bewildered, I do not know what to make of all this." And leaving him, she advauced toward the crcne, who met her with a look that added to his surprise and her perplexitj*. A Infflmlionno nf WAlvls ffil iX OUUI L. JUlWtVllUUgV v*. i> v. .v. lowed, and then the old woman drew back and the signorina turned. But with what a different air and with what a different look. Young Degraw would hardly have known her face if he had not already seen it under the influence of various emotions, and when she opened her lips, sl^e seemed to Cud it so hard to speak, that in mercy lie was going to begin the conversation for her, when bor trouble found a tongue and she exclaimed: "I cannot endure any more to-night; you must go and let me find some rest. Perhaps, to-morrow?" "But this wretch," he interposed. "Am I to leave you to his mercy?" To be continued. Clilnefe Art of War. A novel method of testing new weapons of warfare is now In vogue in China. A large eanuon, of the latest type, was recently Imported from Europe, and when it was landed on the coast of Hainan the military mandarins of the district first inspected it closely and then resolved to test it. They therefore procured a boat, which they anchored at some distance from the land, and then they loaded the cannon and fired a shot at it. To their surprise the shot did not hit the boat, but fell short in the water. They determined to try again, but did not want to miss a second time, and so they brought the boat to the very s.pot where the first shot had fallen and anchored it there. Then they fired, and to their unbounded joy the shot went clean through the vessel. Evidently it never occurred to them that they could have attained the same end by aiming more carefully and slightly changing the nf the cannon. or. If it did occur to them, they thought that it was easier to move the boat than to so aim with the heavy cannon that they would be absolutely certain of not losing a second shot.?New York Herald. Tli* Uon of Chaeronea. The works recently begun for the restoration of the famous colossal statue of a lion, which was erected on the battlefield of Chaeronea, In Boeotia. in memory of the war against Philip of lUacedon, are, says the London Standard's Athens correspondent, being actively carried on, uuder the superintendence of the distinguished archaeologist. !d. Sotiriades. who has Hicnnroraii on flip battlefield, a lanre tumulus, coutalning traces of ashes arid various fragments, which encourage the hope of finding the tombs of the Macedonians slain in the battle. A SERMON FOB-SUNDAY" AN ELOQUENT DISCOURSE ENTITLED "POWER OF RELIGION!." \ A Kemarkably Strong Deliverance on the Subject of the Moral and Intellectual Forco of Christianity?Keligion Gives au Ideal, and an Incentive to lCeaclt It. Pahis. Ky.?The "Rev. Henry K.nott, rector of St. Peter's P. E. Church in this city, preached a strong sermon on "The ! Moral and Intellectual Power of Keligion.'' The text was chosen from Mattaew v: ?s: "Be ye therefore perfect even as your Father, which is in heaven is perfect." i Mr. Knott said: The Sermon on the Mount contains tin' sum and substance of Christianity. In other words, we find it to be the very heart of tbe Gospel; its divine precepts transcending in moral grandeur the loftiest conceptions ever thought or spoken by | mortal man. Great souls aflame with the sacred fire of inspiration have but mirrored the shadows of the tremendous realities of the future, and the mind of genius searching for truth apart from revelation has failed to discover the meaning and the end of lile. Here we have a command uttered by One who pave to humanity the key to perfection. The Christ has drawn the veil aside and disclosed the way, the truth, the life. By revealing the character of God?a holiness radiant with Jove?we are brought face to face with the possibil! itv of attainment through the law and the soirit hid in Calvary's cross. Jiy imitating the example of holy self-sacrifice we shall grow into that glorious perfection of the Father manifested in Ilis only begotten Son. I do not wish von to misunderstand the inference just quoted. Man shall never attain the absolute perfection of God, for there is an impassable gulf between the Creator and the created. In being, for man's immortality had a starting point while God has even been in an oternitv of time. In space, man subject to localization!, here or there?the infinite Father omnipresent, everywhere. In power man a creature of environment circumscribed by laws whether natural or spiritual, free, yet not free, a mysterious parauox, his soul the battle ground 'twixt wills .'