University of South Carolina Libraries
u a-matt t r K IK TT I By Anna natoarme ureen, ? %j. COPYRIGHT, 1830, BY K0 C-JAPTER XVI. Continued. ' *'I have not had much acquaintance with the plumage which the blind god sports, but if the happiness which I see there is from him I can only say that he chose a noble couple to bestow it upon. Mr. Degraw is a gifted man and Miss Rogers is a gifted woman. .Why should they not appreciate each other?" On the other side of the room the ubjects of these remarks were listening to the music and whispering short sentences into each other's ears. If Cupid were there he heard words Which surely had been murmured under his auspices before. Yet they are iilvrnvs new. "I love you, signorina, I love you, I love you! Do you think you can trust me to make you happy? I do not ask you to answer me at once, only do not forbid me speaking. You are so beautiful, so beautifull" . A soft sigh was her only reply. ' "I know that the time is short since "We were strangers, and I knew nothing of your life or of you. But such a rencontre as brought us first together' is equal to a year of common companionship, for in it were both death and life. I loved you when I thought you were dead, and now, that I touch you and hear you speak, I am moved by euch overwhelming emotions that for me there is nothing of interest in the rworld but love and our two selves." "Ah!" was again the murmured reply. "Is love so sweet? Does it compensate one for other worldly losses? I would gladly believe so. Teach me." "Will I not? Say only that you will not scorn the teacher, and all my life is at your service. I have not loved before?no, no, proud signorina, however you may smile, I have never even -thought that I loved before. You are my first adoration, and so deep already has the feeling gone that I ask nothing more from heaven than your love; not fame, not honor, not wealth; noth tag but you, you, you!" She might have responded: her lips tad opened and her eyes had flashed radiantly, but before the words could Issue from her lips there was a sudden lush in the music, and more than one whisperer paused and glanced hastily toward the door. A stranger was env . tering, a remarkable man, in whose tall form and courtly carriage all read gentleman, but not a gentleman they knew, not even the hostess. Who was lie? A dozen eyes asked the inquiry ibetween the instant when he crossed PV. the threshold and that in which he made his bow to the assembled company. Who was he? And the men ivere as eager as the ladies, for he deemed to have come there with a purpose. f It was but a moment, but that moment was never forgotten by any one then present in the room. First because of something they saw in the stranger. This was the sudden and / Overpowering admiration which he betrayed as his gaze passed straight be tore him to the wide window seat and its beautiful occupant. Not an eye in the room out followed him. to the 6ignorina's evident confusion and growing loveliness, for she had been caught ^ ;with the lovelight on her face, and, perhaps, with a confession on her lips, and she feared, if she did not know, that her secret was discovered. The second cause for this moment becoming memorable lay in the conduct of the hostess. She had taken the card which the servant had brought her, ana was looiiing at it wiia a wouuer ihe found it impossible to disguise. "Excuse me," she said, advancing to .the stranger with a cordial smile, in which, however, a certain tinge of floubt was visible, "is this your name ;which I find written on this card?" He started, turned from the object tvhich had evidently engrossed all his -thought, and made Miss Aspinwall another low bow. "Certainly, madam, it is my name," was his response, uttered in some surprise.' "I have here a letter of introduction from Mr. Morris, of Cleveland, which, if you will be kind enough to Tom! T choll fool mnra ?it linmn fn vrinr presence." She reached out her left hand mechanically, but her eyes "were still fixed upon the small bit of pasteboard she held in the right. "You must pardon me" she persisted. "but the name on this card is " She evidently found It hard to mention it. She looked across the room, and the color flashed into her face. The stranger, impressed, if not embarrassed. took up her sentence and nnisneu it ior lier. "The name on that card is mine," lie declared. "Hamilton Degraw. Do ar?n find anything strange in it?" CHAPTER XVII. THE FIIJST STEP TAKEN. ' Anything strange in it? Well, yes, there was something very strainge in it. A murmur rose throughout the room, anil, "with one accord, each head turned toward the artist, who himself bore the name just spoken. He had risen, and though all were ready to behold in his face surprise at this bizarre introduction of one of his own name into this limited circle, they were not prepared for the vivid expression of incomprehensible and growing emotion which his countenance so forcibly betrayed. It was as if he had received a shock in which there was something like fear, but the step he took forward and the gesture which lie made showed that the fear was not for himself, but for another; and the question immediately rose in every namu: "who is ims oiuer, ana wnat: is there to fear?" The gentleman whose introduction bad aroused all this curiosity was meanwhile standing in a courteous way before Miss Aspinwall. who. alter the first instant of hesitation, had jrreeted him with genuine warmth and one of her frankest smiles, ?? Bl 'ER : P LIONS. A, Author of "The Forsaken g BCWT BONNER'S SONS. A "You must pardon us," said she, "the seeming discourtesy of your "u-elcome. But there is another Hamilton Degraw in the room, and the name being an unusual one, my first thought was that you were seeking an IntroJ 1.1 TtTIll E.U tr. Tin. UUL'liUil IU lilLU. IV1U JUU on., iui> wtgraw, -while I read Mr. Morris' note?" The stranger smiled and bowed and took the seat offered him. He was in no degree embarrassed, and if con? scious of all the glances leveled upon him, did not show it. But perhaps he was not conscious of them. For, the moment his attention was released by the preoccupation of his hostess, he turned at once toward the windowseat with an eagerness that made the indignant blood leap into the cheeks of the watchful artist, and though there were no impertinence