The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, October 07, 1903, Image 6
L| AiJ Arn
I K A TT
A ^ I y Ui
| By Anna Katharine Green, J
COFYRfCHT. 1090. ?v m
CHAPTER IX.
HORACE BYRD.
Late at night there sat in a small
room two men. Their ligures are familiar,
yet perhaps it is best to describe
them. One is large, benevolent looking
and elderly, with a pmooth face ,
and kindly bearing, but with a curious
mannerism affecting all his actions
that -t once draws attention and inspires
inquiry. He never looks at the
person he addresses, but gives all his
glances and seemingly all his attention
to some insignificant object in his vicinity,
filling it with his confidences
and extracting from it the. inspiration
which most men gather frpm the eye
or 6mile of those with whom they are
conversing.
Whether this is a mere habit caught
in the long exercise of a calling demanding
secrecy of intention, or
whether it is the result of a deliberate
determination on this man's part to
eeem to know less and see less than he
really does, lias never been decided,
?ven by those most nearly connected
with him. But that it marks the man
and gives him a power at once weird
and controlling no one has ever disputed,
not even those who suffer most
Irom hjs taleuts. These are the aspiring
ones who seek to compete*with
him in his success and invariably fail,
though he is an old man now, verging,
on to seventy, and both from age and
infirmity in no condition to engage in
the active exercise of that detective
work which has employed his energies
lor so many years.
The other is a young man of a wellbuilt
frame, attractive features, good
expression and cultivated manners. He
is a dctectlve, too, but neither in
snpet'h. look nor action does he show it,
hence his usefulness and growing favor
with the chief. The names of these
men are Gryce anil Byrd, names, as I
have said, "with -which you are familiar,
even if you have never seen tbenr
mentioned save in this narrative.
They are talkiag, and Mr. Gryee's
voice is the first we hear.
"The reward, of course, is a fine one,
3)ut friendship has some claims, and I
think the traces you should follow are
those of the disappointed prima donna.
If, in doing this, you strike, as is probable
enough, upon the clue we are all
In search.of, viz., the secret cf a conepiracy
involving so many girls of one
name, virtue will have its reward in
/ more senses than one, and I for one
f " shall congratulate you, but if you do
jk not and yet find the siguorina, and ?o
r relieve Degraw from his anxieties, why
you will have done a good work that
.will always give you satisfaction. Tie
man with the black mustache and gray
eyes "who has been seen in connection
with every one of these girls but the
eJgnorina, will nypbe found so readily.
The daughter of Abram Rogers is buried,
and consequently his Interest in
her is ended; the publicity attending
the inquest following the death cf the
girl in Blind Alley will frighten him
away from her, while the similarity
.between the name of the heiress and
these two other victims to his maebin
ations will deter him from being seen
with her till public attention has been
drawn from the name and all those
who have been known to bear it. But
the Signorina .Valdi has not been
known to have borne it except by very
Jew persons. "With her he may yet
carry on his schemes, whatever they
may be, with seeming impunity. If,
therefore, he is the strong man he appears,
and if the conspiracy, as we
Lave termeu it, nns any goon reason
for being, you will lind her in the toils
or under the Influence of this man
"whrs? name may or may not be Montelli,
but who is certainly a person of
resources demanding all our skill and
energy in tracing him."
"Mr. Gryce, how can I thank you?
You Are me at once with courage and
enthusiasm. I hated to mis? the reward,
for I needed it, but if judgment
points in the same direction as duty
bow easy it will be for me to go forward."
"True, but remember that I promise
nothing. I only point out the course I
should follow if I were of your age and
engaged in active service."
"That is all that Js necessary. I desire
no wiser mentor nor more dislnter|
esteu friend. And now let us look into
the elews I have picked up in my day's
search, anil decide as to which I shall
follow iirst. It will not take long, for
the facts are few and meagre."
The old detective showed hie interest
in his usual benevolent way, and after
a short discussion, too technical to be
interesting to the reader, the two men
parted, and Byrd returned home. The
next morning be called at Mr. Degraw's
studio.
"J should like to see the sketch you
drew of Signorina Valdi."
Mr. Degraw hastened to fhow jt.
meanwhile overwhelming the detective
with questions.
"What have yon discovered. Whom
have yon seen? What hope is there of
finding her?"
But Byrd was reticent.
"I have discovered nothing as yet."
tic replied. "The task you have given
ine is not an easy oDe. Were her
beauty less, or her characteristics not
pronounced. I should almost despair
of salving the mystery that surrounds
tier, hut with such a face as hers she
*annot long remain anywhere unnoticed.
and now that 1 know its characteristics
the chances nro fewer still of
tier escaping mo. If you were tc photograph
this?"
X iif* ?u uoi ciuviju uir?
'T have an invincible repugnmce to
ranking her features the cornmou property
of a dozen police officers. The
case does not seem sufficiently pressing.
If you can get alons with it, do.
I am sure ber "womanly delicacy sbouM
be considered.''
"I -will try. but it may occasion delay.
Have you Alontelhs uote about
yon?"
^"1 believe so; yes, bere it is."
5f1
?
PER : P;
T.T.ni\TS I S
i i-i x v_y x ? ibimTIibh
J Author of "The Forsaken n
3BCDT (ONNCA'SSONS. /B
"I suppose you have no objection to
letting me have thatV
"None whatever."
"And now for a minute description
of this Italian."
"I only saw him for an instant, but
in that instant I got the impression of
a tall, slim man, of decided dark complexion
and lowering glance. He wore
a black mustache and had a sinister
and uncanny expression that made a
most disagreeable impression upon the
beholder. Yet his form was not bad,
and by some people he might even be
callcd a gentleman, though I should
never describe him as such. But then,
I bate him, and with reason, for I believe
him to be;tlie cause of the signorina's
abriipt departure."
"1 "wish your description uau ui-cu ? .
little different. I wish it Lad tallied .
raore with that given of the gentleman
haunting the other three girls. Sinister,
eh? and dark? That Is not what
is said of the urbane stranger who visited
Miss Hadden's school and lay Jn
wait to view Mr. Rogers' young daughter."
J
"What are you talking about?" rx- ^
claimed Degraw, getting excited. "Is' ^
there " *
But Byrd wrth a gesture stopped all
questioning. t
"I let my thoughts out somewhat
carelessly," he acknowledged. ""Mon- ^
telli is, undoubtedly, what the Portn- r
guese describes him 1o be. I only
wished to make sure. Do you think
you could, by a few strokes, give me *
an idea of his face?"