.umap and divine; while God is the source of creation, the Alpha and Omega of all things in heaven and earth, even holding in His almighty hand the first link of that wondrous cnain of causation. God is perfection: All His love and mighty attributes blended together in one harmonious whole, unchangeable in wisdom. justice and truth. Man, fallen, perverted, possessing no natural worth, bearing always the curse of sin, a subtle tendency to thwart right, that supreme law of spiritual life. By nature prone to evil, corrupted. helpless, his only virtue that which is derived through grace. No, he can never be perfect as God is perfect, but through the intellectual and moral power of religion and obedience to its commands he can relatively climb undreamed heights of spiritual manhood, and by the evolution of his immortal soul in Christ win that glorious r ?knovon 1 tr k'nfh j crown 01 aesun.y which hic iiciovu., *-vI er has willed all born of woman should j through obedience acquire perfection. Thus | we derive the full meaning of the text; j wonderful in its implication, giving; us the ! assurance of success; divine in itB com| mand, disclosing the possibilities of our i nature that we as Christians have a divinl ity stirring within us the source of a glor| ious power to "press toward the mark for the prize;" a life complete in its fulfillment j of that end which God intended it to attain, to be perfect in obedience to the 6U! preme law of its existence, even as its j Creator is perfect. Without religion a man can never realize the possibilities of his spiritual nature. ! With a natural tendency toward the pass I ing, the finite and the change,'tDie, ne neeas j an influence to call him to a sense of the | internal and infinite. Many people take a j superficial view of Christianity and never j really understand what blessings it conI fers. Man w;<p not created to be the playi thing of the Almighty, but for a Purpose? 1 J to be a son, worthy to stand before his 1 Father's face and to live with Him in lov- ! ing communion. j You are all familiar with the story of | 'Adam's dreadful fall into disobedience and sin. Through the marvelous faculties of j the soul many Christian men have, at one j time or another, experienced a momentary I j consciousness of what then was lost. To 1 j enable us to regain much of that pristine ' state Christ came *into the world, -Jived, 1 ! suffered, died and made it possible for us, by making known its glorieB in His own perfect life, to once more become the sons 1 1 and daughters of God. Religion leads us \ j back from worldliress to sell-recollection ' and gives to souls fevered with sordid desires a quickcning principle of a higher and nobler life; inspiring intellect with truth, i 1 4 I, *?<?? loltk !I rmro and exalted ttUU HI- UVU4 v uut. ? |/M.v love. It animates conscience with a supreme sense of duty and places thought in juxtaposition with the will of God, clothing ! every aspiration with a purifying virtue, : , thus leading all the faculties of our being | upward ana onward toward perfection. The immortal longings of the soul can only be satisfied by God. Every faculty | we possess leads us to His feet. There is no real happiness apart from that which comprehends His love and finds its su. preme good by a steadfast devotedness to j j the precepts of His law. Unfortunately, i there are men and women who look upon ! religion as a means to conciliate the divine I power, which through sin they have ofI tended. They imacine it places them in a conciliatory attitude with Deity, and that , j bv its medium they will obtain in the fuj ture some indefinable reward, forgetting I that religion is a life, a state, which calls i | into operation all the spiritual potential!j ties of their glorious nature and through | temptation, sorrow and suffering crowns them at last with victory over the world . and self. 1 | Thus we perceive that Christ camc upon 1 ' the earth to save sinners, giving them a , j power of endless life. Keveaiing the char! arter of God. He made it possible for men ! to conform to that perfect original. In His Gospel He lays uown a code of morals, so sublime, toat if we would absorb them ' into thought and action we should fulfill 1 while here our destiny. Religion^ blessing ; is the supreme good for every man to attain. It is not an emotion, or merely be- i lief, it is a vitalizing energy in the depths ' of the human soul, subduing to God all the 1 powers of being, incarnating in the heart a consciousness of a magnificent future, quickening the intellect, conscience, affections and will into vigorous and holy ac- 1 tion, inspiring the mind with a profound love of truth and flooding the soul with a peace which tne crash of worlds could not disturb. Religion, then, is a necessity of j j lire. Without it existence is a delusion, a shadow, lacking substance and meaning. 