in his manner, nor any recognition beyond that which is accorded by an appreciative nature t& suddenly revealed 1 ..i- -H ueaui^', an muse, vvuu uau paoacu duiuciently beyond their first youth to have any insight into life and the human heart, felt that trdhble had entered the room with this second Hamilton Degraw, and that in the very moment of his introduction, the first scene in a drama bad opened, that would ere long occupy all theii thoughts. Nor was this seemingly unfelt even by the object of his interest. Though her agitation was natural enough when we consider that her heart and possibly her lips were trembling with the name he so unceremoniously announced to be bis own, there was sTill something in her attitude and the agitation which informed her whole figure, that expressed the presence of a fear similar to that expressed by the artist. Was it that she felt the burning ardor of this stranger's glance, and realized the complications which a new love at this time would occasion? Or had she become in some way aware that the name she had just heard was not only that of her lover, but the man who had wrought mischief with so many of the name of Jenny Kogersr wmcnever De me truiu, sue showed an emotion almost greater than that of her lover, though It did not last so long. By the time Miss Aspinwall had finished her note, the signorina's face had become calm, and her figure regained its poise, and though a steady pallor had taken the place of her fitful blushes, not a face in the room looked more composed or a mind more at its ease than hers. "I am much obliged to Mr. Morris," was Miss Aspinwall's remark, as she folded up the note. "I am always glad to receive aDy one upon his recommendation; and in this case his recommendation is very pressing." And, turning toward her friends, she observed, in her own gracious, dignified way: "Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you Mr. Degraw, Cleveland; a friend of my friend, and soon, I hope, to be a friend of each one of us." The young people Immediately crowded forward, for the stranger, while not handsome, that is, in comparison with the gentleman usually associated with his name, possessed a figure and bearing: likely to attract all lovers of elegance and culture. Two of the company only remained in the rear, and these were the signorina and her lover, who, not relaxing one iGTa of his defiance, stood at her side as if on guard, while ho sought to catch Miss Asplnwall's eye, as if to warn her to be careful in her demonstrations toward a person, with whom were connected his gravest doubts. For in the rapid glances which he had bestowed upon this interloper since his first entrance, he had noted that the stranger was tall, easy-mannered and possessed not only of the gray eyes which had misled the police in his own case, but of the black mustache also; and, believing that he had before him the man who had occasioned so much mischief in the city he had just left, he neither could suppress, nor did he endeavor to, the spirit of antagonism and rage which, without these reasons for dislike, would have been sufficiently aroused by the persistent delight which the stranger manifested in contemplating the woman whom the artist now regarded as his future wife. As Miss Aspinwall, therefore, guided her new guest from one person to an other, he followed them with a burning gaze, that presently took on a new fire as be perceived them turning toward himself and his now self-possesscd and apparently expectant companion. "Mr. Degraw," remarked Miss Aspinwall. refraining for various reasons from raising her eyes to the gaze which might have proved a warning to her had she met it, "allow me to present to you a gentleman of your own name, if not of your artistic calling. Our friend is the painter of whose works you must often have heard," she explained, turning to the gentleman at her side. "It -was on account of his presence that I manifested such surprise upon your introduction." "You are very pardonable," replied the stranger, politely. "I have heard of Mr. Degraw many times, and am truly glad to meet him." The artist frowned. What was there in tiiis person that commanded respect even from one who had every reason to believe him to be a villain. Was it his manner? It was perfect; but that the artist had been led to expect. Or was it his eye. which, if ardent, naa a cicuruess mat was uncommon, and a face which, if prejudice had not stood between him and its possessor, would have made him his undoubted admirer. The mystery of the thing chafed him. Not calculating his words, he replied, with scarcely veiled sarcasm: "And I have heard of this gentleman many times." Then, seeing that the other did not wince, he added, less pointedly: "At. least so I am led tc y V" . ' , J think from his appearance and manner." Evidently astonished at the greeting he Tiad received, the gentleman stared at the artist for a moment, then turned tovrard the signorina. Immediately Miss Aspimvall, still unobservant of the almost tTagic signs Tvhich the artist hurriedly made her, opened her lips to speak the formal Tvords of the neces ? TrliAn +ln? 11 ttPT* SiUy JUllUUUUUUU, lug ? stopped her by uttering it himself: "Signorina Valdi, allow rue to present to you Mr. Degraw, of Cleveland." Instantly an expression of surprise passed over every face. Though we still speak of the singer by the nam? under which we first knew her she had been universally known in this house by the simple one bequeathed to her by her parents. To hear her addressed, then, in this public "way by the stage name she had definitely discarded roused the curiosity of all who heard It. This the speaker had expected, but what he had not looked for, and which, coming at this critical moment, literally shook his self-possession, was the look of disappointment A 4.1+ - tnat came into tne countenances vi iuu two persons introduced. That the stranger was expecting fo hear a different name was evident, and that she f was not pleased at this effort to pre1 serve an incognito which she had definitely cast aside was equally plain. 