The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, November 18, 1903, Image 6
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.