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H /VMAl". |By Anna Katharine Green,, copyright, ibbo, by * CHAPTER X. continued. Turning he took it in his hand, looked at it closely and grew more abstracted. "You see the initials are the same," Bhe ventured, and was going to say more, but he suddenly woke to hei presence and putting his finger on his lip remarked: "Better not speak the name, my deai young lady. You remember that you said, yourself, a -while ago, 'nc names!'" And smiling in his fatherly way he put the case in his pocket, together with the note he had already confiscated, and making her a low bov? remarked kindly: "That is all I have to ask of you toBay. Accept my thanks and believe that in all I do I will acft with due Consideration for your welfare." She felt herself dismissed and went, Though haughty in her manner toward her inferiors she felt subdued bj this man and showed it. When the floor had closed upon her Mr. Gryce stood shaking his head for a moment, thep quickly crossing the floor he threw open a door communicating with the adjoining room. Miss Hadden stood before him. "You heard?" he asked. ; She bowed silently. , . "That is all, then," continued he. "You see, she is more ignorant than vicious, and more foolish than either. I do not think she will ever attempt another escapade." Apd bowing low he left the lady, and Id a few instants later the house. On the 6toop he paused for a mo' ment Taking the cigarette case from "his pocket he gave it another long and troubled look. "Well," he cried, as he thrust it back figain in his pocket, "I am seventy odd and have seen more strange things than I am days old, and yet I am capable of feeling a surprise." And be hastened with all speed to the Police Headquarters. CHAPTER XI. MISS ROGERS, OF NEW YORK. On returning from Miss Hadden's school Mr. Gryce found the inspector immersed in business, mainly connected "with this affair. Some new facts had come to light, and from the mass of information which -was now his the inspector -was culling the most important items. Something 'Which he had come across appeared to astonish him greatly, for he looked both nervous and agitated. He "was glad to see Mr. Gryce, and as soon as that person was seated hastened to observe: "This plot is assuming great proporS tion, Gryce. Another girl by the name of Rogers has been found who knows the man of the gray eyes and black mustache, but I cannot think it Is the fomsv nnfcnn -tirVin trjlB CPPT1 hfl n f?i 112 rUUiU jpwovu ??MV ?*.W o o about the other girls, for she told me his name " "I beg pardon," interrupted Mr. Gryce, "but -was it this?" He showed tbe card which he had brought from his late interview. The Inspector took one look, stared at Mr. Gryce and remained silent. Evidently he found it difficult to believe the evidence of bis own eyes. "I know that it seems unaccountable," observed the detective, "but is that the name?" "It is." Mr. Gryce put the card back into bis pocket, drummed a restless tattoo on the table before him, and for a moment looked as perplexed as the inspector. Then his brow cleared. Once a fact was established he accepted it. "Then that matter is settled." he grimly declared. "We have found our man." The inspector frowned. "I can hardly believe it," said he. "There must be some mistake." "It does not look like it." "was the firm rejoinder. "This is the name of the gentleman mixed up in the affairs of the young lady belonging to Miss Hadden's school." "I regret to hear It." "And his description, like that of the person to whom you allude, tallies exactly with the appearance of the gentleman who bears this name." "A most unfortunate fact." "I agree with you. but we cannot shirk the truth." Then, as the inspector made no reply he inquired: "Any points to give me. sir?" The inspector nodded, and came at once to business, but not with his usual good grace. Even an old official like faim has some confidence left in human nature, which he finds it hard to sec destroyed. A half hour later Mr. Gryce sat !n his own especial corner, turning over the new facts just gleaned from the Inspector. They can be grouped under twe heads: First, those referring to the victims of the conspiracy, and. secondly, these referring to its agents. We will con?ider the first group first. Another Jenny Rogers had beer found; this we already know. She was a schoolteacher, living with her parents in a neat home south of Fourteenth street. Young, pretty, but with a decided physical defect that affected her gait, she went her humble round of duties with cheerful alacrity, looking for nothing more than her own exertions could bring her. But this contentment. honest as it was. was des "UCU l\J I'c ollill i-'* V iuicu upicu Ujf lliL events of a certain day. She bad been to school and was in one of her happiest moods, when, upon returning rc her home she found i:i its pretty pavloi a fine looking gentleman of superior manner. He was a stranger to her. but something in bis look made hei fed at ease in his presence and took , away the embarrassment which she usually felt under the gaze of thost ehe met for the first time. She there fore advanced with a smile, halting sc little that he evidently did not notice that sbe was lame, for his face lighted PJ'-f . ' ' . -tY*. . f. I rER * P .LIONS. A, I Anther of "The For??lte* ? ft Inn," Etc. I " up Avitli that ]ook of admiration which a woman never mistakes, as be said: "I have a letter of introduction to . you from a friend whose name you will at once recognize." And he handed her a short note writ ten by one of her most trusted asso ciates. i "Will that suffice to make my presence welcome, even if I should bore you with a personal question or two?" i Bore her! It did not seem as if he i could ever bore her. She smiled and - two exquisite dimples came into view. . The sight appeared to increase his ad miration. He took a seat somewhat - nearer her side. "Miss Rogers," he began, "I have . come upon an important errand. I am . looking. in behalf of a friend, for a > young person suitably qualified to take in charge and teach two motherless , children. I know you have a home?" . she had raised one hand in mute depre' cation?"but the offer which I am i ready to make you is one so generous > that I scarcely think you will