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7 ^rnmmmvEsr lupi?HI II mm f I K W 1\ HPHT *1 j\MAl 1 I By Anna Katharine Green, | COPYRIGHT, 1890, BY RO CHAPTER XVII. J Continued. ' "I leave," said lie to tlie hostess, "with many thanks for my kindly reiception here. Though I had been told much of the charms of Great Barrington I had not heard that its advantages of natural scenery "were more than . equaled by its opportunities for the Jiighest social intercourse." And such was the grace and seeming candor of his words that Miss Aspinwall forgot for the moment her doubts and gave him one of those lovely smiles which were seldom accorded but to the most welcome guest. "I shall do myself the honor of calling again," he thereupon remarked, and before she had time to recover from the embarrassment which these words called forth he had made his fbow and left, but not without casting one more look at the signorina. TUe instant nis uepmuny sa-j) ??ii* lieard on the gravel walk without a ? murmur of voices broke forth. "How peculiar!" "What a gentleman!" "I -wonder if it cau be a ease of love at first eight?" "Two Degraws in the field!" At which last ejaculation the hostess turned pale, though she tried to keep up her spirits on this, perhaps, the most trying evening of her life. In the -window recess another hurried and passionate colloquy was going on. "Oh, my love," the artist was saying, "I tried to save you from this man. He is the wretch who has made so many Jenny Rogerses unhappy. Perhaps you have uot read the paper, and perhaps you did not know that persons of your name are at present under a sort of ban, but I knew it and knew that from the very similarity between his name and mine that he was the person most to be dreaded by you. Yet you would uot take the hint I gave you, but insisted upon owning to your real name, and not content with that, allowed him to address you and even to engage you in conversation." "And has any harm come from It, or will any harm come? I have heard of some of the stories you speak of, but there "was nobody to tell me that there was anything in this gentleman to fear. Nor can I believe there is. You are laboring under a mistake, or look with prejudiced eyes upon one who seems to infringe upon your rights of bearing the same name." "Do you plead for him, signorina? Has he imposed on you, too, by his devilish urbanity and hypocritical smiles? I will not believe it. He may turn the head of school misses and factory girls, but surely not yours. Why, ho is a murderer, possibly." "Oh, no!" she exclaimed hotly, and wniil/i li.ivo snirt mnre. hut iust then Miss Aspinwall approached them, and pressed the artist to finish the revelations which he had been interrupted in making to her earlier in the evening. But he had lost the desire to speak. Something in the signorina's manner betrayed such unbounded trust in the stranger that he felt it would be but waste of breath to reiterate his suspicions, while to brand the stranger as an adventurer and criminal in the presence of a company who had already received him as an equal, -was, in the absence of other proof than that which had been urged against himself, a manifest risk and possible shame. His reply, therefore, was less uncompromising than Miss Aspinwall t had onfiVlnoinrl MUHV.pUtVU, ' > "I was about to warn you," said ho, "against tills Mr. Degraw, not because I know him, but because a gentleman of his name and mine has earned a very doubtful reputation in New York. Thugh it is hard to believe that this person is the one who has engagtd the attention of the police, still ray fears are such that I could not refrain from giving you a hint cf them. That is.all, Miss Aspinwall. I now consider my duty in this regard at an end." She took out of her pocket the note . which the stranger had brought her. "This seems entirely en regie," she remarked. "I know the writer well, and I know his signature. He recommends Mr. Degraw to me as a gentleman of family and distinction. To Idoubt that this is true is to doubt the knowledge or judgment of my friend. This I cannot do; so I must still continue to receive Mr. Degraw." The artist bowed and waived the subject. He felt himself in a false position, and hcted his own precipitancy, while at the same time he found it impossible to dismiss 1/ doubts. He was also troubled by.the smiles and beaming aspcct of the signorina. If she loved him could she or would she hail this manifest triumph of his rival? But did she love him? Had the tide he believed to be turning in his favor received a check, and would lie be obliged to add to the list of the possible wrongs committed by this interloper the sudden nipping in its bud of the purest passion flower that ever blossomed from a poet's heart or ! evolved itself from a poet's dream? CHAPTER XVIII. FACE TO FACE. It was miduiglit. Peace and quiet had settled upon the great bouse. Not -a light twinkled from its many -windows, not a sound disturbed its universal peace. But