1 To grow into the stature and fulness of 1 ; Christ, in other words, to become a Christ* | man, is the design for which we are en- I I dowed with certain faculties. TVlan is prej eminently a moral being. This is his nature ' and the path of his life winds toward the '< perfection of inose qualities which consti- I tute the esscnce of his spiritual life. His ! true happiness consists in bringing himso.'f ' into relation, into union wim uou. u?u is holy, the source of all perfection. In 1 the heart of man He has placed a deep and ! abiding consciousness of right and wrong. I -it every turn duty confronts him; on one i side lies goodness, on the other evil, with i an inward voice ever commanding with di- 1 vine authority to discriminate between ' them, urging the choice of that which is lawful and protesting against sin, every j thought and action being approved or von- i denined by this inward monitor. There is 1 not a man or woman living who does not 1 feel that conforming to the will of Uod is the paramount duty of life. The soul is the great battleground where the material and corruptible strive in ceaseless warlare | against the spiritual and eternal. By sub- 1 mi ting to the lower instincts of our na- , ture we are destroying that w.iich is high- i est and best and wilfully striving (uncon ( sciouslv, .it may be) to thwart the great 1 end wilich the heavenly Father's inarve!- 1 ous love would have us attain. i Brethren, you may possess untold wealth. 1 Fortune may load you with her favors, the t world may fawn at your feet, but I declare > there is no happiness to be found in these; i neitbff docs religion confer any outward ( benefit that shall appeal as pleasures ot i 6ense, but it? blessedness, the highest, pur- 1 est, noblest gift in heaven or earth is char- c acter?character which finds its likeness in e the Christ, conferring a joy which the an- 2 gels wonder at, and fencing the soul with r impregnable battlements ot Godlike moral s rectitude, from whicn the concentrated fu- t ries and powers of hell arc hurled back ia 1 confusion as the ocean's w ares . m the v - r*, - v mighty walls of a rock-bound shore. Thus true ..appiness comes from being, not by having; from the life within, not influence without. Every man possesses a conscience, and you will hear many declare that they can be just as good, quite as moral as a Christian through the power of that conscience. But what is conscience apirt from religion? | irk many eases it is a siave r ?au c master, i'he power of passion drowns its voice and weakens it by every deliberate [ sin. A man believing in the existence rf no higher authority will drift upon tho current of his animal nature, for those tendencies which i.re strongest will eventually enslave him. No, without a living faith in God or a personal union with Him the conscience loses its power to govern and guide, but religion clothes it with exceeding strength by revealing to man the source of those magnificent moral attributes with which he is endowed, thus giving to that "still small voice" within the soul an infinite worth. There is not a heart but has same con ception of a higher life than i; liow feels. Vvorv vrrnncr man and woman at the gate way of responsibility is fired with enthusiasm and ambitious with a great purpose which they Jong to accomplish: going cni into the world they have to stem mighty currents, within and without, the tendencies of their lower nature and temptations to sin clothed with beguiling liner.v. Crises will arrive when the future will b* determined. Moments of dire peril fraught with tremendous responsibility. Thcv will then feel the need of a higher power, a greater strength than their own to thwart the enemy of rectitude. The ideal of pure manhood and womanhood shining before them will appear unattainably beyond | their reach, lost forever. How, then, can they safeguard against this dread experience which has blighted many promising I young lives, which, unab'e to stand against the waves of adversity have sunk helpless and desDairing? I answer, By being religious. Religion alone can trive them that victory which crowns a life complete in Christ. It places Ihem into direct commutuJfk fln/l ttlinen flfllitrhfc is that they should become worthy to share His glory. Temptations will surely come, but religion gives them a new meahing; they arc but reminders of the existence of a Father who ever waits to aid and