hesitate , after hearing all its particulars. A i journey to Europe " ; Her face lighted up. "A nursery maid under you; consideration, kindness and love from the children's aunt, with whom you are expected to travel, and, lastly, ,money . enough " i 'Tlease!" The small hand went up , again. "I think I had rather not hear. ; I have wanted change, I have wanted travel, I need money, and I adore chil[ dren. but I have an invalid mother, and I cannot leave her even to procure the added means her almost helpless i condition demands. Let us talk of [ something else, for there is no "Use in | talking of this. She would die without my goou-mgni siss. [ It was not the girl herself who told i this story, thoifgli she corroborates it in its general details. It was an aunt, who sat, during the whole interview, i in the adjoining room, seemingly at j work, but in reality giving full attention to all that passed before her. It will, therefore, be understood that I give the aunt's opinion when I say that , this young girl never looked sweeter ' or more engaging than she did when uttering these last few words. The , gentl&nan showed that he appreciated , her charms, for his eyes kindled and | his manner became eager. "I have heard the most flattering remarks concerning your goodness and devotion to your mother," he warmly observed. "That is one reason why I have come to you upon this especial errand. I am glad to be assured that my informant understated the truth rather than exaggerated it If I only possessed the right I should say: 'The blessing of God falls upon the true, the pure and the virtuous,' and promise to grant you all your wishes, even to the satisfaction of your wildest dreams." "You are extravagant. You do not realize all that this means to a young girl." "Perhaps not, but it would amuse me to find out. What is the first thing you would ask for?" She laughed, she dimpled, she looked lovely. "What sort of play is this?" she cried. "Tell my wishes, and to a stranger? O no; not even if he were the wizard be would have to be to grant them." The gentleman smiled. "I am a wizard," he declared. "Test me and see. "Really?" "Really.** "You tempt me," srie cried. He continued to smile, but said nothing. "Shall I ask for something?" she inquired. "I entreat you.M "Very well," and her face grew suddenly demure in its mock gravity. "I? I want the world." "To-day?" he asked. ! "Oh, yes, to-day; I am not used to ; waiting." He laughed again, itl^en gravely shook his head. "It is too much. I fear " , She interrupted him wivh a mocking . pout, not out of keeping with her arch and innocent face. j "Do not fear," she cried. "Health, : I freedom and wealth will satisfy me. . Health for my mother and"?a shadow fell over her mirthfulness?"and for myself." ; He started. [ "Are you not well?" he asked. > "Oh. yes," she answered, with a sudi den clearing up of her countenance. "I . was only thinking"?and she stopped. She never alluded to her infirmity, i He did not appear to nctice the.deep meaning in all this. Her face was > fresh, her manner sparkling, and as long as she sat still her form was the i image of symmetry and grace. He proceeded with his banter and soon, to t their mutual surprise, they were con. versing as familiarly as if tij,ey had . been friends for years. j The aunt, who admind the gentlet man. and had an unbounded confidence ; in her niece, listened, but did not fol. low their talk too closely. She was . soon startled into attention, however, i not by what they said, but by the sudI den silence which had fallen between 1 them, and looking up she saw that her ; | niece, noxious to snow a oook or pic.! ture in illustration of what she had . | been saying, had risen and was limping i across the room. The sight seemed to .! r.ffect the gentleman strangely, for at i i this indisputable token of deformity he at first started and then showed so i much discomfiture that the aunt grew instantly angry. This feeling, which was perhaps natural in one who knew the young lady's virtues, was not des tined to pass away very soon. For. : j when her niece faced the stranger with . i the book she had brought lie was so . changed from his former self that he . scarcely noticed what she showed i him, but hurriedly-took out his watch . with the remark that he had an impor[! tant engagsment and should have to go. This change, coming so quickly : after an interest as marked as it was ^ respectful, struc-K xue young gin musi j painfully, and she blushed deeply as she returned his bow. But she con- 1 trived to say that she hoped to see him j again, even though she had been | obliged to refuse the request he had j urged. To which he replied by a hasty j "I hardly think I shall be able to come I again," instantly covered by the more ! polite remark: "I shall do myself the ! honor, certainly." After which he j backed out of the room and house with i an assumption of cordiality which, not j being real, left only the most unpleasant recollections behind it. What had it all meant? They never knew, for he never came again, nor did they ever have an opportunity to obtain any explanation from the frjend who had given him his letter of introduction. for this person naa sanea ior j^uroiJe uu i or about this time and had not yet returned. The letter, signed by this friend and containing the name of their strange visitor, -was all that remained to prove that the affair had not been a perplexing dream. The next fact that engaged the detective's attention was a more serious one. In the room of the girl who had perished in the alley had been found a box of bonbons of a make and quality so superior to what are usually indulged in by the daughters of toil that attention was at once attracted to them. The physician especially who had conducted the autopsy over the poor girl's remains had shown the greatest interest in it, finally carryng it home and subjecting the sweets to a test that effectually proved the presence of poison in them. This discovery altered the whole character of the affair, and eventually affected the verdict. For the poison there found was a subtle one, capable of producing the very effects noticed in the young girl. sue miu, tuereiuie. iviiuuuiuuuui, uku from poison, and the person who gave her these sweets was open to the charge