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4 AJJATr 1 of AAtt | By Anna Katharine Greea, COPYRIGHT. 1800, BY I > CHArTER VI. Continued. "He is gone and Annetta has locked the door. I ilo not l'ear him; he "will trouble us no more." She looked so confident and yet so discouraged, that he did not know what to say. It seemed dreadful to leave her thus, and yet neither in look nor tone could he discover any inducement to stay. All the light bad gone out of ber face, and she seemed only a waiting image, eager for him to be gone. He drew a deep breath and held out liis hand. "To-morrow, then?" said lie. She nodded, sighed, and something like a sob seemed to rise in her throat. "Oh, go!" she cried, "go, go!" And she let her hand touch his befoje she pointed toward the door. "I will be here at three." he murmured. And tearing his gaze away from her drooping face and figure, he dashed across the threshold and out into tlie nau. as me uoor cioseu uehind liim, her sobs broke their bounds, and be distinctly beard ber moan. But he dared not go back. "This last mystery is worse than the first;" so he commented, as he reached the street. "Is the Portuguese a demon, or " Ho did net complete his sentence, for just then be caught sight of the figure of a man going on before him toward the avenue, and convinced that it was that of the bated Montelli, he quickened bis pace in the hope of overtaking him and comInp to some sort of an explanation. But as soon as his step rung faster, ihat of the man in front did the same, and though he hurried to the full extent which decency allowed, he did Dot reach the man Dor even catch the car which the other managed to board : as it rushed down the somewhat steep j ?UUb 4 ornmiA of hie Eiuaiue wuiuij uiuiivs mv unuuc ?v .? ? i'; point. "When he came to th'nk of "it, however, he was not sorry that he had missed an encounter -with a man, of whose resources and intentions he could know so little. If the signorina was all he believed her, she would preserve herself in safety?till the morrow, while if she were not, the sooner he forgot the bewitching face and touching manner, the better. Till to-morrow, then, he would be patient, meanwhile trusting that all gcod angels would guard the rest of her whom in Ihis inmost heart he felt to be the one woman chosen by Providence to be the f light and glory of his life. His studio, -when he returned to It, struck him for the first time iu his remembrance, as cold and barren. Though the signs of ideal life were about him, and from every quarter of the great room shone images of beauty and the creations of art, he experienced a sensation of desolation and loneliness. that should have warned him of the depth of the experience which he had undergone since he had passed out of this place four hours before. The picture of 1lie fair beauty was the sole object which seemed to possess any interest for him, and struck again -by the oddity of the coincidence which had brought him face to face with the woman who had unconsciously furnished him with the basis for this painting, he lit all the gas jets in the room, and sat down to study this work of his in tue light of his late encoun ter. It was like her anil yet it was not like her. The features, the grace, the coloring were nil there, brt the humanity which made her countenance so engaging, was lac-ing from this dreamlike face. "I have a fairy here," he muttered, "hut she is a women. Would it have been better if I had left her such in the painting? No; or I should have had no 'Dream' to match my beautiful Reality.' " And he tore from his portfolio the sketch which he had made of the signorina. and, with a heart throbbing too fast for comfort, placed it beside the painting he had just been contemplating, and sat down again to study them and compare. O the exquisite contrast between them! And O the touching grace of his new idol! Could aDy one see such a face and not love it? Hamilton Degraw could not. Without struggle, "without fear, without any doubt of the wisdom of such an abandonment, he let his whole heart go in this hour of silent reverie, and it was not to the rich and gracious unknown that it fled, but to the poor, the desolate and to the meuaced singer, with her woeful past and perished ambition. At three o'clock the next day ho stood again before her house. He had looked Tor Montelli all the morning; he had even vaguely expected the Portuguese, but his quiet had been undisturbed and his studio unvisited. It was, therefore, with faint apprehensions of possible evil that he rang the hell and waited for the answer, which was longer in coming to-day than it was yesterday. At last, after two or three smart rings, the door swung back, and hr saw tho samp inano-!ookiu:r irirl before him, backed by the samp unfurnished and lonesome hall: but there was no loneliness there for him. She v.*as within, and that would have made prison -walls attractive. "The Signorina Yaldi?" he inquired. "Shall I find her in her rooms? Khali I so up, as I did yesterday?" The girl stared, locked helpless, and made no response. "She must be deaf." he decided. and was pushing by her. when she cauirli! iiim by tile sleeve, violently shakiii? Jier head. "What do you mean?" lie asked. "Ij ?he not there? Shall I not find her?" The girl evidently did not co;ni?re tend him. but went on shaking he/ toond. even after lie, Irritated am alarmed beyond endurance, tore his arm away and rushed up-statrs Iut< the ball above. He was on the dooi rER * P .LIONS. Ju I Author of "The Forsaken I UOBEHT BONNER'S SONS. jM with the signorina, and bounding to tbe first door he saw, be vigorously rapped, and when he got no answer from within, passed to tbe next door, and so on till he reached the one by which he had entered the day before. Here he no longer hesitated, but turned the knob. The door opened without difficulty, and at the first glimpse he pot of the space "within, young Degraw started back in dismay. The floor was bare, the walls denuded, the room unfurnished. Uttering a cry, he dashed around to that inner door in which he had last seen Montelli standing, and which, as you remember, communicated with the apartment where he had held his wonderful interview with the signorina. It was standing open, and beyond it all was as empty and bare as the space in which be stood. "Is she gone! Have I lost her?" was his cry, as he dashed from one end of the room to the other, searching for traces of a