Degraw shook his head.
"I fear iny impressions are too vague," c
said lie. "But let me have that paper." 1
And taking the note which he had pre- 1
viousJy given to Byrd he attempted by
a few lines on its back to give some '
idea of the Italian's features. He sue- a
ceeded imperfectly, while Byrd, who c
was no mean artist himself, employed a
liis time in waiting by roughly, bnt not t
inaccurately,copying into his note book a
the face of the-signorina. 8
"For my.own use," he explained, ^
showing it to the wondering Degraw. 1
And taking the other sketch he but- *
toned them both up in his pocket, with 6
a look that forbade further questionIng.
"And now, good-bye," said he. 11
"As soon as I get hold of anything definite
I will let you know. Till then be 1
easy. Remember that twenty detec- 0
tives besides myself are on the track
of the unknown man who seems to be c
making all this mischicf."
"Wait! don't go, Byrd, till you hare 1
made one thiug clear to me. You have 8
hinted to me that you thought that
Montelli and he might be one and the T
same. If bo the siguorina would be but 8
one of the several involved in a plot, of *
which, .1 dare say, even you do not s
know cither the motive or workings." e
"You are not far wrong."
D,u ^wa Af 4>ia -rtloHiYie nf flint -S
JL>Ul I ?> U VI IUC WVUUiD v*
have died?"
"Natural deaths, Degraw."
"Natural deaths? Are you sure?" R
"Sure of one and as sure of the
other as I can he till after the autopsy t
that will be made to-day." 0
"But " *
"Go to the Inquest, Degraw. It will S
take up your mind and keep you from
too great impatience. I will write yon
in two days whether I have news or c
not." c
But the artist was not yet ready to ^
see the other go.
"I want to give my opinion," said he, .
"before I say good-bye. I do not think
Montelli fc? interested In any one but
the signorina, and as for the unknown
I do not think he Is near as much to be ?
feared as the deceiving Portuguese."
"Wo will see, we will see. Meantime T
every minute that I linger here puts D
off by so much time the hour of her f
discovery."
"Then go; I would not detain you an- 1
other minute." And as eager now to u
see the detective do irt ns he had hitli- c
crto hern to detain him he fairly j1
pushed him toward the door.
But now "fly rd cliose to halt a moment.
E
"Why, whom hare we here?" he a
asked, pointing to the picture which t
Degraw had denominated "The Poet's r
Dream." "It looks as if you had been K
trying to paint Miss Aspinwall." v
"Miss Aspinwall?" t
"Old Lemuel Afipsnwall's daughter,
the beauty of upper Fifth avenue."
"Well, perhaps I have. Do you recognize
the face?"
"Perfectly."
"Then I am much obliged to you. 1
have always wished to know my model's
name. I saw her in a crowd and .
this is the result. But I never found
any one before who could tell me who
!S1IU JS. i>Ul lUill I UU\??7 "I.IUS uiij ,
strenuous efforts to find, out, for, as.
you see, ;he picttire is not yet off tny
easel."
"Well, I congratulate you; it is a
beautiful painting:, but?"
Dejrraw stopped him just at tlie door.
"Your knowledge of the original of
this picture ban given nnother interest
to it. Miss Aspimvrtll?since you sny
that it is her name?is [hit lady whom I
paw strewing (lowers over ibe slgnorina
when 1 Grot went into tlie room."
"Ygm don't say so. Well, I must bear
about that."
"There is not much to boar. Wc interchanged
no words, for I was too
much astonished at her presence to be
master of my usual self-possession,
while she was only too glad (o escape
from the room and what must have
seemed to her my somewhat importunate
gaze."
"But she is a friend of Signorma *>
Valdi; must be, or she would not have
been showing her such an attention.'1
"I do not think she is a friend. The
signorina, whom I questioned on the t
subject, said she did not know whe 1
she was, but thought she must be a t
pupil of her oai tuns tor, Avno unci lor- j
mcrly shown a secret interest in lier."
" Well. I am glad lo have located this
I person. Something may come of it. I
| Who can tell? It Is often the most un- i
Ikely clues that lead to the desired
knowledge."
And with a bow and good-day Byrd
inally disappeared.
Early in the afternoon Hamilton Dejraw
wont out to buy a paper. Turn
ng at once to the local news column
ie found that the autopsy in which he
vas interested had taken place, with
he result prophesied by Byrd. It was
i great relief, for had the girl been
bund to be the victim of violence, he
vould not have had a minute's rest in
egard to the signorina, nntwithstandng
his opinion in Tegard to Monell
I. Of the plot or conspiracy of
vhicb he had heard while at Police
leadqvarters, there was no mention,
he authorities, for once, having sue coded
in baffling the reporters in regard
to a matter which it was desirible
for the present to lcccp secret.
Jut of the Signorina "Valdi he found
his trace in oae corner of the great
>aper:
"The Tcport -which was current this
nomine: concerning the death of Siglorina
Valdi, whose disastrous attempt
o sing the role of Margherita "will be
cmembered by many of our readers,
ias bpen proven false. She is uot
lead, bnt absent, having left her late
ipartments at 391 East street
or , other quarters at present unLno.wn."
Calmed in a measure the artist went
jack to his studio. There were yet
tour.i and days to wait before 1m? could
lope to get any decided ucwe.
CHAPTER X.
JII88 ROGERS, OF DETROIT.
Mr. Gryce's intuitions were seldom
it fault He had said to Mr. Byrd
hat the unknown would not be found
vith the heiress who had fled from
Iiss Haddcn's school, and behold!
vithin the course of the next day
arao "word from Miss Hadden herself
hat Mifcs Rogers had returned to the
ichool.with the crestfallen air of one
vho had suffer'etl a great disappoinlnent.
j
The Inspector at once notified Mr. |
3rycc, and advised him to visit Miss
Rogers and see if he could not obtain
rom her such particulars of lier late i
scape as -would assist them in deternining
upon the identity of the gentlenan
"wlio had instigated it. j
The elderly detective, who was bolh
ty nature and appearance eminently
daptcd for this "work, at once departd
for Miss Hadden's school, where,
fter a short interview with its misrees,
he was admitted to a small
partment, where he was requested to
iwait the appearance of Miss Rogers.