1 She soon proved this to be a fact be' yond dispute. "I think," she remarked, smilingly to -"he artist, "that you allowed your self to forget that when I withdrew ' from the operatic state I dropped my stage name. I was Signorina Valdi, *r? r%. cfrnnrror 1\1I. L/C^iiiw, iVf IUC oviuuDvM "but now " She paused, for the artist had made her an unmistakable gesture?a gesture which had caused her ; to turn pale, but wliich did not hinder ' her from finishing the phrase which she had begun. "But now," she persisted, "it is as Jenny Rogers I am known, both here and elsewhere." It was done. The stranger looked relieved; the artist, discouraged. If safety lay for her under the incognito the latter had attempted to improvise for her she had thrown that safety aside. Did she realize k? There was > no token of the fact in her face, which was upturned to the stranger with confidence and content engraved upon its every lineament. Troubled at the sight her lover turned to Miss Aspinwall, and drawing her a step away said anxiously: "You must excuse any seeming rudeness which you may observe in me. I have no confidence in this man and was very desirous of preventing his introdction to Miss Rogers. Why, I cannot tell you now, but, believe me, the reason was good and such as you would pardon." Then, as he saw the person thus alluded to was too busy with his new acquaintance to notice this little side-talk, he added, hastily: "Be sure he is the person alluded to in his letter of introduction .before you show him too much attention. If he is the man I have every reason to believe him " But here the stranger turned and the artist was forced to leave his sentence uncompleted. Perhaps it was as well. A full knowledge of her guest's identity would have hopelessly embarrassed Miss Aspinwall and made the remainder of the evening unbearable. Whereas, now, it passed off without any marked constraint, though those who knew the hostess best were aware that all was not as it should be, either with her or tMs stranger. The doubt evoked by the artist's broken words remained In her eyes, and though the stranger did not remark it, others did, and were either pleased or displeased according to the character of the impression -which he had made upon them. Ten o'clock came and with It the departure of this gentleman, who for one reason or another, occupied the attention of every one present. When he rose to go?he had been talking for some time to a group of girls, though his attention did not seem to be with them, but 'with the face and figure of the beautiful signorina sitting a short distance from him, in .her old place on the "wide "window seat?there was an actual air of relief from all sides. And yet no one in all the room, not excepting even the handsome Artist, looked more nearly the beau ideal of manhood than this man with his tall and imposing figure, strong face and courteXDression. y To be continued. ________ The Rugtian Succession. It was hoped and expected in Russia that the Czar's only surviving brother, the Grand Duke Michael, who now bears the tile of Czarevitch, would shortly be displaced from this position by the birth of a male heir-apparent in the direct line, but for the fifth time since his marriage Nicholas II. has been disappointed, and this time more acutely than before. Four' daughters have been bom to him at pretty regular intervals since 1895, but now the imperial court physicians certify to the premature confinementof the Empress. The question of the Russian succession is by no means clear. According to a decree of the Emporor Paul of 1797, the succession is by right of primogeniture, with preference of male over female heirs, but this must be a different kind of law from that of oui own royal house, otherwise the Czar's brother would not be his present heirapparent in preference to his eldest daughter. Since the accession of the Romanoffs Russia has been ruled at various times by four empresses, but it is not certain that, failing the present Czarevitch?whose constitution is by no means robust?his position as the heir-apparent would not be taken by the Czar's uncle, the Grand Duke Vladimir, the handsomest and ablest member of the imperial house?a kind of cross in character and accompnsnments between Nicholas I., our antagonist of the Crimea, and his son Alexander II., the emancipator of the serfs. ?London Chronicle. Something In ? Name. There is a good deal in a name aftei I all. Don't give your baby oce that be ; will afterward be ashamed to write i under the disguise of an Initial.?New I York News. TIte Dest Investment. The best investment any man can i make is a judicious compliment here i and there.?New York Press. A SEKMOJN FUK SUJNDAY ; A DISCOURSE ENTITLED "IS THE OLD BOOK FROM COD?" , i iome of the Evidences That the Boolr We i Call the Bible Has Been Giver, to Us by the Inspiration of God?It is I'ecu- i liarly Man's Book. ( Philadelphia. ? The Rev. Dr. Kerr , Boyce Tunper, pastor of the First Baptist ( Church of this city, preached a strong sermon Sunday morning on "Is the Old liook ; -rom liod?" This is one of the oldest ( and strongest churches in the land. It , was presided over for thirty years by Dr. . Georze Dana Boardman, who was succeeded about eight years ago by Dr. Tupper. Two years ago. at a cost of nearly $400,000. a magnificent house of worshiD was erected 1 and $150,000 endowment laid aside. The congregations are very large, especially in the evening. The text for this sermon was from First Thessalonians ii-13: "We thank God without ceasing because when ye received the word of God ye received it not as the word of man. but as it is in truth, the word of God." Dr. Tupper said: Ancient history has preserved the tra- 1 dition that when, thirty centuries ago. the i r>itv nf Trnv was sacked bv the Greeks. the conquerors made the general proclam{ ation that each of the inhabitants thereof be permitted to save a single article of property especially dear to his own heart. Taking advantage of the offer, Aeueas selected his household gods and carried them in triumph and for joy to a place of safety. So pleased vere the Greeks by this unaffected act of piety that thev extended to him further indulgence, allowing him to save one other thing, when, returning in haste, he bore off on his shoulders his aged father, whose wisdom and affection constituted for him a priceless inheritance. Were the traditions thus related to repeat itself in history to-day and the privilege granted every genuine Christian believer. in a supposed season of calamity and privation, to make a selection of that one possession most higmy prired by him, j both because of its int-insic value and its I immortal influence, the truest wisdom ?