farewell he could not believe to be final, or of an escape which her dangerous position with Montelli had doubtless prompted. But he found nothing, and moved by a thousand emotions, he hastened back into the hall and up another flight of stairs, determined upon discovering some one who could explain this mystery to him. CHAPTER VII. A GREAT DAT AT POLICE HEADQUARTERS. His success 'was but partial. The rooms above were occupied, but only by lodgers, 'who knew nothing more of the signorina's departure than that it had taken place early in the morniag. They had been told she "was ill, and from her appearance had thought she was dying or dead, but -when the time came, as they supposed, for a funeral, behold! a storage wagon drove up and took away her furniture, and afterward, to tbeir unbounded surprise, there came a carriage from the livery stable, into -which not only the strange Portuguese -woman stepped, but the signorina herself, alive and -well and seemingly in excellent health, if not spirits. They could not understand it and could get no explanation from any one, as the house "was -without a landlady and none of tht other ledgers were any better informed than themselves. Mr. Degraw suggested that perhaps the girl who attended the front door might be able to tell something, but they assured him to the contrary, explaining that she was not only 6tone deaf but dumb, and that she only went to the door when sent by some one. It was, therefore, evident, that he was but wasting time in lingering about the bouse, and once convinced of this he made haste to depart. But when in the street a sense of his helplessness came over him. An artist, unaccustomed to the practical side of life, he knew nothing of the expedients which would have suggested themselves to other men, and after a few more fruitless inquiries among the neighbors he turned back to the studio, a disappointed and disconsolate man. The adorable young singer was gone, and with her had fled the first real dream of love that had ever disturbed the even tenor of his hitherto careless existence. He was brooding upon his adventure and comforting himself with the thought that the slgnorina had at least gone away of her own free will and /tnmrtnYitAncliin nf ATnnffllli unuuui mc vuuij[muivaoui^ ui IUUIVIH when a friend came in. It "was not a welcome interruption, but before many minutes bad passed he determined to make use of it by submitting his case to this man of the world, and learning from him bow he could hope to renew an acquaintance which had been broken off in this sudden and unceremonious fashion. Not that he meant to mention names or give any of the particulars so dear to his heart, for whether she was the persecuted being he thought hor, in the toils and subject to the dominion of the traitorous Porguese and the abominable Montelli. or whether she was a simple and capricious child, only anxious for change and thinking nothing of him and his feelings, he felt that she was equally sacred to lnm and not to he discussed except with one who knew her and esteemed her as much as he did himself. It was, therefore, with most aggravating vagueness that he spoke; a vagueness which, indeed, told its own tale and caused the friend he had chosen to consult to take on a bantering tone, indescribably offensive to the sensitive Degraw. But he did not choose to reveal his feelings and expressed himself as duly gratified when his friend suggested first, an advertisement in the Herald, and secondly, an appeal to the police; an advertise ment was, in this instance, so likely to 1 receive a response, and it was invaria! bly so agreeable to consult the police : cn a personal matter. But when, after more bantering and oiif or more sarcastic remarks his friend left, he 1 asked himself what other advice he i could have expected, and wondered ! he had not thought of I ho police hinii self. For if, as he most feared, the ! young girl had been lured away by falsi* representations, where else could lie look for more effective help both in uuuius ner anu m sccuriug ior ner me i safety her defenseless and friendless position demanded. Yel he recoiled, as I most Sensitive nalnre.s would, from carry ins l?or name into quarters assoI ciatcd so intimately willi crime, and . might, indeed, have abandoned the r whole matter rather than run the risk of doing her further harm if ho had not ; remembered that an old friend of his, by tlie name of Ryrd. had, by force of . circumstances, unnecessary to mention here. been drawn into the service of I the police and numbered among its < most useful detectives. ) To him lie did not fear to go, for honr esty and delicacy were both traits of " 1 * J the man, and cSTild do? bare left hli in the new employment In which h was then engaged. So, with the firs opportunity that presented itself M: Dcgraw went to the police headquai and asking for Mr. Byrd wa shown into an office, where he was r< quested to wait till that person shoul be at liberty. This was new occupation for thi man of ideals, and he began to wis that he had remained at home with hi finished "Dream" and his yet-to-b< painted "Reality." But as the momeni flew he began to be interested in tfc surroundings, in spite of himself, an by the-time Byrd finally made his aj pearance had already captured upo the leaves of the small sketch book 1] invariably carried with him the on lines of one or two heads to match tL voices which had floated to him froi the adjoining rooms. "Degraw, is that you?" There was surprise in the geni; tones; an artist and a detective do nc often meet. "So you have not forgotten me?" "Forgotten you, and you the most f: mous of the rising school of artist: Well, no, I have not forgotten you, bv I certainly thought, and with but litt) surprise, I own, that you bad forgotte me." Young Degraw blushed, for in a cci tain sense he bad done this. Byrd sai it, but took no offense. He knew hi position, and did not expect muc sympathy out of his own circle. Smi ing he hastened to relieve the other' embarrassment. "You want something from me. Ai fairs have gone amiss with you. c you are in difficulty of some bine Well, I am your man. I have had e3 perienee lately, and it is all at you service." Mr. Degraw felt relieved of a weigh There was Jn the detective's regard sue an evidence of kindly instincts an straightforward purpose. He at one felt that here was his best counselo] and if necesary assistant. To him b could reveal the whole