of murder. Feeling that the affair was becoming somewhat oppressive Mr. Gryco. turned to ttfe consideration of the second group of facts given to him by the inspector. Hitherto attention had been given solely to such girls as had been proven to be victims of the plot. But the time had now come for a study j into the characters and actions of j those who, from their manner of life or the circumstances surrounding them I gave evidence of being suQeiently de- . praved to make it excusable in the po- j lice to search among them for the par- I ticular Jenny Rogers in whose behalf ' this conspiracy had been formed. A list of such girls lay before him, | together with such data as served to , individualize them and show why they had been regarded with doubt. In j number they were three, and In cir-! cumstances differed as much as their possible victims had done. One was a fashionable belle, veiling her wicked-1 ness behind a show of luxury and superficial glitter; another, a clairvoyant, suspected of very shady operations, but never convicted of anything worse than deceiving the weak and trusting ones who consulted her wisdom and re- ! lied upon her skill; the third, a well- j known adventuress, whose beauty and < whose means were both on the wane, J and who, of the three, Mr. Gryce at once decided to be the woman he was j in search of. His reasons for this were simple, j The woman, to whom the promise had j been made that in a month there should not be another of her name left in town, was walking at that time in ; a well lighted street at a very late ; hour. Now the fashionable belle al-! < luded to never walked. S?e boasted ' that the pavement did not know the j , touch of her feet; consequently he did ( not believe that she would have been i led to tread the streets so late with any companion or on any pretext what- ' ever. The clairvoyant was a different j sort of being. You could as little 1m- ! 1 agine her riding as the other walking. ; ' But she was one of those deep, farseeing ones who would as soon give away her soul as discuss any plan she had formed in the public street. The , adventuress, on the contrary, was im- ! , petuou^ and. if as wicked as the oth- | ers, was neither as fastidious nor as . wise. j ; ' To be continued. The Editor's Joy. There is but one more week of single blespedness for the editor of this paper. A young woman has consented i to take our name and 6hare with us the burdens and joys of life. She is Miss Elsie Ivitzmiller, youngest daughter of Mrs. Lavinia Ivitzmiller. Her father was Frank Ivitzmiller. a veteran of the Civil War, who died one year ago. The time set for the ceremony is next Wednesday at 2 o'clock in the arternoon at me nome or Mrs. ivhzmiller. A number of friends have been invited?but not nearly all. The house would not hold nearly one-third of all those "we" should have beeu j pleased to see present. (This Is not | the editor we?''"we having assumed a ; new significance.) But there "will be j enough, wc hope, to fill the house and see that the job is well done. There . will be no attendants. "We" will be the whole show. There will be no \ tears?every one will be glad to see us 1 (editorially us) finally married. There \ will be a happy bsndsome couple, the ! handsomeness being contributed by ; the other half. No one's life is complete who lives alone. No. of course not. To develop into a surly, crabbed, soul-shriveled old bachelor, or dwindle away an old maid full of vinegar and fool notions? what unhappier fate! To form a com- j plete and useful life, marriage Is a necessity as well as a luxury. Yet J these considerations are mere side is- ! sues. The first consideration is to find | some one you can love, respect, ad- ! mire. Love is apart from logic. It is j capricious. It frowns upon wealth. ! tramples over differences of age, | breaks down any established rules of precedence and astounds the coolly systematic. We are it. Time passes slowly.?Highland (Kan.) Vidette. A >aturni A Witchita fisherman is in deep disgrace with liis daughters. He was invited out to luncheon a few days ago and mistook a piece of macaroni on his plate for an angle worm.?Kansas City Star. The median age of th? white population in the la?t census y-sar was 23.4, and of the colored 19.T. A SERMON FOR SUNDAY ELOSUENT DISCOURSE BY THE REV. DR. S. PARKS CADMAN. Tlic Dlntlnsfclnliecl Brooklyn Divine Delivers a Powerful Address Entitled "The Calling of Life"?Why Wo Mub1 Offer to God Genuine Sainthood. Brooklyn*, N. Y.?Dr. Samuel Partes Cadman. pastor of the Central Congregational Church, occupied his pulpit for tne first time Sunday morning since his vaca' tion and his return from Europe. A large congregation had assembled. The sermoc was upon "The Calling of Liife," and the text irom tne nrst .tpisue iu me wim thians i:2, "Called to-be saints." Dr. Cad man said in the course of a strong sermon; To-day we ester upon the fifteenth yeai of our church's existence and work. Behind us lies the honorable past, conferring obligation more than feeding pride, a holy prophecy in living deeds and a strong root of confidence that God, even the God ol our fathers, who has reared this pillar tc His name and glory, will not break it in the midst. So tnis year of jubilee is upon us, and these considerations make it a priceless possession which our stewardship must guard and increase. These divisions of time are arbitrary, but influential. January 1 is but a moment'f space from December 31, and yet the birtb of a new year has witnessed in numberless instances spiritual and moral revolutions A few hours separate Good Friday from Easter Day, but if near in time, how dis^ tant are tney in meaning! These distinc' tions of the calendar arrest us. They break the crust of our conventionality they recall us to our original work and purposes and they inspire us with the re> alities of vision and of hope. Let xis beware of blaming our surround' ings for our weakness, our failure to in ct.pumpnf.i'iv convert men and control the present world in the intere* 3 of the kind' aom. The scant tfupplv of living waters is tco often caused by the choked pipe and its paucity prevents'man.