sustain, and, as blessings in disguise they carry messages of an infinite love for every individual soul, proclaiming that virtue is the beginning and the end of holiness, the narrow road to perfection. Another wonderful revelation of religion asserts that you and I spranc from the bosom of the eternal Father. That as He is eternal we too shall live through endless arcs, created in His image, sustained by His snirit, our life shall gather unto itself magnificent growth. Religion ?ets before us a destiny whose divine splendor startles and overnowers our weak conception of its glory. The Word of God calls into being an amazing sense of power. To think, my brother and sister, that through aeons of time we shall be adding purity to purity, love to love, knowledge to knowledge, glory t<5 glory, living forever in the presence of the immortal and infinite God. rising to spiritual planes of inconceivable grandeur and beauty, scaling height* of happiness beyond the dream of angels. The incomprehensible destiny of a living soul loyal to God and duty hrintrs our faces to the dust when we consider that this is our heritage; you and I, with all our weakness, conquering death and the power of moral evil. In the midst of the trifling follies of the world, the conceit of fashion, the decrees of a thoughtless society, and che whirl of vapid pleasures, let us keep this thought like a burning fire within the brain?the thought of God, holiness and heaven. Brethren, allow the character of your heavenly Father as revealed by Jesus Christ to stand before yon as the goal of all attainment. Fieligion gives us an ideal and an incentive to reach it. By contemplating and really loving this excellence is to be inspired by it. The Christian man is always conscious of a divine presence. In every phase of his life he marks the guidance of God. He beholds His handiwork in every flower of the field. The hosts of shining stars as they whirl through space declare His majesty, and in the phenomena of nature he discerns a living expression of His glory. Thus by contemplating and adoring His handiwork in the natural world without and the spiritual world within, a Christian is given grace to subdue all things unto the one great end of moral growth. True religion is not belief in a ret of dogmas, or the recitation of a creed, or a profession of faith: tnebe are due me i accessories of a particular attitude toward i truth, but it is infinitely more than this? j it is the life giving breath of the spirit of God which rules, not certain relations, but all correspondence of the heart. rouI and body with the Creator and with fellow men. Religion is something iq^re t'lan worship and exalted states of mental happiness. We cannot in the stress of competitive life ignore the demands of imperative duties, or sacrifice the claims of others 0:1 our consideration for a morbid asceticism. Religion teaches the true performance of ! little duties, as well as the cultivation of the soul's highest properties. It was never . intended that we should go into a desert place and foster our immortal spirits by meditation and seclusion. The lesson of the Christ is. one of practical goodness, performing all things, even to the giving of a glass of cold water to the glory of God. Under these conditions alone cr.n we grow ! to perfect manhood and womanhood. There is no limitation to the exercise of the intellect, yet without, a mora! principle to guide and enlighten its research, 'here r>an be no advance in the path of th. Many of the greatest thinkers ha<i atheists. Religion gives to intellect an added power ot anaivsis ana UlaLTllllilla- | Hon. a medium whereby we discern truth. It places the mentality of man in communion with infinite knowledge. "Gifted ' with the eye of the spirit," the glory of God streams upon the riage of history, arid every denartment of scientific research testifies to His perfection and wondrous love. Pile mind of the most brilliant rjho'ar will only see in phenomena natural results. Religion alone has power to permeate his work with magnificent me. ninp. There is i\ hidden wisdom only revealed to the child of a "new birth" who has had a special find individual revelation of the Father. Religion crowns intellect with a deep insight into the mysteries of life. :Thc earth, ?ea and sky. the complex organism of society, the depths of human nature, the history of nations, all these things shine with a new luster, and flood the mind with profound meaning. A blade of grass hecomes worthy of study, for the Supreme Intellect has imprinted on its fragile stem divine thought and action. In everything we see God. Under the