truth, and fror him receive just the aid which the cii eumstanees demanded. Giving him a look full of recognitio Mr. Degraw Immediately unburdene his heart. "You say I want something," hecriec "I do; I want to learn the fate of young girl?why do you start at that? The detective, who certainly ha started, recovered himself instantly. "Did I start?" he asked, with an a; sumption of carelessness. "Go on, D< graw. You wish to learn the fate of young girl, you say " "Yes," assented the artist; "a youn girl whom I have seen fiut once, bu * !?4-A?iTTiAnr OTvnl'OnO "WDO, in liiilL UJJtZ iULCX Tit TT UfruMv^v in me so lively, an interest that I ca never rest till I have gathered som knowledge of her present whereabout! Her name may not be unknown to yoi It is Selina Valdl, or, rather," he co: rected himself almost in the same wa in which she had done, "that is th name by which she is known at pros ent. Her real name I am not acquaint ed with. She began to tell me and gc as far as saying 'Jenny' and there sh stopped." Mr. Byrd, whose interest seemed t have fallen off with the first explani ti?n, recovered his eagerness at th last. "Jenny," he repeated, "Jenny. Whc a pity you did not hear the last nam( And she has disappeared! Tell me th whole story; I am anxious to hear it." Whereupon Mr. Degraw related hi late adventure, while Byrd listene eagerly, and when all was finished looked the more serious of the two. "I wish she had told you her whol name," he repeated, "wnat a rem a it able adventure!"' "But the signorina! What do yo suppose has become of her?" "That we must find out. Not that should consider it in our province t do so, if?" "If what, E.vrd?" But the detective did not answer; h was looking at Degraw very tkougln fully. "You seem to be more interested, said he, "in this young girl than me usually are after a single interview." "Single interviews are not often c such a nature," returned Degraw "Besides, there was something abor her so touching that it would hav taken a harder heart than mine to r< sist so much innocence and beauty." "I can believe it," assented the othe: Then, with a sort of precipitancy, h orf.lnimoil- "Dark eves. did VOU S3^ dark hair Inclined to curl and a beaut ful figure. Mr. Degraw, I am sorry t inform you that we have just receive notice that a pc-rson answering to thi description has been found," "Where, where?" To be continued. Emerson's Persistent Opthniira. The contrast offered by the suun: cheerful Sage of Concord to h! gloomy, dyspeptic friend, the Sage c Chelsea, is brought into striking relic by the revival of an anecdote c Charles Kingsley's. Carlylc, it seem had bec'n bored by Emerson's persis ent optimism, and undertook to cui him of it. '"1 took him," he said, "t the lowest parts of London and showe him all that was going on there. Thi done, I turned to him, saying: 'An noo, mon, d'ye believe in the deev noo?' 'Oh, no,' replied Emerson, 'a these people seem to me only parts < the great machine, and, on the whol I think they are doing their work vei satisfactorily.' Then," continued Ca lyle. "I took him doon to the House < prttvMYinnc wimro thev nut us und( the gallery. There I showed him nt chiel getting up after anither an leeing and Iecing. There I turned 1 him and said: 'And noo, mon, d'ye b lievc in the dcevil noo:' He made m however. just the same answer as b fore, and then I gave him up in de pair.*'?Success. ronrinc Pillars by Mold. Thomas A. Edison, the famous ele trician, once predicted that we shou] some time make a great mold "an pour a house with liquid cement. A] proaching that idea is the method < making pillars at the Si. Louis World Fair. Great llutjed pillars thirty-si feet high and four and a half fd in diameter arc now being made 1 a mold set in place, the liquid plast< being poured in at the top. Ordinaril such pillars are made in twenty-fot pieces and set in place, leaving man joints that have to ho carefully poin ed. There will he 111! such columns c the Textile building. ?!a SERMON FOR SUNDAY it r. AN ELOQUENT DISCOURSE ENTITLED r- .''DUAL MINDEDNESS OF CHRIST." s "" Hie Kcv. C. J. Greenwood Makes a Deep J ItnprrEslon With a Message Suggested * .4.1. ? ritnnU? T> " ? " jc Mind of Flesh and Mind of Spirit. li Westfield, N. ,T.?The Rev. C. J. Green[s I wood, pastor of the First .Baptist Church here, who recently came from Maiden, " Conn., and is making a deep impression, :s preached Sund.iv morning on "The Duale Alindedncss of Man." The text was chosen (] from Romans, viii:6: '"For the mind of the Hc-sh is death; bnt the mind of the spirit is life and peace." Mr. Greenwood t>aid: D The eighth chapter of Romans is full of ie startling statements and convincing clif, maxes. It is tlie peat assurance chapter. beginning with^ "No condemnation" and e j ending with "No separation." It is a ren liable thermometer with which to take one's spiritual temperature. It is a splendid excitant and tonic for spiritual heart failure. If taken in sufficient doses at frel! quent intervals, it will relieve that tired it feeling which comes over so many of us during the summer months, when the hour for the Sunday service arrives. We especially recommend it as a vade mc-cum for I- the Christian on his annual outing. It is 51 a wholesale message to proclaim in these "i days when so much is being said about the 1 atrophy of the spiritual nerve and the dee i cline ot relicious conviction. I) Kobert Loilis Stevenson'9 great story of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is. after all, but an elaborate working out of the stater" ment made by Paul .in the text. A strange book is this story of Stevenson's, and [S stranger still the two minds that struggle k for the control of the man. Mr. Henry Hyde represents the mind of the flesh. ?* He is a sinister, selfish, sensuous, murder8 ous character, more demon than human. Dr. Henry Jekyll represents the mind of . the spirit. He is a generous, gentlemanly, kind, considerate man. The two minds of ir one individual have nothing in common, j. A bitter hatred exists between them, and a fierce war that wages hotter and hotter to the end goes on in the battlefield of the X soul. Gradually Dr. Jekyll becomes despondent, sickens, and the inhuman Hyde. . that "insurgent horror caged in flesh" ^ prevails over him and crushes out his life, h The book is the creation of Stevenson'6 J weird imagination, but the counterparts of Hyde and Jekyll are to be found in every individual. rt In the "Redemption of David Corson" e we have the same contest between the two n gladiators?the mind of the flesh and the mind of the spirit, with>the result reversed. 