L UU UflUy %YUS Mll>U. XU U H'W UllLI*
itcB a yoyng Igdy entered in -whom he
lad no difficulty in recognieing the
oraewhat pretty and decidedly -willful
;ir] in -whose erratic adventures he
it present took so strong an interest.
"Miss Rogers, I believe," said he,
villi an air at once rcspectful and enonraging.
"Oh, 'who are yon?" she asked,
hanging in a moment from the half
letti&h, half coquettish creaturp he
lad fleen enter into a woman both
tartled and frghtened.
"I am your friend, to begin with,"
vas his reassuring reply, "and next, I
im an old man who has seen much of
ife, and who has a world of compasion
for them who have as yet all its
xperienees before them."
She had not sat down, and was
tanding before him In an attitude that
ictokened more readiness for llight
ban desire to listen. "But you are a
tranger," she declared; "I do not even
;now your name. Why do you speak
o me of compassion? I was not
.ware M Her voice broke; she was
rtn -uniiTr* nrir? 1n?Ynrvprir>^i1 tn fl
;ood actress.
"I speak of compassion," said he,
because of all griefs wo mortals are
ailed upon to endure that of losing
onfidence in our friends is at once the
leepest and the keenest. I know thnt
on have suffered such a loss. No, do
tot go. I have something of too much
mportanse to say to you to depart
without hearing it."
He looked so benevolent and smiled
o reassuringly that she immediately
ook courage. Flinging caution to the
rinds she gasped out in sudden cxciteaent:
"Have you brought me a message
rom him? Does he regret " She
rauKt'd. Ignorant as she was of life
hp felt that she was on the point of
ompromising herself. "You do not
nswer." she pettishly exclaimed. "I
iave made a mistake: let me go."
She was not a beautiful girl, attrac
ive as id (my consiuerou ucr wuu un
lothing lint her dazzling complexion
nd the abundant masses of her light
irown hair. But fhe was a spoilod
me. and at this moment bore herself
o haughtily iliat she looked almost
in manageable to the shrewd old d'elecive.
To be contini:rd.
flex ia Touch TTJth the World.
The man who gels "out of the swim.''
o to speak, who loses his touch with
lit* great, pulsing world about him.
vbo *e;'IiideR himself iu his study or
afcoratory, ur.d deals oniy with books
uid theories instead of with men and
hlngs, will soon liud himself going
lowu grade.
It is not living in tlie world of yeserday,
nor in the world of to-morrow,
)ut in to-day's world, that counts. We
nust know the world and the day wo
ire livi.og lu, and beep in respousivc
ouch with the great movements of
ivillxntion.
A great mauy men bare lived in the
** * ? ill mAili.
>nsr. jaua uaro ui'i-u cuminuu ... ...?
icval methods Instead of modern on'.-s.
i'hey have lived in history. ppendiug
heir timi: in buried ciliov. in dead phiosophicp.
in exhausted theories, until
hoy are dried up. They have gathered
ill tiieir* nourishment from the pnst.
L'hey are mm much out of place in the
urseut ae a *)ird of paradise would licit
the Xortli L'ole. Their physical susenanee
is the only thing that ties them
:o the actual world of to-day. Their
a on la 1 food, their reflections are. ell J:i
lie past, and yet they wonder why the
.vorld <[oiv not appreciate thorn, why
hey are not in ioucli with it, when the
.'act is4h.it they are really strangers In
i strange land. They bavo no sympa*
i\f nmcfuil
.1 1%> WIUI IUU V.. 4'4 ?,.
*-ith the trudcucy of the ape, cr with
ho great niovetneiiis foinj on nil
il>out them.?O. S. Maiden, in Success.
The fellovi- who rides a hobby should
){? careful that it dacsu't run away
vitli Win.
A SERMON FOir SUNDAY I;
AN ELOQUENT DISCOURSE ENTITLED
.' A SUPREME OPPORTUNITY."
The Iter. Cornelian WoclflcJn Preaches
Entertainingly on the FMcinAttnK Biblical
Romance <?f KKth?:r?Seine Your
Opportunities Resolutely.
New Yokt: City.?Sunday morning the
Rev. Cornelius Woelfkin. minister of fche
Greene Avenue Baptist Cnurch, had for hia
eubject "A .Supreme Opportunity." He
chose as'his text Esther iv: ]4: "Who
knoweth whether thou, art come to the
kingdom for such a time as this?" Mr.
Woelfkin said:
The history of Esther is a. fascinating
romance. Every changing scene in the
panorama is a graphic illustration cf the
providence of God. It traces the transition
from obscurity to prominence; from
weakness to power. The scene opens '
showing Esther an orphan girl belonging
to a catjtive and despised race. Naturally,
every aoor of influence would be closed to '
her. Alone in the world, utpenoen*, upon
a cousin's bounty, the horizon of ner life
wa9 limited. Her chicf endowment was
beauty, and that, the world goes, is
more likely to become a pnare of evil tnan
a benediction of good. Yet, behind this
humble, modest lite there is working the j
might, wisdom and love of God. The
Queen's throne i3 empty. The royal crown
ib waiting some one who may please the
mood of the King. Thousands of gentle
blood dream of the Queen's place as the
acme of all ambition. But the providence
of Jehovah has reserved the place for '
Esther, the orphaned Jewish girl.
This same divine power seeks to mold |
every life. The circumstances and conditions
that environ us may not seem promising.
But what are these with God? His
strength is made perfect in weakness. The
vast maiorily of men and women who have
made the molds of history were those 1
whom God's providence brought from ob?curity
and lowlv conditions, xour way is ,
not hid from the Almighty. There iR a
place held vacant for your filling. That
place is as honored and dignified as any '
royal throne, because it is divinely ap
pointed. The steps leading thereto may
seem to be contingencies, accidents, fortuitous
chances, ana through the moods of
other persons. But if there be the spirit
of faitn to trust Him, diligence to discover
His will and readiness to obey, He will
bring us to the place and position most
suited for our eternal profit and glory. No
one else may step into our nlace, until we,
through unbelief and disobedience, have
forfeited the privilege of its occupancy.
Every life has its own unique endowment.
. Success or failure depends upon the
manner in which we hola these possessions.
If we hold them selfishly to profit
ourselves withal, they turn into corruption.
But if they be held in trust as a sacred
stewardship, used for the furtherance
of His purposes and the bringing of His
kingdom, tney will turn out eternal treasures.
Our temptation is to discredit our
possessions and opportunities. But we may
oot despise the day of small things.