_..U O and tn thousands. .in inexplicable choice. This choice would not be silver or gold, military fame or civic honor, profound learning or matchless elonuence; this choice would not be even father or mother, husband or wife, i son or daughter, friend or lover; precious I as might be each of these, it would not be the one thinaf wisely chosen if the choice I were mode both for time and eternity. | What then would the one thing be? | Strange as it may seem to many, the i calm. firm, heaven guided, intelligent choice of the earnest, thankful Christian I in that solemn, sacred hour, would be a certain book?a book ancient and artless, elevating and ennobling, divine and durable. As I utter this sentence you anticipate the designation I am about to make. You need not be told that. This book is no work of mere noetry, neither Eiad nor Odyssey. Milton's Odes nor Snarespeare's plays; no work of mere historv. neither Liw nor Tacitu?. Hallam nor Hume; no work of mere philosophy, neither Baoon nor Hamilton. Descartes nor Locke; no i book of mere biography, neither Plutarch I nor Lamartine, Remusnt nor Voltaire; no book of mere romance, neither George Eliot nor Scott, Bulwer nor Thackeray; no book of mere ethics, neither Plato nor Seneca. Pailv nor Pain; no book of Christian morality and meditation, neither Thomas a Kemms' "Imitation of Christ" nor Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress." Hooker's "Homi'ies" nor Paschal's "Thoughts" ?great ar-d good as are many if not all of these. immortal works some of them, rising like srand and majesb'c mountain peaks, catching and presenting to the world the glorious splendors of the highest human genius?we could see them and all else of man's creation burn into ashes or buried in the sea. if at their expense we might save to our hearts and lives here and hereafter that one 6ingle book, which has an oriein and a character and a mission and a destiny as far above every work of man's creation as the skies are above the clouds?that book whose "author is God. whose subject is man. whose object is salvation, whose end eternity"? that book of which Pollock, in an outVmrcf nf fervor and Christian faith, | so feelingly writes: I This lamp from off the everlasting throno Mercy took down, and iu the night of time i Stood casting on the dark and gracious how, And forevc: more beseeching men tfitb tears And earnest sighs, to hear, believe and live. > Surely, brethren, this must be the book I of all books, "which, "while full and rich . with the sweetest strains of poetry, the most, memorable deeds of history, the most inexhaustible stores of nhilosophy, the most thrilling incidents of biography, the Lftiest principles of ethical and moral teaching, counts no one of these its features of chiefest glory, but rather this: ' '1 hat for centuries it has gone up and down this world of ours, relieving human consciences, illuminanncr human intellects, redeeming human spirits, transforming human lives, and tnat, in so beautiful and glorious a degree, that the thinking world is bespnning to accept the statement of Schleimermacher, "To abolish the Bible is to pluck up 1 y the roots all that is noblest and truest and divinest in the ! world's civilization." J Oh! if there is one prayer tnat 1 oner ! ud dailv with more constancy and fervor j of soul than another in our age of theo* [ logical ferment and unrest, it is this: God. !1 *;eep me as an ambassador of Christ and I the jrreat urotherhood of Christian believI era, true now and alvray3 to the infallible Word of the eternal God. As in the p^st, supernatural revelation ha$ had to contend asainst the sophisms of Hume and t-e transcendental philosophy of Ger" a?.v. so to-day, all about us there are ! those who battle against the idea of a liv! ing, personal, omnipotent Jehovah, who can and dnes freely and fully communicate with His children; and to-day there is a call lone; and loud for those who accept tne Bible ns the full and satisfactory oracle from heaven, to stand up and out ajrainst all these attacks, and that, too, ! with convictions srrong and unshaken. ! And well may we do so when even the j French skeptic. Rousseau, gives such tesi timony as this: "The majesty of the Scriptures astonishes me, the holiness of | the evangelists speaks to my Heart, tne I whole rSible nas such strong and striking j characters of truth, and is, moreover, so j Perfectly illimitable, that if it had been l the invention of genius, the invention ! -would have been greater than the greatest I heroes." i With you to-day I come to consider the I ouestion*. What are some of the evidences j that the Book we call the Bibie has been I given by inspiration of God? I say some, for we have no tune, even if we had the j abi'.itv, to enumerate them all. That these ! sacred writers themselves believe that j theirs were the oracles of God is without j question. Hear David sing: "The spirit ! of the Lord spake by me and His word j was in my tongue;" and Isaiah, "Hear, oh ' heavens, and give ear, oh earth, for the ; Jjoru has spoken, the mouth of the Lord | hath spoken;" and Ezekiel, "The Word ' of the ijord came expressly to Ezekiel. ! tnr priest and the hand of the Lord was 1 i' ' i him:" nnu Peter, after the death of Judas, "Men and brethren, the Scripture must nreds have been fulfilled, which the Holy Ghost ov the mouth of David spake before concerning Judas;" and Paul wouiu : speak, "not in the words which man's wisdom teaehfcth, but which tho Ho Ghost ter.cheth. And how our Lord , throws the "broad shield of His infallible truthfulness" over the whole Old Testament canon, testifying both to the accufinz-l fhp inviolability of the Word of Gocl. The Old Testament was then, as now, divided into the Law. the Prophets and the sacred writings. Holding up the scroll that contained tisese, the Master of the ages with iirmness of conviction I -nd rapture of soul, could exclaim: "It | is written." Search the Scriptures, the | Scriptures cannot be broken. With the I spirit of these our consecrated predeces| sors, in Christian faith, let u? rejoice to' day as we study the divinity and inspiraj tion of the Word of God. Among the substantial truths of Bible