1 ? " -' ^1? i r> ? u,.,io in tne person 01 uie neiu, vuisuu, and Jekyll find a field for conflict. In this n story the mind of the flesh triumphs over , the mind of the spirit, but the victory is not decisive. Jekyll is sorely wounded, but not slain. From the crimson field, with 1. uniform soiled and tattered, he rises, like ? Jacob from wrestling with the angel, to ? find Hyde mortally wounded and himself the chastened ana changed victor. The d same truth has been illustrated in the scientific world by grafting the pupa of a spider upon the pupa of a fly; The result of the viviseetor's skill is a monster within i* whose violated organism struggle two ira reconcilable impulses. The one is a savage of the jungle with an abnormal appetite for blood; the other is an innocent S creature with a passion for the sunshine, it In each one of us there is a dual-minded* (j ness. Two combatants arc engaged in tierce conflict. It is a struggle lor rulern ship, and the victor will be either Jekyll e To the ordinary mortal death is repuls5. or Hyde. 2, ive and life is pleasing. We adopt the .. grim skull and cross bones as the symbol of our loathing for the former, and show y our love for the latter by filling the niches e of our art temples with Venue de Milos 5. and Apollo Belvideres. There is nothing particularly fascinating about the dead stump of a tree or the verdureless sands it of a desert. No one but the grave robber e or medical student is supposed to be interested in corpses. A morgue is the last place you would visit unless compelled by 0 necessity. On the other hand there is l- nothing that will awaken greater interest e than life. To the Alpine traveler, the blue gentian is a welcome sight, as it opens its petals in the realm of perpetual snows. ^ Sweet is the oasis with its ibady palms l( and solitary fountain to the caravan crecp" ing across the hot wastes of sand. lieau0 tiful to the eye of the child is the butterfly as it spreads its wings of gauze and voyo Too fnt'Aiirtk 4 lio nTnmrroan Kllio Tho ? U? <_o Ui(uui;ii ?i?v V4U|/J * v???v. * "V ' fisherman delights to watch the speckled 11 trout as he rushes for cover, or the gray1, ling as he leaps from the swirling pool. One cannot watch the a-tiered deer bound through the forest glades and climb the e rocky steep; or follow the flight of the : eaele as he circles toward the sun, without feeling his nerves tingle and the blood rush u l through the arteries. While reading "The Cruise of the Cachalot," I became so interested that I wanted to join in the exI citing chase of the great sperm whale as 0 he charged through the waters in his rapid flight. Life is the thing thai fascinates us. Stir, snap, speech are the things that j catch the eye. That is why the cry is for ~ cnApHi/?r fliitnc nnrl cmnffor SV?nmrnr?lrc t But the common conception of life is false. The vast majority of people are laboring under a delusion. You stand " where the tides of humanity roll swift and u strong?you sec men accumulating colossal fortunes at a bound and living in dazzling splendor; you notice the sleek, fat and if pleasure-loving epicureans at tne club nouses; the coarse amorous FalstafTs at ' the social functions; the Cleopatras, the Salomes and society oucens whose studied e i grace and wine flushed cheeks entrance ?. but to destroy and, and you say "This is life?life at high noon and high midnlgnt of the twentieth century." _ Christianity comes to us and says: "This e is not life. This is death." And a recent C utterance of Dr. Hiilis furnishes a splendid ritual for the committal service of the '* modern preacher: "Here we commit his 0 body to the dust, his stomach to stalled ox, his palate to spiced wines, dust to dust, tongue to terrapin, while the spirit returns to the animal and the beasts that fed with it." Because a thing is dressed in a tailor-made suit and moves about, it is not necessarily alive. Thunder and ?mr?bn nro' nnf alivnvo /\f llfr* The meteor that femes plunging down the sky with a roar and a trail of light is r, | dead. The heavenly bodies use it for a js ; football and toss it through space. Becaiusc - I a man walks about on two legs, winks with two eyes, listens with two ears and wags t I his tongue, he may not be alive according ?f j the Paul's theology. Let me illustrate, j, I Here is a man whose occupation is such ' | that the world derives no benefit from it. *" ] Rather, his business exerts a baleful .and e j blighting influence upon his fellows. The q i business smirches character, destroys body and soul, and the outcome is a wreck cast upon the sands of life's great ocean to is bleach and rot. He conducts a physical, d intellectual and moral slaughter house for ., a monetary consideration. He knows that hie business is damnable in the sight of 11 God and demoralizing to society. He is )f fattening swine or flooding the social organism with lepers. There are no extenu' ating circumstances. There are no benefiy i cial compensations. The results of his r- business are evil and evil ouly. Yet he jf continues to curse men. I eay such a being, whatever his occupation or social standing, however great his wealth, is dead ie ?just as dead in the sight of heaven as though his body were rotting in the , shrouds. He is dead to God. dead to all 0 moral obligations, dead to all the higher P- promptings and pleadings of the soul that p is within him. Ilis moral nature is atro | phied. All liis thoughts, his impulses, hi? I acts are carnal. He lives to the flesh, and s- of the flesh reaps corruption. Kvery sheaf that he binds for time or eternity is a bundle of corruption. The smiles and smirks of an evil person are not signs of life, but danger signuls that warn us c" igainst falling into an open sepulchre. Id You remember Valjean in Victor Hugo's id l^es Miserable." He sleeps, and in his sleep he beholds the deatli of sin. As ho *omes to the house of revelry, the flowers, j1 the trees and the very sky are all the color 'g ftf ashes. Valjean wanders on through l_ Vacant rooms, courts and gardens. By the . buntains, by me pavilions, everywhere, walk silent men who have no answer to in his questions. Suddenly he finds all the inhabitants of the lifeless town clustering l about him, and they cry, "Do you not know that you have been dead for a long