Esther had only personal beauty to commend
her at first. This is not o gift deipised
by Satan in his attempt to ruin a
roul; then why should it be discredited as
a power for good? The lad had only five
loaves and two fishes, but, consecrated to
His service, they fed the multitude and
more. It all turns upon whether we are
using our endowments in the interest of
self and by the energy of self, or whether
?ve are living and working in co-operation
with Him and for His glory. The fprm of
a life will vary. God docs not duplicate
and make a]l live* to conform to a like pattern.
There was a vast difference between
the captive maid that served in Naaman's
borne and the orphan captive who mounted
the Per^an throne, but it wa? tbc same
God who worked in each.
The orphan girl became the bounteous
queen. She enjoys the honors and emoluments
of royalty. Banquets are held in her
honor and a retinue of servants minister
to her continually. Can she support the
dignity thus thrust upon her? Will adulation,
flattery and vanity enervate her
touFe ability, or will she grow 6trong and
potent for good amid opportunities? Only
trial can answer such queries, and that
comes soon enough. Prom the outer world
ehe hears the lamentation of her kindred
people. Mordecai. her cousin, is in sack
fJiUCII axiu 1>VUJU ?rvu
comforted. All the captives are- wailing
with fear. What could it mean? ? If she
had only been party to the conference between
her royal husbar.d and the prime
minister prince she would have understood.
Ii she could see all the cicrks writing the
sentences of death which were being hurried
throughout the empire she would have
lcuown. She seems to be exempt. Does
she not dwell in the palace? But the
blackness overshadows her even there.
No circumstance or condition can shut it
out. The court of Persia permitted no one
wearing sack cloth, that symbol of sorrow
and mourning, to enter the royal precincts.
They would not be disturbed by
painful remindera of life's sorrows. Byt"
even the royal purple can neither ignore
nor escape tnera. The tragedies of life are
not shut out by hiding and ignoring them.
We can build no barrier that will prevent
their invasion.
The Redeemer of the world did not ignore
them. He did not isolate Himself
from human woe, but through suffering
became a Saviour, forgiving sin, bringing
glory out of the crucible of suffering and
planting the iight_ of hope amiu the
shadows ot death. If .tether seeks to Kayo
her life alone efce -will lose it. But if in
neeking to save others she lose it. she shall
save it. Y>7e cannot in a time of epidemic
think of ourselves alone. Individual carefulness
will prove fatal.
There came a moment of despair to
Rsther. What can she do more than others.
She had not been called into the
Kind's ])reeence for a whole month. And
to venture unbidden might mean death.
She had her limitations. Even her position
seemed unequal to the need, Her privileges
fell short. It is always so. A grave
crisis ever brings the shadow of despair.
33fere are problems that confront every
generation that seem insoluble. We become
bewildered and perplexed; ws feel our inadequacy
and despair. This perplexity and
despair is purely human. Its shadow never
falls urxm the throne of God. He Khali
not fail nor be discouraged tiil He Iv-th tct
judgment in the earth. All that He requires
is an instrument that will not balk
at the cost, and He brings sneedy relief.
Let us fling the sacrifice of life into the
ituation. and nothing shall be impossible
to ue. It is this desire to keep our skins
whole, and to conserve our personal ease
and comfort that makes situations difficult.
Paul was an optimist; because he threw
his life into the crisis. Comfort, ease,
cruiet. pleasure, were not aimed at by him,
therefore he could confidently write: "I am
press?<i on every side yet not straitened:
perplexed, yet not unto despair; pursued,
yet not forsaken; smitten down, yet not
destroyed." Pvifishncss brings the midnight.
self-sacrifice the duwn.
Then followed Esther's heroic resolve.
A crisis always develops the character. In
a moment she read the meaning of her
providential experiences. She saw so roethfngs
of <Jixi's plan in her life. Why had
riie been cxaltoci from the lowly position
I of an c/rnbnn to the rejral dignity of a
I queen? Why bad she been preferred above
nil others for i.uis great place? The mean
iug logins ;o cry manse. uon joivsnw inif
crisi*. anticipated tho need, and for such a
time as (his was Esther come to the kingdom.
In *.4i<? v;*r.v hiart of that gravest
difficulty lay her supreme opportunity. Oar
greatest moments are often set in darkest
circumstances. The providences of God
Lave shaped our course, and there is a purpose
and end ns definite ns that of Esther's
in our liivs. The hand that guides may be
invisible, und the iigbt may not always illn inine
the meaning. Bui if'we are faithful
in trust and obedience to ever}' narsing opportunity,
w ehal! some time nnd?rs-"tand
dint we. too. are come to the kingdom for
a specific end.
To seize this supreme opportunity involved
a risk. She dare not wait to weigh
the chances too minutely. Life itself is a
stewardship. Duty constrains us to pay
out. its energies in proportion to obligations
and opportunities. .Sometimes (he whole
price must he paid down at once. 15at it
life lie held at the disposal of God ic vrHi
make little difference whether i! be paid
In ir.eialur.C'ms or at one payment. i?iic- is
a possession thai we umsfc surrender anyway.
but ?'c may elect whether it shall !>o
infected in eternal treasure or squandered
in temporal gratification.
Esther wa? abut up to two courrte?. and
both threatened death. Siicuce und Inertnets
would i\ifa:i to be overtaken in the
(general massacrc. attempt at s&lroHou
could but anticipate death by a few days,
and had the chance of success. There is
not much room for choice. Death is the
worst that can come, and that will come
either way. Esther said, "If I perish, I
perish." This is synonymous, with those
expressions made by the martyr sDiritn of
history. It is the only attitude ana expression
that will tit the supreme crisis and
? Tn ins;- eiii-li HituationB Moses
said, "Mot me, I pray thee, ?ut of the
hook which thou hast written," Jesus said,
"I hold not My iiic of any account as deai
unto Myself, i am ready to die." Whoever
goes npon a great mission must, like
the early Christians, take his life in hi:i
hands. It is only along that pathway that
salvation lies. It is a great price, but_often
paid foi; an inferior purpose. Heroism
asks for liio as the price of patriotism,
home and freedom. .Ambition demands
life for reputation and honor. Convenience
and progress do not hesitate to accept
life as a price. Our bridges, buildings
and tunnels are built with the cost of life.
Shall we. then, murmur at the missionary
who is willing to risk fever and riot in the
interests of eternal salvation? When examples
of sclf-dovotion fall into the perspective
of history we applaud the martyr
spirit. Cod help us to value and covet it
when near at hand.