inspiration is the pure and lofty character of the teaching that stamp and glorify and perpetuate the i pages of this mwe than humau hook? i teachings respecting God and man, holi- 1 nese ana sin, death and eternity. How the 1 whole circle of rel.gious truth from cenlr to^ circumference, is not only touched, bu Filled up by the revelations of this inspire Word. Take the one question of the Godhea ind the light thrown upon it by the sacre Scriptures. As Dr. Stuart A.obinson hr eloquently said, "The Bible maintained th unity ot UO(l amiu an lae aarsness ot m Western polytheism; the vivid personalit D- God amid all the sophistry of the E.is em pantheism; and ineffable purity < the holiness of God amid all the obscurit of Egyptian theories and Canaanitish ido atry; the omnipresence of God amid a the theories of (cods many and lord many." How infinitely above and beyon all human speculations are the revelation of the Divine Word respecting the Divir mind! How majestic such declarator as these* "In the beginning God create the heavens and the earth; before tt mountains were brought forth of ev< Thou hadst formed tne earth and th world, even from everlasting to everlas inc. Tnou are God:" "God is a spirit; "God is love:" "God is light." In a maj nificent treatise on this fundamental que tion of God and the revelations respectin it made by the Scriptures, an America writer has pointed out five conceptior of God found in the Bible, and found ni where else among all the religions < earth. _xiear and weigh these: (1) God is a spirit, existing trom ete nity, Creator of heaven and c.irth; God is one, yet revealing Himself in tl threefold distinction and personalis Father, Son and Holy Spirit; (3i God absolutely infinite in all His attributi and capacities?in. power omnipotent, i knowledge omniscient, in existence omr present, in purpose immutable, in chara ter immaculate- the embodiment of a that is good and great: the impersonatic of all excellence; (4) Cod is providentia not far off and inaccessible, careless i seif-acting laws and untouched by hums woes, but a God of sympathy, compassio love: a God, who, in all His laws, and b hind all His laws, and above all His law and in control of all His law's, not on guards cherubim and seraphim angels ar archangels, but also marks the moveniei of lilv. snarrow and child: and above a God is a Redeemer, living and dyii among men in 6elf-sacrifice ineffable, lift them from darkness to light, from s to glory; in short not a mere ideal of i_od to worship but a God with who every human soul may have personal, eo scious relations, a God to fear, a God love, a God to nray to, a God to obey a God 60 holy tnat we ftiuct abandon s if we would serve Him. and a God so lo ing that our very sin has moved Him a self-denyine atonement. Truly, th Book that tells so much about God mu be a book from God. Because it is God's Book, the Bible Deculiarly man's book, when man wnu rise to loftiest conceptions and highe achievements. It is wonderful how o1 w lole English literature has 1 ecome p? meated, saturated and elevated by sen ments and expressions from the Ho scriptures. CHe of the most interestii studies to the student, alike of the Bib and of Shakespeare, is the indebtedness the Bard of Avon to these oracles of lig and life. A careful study of Shak( peare's life reveals no fewer than fi J?*J < ?J T>!V?lina1 ofinna ill liUXlUICU ClliU JIAWJ U1U1IVU1 \)uvku?iw,..> ?. sentiments. Here in "Richard IT." a forty; then in "Richard III." are fort nine; vonder in "Hamlet" alone, eight two. How many biblical books are ther Sixty-sr*\ From how many does Shak< peare auote, or to how many does he 1 fer? To fifty-four. How many plays h Shakespeare? Thirty-seven. In how mai are there Scrintural references? In eve one of the thirty-seven. A careful stu< of this subject will reveal that Genes furnishes the noet thirty-one ouotatio or references: Psalms, fifty-nine; Proverl thirty-five: Isaiah, twenty-one; Matthe' sixty; Luke, thirty; Romans, twent three. Nor is this exceptional. A schi arly American author has declared that is as impossible to subtract the Bible fro our raoaern English literature as "to u braid the sunbeams or subtract the yi low or violet rays from the tides of lig that fill the solar system with warmth ai chcer." Each English student knows he tl'iftl/Mlf fVio RiKlo "Kfilfv could never have written his 'Taradi Lost" and "Samson Agonistes." Wit out the Bible Bunyan could never ha' composed his "Pilgrim," or Tacit h "Jerusalem." or Dante his "Inferno." < Burns his "Cotter's Saturday Night." J wonder John* Quincy Adams could e claim: "In whatever liVht we view tl Bible, whether with reference to revel tion or history or mora^ty, it is a rail of knowledge, like which none other h ever been found in any land or ai realm." No wonder that Daniel Webste prince of forensic orators. could say th the perusal of the Bible in his early da imparted to him many of the chief exc< lencies of his literary style. No wond that the gifted Ch'oate eloquently e claimed: "I would have the Bible rea not only for its authority, revelation commands and exactness obligatory ye terday, to-day and forever, but for i literature, its pathos, its dim imagery, i sayings of consolation and wisdom ar universal truth." Truly this Book books must be the Book of God. But we have a higher proof of biblic inspiration even than this, and that the nerfect adaptness of the Word of G< to the conditions of all classes and kini of men. Dr. Storrs well says: "Tl treatise of Plato on immorality is attra tive to the scholar, but obscure and dull the unlettered man; the Veda of the Hi dus is, as a whole, unintelligible; the Kc an is said to be a sealed book to the m jprity of its constituents. In contrast all these, the Bible fills the whole ci cumference of man's endowment; touches every thought and feeling in th great humanity; it is adapted to inspi sage, to instruct the savage, to guide tl child." Truly, this is a universal boo answerine man's deepest questions, sol ing man's most intricate problems, luminating man's most darkest hours, gi ing him support in life, peace in deat and a sons? of sweetest melody amid tl kl? Jam? fVm nfarrinl WfirlH. Tl rifted Hallam felt thi3 wucn he sai< "The Bible fits every fold and crevice me human spirit." Not so philosoph education, science. Our