beneficent influence of His Spirit our faculty of comprehension is robed with sacredness and grandeur. for He calls it forth to a glorious communion and expansion, until one day it shall fully understand the love whicn now passeth knowledge. True religion above all things forms an upright mind; it elevates the judgment ibove prejudice, and creates a noble pur " ' ' - U ?ll !o. pose to receive Ktiowicuge unu^.i ?itimate cliannels. It endows a man with sincerity and a quality of fair dealing ivhieh no university can teach. It breaks clown the barriers of set opinions and destroys the bitterness between sects and parties. It opens the heart to conviction find a ready candor to confess error. The intellect was never intended to be bound to set rules or encompassed with man-made regulations. Its destiny is an upward, onward march toward truth, and true religion fashions ali our inquiries and misgivings with rcvcrence and ever leads us to the feet of Him, "with whom there is 110 variableness nor shadow of turning." Is It Well With the Child? "Is it well with the child?" was the ques* ion of the prophet Elisha to the sadicarled mother in .Shunem, whose loved md only boy lay dead in her upper chain* jer. All her earthly joy and lionc were entred in that dear boy who had closcd lis eyes to mother and to earth. And he stricken mother answered confidently ind with promptness, "It is well." God lad given that child, and she was ready o bless the name of the Lord. But there vas more than reverent submission in that nother's response. She knew that (Jod u__ .u,,. arw1 nvPn :ouin pve iier u<n.iv in... iow she had come seeking the prophet's ie!n in pleading with God to restore her hild. God honored that faith, and reitored to that mother her child. God ilways honors faith. If indeed He doea lot give a trustine mother the very gift he would have, lie will give her somehing better. Whatever God has done to is or to oursj let us know and feel "it is rell." 2 . A >-. r - > ". ^ THE RELIGIOUS LlST READING FOR THE QUIET HOUR WHEN THE SOUL INVITES ITSELF. I I I Poem: A Faith Song, by Ernest O. Wellesley-Wesley?There is Nothing So Unlovely as a Selfish, Isolated Life?Ths Necessity of Inter-Dependence. Mv path He knows, one step aside My feet shall never stray. His voice I hear who is my guide, I follow in His way. 'And as I step where He doth lead, Supply doth He my every need; He keens me dav by day. My path He knows; each step is bright VVith love and light divine; By faith walk I, and not by sight, I on His arm recline; Sustained am I; by His great might He guards me in the darkest nignt; He whispers, "Thou art Mine." My path He kno?s, my heart must sing; No foe my life shall fear. Each hour to me rich joys doth bring, Since He, my Lord, is near. He will not suffer me to fall: On Him in every doubt I call, He never fails to hear. My path He knows; I do not see One stef) before I tread; But sure am I it safe must be To follow where I'm led. Some day, but when I do not know, Some day my Lord will surely show How senseless human dread. ?Ram's Horn. The Art of Life. "The Art of Life" was the subject of a recent sermon by the Rev. John White Chadwick, minister of the Second Unitar- j ian Church. He began with a definition of I the artist spirit as that which seeks and j ofwiTfl? Ia maba nrto'a wArlr oo ovoollont Oa I possible, apart from the concrete reward. Incidentally, he considered the depreciation of our own time as failing grossly on the side of art, and repudiated the charge. He then proceeded to ask: How is it with the art of life among us, the spirit and resolve to make life as excellent as possible, let come what will? Continuing, he said: "Consider life as a fine art and see what comes of such an attitude of mind. The artistic spirit is the spirit which compels a man to do his best for best's sake. The shoemaker?I begin where I began?works in this spirit when he works up to his ideal ! of a good shoe, not down to nis half pay. I dare believe that my dear father and I worked in that spirit when in the hard , times of 1857, month in and month out, we made twenty-five pairs of good children's ankle ties a day, all for one dollar. The painter works in this spirit when he works up to his idea of a good picture, not down to Jones' commercial offer, or to Robinson's commercial taste. J. W. Champney, that bright, joyous spirit, who just slipped away so suddenly, said that he would rather paint pictures for nothing than work a private mine of gold. The man whose private life appeals to him as a fine art will not work down to any praise of men or pay, to any standard of the churches or of good