n time?" With a cry, Valjean awakes and iy feels his sin. Do you not know that all t about us walk dead people? People who have no object in life but to amuse them,E selvee and feed and fatten the animal? Ghosts that stalk about in shrouds and ^ dwell in haunted chambers? No generoua impulses stir the soul, no noble aspira- ; tions thrill the depths of the nature, no || responsive chords of the being yield to the voice of the spirit that calls to sacrifice j and service. The mind of the flesh, lite the crane in the old fable, is content with snails, a _ beautiful swan alighted by the banks of ! a stream in which a crane was wading | about seeking snails. For a few momenta | the crane viewed the swan in stupid won- ( der, and then inquired, "Where do; you come from?" "I came from heaven," replied the swan. "And where is heaven?" j . "Heaven," said the swan, "have you never : ' heard of heaven?" And then the beautiful bird went on to describe the grandeur of ; 5 the eternal city. She told of streets of , gold, of gates of pearl and walls of jasper. ' ? and the river of life, "clear as crystal.' | ? In eloquent language the swan sought to , ; portray the hosts who live in the heavenly J world, but without arousing the slightest j interest. Finally the crane asked, "Are there any snails there?" "Snails!" re- i pcated tne swan; "no! of course not." , 5 "Then," said the crane, as it continued its j search along the slimy margin of the pool, j J "you can have your heaven. I want j snails." There are thousands of Deople to- ' day who are meeting the appeals of the ? church of Jesus Christ, if not with the j ' snail's answer, at least with the snail's j ' attitude. "You can nave your heaven. 1 1 want snails." .And why? Because they j I have yielded to the mind of the flesh and ' 1 4Vn? 1,-iofn nf tVio flovn trt atrnnhize 1 ' the spiritual nature. "Be not deceived; > . God is not mocked; for whatsoever a man ; ' soweth that shall he also reap. For he that j ' soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap , * corruption." "Fancy may figure the wick- I J ed as borne aloft in chariots of tfte sun," | J says the Rev. W. L. Watkinson, "but a 1 : ray of daylight, reduces the pretentious ; 5 things to the monstrous forks of the police- : * man's stretcher, the workhouse ambulance, i the prison van, the hearse that bears men to the grave ere they have lived out half their days." ' On the other hand, "the mind of the a spirit is life and peace." Christianity . comes to men telling them of a divine Saviour in whom is life and Who came * that we might have life and have it more abundantly. The Bible tells us of "the spirit of life." which exerts its power \ among men. Jehovah is spoken of as "the 1 living God," and the Holy Spirit as His j living agent. "By thy spirit God hath ; 1 ? ? ! LcUlUSJlCU tlic licavcuo. j.uuu pviiuvdw , forth thy spirit; they are created. In so far as testimony ana observation go life , springs from life. The Spirit of God is manifest in all His methods and works. j This same spirit, whose activity is exerted : in creation and the sustaining of life, ia 3 also the spirit of truth, of noliness, of j wisdom and grace.'. The Spirit of God "renews the face of the earth" turning ' winter into spring, calling forth life, ' beauty, fragrance and song. The 6ame ] Spirit transforms the human soul. The ' Spirit of God touches our hearts; the 1 great transaction is done. Behold a new ' creature in Christ Jesus. We pasB from , death unto life. We are alive unto God j ; through Jesus Christ our Lord, and the j J things which are all in all to the sensuous i V worlding are of value to us only as they are connected with and minister to the king- I dom of Jesus Christ, of which we are i ' citizens. | ^ If you have passed from death unto life ? ] you are not a piece of moral tinkering and ; . ethical cobbling. Regeneration is a live '< j wire. It is a permanent miracle. You are ] not only a new man, out a Jive man. xne ; dictionary defines a top as a "gyroscope." j , A gyroscope may be made to spin. But it , ( is a dead thing, nevertheless. It won't go j , without a string or a spring attached to it j ] and maninulated by the hand of the spin- | ner. If you have been regenerated you are more than a gyroscope. You will not "run down" like a top. You will not be subject to moods and modes. You will run without having a spring or string at- j tached to you. The love of the Christ will "constrain you" and "restrain you." In the -workshop, in the store, behind the counter and in the office your associates will know that you have been with Jesus i and received life. "The mind of the flesh" i has been buried, and no flowers were laid on his casket. "The mind of the spirit" : lives and speaks through the kindling eye. ' the quivering lip and the softened and sanctified heart. The grazing grounds of the fleshly-minded are the lotus meadows of pleasure and ease. The grazing grounds of the spiritually minded are the "green pastures beside the "still waters, led and fed and satisfied by the Shepherd of Life. The difference between the carnally minded and the spiritually minded is the difference between the stall fed ox com- ] placentlv chewing his cud and the creat- , ure created in the image of God agonizing < to be worthy of wearing the white stone J and bearing the new name. I With life comes also the gift of peace. ] "Pcace be unto you," said the Saviour to f the disciples. "My peace I leave with you; j My peace I give unto you; not as the t world giveth, give I unto you." What is i it you are longing for this morning? < Home? You have that. Business? You 1 have more than you can attend to. Al- j ready you are worried nearly to death \ over business. To-morrow morning's mail * will bring you a large bundle of letters, i Perhaps some of them will read, "Please f remit. Head over heels in business. Pleasure? Aren't you surfeited with pleas- ] ure? Aren't you at it every afternoon and ( evening, by the seashore, in the moun- t tains, at the club? One continuous round ] of pleasure. Socicty? Don't you go in for f it? Don't you have your teas, your card ^ parties, your games and chit chats? What 1 you want is peace?peace of mind and c peace of conscience. And you will never i get it until you get life?the life that c throttles and binds and sets its heel upon t this miserable carnal creature that whines t and frets and burns with an abnormal i >1 ? it.; ? imrsi mat Homing