Esther went with fear and trembling,
but not cowardice. Heroism is not fooi---?
*l. /
hardy. J.0 go lorwara in me ihcc 01 u?ugcr,
despite fear, is true courage. Paul
ministered in Corinth with much weakness,
fear and trembling, but beneath all
was the splendid heroism of self-devotion.
"If I perish"?but such a spirit cannot
perish. It nay seem to fall in self-sacriI)ce,
but it docs not perish. Some heroes
nf faith come out unscathed from conflict,
they are delivered from the edge of the
sword, the force of violence and power of
fire. Others are stoned, sawn asunder and
killed. But they do not perish. The martyrs
torn by lions on the Roman arena
were as victorious as Daniel who waR delivered.
The witnesses who burned at
Smithfield were as triumphant as the three
men who could not lie burned bv the Beven
fold heat of Nebuchadnezzar^ furnace.
The Huguenots who fell on St. Bartholomew's
Day were no less conquerors than
Joshua's army. Christ did not perish on
the cross. Paul did not perish in Rome.
Telemaehus did not perisn in the Roman
arena. Such dying is the highway to iife
and power.
The Queen asked the forfeited lives of
her people. She was Mated to them and
a sufferer with them. From their side she
was moved with compassion. From her
queenly position she obtained deliverance.
This is the object of all mediation. Our
Saviour as the man .Teflus is touched with
the feelhig of our infirmities. As the exalted
Lord He intercedes to supply our
need according to Hia riches in glory. The
privilege of prayer is granted to us, that
from the human side we may feel the burden
of human sorrow and woe, and so be
pressed into an intercession for divine succor.
In our weakness we are tempted to
abuse this great carte blanche of our Lord.
Salome, who rfceivcd the same overture
from a kin? as (ltd Esther, asked the death
of John the Baptist. Many a petition of
prayer would end in death if granted. But
no carnal, selfish supplication will recc.ive
the indorsement of the Lord Christ, and
consequently fails.
The?) we come to the banquet scene. It
is mcst suggestive. Only the hostess nnd
two guests, but what issues tremble in the
balances. Esther is under sentence ?1
death. The dark hour is drawing nigh,
Haman, the prime minister, is in glee; he
is succeeding most marvelously. Yet in
one day all is suddenly reversed. The
Queen becomes the author of life and Ha>
man is sent to the gallons built for an>
other. Succcss may be upon us in the verj
darkest hour, while failure may be dog'
ping the tracks of the most lightsome
heart. Righteousness seems to be worsted
in the conflict with evil. GjcJ measarej
seem to fail, evil ones to tr urn ph. Scm
pulous honesty goes to tb?. wall, while
trickerv and fraud are crowned with *suc
cess. Virtue is seemingly strangled anc
vice in robed with royalty. And we ar<
tempted to be envious at the prosperity 01
the wicked. But we may not pass judg
raent until the issue is seen. There wil
coroe a day when righteousness shall flour
ish and evil perish. The n'ots of the
world's Hamans, Herods and Judases al
miscarry. Sin and evil rot at the core
Righteousness aud truth have the quality
of immortality.
At the ripnt moment Esther not onlj
stated the plot, but named the adversary
and enemy?this wicked Haman. It wai
an awful crisis. It is always a crisis wher
contending principles comc to the decisiv*
struggle. In every soul there is a Hamar
who seeks the betrayal and detraction o
the spiritual life. In our conflict with thii
evil self there comes a time when we musi
be specific in naming the foe. No salvatior
comes from generalities. This adversar]
and enemy may -wear different names it
our disposition. It may be Dride, envy
jealousy, bitterness, worldliness, ete
Whatever it way be. it has planned oui
ruin aad '-waits the moment of execution
If we would save our lives, familien, ' ' tie/
and the world we must deal uncompromi*
inglv with the particular Haman who i;
working destruction. Not until Hnmai
goes to the pillows can life stand secure.
Having seized r.he pupreme opportunity
at great risk, Esther finds a great reward
The clerks write the message of life mor<
rapidly than thev wrote the sentence o
death. The stood work is hastened wit!
more speed than the message of woe. Joj
supplants sorrow and life comes in th<
nlacc of death. The harvest of sacrifice ii
l'fe. We sow in tears, we reap in joy. Ii
this successful mission of Esther the me
diatrix wc have an adumbration of the sni
vation wrought out by Jesus Christ. Hi
took His life in His hands. He died nnr
rose again from the dead. He securer! :
reversal of the sentence of death writtei
aeaiust us and proclaims forgiveness o
sins and the gift of eternal life. Ours i
the privilege first to receive and rejoice ii
tins I nun, anu men 10 hiiccu hic ^mu nu
irigs to every creature in all the world
These are our supreme opportunities. The,1
may be shadowed with self-sacrifice. but i
they arc resolutely seized they will issue ii
the morning of joy.
The Mam of t'heir.
Wo love the man with the smile; tin
man with the roses on his tongue; thi
man who sees'your boy's dirty face, bu
mentions his bright eyes; who notice:
your shabby coat, but praises your etudi
ous habits; the man who sees all yow
faults, but whose tongue is uuiek to prais<
and slow to blame. We Jike to meet i
man whose srailg will light up dreariness
whose voice is fnll of the music of birds
whose hand-shake is an inspiration, ant
his "G.*>d bless you" a benediction. H<
makes: us forget our troubles as the raven'i
dismal croak is forgotten when the tvoot
thrush or the brown thrasher sings. Cm
bless the men of cheer! There is plenty
of trouble here, but we need not inrreasi
it. There is a lot oT dying done ahead o
time. There are living men who have al
ready etossad .Jordan two or three times
and unfortunately they arc not of the typi
who "cross th<! fiver of Jordan, happy it
the Iiord,v but who sing, if they sing a
dismuipst, dreariest, deadliest
The very tone is fatal to baDpiness. 1
you have f^Mth. preach it: if you havi
doubts, bury them; if yon have joy, shan
it; if you have sorrow, bear it. Find th<
bright side t?f things?God's side?am
help others to get sight of it also.?Zion'i
Herald.
Victories Won.