society, so called, but up to nis own personal ideal 01 justice, truth and good. By this test we put to j shame every system of religion which seeks to fasten a man's eye not on his work but on some reward which has no vital and generic relation thereunto. "The beauty of holiness, of wholeness, is not only the beauty of the wholeness of a man's nature in itself, each part consenting with the rest;' but also tne wholeness of man with all his Allow men, white men ! and yellow, black men and brown; no lowec aim than that of the Buddhist saint who said: "Never will I accept private individual salvation, never will I enter into final peace alone. There is nothing so unlovely as a selfish, isolated life, because it is the fundamental necessity of our social living that we should help each other. The man who does not yield himself to this necessity makes himself a wart, a wen, a miserable excresence on the face of human life. My lady's charms mav ravish every sensual eye, and to the eye'of reason she is naked to her bones just in proportion as her life fails of obedience to its primary and central law." The Agnostic's Dilemma. w 77 !_ T? !!_ xl. - T-% uirs. rrancis juurwin, wnuug 111 hjc xu* i ternational Journal of Ethics, on the "Re- j ligious Training of Children by '.Agnostics," i say 8: Many agnostic fathers and mothers turn j over the religious education of their children to nurses or governesses or teachers. "We do not believe these things," they tacitly say, "but we do not know what to teach you, so we will pass you to those who think they do." And fine work they make of it! The jumble of half-heathen and half-Christian notions which get into the mind of a child exposed to the tender mercies of nurse maids and volunteer religious teachers is something to make one i alternately laugh and weep. Such abdi- j cation, by the wav, is not peculiar to agnostic parents. Too many nominal believers allow ignorant or rash hands to | sow all manner of strange seeds in the | soil of their children's minds, which they themselves leave religiously uncultivated. I But the special disaster of the unbelieving ! father who surrenders his child's religious j teaching to another is that a wholly un- | natural element is thereby brought into : family life. Childhood reposes a touching and beautiful confidence in the abso- | lute wisdom of parents. Therefore, for j xnem 10 sianu aside, m presence ui iuc 1 deepest things of life?to say: "We can- J not talk to you about all that; you must ! believe what so and so tells you, though j we cannot"?is to introduce rupture and j self-repression into the lives of children, J most unwholesome'y. i "What a Lot I Have Left!" A poor fellow, a business man in New York City, after hard struggling was "dead broke," and with a heavy heart went across the river to his home in Brooklyn. It had been a terrible day for him. When he entered his home they were quick to.discern the trouble. They saw things had gone wrong. Without touching the meal that had been Drepared for him he flung himself down and said, "All is go' The crash has come, and we have nothing left. Nothing left." His little daughter, a wee, bright curly-headed thing, came along to the sofa and laid her head^ on her tried father's bosom ana saia: ' rapa, 1 am ieu. men | the wife who had struggled by his side as | brave wives do in hours of darkness, came over and flung her arms round the man and the little child on his breast, and said, "John, I am left." And the old grandmother got up from her arm-chair by the fire and tottered over and as in days gone by before worry and care were born, said, "Son, and the Lord and all His promises are left." "My God, forgive me," exclaimed thcman, "what a lot I have left." and he started to his feet to renew the battle and trust his way still through th* ^ crash. * ' Socret of SuceenB. Earnestness of purpose, expressed in ' manner and evidenced in deed, is the se- , cret of success in life's temporalities. The j same characteristic manifested in Christian ! activity would lead up to fuller spiritual ( experience and be productive of a more j ] abundant harvest.?Presbyterian. Why There Must Be Shadow*. j Loftier destinies compel some present 1 darkness, just as mountains east a shadow. ' i If life were never to go to a higher stage, ' always to stay on the present level, we < might be able co see everything clearly, and ' understand everything perfectly even now. . i Cotton In Northern Australia. In a paper read before the Melbovno Geographical Society recently a m on lie said that there are million.? of acres of land | in Northern Australia suitable for growing | cotton. If cheap labor were allowed thou- i 1 sands of settlers would find a profitable outlet for their enterprises, and British ' cotton spinners would be glad to send ''s- i 1 perts to advise as to the best seed and . ! mode of cultivation. * t A Steam Life Uoat. < A steam lifeboat haa been built in England and sent to Australia. The crafi i* fifty-six feet long, thirteen feet wide, and draws three feet seven inches. The hull U ( made of steel; the encines have 226 horse , power and the boat will make fifteen milej < an hour. . '' - ? I- . ii -r t THE SUNDAY SCHOOL 1 INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS ^ FOR SEPTEMBER 13. ; Subject: David Becomes King:. 