* from seeking it, Pastors, teachers and workers of all churches should remember that the mightj tide of God's life and blessing finds its way to human hearts through their ap' pointed agencies. And the greatest church among us is only like a. port on the ocean's shore, dependent on it for increase and foi strength. Dredge deep the bar and cleanse awaj the silt of daily cares. Then, when the text i3 thus understood and ooeyed, com' merce with the unseen world shall bring us wealthier freights, and life, which now seems far away, and inland shall be lifted upon this resistless affluence of blessing and brought back to God. But sainthood is no passive movement dependent on our inaction, hesitating when we are alert and shy-of any effort we car make to secure its franchise. It absorbs into one flame of devotion altar and sacri fice. It insists upon the full employment of every capacity and new and better obe diences. It bias you rise from the low grounds of despair and cease to say: 'What might I not have made of Thv fail world had I but lived Thy highest." God's love and health arc vcurs, willing to meel your readjustment of energy and of aim. Lord Salisbury's favorite advice to those who pestered him about hia world-com' pelling diplomacy bade them "Study largei maps." And the sweep of God's plan in your life and mine is wide unto tne infi' nite, tender and wise and capable beyond our utmost imagination. When the apostle wrote these words he was conscious oi their high supremacy, and yet tnev are but a faint reflection of the weight of glory God has chosen to give perfected char acter after the pattern of the Master. If we see the excellency of this calling it should mean for us the objective point where the finest energies of the soul are constantly in service. The pity of it i9 that we are busy overmuch in trivial and immaterial things and struggle in the meshes oi the commonplace. Our soul's pace is Iiab!e to be set to perishable strains, where noble means arc used for little ends. Strenuous life is wise when its aims are correspondingly high, but it was said of a noble Roman "Dornitian is always busy?catching flies." To be born a man and die?not a saint, defeats the central thousrht of our loving Creator. Manhood sacrificed to anythinc less than the Maker's purpose is manhood lost. We may pursue tne petty round until high achievement and its possibility are paralyzed. You naturally ask, What is sainthood? It is spiritual health and moral thoughtfulness. "It is," to quote a significant utterance of Dr. Arnold, of Rugby, "the inquiring love of truth sustained by the devoted love of goodness." It is wholesome, because it ia holy, set about and adorned by the abiding beauty of holiness, rightly understood. It is "practice, not theory; con btrcrauuu, nuo periecuuu. u tuuujiuiu va character and not a theological definition. It is the kinship in willing and feeling oi your spirit to the sDirit of Christ, who was the very will and heart of God in human flesh. Because it flews out of the fulness of God and is accepted by our belief, it is a catholic blessing, and there has been no more mischievous teaching than that which has limited it to a sect within the church. Being God's gift, its only condition of existence in you is your hearty trust and acceptance of the same, followed by constant effort to walk in Christ's way. Alike for all who profess and call themselves Christians, for brilliant but blameworthy Corinthians, for generous but fickle Galatians, for Ephesus in her dearth of first love, as for Sardis and Laodicea, with little more than a mere name to live; let none draw back from this divine election or declare the boon is not for them. Many shrink from this term "saint" because it has been defamed by the charlatan and soiled by all ignoble use. Pharisaical sanctimoniousness and bizoted exclusiveness and false standards of the real meas ure and quality of sainthood have hindered its free range. But, rightly known, it is the spirit of the heavens witHin the wheels of earthly intercourse. Cardinal Newman reflected upon the church of his birth that she failed to prou_ce sainthood, and the Roman communion. he declared, was first and singular in this respect. How rudely be challenged Anglican complacency some of us know. Capable of much, it was wanting here. Bi?nops, theologians, exegists. ecclesiastical statesmen it could _ and did afford, but saints, no. Bishon Kew, John Keble and Richard William Church are sufficient evidence to the contrary. And I only quote the cardinal to show how segregated ideals and types of sainthood may mislead a foremost spiritual genius. The challenge Newman flung down we ore bound to take up for oursc-lves. No more searching question than this can be brought to our fiftieth anniversary. How is this ideal of the New Testament being realized by this flock of God? His we are whom we serve. He justly realms 110 fnr TTia <v.vn plpft. nnd TirpfioilR. And beyond our cautious Puritan temper and our dislike for the mvatic and the esot2ric, all the heaven of His purpose awaits tne sweep of our faith. I plead lor abandon in the front of this gracious calling: for that sanctified recklessness which led St. Augustine to cry. "Give what thou commandest, then command what thou wilt." Two main lines of Christian culture arc open to us all. First, we can seek for a renewed, invigorated personal relation to God. Detached from minor enteglements, we may prove with the pure in all nget that the frontiers of a man's life are not the stronghold. Remote, aloft and lonely is the source of uncreated strength and goodness. And second, from the mount to the multitude is but a step. Christ continually took it. meditating between the vigil of the night and the burner of the day. What can I be? What can I do? Answer. oh. thou God of my people, thou Redeemer of mr soul! Neither of these methods of soul development should be without its partner. "Solitude is to character what space is to a tree." And alone with God. our hiding pla: . is no cell where "we wind ourselves too high for-sinful man below the skv;*' it is the sanctuary where strength and wisdom are nourished for the dai.y battle. N?rv7(-e jf. to character wnat atnieucs are to the physical frame. And when all apologetics fail to halt the proud concourse ci an nliea world, duty well conceived and done can turn the wondc-ricg multitudes from their fruitier auest and make them