can sutiajy ; aiiu nuj 1 do you pet peace when you get eternal t life? Because you have anchored to do t something within the vale, and wind and \ wave and tempest shock cannot disturb $ the calm and constant peace of the mind \ and heart that wait upon the Lord. You f eet peace because under the strenuous up- t lift of this new life you live a simple life $ nobly, which is Ihe grandest thin? "any of ? us can do. He who follows "the mind of t the spirit" will find the deepest satisfac ? t tion, for he has "in him a well of water [ j springing up into everlasting life." j ( The other night George Primrose, the ; j minstrel, was amusing an audience at the A Masonic Temple Itoof Garden in Chicago. ' f In response to an encore he came out and , ? sang "My Watermelon Queen." When he came to the line in the chorus, "She's all j f the world to me," he broke down, turned f i ...: i ana wanted into iue wings, i-u uu cm^uiv ; r of the audience. Just bpfore he waiksd , \ to the foollglits he received a telegram say- 1 , ing that his wife was flead in their home in 7 Buffalo. And when he came to that line , which touched the deepest chord in his sou], footlights and faces, all save one, ^ were forgotten. Love yearned to clasp ' r love. The supreme grace that was Lorn ; <i in heaven and which finds "its wavering ^ image here," swayed the heart of 'he great 6 comedian. The sorrow in the soul stifled . the sons on the lips. So it is when the mind of the spirit o'ermasters the mind of \ the flesh. Tfc:? stagey mannerisms of so- ; ciety, the br.ub'es, the trinkets, the line- : j chanalian banquets, are forgotten, cr they v ceasc to allure. The soul turns away from a I he hollow har.dclapping and the vulgar, j thronii into the wings to live with Him . I who "is all the world to me." J c How Goil Remembers Us. I 'J When the spring comcs the oal: tree with , its thousands of leaves blossoms all over. | f The great heart of the oak tree remembers I i every remotest tip of every farthest branch ! ] and sends to each the message and the j c power of new life. -And yet we do not; e think of tlie heart of the oak tree as if it t were burdened with such multitudinous : $ remembrance, or as if it were any.harder j 1 work for it to make a milljon leaves than j it would be to make one. it is Bimpiy uie ; thrill of the common life translated into these million forms. The great heart beats, and wherever the channels of a com- ' mon life are standing open the rich blood r flows, and oat on every tip of the green 1 leaf springs. Somewhat in that way it 8 .seems to me that Ave may think of God's L' remembrance of His million children.? v Phillips Brooks. , c Good Thoughts Not All. * The universal self-delusion is this: whea a inan has a good thought, he fancies he has become what he thinks for the moment. Good thoughts are very good; but ii unaccompanied by the difficult processes of u character, they are often no oetteT than li soap-bubbles.?Mozooccdar. / , 1 g PHE SUNDAY SCHOOL' | MTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS FOR SEPTEMBER 27. j | I Jeview of the Topics For the Third Qmvr* ter?Read .Psalm 8?Golden Text, J'sa. xxvll., 1? Topic: Iftrael Obtaining a KllljC-Summary of Lesgong. "Lesson I." Topic: Israel demanding a :ing. Samuel was growing old; there was 10 one to take his place; other nations ;ad kings; Ievael wanted to be like the naions around them: the elders came to Samuel and usked tnat they might have a :ing; the request displeased Samuel: he ook the matter to tne Lord; the Lord aid, Hearken unto the voice of the people; hey had not only rejected Samuel, but hey had rejected the Lord; the-Lord told ?amuel to protest solemnly and show what i king would expect of them. II. TojDic: Israel choosing a king. Cfaui ;ces to Samuel seeking information; the jord told Samuel to anoint Saul to be ting; Samuel invites Saul to dine with lim; afterwards he anoints Saul; Samuel :alls the people together to Mizpeh; told hem that they had rejected God; ordered ;he tribes to arrange themselves for the iurxose of casting lots for a king; Saul is :ho*en; Saul had hid himself; the Lord evealed his hiding place to Samuel; Saul s brought in and the people shouted and said. God save the king. III. Topic: The conseouences of obeyng and disobeying God. After his election is king Saul returned to private life, but won it became necessary .to go against the \mmonites, and Saul called the'army to,-ether and gained a great victory. Samuel ben called the people .together at Gilgal or the purpose of establishing Saul in the government. Samuel makes his farewell iddress; speaks of his integrity; recalls Tehovah's past mercies and Israel's ingratitude; confirms his words by a miracle?a hunder storm in harvest time; the people ire comforted. IV. Topic: Disobedience punished. Saul ud been king about ten years; he had grown jroud and rebellious; he was commanded to utterly destroy the Amalekites; he brought back the best of the sheep and >xen and Asrag the king: .Samuel met Saul md charged him with disobedience; Saul .'xcused himself and said the people saved the best in order to sacrifice to the Lord; ?amuel said, "To obey is better than sacriice;" Saul is rejected. V. Topic: The Lord choosing a king. The history of David is bejgun; Samuel is :ommanded to go to Bethlehem and anoint )ne of the sons of Jesse; he fears to go; is told to take a heifer and sacrifice unto the r?rd; the elders of the town tremble at lis coming; Samuel told them he came peaceably; seven of the sons of Jesse are nade to pass before Samuel, but the jrophet said the Lord had not chosen ;hem; David is called in from the field md is anointed by Samuel in the presence )f his brethren. VI. Topic: Figbting the Lord's battle, rhe Philistines are arrayed against Israel; jfoliath, the Philistine giant, challenges Saul's army to furnisb a champion to meet lim; David hears the challenge and offers limself; is first clad in a coat of mail, but ays it aside and takes only his staff and ding and five smooth stones from the irook; the Philistine derided David; David answers him; David slang a stone ind smote Goliath in the forehead; David i? ?i. -a il. i?j ?f .nen cut uu iuc ncau ui mc giant,, ?