2 Sam. H4 1-10?Golden Text, P?a. 133-1-Menw ory Tenet, 1-3?Commentary on t'j* J day's l?hod. j 4| I. David anointed king at Hebron (vg? 1-7). "1. After this." After the death of Saul and bis sons. "Inquired of the Lord.'* " By means of Abiathar the priest who wa# with David during his fugitive life. "At that decisive turning point in his life, 'j David wished to know the will of the Lord. V He saw that the promise of the kingdom was now to be fulfilled to him. As he coulcf ' v no longer remain in the land of the Phili* tines, but must return to his own country/ -*M and as the northern part of the land waff hr tho Philistines, the return to th? territory of his own tribe was most natural; for there, where he had a long time found refuge (1 Sain. 22:5) he might count oat a large following, and firm support and1 protection against the remains of Saul's army under Abner." "Cities of Judah.'^ / It would be useless to think bf undertaking to^assume control of the country in the northern part of the kingdom, as that was in the hands of the Philistines, and David was in no position to drive them ont, "Go up." "Going up" meant .aspuming' royal authority. God's answer was inline* diate and clear. David's decision, guided by God, was to establish himself aa the <& king at once. "Unto Hebron." One of the most ancient cities of the world. "The central position of Hebron in the tribe of Judah, its mountainous and defensible situation, its importance as a priestly set- J tlement and an ancient royal city, the patriarchal associations connected with it, ^ combined to render it the most suitable capital for the new kingdom. In its neighborhood, moreover. David had spent a con- J eiderable part of his fugitive life and* jrained many supporters. See 1 Sana. 30, 31." 2. "So David went un." It may be well :. to note some of the leading elements which we discern in David's life and character a? he enters upon his new life. "He-by, L A vivid sense of God's presence. 2. Per- - ) sonal prowess. 3. Promptitude in all hie movements. 4. A patience that was sub- t "! lime. 5. An affectionate heart. 9. A cool head and a steady nerve! 7. Wide expertence. 8. A heart loyal to God. Thfe loy- V altv was so intense that .his cauM and i God's cause became identical, and he could not readily distinguish between God'# enemies and his own;'end in spite of all hie sins and blunders, this must "impress every impartial reader as -the leading character- y&t istic of King David. "Thither." We are to think of f,hi?- ioilrnev as a march of an ift? army, or, rather, ?he migration of a large comDanv of guerillas. There were few household effects and few women and I children in the company; it was made up? . M of bronzed youths inured to hardship. Afl among v.-hom rank and fame were secured-^^H by daring deeds mther than by anything- ^ comparable to modern military skill. k 3. 4. "Hie men." The six hundred met* of his chosen band. "With his household." There was to be no more roaming in exile, but each one was to settle down to the duties of a peaceful and quiet life.- "Cities' of Hebron." The small towns which but* rounded Hebron. "Men of Judah." Thrf i elders of .Tudah. the official representative# of the tribe. "Anointed.". He had been privately anointed by Samuel, by which ne acquired a right to the kingdom. The jjtg other parts of the kingdom were, as yet, '? attached to the family of Saul. 'i'jT 5. "David sent Ynessenger*."' This wo# David's first act as king, and-it was worthy ' %& of him. He had been informed of the L manner in which the Philistines bad cari '.? ried away the bodies of Saul and bis scn? <? after the battle. He had also been told -M* that the inhabitants of Jabesh-griiead had sent forth a'partv by niaht and nad taken \' the bodies from the wall and carried ttoes? >?