ask. whence received these Gordons ar.d Livingstones their warrant? The nameles; saints" who heal the wounds of the world and would bfosh to give the'ir deeds name, are the joy and crown of the Bride(rroom and His Bride. Those who lay upon ' i 1 Iko Wlincf rlntirx: trho claim I J1C1I1SC1 V CO tut iunjjww uu%.vv. in modest retirement their alliance with ' the unseen but beloved One, are at this ( very hour the salt, the leaven, the preser- i vation of God's cause upon the earth. Both theae methods of solitude and serv- 3 l ice centre in Jesus Christ. He is our unt failing supply, the Mediator of the cove- 1 nant in all its branches. In Hi.n the best, j the real self of men is revivified and rein- 1 i forced. And as we appropriate His life J and His example we mate our largest J* : gains in the infinite, the eternal, the holy ] and the good. In Him we are commended, ; ! redeemed and called unto this fellowship, j ] i When governing forces around us are , j ; brutal, when certain aspects of national I existence are without a moral gleam, when ' practical infidelity displays its lures and < vices catch the unwary, how should we or- ' .* der ourselves save by the light of this com- ] mand the text enjoins? What humanity ' ; primarily needs is not a changed environ- , 1 ' ment so much as a regenerated heart. j r ; I noticed on our homeward voyage that . [ the giantess steamship Cedric, because of J i her bulk, outrode the fierce Atlantic. By J i virtue of her increase the proud wave? ! . i were stayed. How many men dread the , j l sea of life with its adventure, because their j 1 t size is unequal to the shock. So they j tarry in the harbor till death's fog covers ; all, their work not done. i And in order that lynchings may cease, i and justice be undefiled, and the fool and j ! the knave plucked out of tLe seats of lead- ' j ership, and the demagogue and the tricks- : ^ i ter cease to defraud labor communities. ; ^ and defeat lawful enterprise, one radical , and sufficient step must be taken, and the j , r church must take it. We must offer to j j , God and to society genuine sainthood. For j ( I its verities I am thankful, as for the di?- | ( ferent colors and scents of a garden of i , flowers. A St. Francis, a Cromwell, a j i Wesley, an Edwards; one loving devo- : . tional retirement, another political action, j 1 a third the flaming evangel; a fourth profoundest thougnt, but all in their different gilts the fruit of the tree of life whose ! i [ leaves are for the healing of the nations, j ( , These spell across a world's program the J I great words, God, the soul, immortality : , ' and honor. j ( ^ I [ Ingratitnde. r i Ingratitude in those who have helped in j \ ! their desire to do better things will not ( injure you in the least particular, if you | steadfastly refuse to allow it to stir up j ' -our feelings, and to make a way into your i : heart for anger, and what is Lorn of it. ] You have haa reward enough in being per- | ; raitted to do the Christlike office of help- j ' ing the unfortunate and the sorrowful, j I Take that gift and be glad. ; The twinge you feel may be a reminder j that your motives were not pure, but were j , mixed with something which you are not ' i willing to admit to yourself in doing the ' t good which you did, and that the inerati- j ) tude of whicn you complain is sent of God j to make this revelation that you may ; have a further reward in getting to know what is in yourself. As much wnich prof- \ ' its you is from what is bitter, and as God is seeking to make the best possible use of you in this world, and to nave you prei pared for the glorious future to which you ; aspire, then thank God for the ingratitude you feel so greatly because of the hidden j store of evil it shows you in yourself, and | at'once co-operate with bod in getting rid j } of it, When this has been done faithfully, j f i and you find that you are able to see such j i ingratitude with a smile of content, and i 1 I thus realize that what you do for others ! ! is for Christ's sake, and not for other j i motives, you have reached a spiritual con- i ; dition which is approximating what y?u j are to be for ever when you are following i the Lamb whithersoever He goeth in j heaven. What we bear for Christ is as i : much an indication of His spirit being in j : us as what we do for Him and His cause. ; It is a great and consolatory truth that , Christ is our burden-bearer, but it is alsa true that we are to follow Him in bearing ; the contradiction of sinners against our peace of mind with the same spirit He i showed when in the tons of the wicked.-* ; Presbyterian Journal. ! ] How to Begin the Day. i I begin my day's work some mornings, f perhaps wearied, perhaps annoyed by a i ' multiplicity of trifles which seem too small j 1 to bring great principles to bear upon i 3 LilCAli. XJ Ul UU )U u xiuu (>11111IV bUUC nvum I be a strange change wrought in the petty I ? annoyances of every day and in the 7mall 1 ! trifles that all our lives, of whatever tex- j , ture they are, must largely be composed I of, if we began each day and task with I that old prayer: "Rise. Lord, and let Thine enemies be scattered?" Do you not ' think there would come a quiet in our Hearts and a victorious peace to which we are too much strangers? If we carried the assurance that there is One that fights for us into the trifles as well as into the sore ; struggles of our lives, we should have peace and victory. Most of us will not ; nave many large occasions of trial and conflict in our career, and if God's fighting for 1 us is not actual in regard to the small annoyances of home and daily life, I know . not for what it is available. "Many mickles make a muokle." and there are more deaths in skirmishes than in the 1 pitched fie'.d of a great battle. More Christian people lose their hold of God, their sense of His presence and are beaten accordingly, by reason of the little enemies that come down on them like a cloud of gnats on a summer's evening, than are ! ' defeated by the shock of a great assault i or a great temptation, which calls out their 1 strength and sends them to their knees to ask for he!p from God.?John Watson, | D. D. They Trusted God. There was a knock at the door of Aunt ! t Fanny's pleasant kitchen one morning, and j r\r\ Btane n lifrfl** <rirl Ttrifh n hflR- i f ket on her arm. j c "Don't you want to buy something?" she j i asked as she came in. "Here are some i t nice home-knit stockings." "Surely, you , ] did not knit these stockings yourself, little ! girl?" said Aunt Fanny. I "No, ma'am, but grandma did. She is j lame, and so she sits still and knits the ; ( things, and I run about to sell them; that's > ! the way we get along. She says we are ! partners, and so I wrote out a sign and j nut it over the fireplace: 'Grandma & j Maggie.' " Aunt Fanny laughed and bought the . i stockings, ancl ns she counted out the j money to par for them Maggie said: "This ' will bur the "bread and butter for supper." ! "What if rou had not sold anything?" | asked Aunt Fa my. J But Maggie shook her head. # j "You see. we prayed, 'Give us this day 1 i our daily bread.' and God has promised to ; Vt/io v* ipncn trt'L'fi T\T?o\r* cn T miPflQ fll PTP i wasn't any 'if about"7 l't. When He saya I thing6, they're sure and certain." \ * ???????? , ( The ReDt Provided. j 1 I was pastor of a small Western church ( and my salary was not very large. One 1 r Saturday afternoon wife and I found that ( we did not have enourh money to pay the i rent, which was due the next Monday. i , We knelt in prayer and asked our heav- j enly Father to supply our need as He had j 1 promised to do. We prayed for $5. The , next morning at Sabbath-school, a good j brother who was 5 member of another ; church, came to me and asked if I needed S3. I said, '"Well, to tell the truth, I do." | 1 He then said that during the previoua ' night he awoke at midnight and the first * tr.ing he thought of was. '"You give Broth- ' er $5." After thinking it over a few 1 minutes he said, "Ail right, Lord," and : 1 went to sleep. I J ' The next morning he approached me as above mentioned, and handed me the $5. 1 The incident is the more remarkable be- | cause this brother was a heavy contributor t to his own church in another city, and < while he worshiped with us and helped < with the incidental expenses, yet he had t 1 never been a contributor to the pastor'# i soitry.?H. C. S.. in the Ham's Horn. Oar Friend. We have a friend who knows us better t than we know ourselves, loves us better t | than we love ourselves, helps us when we t cannot help ourselves, and in the midst of 1 ! . our deepest despair breathes into our c heart the breath of a new and divine hope, t ?.T*mea Frepmnn C'lerkt*. i c I r Two Ncces?itiec. : r Self-denial anil self-government are nee- ' J : essary to the friendship both of God and . t man.?George Walker. Joy Urjond Joy. DeEire joy and thanic God for it. Re* i nounee it, if r.?ed be, for others' sake. [ That'e j&y beyond joy.?I>rowniag. v* '/tv* V ''' * ^ KE RELIGIOUS LIFE READING FOR THE QUIET HOUP WHEN THE SOUL INVITES ITSELF. Poeint The Last Voyaje?The Allied Forcei of Righteousness?We Need Some FauJ Around to Brine Us to Our Sense! "With Keen Sarcasm. My -work on earth is well nigh done, [ wait the setting of the sun. t hear the surging of the sea rhat heats upon eternity. [ see far off the shadowy realm, A.nd thither turn the trembling helm. rhe winds that blow so cold and drear 3row softer as the end draws near! rhe distant eleams of silver light Relieve the aarkness of the night. rhere stands upon the misty shore, Faint forms of loved ones gone before! rhe voice that onoe said "Peace, he still," Mow whispers softly "Fear no ill." [ sail alone, yet not alone, rhe Saviour takes me for His own. [ wait His greeting when I land, [ wait the grasp of Christ's blessed hanJ. ?Bishop Clarke. Selfishneia iii Religion. In this age of evangelization, when all :he signs of the times are looking toward :he widening of Christ's kingdom prepara:ory to His coming, it is precious to read ;his tender prayer oi Jesus for us (John tvii and 1 Corinthians i. Sent down through ;he ages it rings as clearly to our hearts as f we had stood with Him beside the Sea >f Galilee or walked with Him in the garlen ourselves. "Neither pray I for these ilonej but for them also which shall beieve on Me." That means us. Shall we lot listen eageriy now to this prayer which vas His longing for you and me? "That they all may be one." We draw "back at this and look 6orrowiil. There is that woman in the same :hurch with us with whom we will not :npalr TTiptp to fhnf man nf nnr nwn fam .v with whom we have a bitter contention. Dh, yes; he is a Christian, too, but a nighty poor one, we thmk. What's that? rhis prayer for him also? And that dis* igreeable girl who got your Sunday-school :lass away from you and only wanted to lirt with the boys and show her pretty lats, and can't teach, anyway? Yes, and ;hat fellow member of your own commit:ee who insists on doing everything in the vrong way so that you have given up joing to the committee meetings and are ;hinking of handing in your resignation! )ne. Jesus wanted you to b: one with ;very one of these, because He loved .hem, too. Ah! we are not doing our best to answer hat prayer, are we ? And how intensely one He wanted us to )e with all His own. "As Thou, Father, trt in Me and I in Thee." The oneness hat was one even to suffering and dying. Lhe oneness that was so perfect that even he world could find no difference?the :urious, prying, sneering world. Ah, yes, the world does sneer. When a ihurch has a doctrinal quarrel, who rises ip to point it out quicker than the world, ind when a man who bears the name of Christian goes wrong, the world claps its lands in joy and savs, "The churcn has alien, the beautiful pnufth, and her shame . l i : : j^ it A' J x^iL s iier uuabu uuu pnue. auu xju uit ui ic* igiou8 gossip is more eageriv snatched up ind blazont- around than the details of a :hurch fight. How pitifully does this show forth that ,ve, Christ's children, have lost sight of ;he object of our being Christiana ra this vorld, "that the world may believe that Ihou has sent Me." And we care more ibout proving that our individual opinion >r way is right, or asserting our own petty luthority somewhere, and living by the nore strict and formal rules of etiquette, ;han for showing the world that Christ vas God-sent. "I in them, and Thou in Me." Do^s it lot seem as if we might be nerfect with a jod-filled Christ in us? Actually in us, iving our lives for us, for that is what Jesus will do if we let Him. Do you fancy or one minute that Jesus, were He now n your place, would carry that grudge or ook askance at tiiat girl who has slighted wu, or hold bitterness toward any man? Ind yet you excuse yourself for doing k, ind see not that, so long as you allow such ;eelings to rule your life Christ is not one vith you. Thank God that the denominational con:entions are not so bitter as they used to 3e a few years ago. Bishop Vincent, in a nemorable sermon St Chautauqua years igo, described the different denominations is vast arches of one perfect temple deligned by God, and more and more do they >eem to be forgetting their individual itones and curves, which are so necessary :o their individual completion and to be fhinking of their unity with all the other irches, and how they are meant to form ip abiding place for the living God. 