astronomers poii out iJranus and Juoiter, but not the Sti of Bethlehem. Our geologists unfo earth's strata, but reveal no Rock of Ape Charles Reade, the litterateur, writes tl first line of his own epitaDh. "Reade. Dr matist, Journalist. Novelist:" but Charl Reade. the Christian, pens the other lim "I hope for a resurrection, not from ar rower of nature, but from the will of tl Lord God Almighty." Whence came thi revelation save throucrh the dome windo of the sky? -lie Bi^e alone answers 01 deepest cuestions, solves our most inti rate problems, illumines our darke hours. There can be no nic;ht when rives no sor.g, rn desert where it furnishi no fountain. Its revelations supply su; port in life, peace in death ami sonps < ever'astinz iov beyond life. No heart too ha~d for its truths to melt, no sin tc irreat for the BibV to banish, no life tc degraded for the Bible tn transform. On' let a man te?t God's Word and he wi have in its fayor an argument that r sophistry can destroy and no stepticis: touch. responsible For Expression. Life really consists in little things. T'r difference between a smile and a frow may seem very little, but it is indicath of very different conditions of spiri There is "a time to every purpose undc the heaven." and he who le.-.rns the secr< of "every time" is indeed a wise man. ] has truly been said that while we are nc responsible for our features, we are n sponsible for our expression, and while e: preesion mav seem of little consequent it is the highest type of true beauty?the of the soul, and differentiates betwee those who win and those who repulse. Kecora 01 unristian \\ on:. The Privilege of Improving. A candid examination of our habits c life would likely reveal the fact that man of our neglects of performance, and th mediocrity of much that we have don< ire without valid excuse, and that, mor than we thought, we have been unfaithfi md unprofitable servants. The privileg r>f doing better still remains and is duty?Lutheran Observer. The Heart's Influence. If there is joy in your heart, let it shin in your face. This is one of the lesse ninistries of love?the cheering power c lappiness. Every bright face makes jrignter world. ~THE_EELIQIOUS LIFE it d READINC FOR THE QUIET HOUR J WHEN THE SOUL INVITES ITSELF. 13 | Poem: To Your Spirit Tako Heed, bj Claude M. Severance?Modern Social Temptations Arise Largely From a >f False Sense of Proportion. Y When your comrades in toil f!rv acrainKt. the wnrlH'n crped. " Do your best greed to foilf 'J To your spirit take heed. If vour lot be to serve, And another's to feed, '5 No employer un-nerve; ^ To your spirit take heed. Since the rich and the poor Of God's bounty have need; ? Let no need long endure; ^ To your spirit take heed. a" When the angel draws nigh, !? Reaping heavenly seed, With your Saviour then sigh; To your spirit take heed. If on earth you are good, And live up to Christ's creeif,' ,? God will crown you, He should; jg To your spirit take heed. yr q Temptations of Social Life. ?s The temptations of social life largely in arise from a false sense of proportion. We ii* are like men who stand so close to some c- outjutting rock that they cannot see the ill mountain. We are so close to our imme>n diate *ork, says the Congregationalist, il. that we cannot realize that it is only .a of part of our true life. The whole duty of in man cannot be bounded by the apparent n, requirements of business success. It takes e- account of relations to God as well as self, s, to others as certainly as to those who are ly dependent on us. We may praise diligence id in business with a good conscience only so it long as we combine with it the other rel'? quirements of the apostle: "In diligence not slothful; fervent in spirit; serving the to Lord." Because we have our place in the m social orcUr and business competition to a sustain, we must study the proportion of ? these claims to the demands of our filial n* relation to God and our brotherly relation to to men. It will be ee: ving the world badly 7~ if we succeed in offering it a successful in business at the cost of giving it a mean v" and petty and degenerate man. to There is a certain cynically alliterativ? 18 rule of life which charges a young man te st "get on, get honor, get honest."- The stress of business competition seems to call for some such progress by way of success 'o to position and self-respect. It is a real st and constant temptation, only to be met ar by remembering that if the man makes the T.m business, the business also makes the man. ?* Even success may be too dearly bought. It y may be spending a life to climb the rock 3S> when the real mountain of vision and honor is behind it. It may mean so shortof sighted a perspective that time fills the "t vision while eternity ia out of sight, and :a" that the praise of men may satisfy while the praise of God may be forgotten or re3d fused. The business man needs the sense re of proTJortioi? which takes account of God y* as well as man, of old age as well as matur v* ity. of self-respect in days to come as well e- as the servility which follows wealth to;s j.,. uo*. *e" The companion of this desire to get on ir a? business at any cost is the social rivalrj and display which ia always with us, bu1 which has never reached larger proportions v than in our recent prosperous times. II "" is a glamour which takes possession of the n9 soul and destroys the sense of great and )S> small, of true and false. It evades defini s7? tion, it escapes analysis. It turns sensible X* men and women into foolish ones, a com' petency into the strain of poverty, wealtl lC into a real indigejicc, because the thing de 111 sired is alw/j-s just beyond the reach oi 1" those who seek it. This social ambitior r1" which on the one side seeks self-glorifica D5 tion bv lavish display and on the other bj "J despising those who are lower in the rank* of fashion becomes a destroyer of the 5n brotherhood of men, a contradiction of the ?e Cbristlike spirit. "" Here, too, a sense of the proportion oi . our life, a* sense of the dignity of evcrj lI* child of God is the corrective for this in ? sanity of false ambition. Tha resource< which are employed for service are the I?* true satisfactions of the social instinct, and bring the true reward of honor. To seel ?