<*v Philistines fled; Israel pursued them. VII. Topic: The deliverance and prosDeri ty of David. After his victory over jfoliath David < acted wisely and was 'promoted; the women sang his praises; caul Decame very angry; he watched David's movements with suspicion; feared David ivould seize the kingdom; tries to kill David, by casting bis javelin at him; David scaped; David made captain over a thouiand; all Israel and Judah loved David. VIII. Tonic: Jonathan's last intercession for David. To save his life David fled to Samuel; Paul pursued him; David then lppealed to Jonathan for assistance; Jonitban loved David and promised to find >ut what Saul's intentions were; Jonathan soon discovered that Saui intended to kill David: Daviu and Jonathan met at the itone Ezel; according to previous arrangement arrows were shot and David was varned; David and Jonathan then have tn affectionate farewell. IX. Topic: David's noble act. Samuel lied and was buried in Jtamah; David in ixile for su? or eeven years: Saul pursued aim with murderous intent; David's exile x benefit to him in many ways; Saul's life .vaa twice in David's power; David exhibted true nobility by not permitting him to >e put to death: David called to Saul from i distance and expostulated with him; ?aul admitted his sin and promised to iursuc David r.o longer. X. Topic: The Israelites defeated. The Philistines fought against Israel; Saul's sons were slain in the battle; the archer3 jreesed Saul hard: he was greatlv disressed; asked his armorbearcr to kill him; he armorbearer would not; Saul took the iword and took his own life; the armortearer then took his life; the men of Israel led; the Philistines came and dwelt in :he country;1 the bodies of Saul and his ;ons treated with indignity: inhabitants of Fabesh-gilead took the bodies, burnt them, inrl buried the bones. XT. Tonic: David ascending the throne. David returned from exile; a?ked dJrpction )f God; was told to "go up'' to Hebron; hose with David located near Hebron; David was anointed king of Judah; he ihowed kindne&s to the people of .Tabesh[ilcad; asked them to recognize his au ;horitv; Abner made Ish-boslietn King >ver the northern tribes: Abner and Ishlosheth were both assassinated; all Israel ame to David and urged him to become heir king: he was again anointed and esablished his capital at Jerusalem. XII. Topic: Warnings against sinful livng. This cpistie wm written by the Apos;le Peter about A. I). 04-66'. from Baby.on, o the Christians scattered abroad: tlie rue life is the Christ-life; nil should formke sin: intemperance is a deadly evil: all . 11 be judged; Peter urges sobriety, wa'.eltuhiess, prayer, fervent clnrity, hospitality, he proper vise of gift?. In this lesson we hould dwell on the rolden text. "Temperirce in its true significance is a very broad crm, and in its importance ranks third in he constellation of graces, which, accord- ; ng to 1 Pet. 1, are the adornings of tine i christian character. Its nroper application j rnplies the total abstinence from that "hich is wrong, and the moderate uso and j lijoyment of that which is right. It is a mistaken and harmful, but too frequent J onception that it means only to abstain j rom intoxicants. Properly understood it | omprehends aJl the inward impulses and ; iutward acts of hfe. (Jod's commands are )Oth negative and positive. The fir*t com- j nand to the race was. 'Thou shaU not.' | ts vio*atio:i wrecked the rare. In like! nanner wreck follows disobedience to ;!if> j o'njjnnd, 'Be not drunk with wine.' ftc- [ ributio-s will sooner or later overtake the j nan who indulges, or the nation which in- : [arses the eieantic wrong. In it is excess 1 f every kind?inebriety, criminality, in- j anity." > i CorU-TIenrinc Trees. A new kind of cork-bearing tree, which ' s expected to prove of inncli c:>i?mcic:.i! alue, has been discovered recent.y in -\.o- ; ;ragua. whence eonfcideiab'.c quantities ci t3 bark are already being shipyed to :.is Jnited States, it is cuiicd uie Ann hi, losely resembling the ordinary co:').'-, rood, and grows along the watsr court's. ?he cultivation of the cork oak be^an n :p;tin, and to-day 3,500,003 aires of c >; !{ orests furnish the requisite supply of thw ndispensable bark, Portugal being^ tfif.* irincipal producer, Seven billions of cut or!:, of ISO dili'crent shapes ;:nd si::es, are onsu:i:ed by tlie world ewry year, Use otal product in the rough fetching about 3.000,000. The finest quality is used iu 'Vance for chanapagae bottles. , I itlonumcnt to Hcroic Guitlr. At the Congress of the Italian Alplr.c .Tiub. which met at Counnaycur, near 't'ii in. the other day, a monument ereeled '<y he Dure of the Abruzzi to the llalijn uide. Oilier, who died during the Duicf xpeditior. to the North Pole, was ir:? eiled amid great enthusiasm. Sneeehi* i-ere made recalling the intrepid bra-.vrv lisplayed by the members of the expetii ion. i i Farm TTor'c In China. Aerriculture is comparatively easy w?r!; d China. The soil is ro rich that a uipiare nile of it is capable of supporting a popu ation of 4000. : THE BELIGIOUS LIFE' : READING FOR THE QUIET HOUR - ^ ! WHEN THE SOUL INVITES ITSELF.* Poem: A Prayer, by Frank Beard?Tha mftu ?f uu JUVTCI uuu ?t ? Sabbath Holy, Because It If God's Flan S I For His Children's Growth. I know that I am blind;. i My wand'ring steps oft go astray, 'As helplessly I seek the way! Of truth, and hope to find. | I know that I am lame; I So prone to stumble as I go. j With many falls and progress slow I seek Thy grace to claim. ! Dull are my ears to hear 1 ! The warning of the still small voice, ! That pleads of me a better choice, Than things I now hold dear. % i| Helpless I call on Thee < Open my ears, 0 Lord, to hear, ' - 'j Strengthen my feet, my footstep? cheef K-' i And make my blind eyes see. TV. C fi.hhath Back of all right laws there is a prin? ciple. The law of the Sabbath eo strictly, and so minutely laid down from.Mount , Sinai was not made for that time merely, i although it was necessary at that time | to have it clearly get forth and framed in i "Thou-shalt-nota for the sake of an er- v, I ring and ignorant people. It was after ; all but the bringing to their knowledge ' a law of God's universe which must have j been as old as creation itself. We talk much of the new dispensation' :- % in these days, apd there is much said ' i about this law of the Sabbath not being j binding upon us because we are under ?. grace now and not under the law. But the law of the Sabbath was the statement of a principle, and had behind it a reason. ' Science has come of late, and made plain it.; rpi _ >? U11H rUctSUU. XliCIC io iu uiau o pw/a?v?M - ^ J as well as bis spiritual nature & need for I a rest and complete change one day-out of every seven. Investigation has shown beyond a doubt that not only men and animals, but even machinery can do better and longer work if allowed to rest this seventh aay. But in the day of the Pharisees the principle was not understood. Men took tbe law for a petty rule, the explicit following ' > ??