'We need some Paul around to-day to ?ring us to our senses with the keen sar;asm. "Is Christ divided? Was Paul cru:ified for you?" After all, why do you and [ care so mightilv for tue opinions we lold, and the neople we like ana the things ve oyrselves have planned. Have any of hem pvpr Tippn rd miirh tft its da Christ vould be if we would let Him? The thinkers of to-day are most of them igreed that the signs of the coming of ;Ee Lord have been or are being fulfilled low. The kingdom might come at any ;ime. What is hindering it? Can it be ;hat one thing is the contentious spirit in ;he churches?the heedlessness of Christ's >wn, who have forgotten this His praver 'or them that they might be one wita Him md His Father? It is a wonderful thought that in our vork you and I may have the strong arms )f God and Christ to re^y upon when we ire hard pressed. With God for us all hings are possible. ? Grace Livingston HLill, in the New York Mail and Express, Ingratitude. We live in God's world. He hath fitted ip this world house as no prince hath iver fitted up the halls of a palace. Wo Dreathe His air, are warmed by His eumners, we feed upon His harvests. we are pilgrims who stoop and drink at His fountains. The angel of His providence goes before us to prepare life's way; the angel >f His mercy follows after us to recover J8 from transgressions. And how shall nen meet such overflowing generosity save vith instant obedience? What mark icross the page or memory so black as the nark of ingratitude?Newell D wight EZillis. Make It Sqasre First. "I don't think I can be a Christian,* laid one of my little Sabbath-school class, 'because it's so hard. You have o think ieht things, and to do right things." It may be hard," said the boy sitting lest to him; "but how about meeting Goa ome day without being a Christian? fou've got to answer Him for all those vrong words and things, and it's going to )e a heap harder than if you iaven t made t square first." Silent Thread* of Gold. Little self-denials, little honesties, little passing words of sympathy, little name le^i acta of kindness, little silent victories >ver favorite temptations?these are the silent threads of gold, which, when woven together, gleam out so brightly in the pattern of life that God approves.?Dean Farrar. Erfry Dij Sacred. Every day should be sacred. Ther* | ihould be no break between Sabbaths. The j :able of divine motivn should stretch :hrough 6even days, touching witn ua lanctifving power every hour of every iav.-' ihoD Vincent. Engineers ami Draughtsmen Out. As a result or the closing down of a lumber of Pennsylvania steel mil's. several engineering firms have discharged heir draughtsmen. It is estimated that | Oil iren who have been employed in this apacity are idle in Pittsburg. Owing to he new machinery work a great coiony >f engineers and draughtsmen have been ollected in Pittsburg. Manv of the idle leaving trip ritv^ eninc to Sf?"th \merica. Africa and the Facinc Coast, u.? heir services are in great demand. Tan Leather by X-R.sys. Ilie first application of X-rays to ndiistry is in tannine leather. TIE SUNDAY SCHOOL J INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS FOR OCTOBER 25. > .''vl (subject: David's Joy Over Forgiveness* : Psalm 33?Golden Text, Fsa. 32, 1? Memory Verses, 5-7?Commentary on ' I tlie J>ay'S Lesson. J I. Confession and forgiveness (vs. 1-5)* M 1, 2. ' Blessed." "In the Hebrew this word is plural and an exclamation, thuer 'Oh. the blessednesses!' Only a forgiven man can know the delights of pardon.'* "Transgression." A going out of the way> passing a given boundary, doing what 18 prohibited. "Forgiven." Lifted off so that the pardoned sinner is eased of a bur- , " den and enjoys pardon. "Sin." Missing 'N the mark, falling short of a given point. * ' ?,:- -- n( ]nw. "Id 1 Olll lb LI1C uauogivomvu w* ? t . covered." Sin makes us loathesome. filthy, and abominable in the sight of God, and utterly unfit for communion with Him. It must be covered by God". When it is par- .- ? doned it is covered by divine mercy from' justice. "Imputeth." Chargeth not to his account, "does not require for sins the debt of punishment," but pardons them. "No guile." No deceit, no false estimate / .< of himself, nor insincerity before God. Sin is the only cause of misery, and for- * eiveness is the beginning of a sinner's j happiness. A 3. "When- I kept silence." Before JC 1 humbled myself and confessed my sill. It ' " seems that David before Nathan came to- .; ! him had often been exceedingly tortured ' K in his conscience on account of the crimes he had committed (2 Sam. 11:27; 12:1, 6), ' I vet reluctance to humble himself before " ; God, or to be considered a criminal vy < men, led him to keep silence. "My bones g waxed old." "Mr spirits failed and the \ strength of my body decayed." "Roaring." Moaning or groaning because of the con- , ; tinual horrors of conscience and sense of H God's wrath. This shows the depth of his ? repentance. 