*" fVlo nrfliflA of .mpr ne is always disappointing. To teek the prais< a? of God sooner or later also brings in it* train the honor and the love of men. > . at V3 Spear Points. His indwelling assures communion. er Faith is the hand wherewith we takl J* everlasting life. There is no law against our likeness t? IS? God's character. Unbelief cannot live in the sunlight oi fellowship with God. The capacity for religion is a talent, th< hicrhest talent we have. ?* The moral machinery moves aright whei . Christ is the motive force. (M A healthful hunger for a frreat deal ii the beauty and blessednesd of life. Man's lips, and not God's ears are al [J9 fault when prayers are unanswered. 4e A false god may be made out of oui 'c* foolish thoughts of the true One. 0 God often strikes away our props t< n" , bring us down upon His mighty arms. >r* Christianity is not so much the adveni ,a* of a better doctrine as of a perfect charac t0 ter. T* The full salvation of the saint dependi on what he is doing for the salvation o 1,3 i the sinner. re I The Lord's work can only be done witl i -who^ we sacrifice. rot by what we tUinl *? i we can spare.?Ram's Hern. A Scientist's Knowledge. h, Some persons are disturbed by the asseP le ! tion that science creates religious doubt is ! and that many scientists are agnostics. > It i: ; is true that some scientists are agnostics of but they are not agnostics because they ar< v, scientists. Many of the world's foremost at scientists have been and are devout anc ar earnest Christians. No one has rankec Id hieher in the scientific world than the lat< a. Michael Faraday. In the memoirs o ic Henry Acland. published recently in Eng a- land." it is related that Mr. Acland anc es Mr. Faraday were talking together one daj ?: on the probable employments of a futun iy life, and that Mr. Faraday in trumphanj le tones said: "That which I know best anc it anticipate most is that I shall go to b< w with Christ." These words of Faradaj jr were written upon the fly-leaf of Acland'f i- ; Bible. Such knowledge?the best that th< Rt ! trreat scientist possessed?is not acquirec it j by studv. but by simple faith, and it maj ss be obtained by every soul.?N. W. Chris p* | tian Advocate. is j Effect of Fault-Finding. ,0 | It is singular the effect that criticisinf !? the faults of others has upon one's self 'j? It makes him so self-risrhteous that he im 11 agines that, he himself has no impcrfec 10 j tions!?Wellsprinjr. m | A Sacred TnsTc. The minister who weaves his feelinjji ; and hig tears into every joy and grief o ie j his flock, who exu'.ts with the happy ant n , weeps with the woe-stricken. while wrest 'e ; line for them with fate and with doub t. | until peace -as entered t.ne sou), tha :r priest who carries the name of the childrei fc of Israel upon bis besom and stands witl It the kolv incense of religion mediating be >t tween life and death, between the nast am ?* , the future, discharges a sac.ed task in th< ?* : conzreeation. He places the name of Goc s. i upon all 'to uplift and to fortify them foi it i duty and for holiness, for virtue an< n . righteousness while pointing to God as th< - foundation of all blessing?Dr. Kaufmai Kohler. . Twins a Family Trait. - Mrs. John Bean, of Mitchellville, N. Y., * --?*-? ^ '?? ?Vviwf V* f A Itrin ? jigea sixiy-nve, nas given Vuu- ???. *, * Her daughter, who lives in the neighboring ie township, presented her husband witi ' twins the same evening. Before congratutions were over Mrs. Kean's granddaugh" ter sent word that she had just become the ,p mother of two healthv children, a ; Wants Dentists For >"avy. The Surgeon-General of the United States Navy, in his annual report, asks e | for Congressional authority to appoint un r i dcr contract reeularl.v graduated dentists, if I and to assign them to dutv at the naval a ' stations at home and abroad. > [ THE SUNDAY SCHOOI* ^ ' I INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS | FOR NOVEMBER 22. 1 ' : Subject: The Curie of Strong Drink, Prov.' 'A I xi.-1; xxlil., 20,21, 29-35?Golden Text,. J i Prov. xz? 1?Memory Vereee, xxili., 29? 32?Commentary on the Sty'i Letion. j I. Strong drink causes _poverty (vs. 1* > 20, 21). 1. "A mocker." Rather, a scorn- a er. The thing is personified in its victim.The scorners appear as a class of* defiant? free thinkers in contrast to the "wise."i They are proud, self-sufficient, and have at. 3 contemptuous disregard for God and man' j (Prov. 21: 24). It is impossible to reform' J them, for they hate reproof and will not; M seek instruction (13: 1; 15: 12). If theyf Mt seek for wisdom they will not find it (14:) 6). It is folly to argue with them (9: 7, 8) They are generally detested (24: 9), and in 1! the interests of peace must be banished ,i from society (22: 10). Divine judgments- ^ are in store for them, and tneir iaie is * warning to the simple (3: 34). "Is de-' -j ceived?erreth." "Reeletn." Not wise.'*" 4 It is the height of folly for a man to de*- M grade himself by using strong drink. fig 20, 21. "Winebibbers." Much of thi* chapter is spent in giving directions con- 9 cerning eating, drinking and entertain-^ J| ments in general. The reasons for giving these directions were, 1. The danger of contracting irregular habits and of being: ^ induced to lead a voluptuous and effemin^ 3 ate life. 2. The danger from bad company i ifc 3. The waste of money and time. Glut- . yj tonous eaters." Eating more than is neces- if sary. "Drowsiness." Which comes as * result of excess and gluttony. "With rags."; & Such a course wiU not only bring poverty ??/? ruitfl wKirli ife is fiure to do. but will ^5 unfit a person for work, so that he cannot | be trusted, and he will be no longer capa-; ble of providing for himself and for those- j who may be dependent unon him. I II. Strong drink destroys happiness (vtri '3I 29,30). 29. "Who." A divine commission to every man to investigate the prevailing^ cause of woe and strife, and thus be de-j . ~rj? terrcd from talcing the wrong course ia. . fig life. Kobinson calls this lesson the drunk- ' ard's looking glass, set before those whose! : face is toward the drunkard's habits,' so 1 that thev may see what they will be if theyj J go on. Hath woe." What space would bel ^ needed to record > the names of all who* could truthfully say "I" to this question! _ J "Who hath sorrow." The Hebrew meansj. first, poverty then misery. The drunkaitt. " ^ has sorrow of his own makiAg. "The cop* >? contains more than one woe; a single sor-' ^ row is not all. These are so numerous am- % to call forth a constant and long continued a cry of anguish." "Who hath contentions.'