> of which was to count virtue to them- & selves. They failed completely to grasp, the good that was to come to them; throngh the bodily refreshment, and the ,.V. uplift of the heart toward God^ on the rest cavj ana in xne ionowice oj iik jcv ter of this law they forget the law of loving ?1; the neighbor. Poor, quibbling met, ob- , Jj1 iecting that a brother was healed an tho Sabbath, as though there whs virfee in j withholding relief to the suffering! With the Pharisees (be law i&a eclipsed V the principle. It was necessary that they ] should,return to first principles and learn j that the Son of Man was Lord of the Sabbath. He who made the law was gjf greater than the law. Now this story bas been made to be* come the conscience-ease of many a Chris- iQs tian to-day, whose actions do not fit the good r^d law of "thou shalt not." Many : and manv an action that can neither be oonstruea into "plucking wheat" to satisfy V ft the actual necessities of life, nor the reach- J? ing out of succor to the helpless and perishing, is made to figure as righteous in $1$ the light of this chapter. And yet Jesus did not ao away .wijh thi . ^ Sabbath! And He is Lord still of the J' Sabbath. Take, for instance, the man who travels '' $$5 on the Sunday train or car, cdmpeDing scores of others to work the whole 'day through that the system of trains ana ears may run for his and others' benefit, .jgjfjjj He is going, maybe, to town to hear some great preacher, who will do him much. 0'j good, ne thinks. But there are preachers at home. And he even might spend a < profitable Sunday with his Bible and God alone if necessity held him where church privileges were out of reach save through Sunday travel. It may be, though, no feels justified because he is going'to paeach. and justifies the journey on account of the message. Does not such a one seed' to De very sure mai ac jb tue vmy uun VI who can deliver that message, or that *j there is absolutely no other time for mak* < ing that journey than God's holy day? j This is only one of the many questions that arise whenever the ouestion of Sab- 1 bath observances is brought up. There are the Sunday visits, the Sunday reading, the Sunday papers, the Sunoay ^muse- , '.' Tnents. But back of them #all lie? the ' same principle, the breaking of 4 of nature, tvhich was the foundation for the ' law of God. The man who loves God wifl keflpthe i;;;j Sabbath holy because it is GodVplan*for ' His children's growth; and he will be ' S3 prevented from falling into the Pharisees' fault because the loije he is bound to have toward his fellow men will teach him the true spirit of the Sabbath. , ' Listen to the prophet's picture. It i? not the dismal Puritanical Sabbath, neither * is it in the least our present worldly one: "If thou turn away tu* foot froni the Sabbath, from doinj* thv pleasure on My j holy day; and call the Saooath a delight, I the holv of the Lord.- honorable, and ehait ! honor Him, not doinp thine own way3, not i finding thine own pleasure, nor speaking thine own words; then shall thou delight sv>. thyself in the Lord; and I wili cause thee to ride upon the hiph places of the earth, and feed thee with the heritage of Jacob. f thy father; for the mouth of the I-Qrd I hath spoken it."?Grace Livingston Hill, j in the New York Mail and Express. Courage in Adversity. This would be a pretty gray, unhappy ' world if people did not make the best of " Vii thing?. Everybody, even the most appar- ' V#-. ; ently fortunate, has his sorrows and digj appointments, which make wealth and suei cess count as almost nothing in the scale. ! Indeed, the very ability to buy almost j anything else that heart may desire only M ! makes the mcokerv more apparent. The . M I only way in which to gain even a moderate | share of contentment is to make the beet I of thing3,taking the hard knocks as one of ^35 | the fortunes of the war of life, and trying 1 i earnestly to find the easiest way of fating j j the yoke to the neck. The world does not j I elin out of one's grasp because of affliction, A i unless he weaklv allows his fingers to re- JBL I lax. It is really a great and beautiful world, and a sympathetic one, that adi mires courage in adversity, but each man ! must come to the world's standard of what is worthy of admiration, and a helping hand by making the best c? what falls to J I ms snare. A Spiritual Labor. I Suffering is as truly a function of tha I complete human life as joy or love is. It is a sort of spiritual labor. This is to say that it ie in the nature of the universe, in the nature of God. We may reverently say that He suffers in and with His children, rs surely as He loves them. To recognize this fact is to take all the sting and bitterness out of pain.?Charles F. Dole. V 3 He Sowed the Seed. A missionary in India had been earnestly 1 preaching in the basaar or market-place 1 of the town where he labored, and was going out of the city when a heathen asktxl him in mockery: "How many Christians have you made to-day?" The mis- j eionary pointed to a field and said: "What would happen to-morrow if we were to sow corn there to-day?" The answer was: "Nothing." "What would happen the .day after?|' "Nothing," was again the reply. , "What would in a few days after that?" "Little blades would Hprout up." "Well," said the missionary, I nave sown tne s good seed to-dav, and tnis, loo, will coma UD alter 6ome tima." ^ Needs Macaroni Wheat Market. j With an 8.000.0U.) bushel increase this j year in the macaroni wheat yield, aeere- | tary Wileon.of the Department of Agri- 1 culture, at Washing! on, considers it ncces- I sary to tind a future market for this rap- 9 idly growing American cyop. Tiirough l!>? St consular olhces of Kurope he hopes to gam a market for the i'j.OJO.OtW bushel crop ol next year. A CdSinopiCliit Colony, ra| British Guiana i? s.iicl to b'.> the most cosmopolitan of British colonies, the popuK;tion consisting o! .tn :?diiiivliir<> of Dutoh j'Yencli, British and Aim-m-ait colonists, i Kast Indian coolic*, Chinese. Spaniards. J Portuguese, Germans, Scantlinamoft ana J tiis aborigines of the country. k