"Iv is not by regretting what is irrepar
able that, true work is to be done, but bj
making the best of what we are. It is no
by complaining that we have no. rich
tools, but by using well the tools we have
What we are, and where we are, is God'i
providential arrangement?God's doing
IrMUgh it may be 11 man's misdorDg; am
jJnf manly. and Che wise way is to loot
your dwadvantatccs in the face, and #et
what tiin be made out of them. Life, 'iki
wur. i* u seiies of juis>iakee. uml be i? no
tin- best Christian nor the best genera
wh."> snakes the fewest false steps. II'.' i
tue best who wins the most splendid v?*tor>-?
by the retrieval of mistakes."?F
W. Kobc-H-or.,
Tlo Yonr Whole l>uty.
D<> your duty to the city as w??l a.'
!< Jiie church. Don't bide yo;ir*\'!f be
hind your piety. Do not imapinf thai
suirinuility consists in living avarl fn.u
t;jc (.uninion crowd.?The Rev. C. J. lLi'l.
Makes One Charitable.
True religion will make iis jjossefc^i
truly charitable in dealinp with his bvigi
hobs aad com pesters.?Key. 0
T. Stair.
" THE TELIGIOUS LIFE f
BEADING FOR THE QUIET HOUR
WHEN THE SOUL INVITES ITSELF,
Poem: Sowing and Reaping?Canstic Severity
Gives a Certain Evil Plessnre to
People "Who Delight in Being Thought
Sincere?A Priceless Possession is Tat-:.
We bow our seeds with idle, careless hand,
Nor heed their fall,
But hurry onward like the laborer freed
At sunset call.
The evening dews refreshing moisture
?pread.
The ripe earth warms them in its welcome
bed,
, Wheat, tares and all.
Upon a day we come to view the-field
So idly sown;
Alas, how small the wheat, how big and
great
The tares have grown.
With bitter toil we strive to clear the
weeds,
? iL. i;
LtcmeiDncriiiK inat lih: cu&(aij? ox buc
Was but our own.
?Elliot Field.
The VulneofTact.
"Tact," says the dictionary, "is a quick
or intuitive appreciation of what is fit,
proper or right; fine or ready mental discernment
shown in saying or doing the
proper thing, or especially in avoiding
what would offend or disturb; skill or faculty
in dealing with inen or emergencies."
Sincerity." says the blunt person, "is
telling exactly what you think about everything,
without regard to another's feelings
in the matter." Tact is 'an extra faculty
not understood, because of long disuse, by
such people.
It would be a good plan if every theological
seminary and every school for
Christian workers possessed a class in tact.
Paul long ago suggested the course of etudy
to De pursued oy bucij a cj<tr?>.
Lack of tact might be called a bad habit
rather than a failing, for one is certainly
to blame to some extent for the thoughtlessness
that -will permit constant words
and actions that hurt the feelings or too
conscience of another soul.
There is a ccrtain evil pleasure to some
people in being what they call sinccre.
They cultivate a cawtic sincerity until it
becomes a habit, and it is very hard for
them to ever wholly admire or take pleasure
in anything not their own. And they
not only do this, but they make a virtue
of it. They know nothing of the lowly
spirit that can humble itself to meet oth,
ers more lowly, and win their love; that
can conceal personal likes and dislikes and
ignore for the time unessentials. Such may
think they love their neighbors, but surely
not "a,s tnemseives," for if they did they
would know at once how their words sometimes
cut and sting, how unlovely they
make their religion appear, and how useless
it is for them to try and win others
whom they have first alienated. True love
for others will beget sympathy. Perfect
ctmiTifitln, find ihnntrhf-. for others will be
get tact, which is the opposite of vulgarity,
according to John Ruskin. He says in
"Sesame and Lilliee:"
"But briefly, the essencc of all vulgarity
' lies in want of sensation. Simple and in
nocent vulgarity is merely an untrained
J and undeveloped bluntness of body and
mind, but in true inbred vulgarity there
is a deathful callousness, which, in estrem
ity, becomes capable of every sort of bes*
i tial habit and crime, without fear, without
pleasure, withont horror and without pity*
It is in the bluht'band aDd the dead heart,
in the dieeasedbabit. in the hardened con'
science, that;tfl'en oecome valgar; they are
forever vulgar, precisely in' proportion an
they are incapable of sympathy?of quick
I understanding?of all that, in dceo insist-'
i ence on the common, but most accurate
term, may be called the 'tact' or 'touch!
faculty' ox body and soul; that tact which
the Mimosa has in tree3, which the pure I
I woman has above all creatures; fineness
' ?nd fulness of sensation beyond reason;
f the guide and sanctifier of reason itself.
Reason can 7jut determine what is true; it
I is the God-given passion of humanity
which alone can recognize what God has
made good." ^
f1 Now there are a great many questions I
of good or evil which while every man
r must decide them fo* himself?and such
decisions are imnortant?arc nevertheless j
' subordinate to the great question of salr
vation in Jesus Christ. Paul did not seek
i to belittle these questions, nor did he bid !
? any man go against his conscience in cr
der that he mieht win -souls who did not
i ; think as he did. But he was trying to
f I show them that there was a time for even
' important details to stay in the backt
ground; that they could Dot stuff doci
trincs down the throat of the man who
r had no appetite for them?they must first
i make him hungry tor Jesus, and then the
. ' living word would be acceptable.
I So Paul did not enter the house of a_man
! | who believed it wrong to cat meat offered |
to idols, and forthwith flaunt the new free
dom from all such Jaws that was his in |
- 1 Christ Jesus, by saying: "Brother, I saw j
s ; thin morning as I passed by the market
1 i x>lare some unusually fine cuts of meat ]
j fresh from the temple offered at a low
7 rate. You should go and purchase some."
. 1 No. He quietly aite what was set before
? him. and won their conadcace by acccptf
ing their ways as hi3 own, and then talked '
> of Jesus and His new way of salvation,
i' | The young girl who invites a poor serr2
i ant girl to come to the Christian Endeavor
5 . meeting with her and seeks to win her to
i Christ, but remarks on the way to the
- 1 meeting that she could never bear to wash
' dishes because it makes the hand? so red
n ana rougn. wui never Kucceeu <u u? cu- i
1 deavor.
i | The tactless person has fallen, into the
i habit of excusing himself, and of feeling
f that he .cannot help the blunders he make*.