4. "Thy hand." God's correcting hatid < whereby He scourgeth His children, bringing a remembrance of guilt. "My moisture > i is turned." There is a spiritual drought < when the soul is in anguish instead of I refreshing seasons from the presence of the j Lord. David lived in a country "where i I parching heats and saturating moisture alI ternate, and the valleys, sometimes green ; j and fruitful and fragrant, were at other ^ [ times desolate and narched. It is quite t possible that sin in David's case, as in so- A | many others, brought physical illness as < i result. "Selah." This is used in Hebrew /J i poetry and music to indicate a pause; to emphasize the truth and express a devout % ! response 01 tne nears umo uuu. ^ wu-. T? cated also that' at that point the writer had been inspired and taught some new ' js lesson. It sometimes indicates a change- < in the subject. 5. "I acknowledged . . . thou forgnv- f est." It was after much anguish and strug- M gling that David was brought to confession,. fl but his reward was abundant, for mercy n was extended. He had covered his sin nnsuccessfully, yet when he uncovered it'God I covered it effectually. Where before he ! j had felt hardnees <jf heart and distress of .J I soul he now felt forgiveness of his sxbb J and the mercv of the Lord extended. " 9 . II. Confidence in God (vs. 8-11). 0. "For this." Because the Lord had so- ' ? graciously answered his prayer, every one oj that was goodly should be encouraged teDray. "In a time." Compare Isa. 55:0: , Deut. 4:29. Because Jehovah has proved J Himself so ready to hear even the sinner,. . -H the piou3 are urged to cry to Him before some sudden flood of temptation has made . them lose His presence; so shall the greafc ^J waters in which the psalmist sank be prevented from ever reaching them. "Mayeefc i be found." Literally, "the time of finding:" it may just as readily refer to the j finding of forgiveness as to the finding of Jehovah. "Great waters." In this ease there mny be a particular allusion to the-. Hi interval between the sin and punishment,. during which the confessions and impor- 4| tunate petitions of the sinner may atail* to arrest the judgments which must inevitably follow. Violent trials, afflictions , v ? and temptations shall not overcome the soul who prays acceptably and trusts implicitly; but the sinner who persists m iniquity shall certainly be swept away by the floods of divine judgment, and so for- ' ever nerish. m 7, 8. "Hiding place." City of refuge, a protection against enemies. "Preserveme." Keep me from being overcome"Compass me." Surround me as with a wall; enclose me within. "Songs of deliverance." The free spirit poured forth songs of praise and thanksgiving on air } occasions, thus admitting no place for evil wordfe or thoughts. A constant re- ; ' "membrance of pardon bestowed was ft protection against further sin. "Instruct thee." A gracious promise (riven to a ---? ? ?.1 k;- j hum Die, paraoneu sum, cccumi* uw ^ _ velopment in the ways of righteousness. 48 God Himself being teacher. "I will guide." j Exercise the most watchful, accurate and ; J personal care. 9. "As the horse." etc. Do not be stubborn or headstrong like the horse or mule. A different class is here addressed, that^HBH cannot be trusted upon the ground oflm reason or moral obligation, and must b? n governed bv force. "Bit and bridle."- Tha^HMH is, by harsh and forcible means. Our re^HRB son and wisdom ought to do for us wh^^^^^Q the bit'does for the mule. "Else they vflRB not come near." The R. V. gives the ! rect rendering. Without bit and | the animals referred tft wiil not stay wi^H^MH j reach. If man will not draw near to I and obey Him of his own free will, he iHn&nS , er3 himself to the level of a brute (ls&. l^BHBHH ! and must expect to be treated accord 1 and disciplined by the judgments of (KflSBf (Isa. 26:9-11). IggHE 10. 11. "Many sorrows," etc. Sin ! iniwrv ffn tnorpther. Those who are : ordinate God will curb and chasten I affliction, both to humble them and ?ho^B^H| > them His power. "This verse teaches tbaHHH events are good or bad according to goodness or badness of the man they af-^^^H feet; that the riches of a rich worldling arebound to be a curse and to bring many M sorrows, while to the humble, trustful soul ^ comes a great blessing." "Mercy shall 1 compass." He shall be surrounded with mercy. as one is surrounded br the air op by tlie sunlight. He shall fina mercy and favor everywhere?at home. - abroad; by ^ day, bv night; in societv. in solitude; in ! sickness, in health; in life, in death; in j time, in eternitr. He shall walk amid mercies; he shall die amid mercies; ho j shall live in a better world in the midst J of eternal mercies. "Be glad . . . rejoice vl . . . shout." How wonderful t4 enultation may follow such iniquity and remorse! There must be sincere Borrow, full confession, earnest prayer, simple faith and holiest purpose to cease from sin. Then there is fuli remission and a freedom of spirit, a sense of deliverance and of divine mercy that causes ail within the ransomed nature to rejoice. This is the j e'senee of joy unspeakable and full of 1 glory. Compare 1 Pet. 1:8. j IMver Hitrnvised by Mighty Plant. At York Haven, a ?mall town on the Susquehanna River, about sixteen mile? from Harrisburg and eleven miles above I York, P?., is situated the tremendous plant of the \ork Haven Water and Pow- m er Company. This concern is now eoai i pleting a perfect system of harnessing the 8 I Knamipk?niiK River at that Doint for the q | purpose of generating sufficient electrical power by means of a great flow of water ) to furnish prominent cities and towns in Southern Pennsylvania with an electric current that can be used for any and all purposes. The building operation is probably the largest tbat has ever been undertaken in Southern Pennsylvania. and the^H|H plant is, perhaps, second only in impor^HBH| tance to the great Niagart power plant Niagara Falls. Great Increase in Production of'Co^^^^H For the first time in the history oflEflH&H United States the production of coaJflB9gm| reached a total of over 300.000.000 tons, showing an actual output of 30^HHh[H| 659 tons of 2000 pounds, valued at flBBjgBH 133.843. The output of anthraciteBBBH^H amounted to 36,865.710 long tons, whi^^^fiDBHj compared with the production in 1 shows a decrease of 23,376,850 tons, | most forty per cent. CnvB firrmRn Hnrtrt Ant Count von Lehndorfif, the Prussian ter of the Horse, has reported to EmperaHHHH William that the climatic and food cona^^BB tions make German, horses inferior to tbe^^HH English and French horses, and that therefore a full regeneration of the German stock cannot be too quickly brought about by importing stallion*. *3