* 1$ Those who responded to the first two* . questions will also respond to this. Nine* ra tenths of all the brawls and fights, quar- >' rels and misunderstandings are traceabl* '2 to drink. "Who hath babbling." This re-~" fere to the tendency of strong drink to 1H foolieh and incessant talking, revealing se- i 1 crets. vile conversation ana noisy demonstrations, which are common in differentstages of drunkenness. "Wounds without "A cause." Wounds received in wholly un- j ' profitable disputes, such as come of the j brawls of drunken men. Drinkers are eg-! ? pecially exposed to accidents and diseases 9 ' which temperance would have prevented.! "Redness of eyes." Bloodshot, blurred or .. :^9| ' bleared eyes. The traveler in the drunk- ' '] ard's broad road to death bears a great '$ bundle 01 woes. junuu|t lucui cut iu ... v? 1 time, of talent, of punty, of * clean con* ^ r science, of self-respect, of honor, of reKg' ion, of the soul. i 30. "They that tarry long." This an^ : > swers the above questions. He who begins * to drink continues to drink, tarrying often, < ' a whole night, and from that .to day and; night. "They that go." To _ places or \ among people where intoxicating drinks' ire made or stored or used. "Mixed wine."i Spiced, drugged, medicated wine, the in-f toxicating power of which is incw*aed bs? t the infusion of drugs and spices. Suca v t men drink the cup of a costly death. <. " III. Strong! drink rains character (vij r 31-35). 31. Tx>ok not." This prohibit* : 3 i moderate drinking. Do not pat yourself ilk' A ' the way of temptation. He who goes freely M into temptation is already more than half fallen. When it is red." * The bright color of the wine gives it ar. attractive look ' and adds to its fascination and its danger* "Its color." Literally, iti eye, the clear > brightness, or the bead 2d bubbles, oa f which the wine-drinker l<>oks with pleas4 I ure. "When it goeth down smoothly.'* : This verse pictures the attractive side ot . 1 wine, when it seems perfectly harmless to * sip a little, when it is bright and inspiring, 1 thrilling the nerves with delight, promising . all joy and freedom. It is the shining side j of evil that is so dangerous. A 32. "At last it biteth." The pleasure M will be attended at last with intolerable V pains, when, it works like so much ooisoa ? ' in thy veins and casts thee into diseases as hard to cure as the biting of a serpent.' , * Its effects are opposite to its pleasures. Its ' . only beauty is when it sparkles in the cupj ' It can only harm the one who ventures to SBk enjoy its pleasure. Then it bites; sends its 1 poison beyond your reach. Its only erfd and purpose is ruin. Its sting is the sting 1 of death. 33. "Eyes shall behold." The loving } wife will be forgotten and her goodness de- "i seised, and evil desires spring up to fill her 'r.V* * place with others, or ta go from her with! others who have fallen into the same pit of r drunkenness. Homes are broken up. The * tears and pleadings of the devoted wife are 1 spurned, and the dance hall is sought* where women are dressed to suit the eye? k of wicked men, where natural affection is * overthrown andt cruel lust rules. "Utter perverse things." When men or women * indulge in the use of strong drink they let ' down the bars to every sin that follows in. the train. ^5 1 34. "In the midst of the sea." To make t one's bed on the waves of the sea would be to be swallowed up in death. So is the drunken man. Or as a pilot who has gone to sleep when his ship was in the troughs , of the sea, allowing the tiller to slip out of his hand, and his ship to be swamped' I with the waves which he miaht have outridden. "Top of a mast." The drunkard I is utterly regardless of life. He is as one \ falling asleep, clasping the masthead, j whence in a few minutes he must either j fall down UDon the deck and be dashed in % , pieces, or fall into the sea and be drowned: J I 35. "I was not hurt." With consciences } . seared and self-respect pone the drunkard J [ boasts of the things which should make I r him blush with shame. Because he did not j , feel the hurt of his wounds he cares not j ? for the scars. "I felt it not." Angry com- A I nanions have done their worst to entimy^-^* } life, savs he, but their blows dj$-TTt?k4Kect r me. "When shall I awakfcS-^1 will seek ifc } again." Rather, when 1 shall awake J will ; seek it attain. Self-control is all gone. The j drunkard is ? slave to appetite. He is as {nconci'Klr. .n the nleadinea and warnings of those who seek his salvation as he is to the beatings of his comrades when he is delirious. ^ Free Admission to All Football Games. The faculty of the University of Chicago - are endeavoring to inaugurate a system of - athletics under which there will be no paid admissions to contests in which the university athletes compete. To carry out this radical departure steps have been taken to , arrange conferences with the universities ? of Wisconsin and Michigan. The plan will i necessitate the establishment of an en. dowment fund for physical culture and ath(. letics and the trustees of the Chicago infc 6titution have already taken preliminary x steps looking to this end. Invitations will j be distributed to the students, professors, trustees and employes of the institutions j immediately concerned, and the genera^ ? public will have to look to them for their j tickets. J r ~ ~ 1 Progress of Cremation. The number of cremations in the sev1 jral countries during the year 1902, aeeord ng to crematory statistics, was as fellows: The United States, 3158: Germany. 856: England. 452; Italy. 322; France, 4805 (of , v'nich 30/5 were paid for, the other* being tratis): Switzerland. 217; Sweden, 66, and ! Denmark. 44: total, 9920. I Carnegie Tarns Prophet. i In a speech at Limerick, Ireland,. Andrew Carnegie said he looked for the day when the United States and Canada would have a population of 250.000,000, and with the British Isles would form one nation. ^ Teething: ?t Ninety. The Rev. G. W. Goodrich, of Alpha, Iowa, is cutting his third set of teeth. Ee is ninety years old.