3 Hi* *riends deplore his stnpiditv, and fiigh
* and neln lum oo sometimes. But for the
sake of righteousness and the cau?e of
* I .Tesus Christ no Christian should allow
j* iiimself to lie hack content, a slave to
* , deplorable a habit. It is hi* duty to break j
* J it. He can do it with God's help. First,
! he must pet into his heart a Jove for hi*
I fellow men and a forget fulness of seif.
i Next, he most 3tudy those about him. and
s ! learn to know their drcumsctancen, their
5 I Borrows and joys, their ways. Iu phort.
t he must learn to read character and teach,
a | his heart to sympathize. The new habjts
- will exncl the o'd?Grace Livingston Hill,
r ! in the New York Mail and Express.
i j The Price of 1'oner.
> | laul no more shrank from inner con>
* ; flicts and agonies than be feared outer j
1 perils and foes. He reminded the Corin- j
! ! thians, with a true and touching pathos, l
J \r\ iinrlov TvUl/ili 1)?> If t* All I
7 cji tut: jicav v 9via.(u uuv?v# # ...... .
i hourly, the burden of a]) his eburrhes i*e<=+- J
1 ' ing upon his eager sympathy, so than he j
' ' felt every lapse as a personal tall, and
' ' made all weakness his ovn. Hp might:
f . have escaped from all this, but hp did not,
- I Any Chrietinu worker can f.ectiro. rest at
. ! this point by simply allowing his sycipa*
" thies to harden. It is an eapy thing. But
' it costs bim all his power. The price of
t . power is strain.?From an editorial in The
I Sundav-school Times.
f j
Factors In Uie World.
| | Christ takes us where wc are. If wfe
| inherit good. He asks for service at
1 i level of our good. If we are born with
* i evil tendencies, a large part of oar vrorfc
I will be in the, overcoming for which Re
j C1VCS US Bireuxi'l- "c ait ucici ui.w.ii.nr. |
I The powers of the universe arc really on !
* ' our side calling us to be of goou oci-'rage,
\ ' to take our pTace and do onr part. Oar
t mere existence is a pledge of an ancestral
, victory, not in anywise complete. hut onCfj
' ing hope in our own conflict, Insofar a? |
9 we reccmize onr cril tcndenc-ip*. no know I
how and what to fight. And in o.ir lultfo j
. : we are fitfriag ourselves to he factors ia j
^ ! the great irrrld victors of Christ.
! j An Amazing .
t . Paris pacers announce t!ia': Mj- s'.rafg* |
' i legacy of M. de Pierrecowt. wltu liir |
< j money to the city of Rouen x'or I In: |?iirfios'.'
J <??' founding a family of pants. witM j
; view to the physical reifivmraiioti of the
I human race, lias been before tlio Council
<"<t' Slate in Paris. An arr*:ii.;ea;<nH ha*
I lteen arrived at by which'tbt? city of ll>ju?r
5 j undertaken to apply a sum of iSt/O.tHJOf'. out
i of Ihc testator's estate to the foundation
t. of a useful institution. <tn<l to pity orev
i some millions of francs t<? 51. tU> i'iem
eourt'd lawful heirs, who co.ite-ted his
trill.
l'luuo FartoriM in German,*.
There arc 4SS piano factor*?* in Gcr'
many, which manufacture W.QQQ msfcrumeats
acuuaUy.
i
i
. vWM
B
111L ullllUAi lUIUULM
INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS H
FOR OCTOBER IU flfl
fl abject: God's Covenant With Da rid, 9
Sam. vii., 4-16?Golden Text, 2 Sam. H
vil., 10? Memory Verses, 3, 0?Commen- ufl
tary on tbe Bay's Lesson. ,'fl
I. David'a depire to build a bouse lor .
the Lord (vs. 1-3). The kingdom waK now.
fairly launched, with favoring wind and .
tide to move on to its fullness of useful- HHB
ne?3 and glory. The people were united, ?HS
the ark wag on Afbiilu Zion, the religion*;
services were renewed. David, in his palace
of cedar, looked out upon the place of
worship for the nation and saw onlv a^HHH
tent, which must, s'&on decay, as the
saic tent had d?&yed. It did not Beei^HHE
right and titting for the king to live
house while the Lord dwelt in a tent.
did not honor God nor religion.
accordingly consulted the prophet Natlflfl^^Q
whether he should not build a fitting t^^HI
pie for the worship of Jehovah. Jt B|S9HH
a noble desire, the perfecting the rclig^^^^^^f
work he had already begun. NatbknlMHwBM
once, without waiting to consult the
approved of hio proposal and told
proceed with the work.
II. The desire not granted
4. 5. "That night." Alter David badH&8|^H
tV\ck nrr?rvKpf Nathan hyq fc/i hr.
permanent temple for the Lord. The
-was the recognized time for propan^^nBH
visions. "Word of the Lord." God
to Nathan by a vision (v. 17). '"'Go/and
tell." Nathan's fir3t answer to David wu
net given under divine inspfc&iof), but
was only his own judgment. "That be I
might not continue to encourage^error, or 1
leave David to carry out human desireg. j
the Lord spoke to Nathan and revealed .. -j
His will in the matter. God could have j
spoken directly to David, but He desired; I
to put honor upon His prophets and pre- v:3|
serve David's reeard for them. "Snajfc ";?fl
thou build." Meaning thou sbalt not. J
Not because a house should not be boik, :J
but not at that time, nor built by David. /
See 1 Chron. 17:4.
6, 7. "Have walked in a tent." Th?
idea which runs through the divine message
is that the dwelling of Jehovah in a $3
tent was a fitting symbol of Israel's an
quiet possession of the land. It was JLUvid's
mission to (jive them quiet security I
in the region which they bad conquered &
'60 long ago. .
8-10. "From the eheepcoie." This would
remind David of the great things God had> J
done for him and prove to bim that 7
though he was not permitted, to build the,
temple he was honored by the Lord. He ' "$$j
would also be reminded that he was iadebted
to God " for all his good intention* *
to do great things. His first step upwacd
from a lovfiy life came through Cod?*< H
favor. "To be ruler." The office and dignity
of prince over Israel. From following ,
the sheep Jehovah took him to l>e "Hi# . u
servant, a word of high dignity applied f
to but few persons in the Old Testament. \*i?
"A great name.'' Besides all His watchful
care and the success which He gave David *
in battle, the Iiord had given tun the f
hearts of the people and established his -- .$?
character abroad. This was not for the:. '. 'iflm
sake of mere earthly dominion. . It was
first of all a type of 'Messiah s reign, to
whom God had promised the heathen for . -Jj
his inheritance, and that His Gospel should ^
be carried to the ends of. the earth. ' .
Hitherto God's promises had been general.