#.] safely to their own town and buried them JBlessed De ye." JJavia respectea oaui u his once legitimate sovereign; he loved Vv$ Jonathan as his most intimate' friend-- ,.7$ Saul bad greatly injured David, but that '$3 did not cancel his respect for bim as the* anointed of God, and as the king of Israel w|8 No mean spirit of revenge found place ia "Ju bis breast. He showed also that he had u j no wish or intention to punish Saul's ad- v'*h herents, but- was kindly disposed - toward J them. * . 6, 7. "Will renuite you." Will show 1 you this kindness; th'at is. the attention' >' M and honor shown in the blessings I give- J you through these messengers. "Be ye valiant." Be of good courage,* be strong and show vourselves brave men. "Saul | t is dead." And therefore ye are without a king unless ye acknowledge me, as the bouse of Judah has done. II. Iph-bosneth king over Israel (vs. 8-10). AM 8. "Ish-bosheth." Saul's fourth and only surviving son. He was a mere tool in the hands of Abner. Abner was a great general, and if Ish-bosheth, who was-'a weak ~ man. could he made king, Abner would -J almost supreme. _ "Mahanaim." Abner " chose this town because it was on tne eastern sid.v of the Joraan, and so beyond the range of the Philistines, wno never seemed to have crossed the river. 9. "Made him king." Here was 'the establishment of a rival kingdom, which probably would have had no existence * out for Abner. He was counn to Saut. '' Loyalty to the house of his late master was mixed up with opposition to David, and views of pmonal ambition in hi* j originating this factious movement. He, j '] too. was alive to the importance of eecur- ' ing the eastern tribes. "G'i'ead." The land beyond Jordan. "Ashurites." The tribe j of Ashur in the extreme north. "Jezreel."" The extensive valley bordering on the central tribes. "Eohraim . . . Benjamin.'* These tribes, which liad not vet been con quered hv the Philistines, holding 110 doubt . to the house of Saul. "Over all Israel-'' The majority of Israel, not of Judaic * -" 10. "Reigned two years." Five years and more had passed since the death of Saul, and Abrer now proclaimed Ish- * bosheth kins of Israel, and thought himself nowerful enough to reduce Judah to , ^ obedience. David seems tov have been anointed very soon after Saul's death, but it must have taken Abner some time to gather up the scattered army and recover^? from the defeat ami losses of Gilhoa. where Saul and his three sons died,'sufficiently ^ to attend to the inauguration of Ish- I bosheth. X III. David king over all Israel (5: -1-10). After Abner and jHh-bosheth were assn?-^^M sinated, the tribes of Israel came to David,|^BH through their elders. and unred him to be-^BH come king over all Israel. They gave Rood w reasons for this: 1. David was one of their 1 race. 2. He had shown himself worthy. . ? 3. He Map divinely appointed. 4. He un- I derstood the duties of a king. David was fi then anointed king over all Israel. This B was his third anointing. The king then fl fan* fA Tni>-'enlom In vciI< ** 19 ! H Names of Ruinnn Horses. S At the recent excavations in the Rom&n I Forum, says the Now York Commercial Advertiser, an inscribed stone in honor of Avilius Teres, a chariot driver of the time ffi of the Emperor Domitian, were brought to ^ Bj light. It will probably interest modern S sportsmen to learu that the inscription^ (rives the names of the horses with which" Avilius Teres won his triumphs in the arena, their birthplaces and their colore. V The names are eighty in number, and in- | elude the following: Wolf. Sparrow, Rob- 9 her. Bee, Dove, Pearl. Kmerald. Jewel, I Eagle, Red Fox, The Most Lucky. One, | Dcsolator, Dagger, etc. The naturalist xvill | find an important historical hint in the fact that the prea' majority of the horses I named upon the stone are described as 'Africans." There arc oniy sincrle indica- I tions of a Spanish, a (I tllic. a Thessalian m ind an Aetolian horse having assisted the j| rcnowced Avilius to gain his victories. Radical Departure in lirillslt Vfarshipo. The British .Admiralty has decided to build three new battleships of 1S.OOO tons, jffl which have been designed hy I'itilip Watts, the Director of Naval ('(instruction. The most notable departure in the new ship? Hi will be in the armor plating for t,he'sides ind hull. An armor licit of ten-inch Kmbp^^H steel, tapering away to six inches, will b^fljH continued the whole length of the broa^fl^B sine, inif is inc nrsi time tins nas itter.iptcd in the i>.tttloxiii|>*of any countrj^^ME To Study American Systems. The Royal Commission appointed to eJ^pESl imine into the question of London sfreetwfc. M traffic has derided to .send a sub committee fl :o the United States in the autumn to ^ M study American systems of liansportatiflij, iH ' -iflj