? J tviv/>K loon ant? TMaronn hsrf
tUJU liV U 1 LA.} UIUVU 1VVHJ u.?/ yv.ivt - 3 . '^ag
been chosen as the .ancestor of the Me#- - J
eiah. "Will appoint'. . . will pEtot." Or- J
rather have appointed, and have plontetr ?
my people Israel in the land of Cguaaq. ,1
In these words the discourse turns io the. "A
ftfture of the people. The sense is: after. ''~J|
all these manifestations'of 'favor in the
past up to this time, the Lord will fon C:
the future assure His people a position aa<i
an existence, wherein they ehall no tnore
experience the affliction and oppression;
that they suffered from godless nations. "
HI. God's promises to David (vs. 31-17). J
11, 12. "Will make thee an house." God'*
covenant promise to David was threefold. > ;First,
He promised that the house of David ?
should be established forever. He had a'
name of renown, and be was also to have,
a family of renown. He had been a men "
of war, and through him Israel wa3 estab- .i
lished a firm, deep-rooted, living natioD.
The foundation was laid, on which could
be carried out the work of temple building. |
"Will set up thy seed." Exalt to royal i
rule ana powc. rsoc any oj. m? uunp imuz -_?
then, but from among those who rboulff V;'
be born unto him there should be a selection
for the throne. A gracious pro:ni$o -t; #
to David following his denial from building' 3
the temple. The kingdom so dear to him '
should prosper, and through his own son. '
23. "Shall build an houee." The second /'.j
promise made to David was that the house
of the Lord should he built by David**
seed. The house which Solomon built cod- jtm
tinued four hundred years, till the time'
of the Babylonish exile, when it was tr.u'ued^MMj
i by Nebuchadnezzar (2 King? 2o:S)?pnWi^Bffi
v.-as rebuilt at the close of the ex.ilc%Kai*a- Vn
6:15), and of it then the prophet Iraggai '"^B|
said (Hag. 2:9), 'Thy glory of this latter H
| house shall be greater than that of the
| fonncr:' for this second temnle was the
[ connecting link between the Jews of Hag* V
I gai's time and the Messiah. "For rojr
name." The name ol' God signifies Go4 H
| Himself so far as He has revealed and G
manifested Himself to men. His promise M
concerning the teniple 'va< that He wculd * fi
i "put llis name there;" that is, that He
would be present-and reveal Himself'there . --4
in an cspecial manner. ''Forever." "The
word 'forever/ emphatiraMr twice repealed '
in verse 16, shown very distinctly that thi# J
prophecy looks fcoyo'id I he Bti.cce.*siou of J
the kings of .Judah of the house of David,
and embraces the thro:i? of the Christ, fl
according to the angel'* interpretation I
given in Luke 1:31-33, whore the rcfcrence ' *
to this passage faunot bo mistaken." ' ]
14-16. The third prouv-c was that Da- i\
? * 1 -1 > ! J- - o - '
viarc seen glioma ? : tug non <n v?ou *u *y M.
nieciili&r HOns?-. ''His JAtM-er." This prediction
applied to Solomon. "Will chasten."Tin's
v,\m another token ovc and tie km.
As a father Ho vvo-Jd pmu-ih that ho migot
uot continue in wronc;-i!.>i-!;?. Thoagli exalted
to i'<ie throne and honored aboye .'JI
others, tlli yon vjonld l?,nc the nature
of men and suff'T ;or cv'l.' rv? all men suffer
who sin. "My marcy ?l?al' not deport."
The family of Saul4hecann* totally e-tinct.
The family cf David n-ir ii:-.rd until the "
incarnation. Joseph^nnd !\T.i;-y were both
of thst family. .T?;?ie w><s "(lie orly heir to
the kingdom of Ifrcel. fie did not ciio*>
to sit on the secafnr hut aseended.
to the spiritual throne, and n.nr is exalf-ed .
to the right hand or <.Jru!, a Trinee and a A
Sf.vio:- ta give repentar*rc- atid remission -
of ein?. # '* i'li-ft
'V. David's urayt-r (v.. 'v2A). David #
ddrc-s to God crn?>ist* (??*, Humble
thanksgiving for the . otdtxtwed favor
shown to hit.) ard h's hoiv* (vs. 18-21). 2:
.I'rats^ for Cod -', pa^t !n.utifc*fcf?.iionB of
Hie slory in and to lira?) (vs. 22-24). 3.
Petition for the iinsl f?j!fiH:;sont of tho
T>romi*e (vs. 15-251). Tin'-, ( .vycr is a model
IV.. nil wli,. } Ilf. .JIclVl'tMal mWOT.
scat, it rsuuodic* (1 > confession, l5>
adoration aid (7) stipplieti-'pn. Observe
that although tie divine in-wise was m
?ure as God could n>nke it, vei David pray*
for its fiilSUtttf'Ut.
An OJtl Mun-of-ir.ir.
It. <? serif-ally believed ha1 the itorve'ad
vrssd _is a modem ??-.x<:'ion. TIk
Japanese Navy Department has diseovere
J Home diaivrRgs? showing that this type
tK fiuhtiv.', zc:u:?inc exit* -d in Japan a?
early a? the year }f>9S. The -Hianeee mai>oi'-w'ar
w&? ihtipod like a tnrMe, with iron
plates covering tfce exposed farts. It was
propelled by a paddle wUrvt v.orked "by.
me.i in the bold. ;it.d it carried a number
of gun$.
Kile P.iim.
For. iKp hurt five, years {'.? " (treat ijri^v- , ,-i
iion Trorfcp o:: the ?Ji!c. f'? haw
ivvt.-a Kiertdy employment to from 10.0?K>
to 20,003 Italian and native laborers. Most
of :heci arv if or: looking out for other
.vork. It is <?ori.ed from Cairo that several
thoutao'ie c! t hem intend- emipratiil*
to South Africa, where U?ey hope to foul
work in the Tr&B?vaa! gold mines.
No Coolicn F<?r Siberian Mine*. '
The (towD&r of the Amur Itae iakueil A
in order no Chinamen, Koreans o.?
lore UrniT* eh:Ul be employed in the gob!
mines of tbe Amur Province. A <wppfcf/.r.oi>(
lnp'niHit all fi 1-ny cfnxinavu
Ic< c.-'-rv roaties -o lUt mines. .
_ << *
'Income of Our CVutnnrs.
The to^ai iuceir.f! of all American farnv
era last y-?ar wne about-ga/HW,000,000. m