in the -walks beneath it was not so. There a restless ligure moved, pauring now and then to gaze ; at tl<s vault of stars above his head. : but oi'tener to turn toward the house i from one of whose windows an influence breathed which chained him to the spot. i It was Hamilton Degraw, the artist. . What were his thoughts? What ; were his dreams? What was the charm which made this vigil more alluring than the repose which awaited him in his own rooms? He had parted from the signorina under the eyes of Miss V^pinwi^il and her friends. He had I ER *D LIONS. Jl Author of "Tbe^ForsaL-en J BCBT BONNEH'8 SONS. jBf not dared to utter one of the countless appeals which rose to his lips. She had not encouraged him to do so, and he would uot have ventured if she had. Indeed her manner had been in a slight degree repelling. Though she had smiled upon him and even blushed at his look, which conveyed more of his feelings than he doubtless Intended at the moment, she had not shown that shy delight at his homage which he had observed in her before the advent of the other Mr. Degraw. He had, therefore, this estrangement to think of, as well as of the danger which possibly threatened her. And there was another thing. He had sometimes thought that the mysterious Montelli and the unknown persecutor of the in nocent girls so often alluded to were one and the same man. But if this gentleman whom lie had met this evening were tlie latter person, as he fully believed, then he and Montelli were two distinct persons, for he had noted the figure and face of both and realized that by no art could the one have been transformed into the other. There were, therefore, in the case of the signorina, two enemies to fear, and which of these was to be dreaded the more it was impossible to say. But it -was not to watch or think that lie lingered in Miss Aspinwall's grounds on this night. It was to be near the woman he loved, to breathe the same air, to sigh beneath the same stars. It was next to having her promise; next to knowing that 6he returned his sighs and dreamed his dreams. He would not have courted sleep if he could; it was too much like nnmriifio to Ktrav beneath the trees and think himself a Pomeo to this Juliet. He had paced several times up and down a certain graveled walk bordered by clustering bushes, when suddenly the fancy took him to stray into another path less heavily shadowed. But as he stepped into it he paused. Was it safe to travel its moonlighted surface, within sight, as he perceived it to be, of fully one-half of the hou&e? No, it was not safe. But for that very reason it was tempting to him, and, without sounding very deeply the intuitions which led him to this sudden exposure of his presence he passed smilingly down its lengthened vista into the semicircle of evergreens which terminated this walk. An exclamation of astonishment followed by a sudden recoil was tlie result. He was not alone in this place of expected solitude. A man was before him, whose tall form, drawn up within a shadow that failed to conceal his presence gave to the artist such a shock that he well nigh lost his selfpossession. The other, who had evidently been driven into this retreat by the sound" of approaching steps, showed great embarrassment also. Though he came forward at the first exclamation of the intruder and made a bow that should at onco have reassured the most suspicious, the words he uttered did not sound quite natural to the artist's sensitive ear, nor did his bearing betray that ease which had hitherto accompanied it, even in situations most tryinrr to a trentleman. "Mr. Degraw!" "Mr. Degraw!" The words rang simultaneously, but in wholly dissimilar tones. Then the two paused and looked at each other, and then the gentleman from Cleveland remarked: "You find me still intruding upon Miss Aspinwall's grounds. How shall I explain it? Not by the real reason lest that should seem sentimental to you. Shall I say that it is the beauty of the night which allures me, and trust to your good nature not to be contradicted in my statement?" The artist, who had withdrawn himself into the moonlight, responded by a short but significant silence. Then he observed: "I stall contradict you in nothing, Mr. Degraw. I have not yet recovered from the surprise of encountering a person of my own somewhat unusual nnme." "You make a great deal of that. Shall I relate to you my pedigree, or send for that leaf in our family Bible which is duly inscribed with my name?" "Could you?" "Mr. Degraw, you insult me. Were there any cause for it I should probably resent it. As there is not I find it more consistent with my self-respect to regard you as a moonstruck enthusiast, unworthy of my attention or revenge." This tone, which was certainly unexpected, took the artist by surprise. For a moment lie hesitated, not knowing what to reply, then he said, boldly: l miuij nuu juijroeii. uuuct obligations to you. To be thought a moonstruck enthusiast is better than to be thought a villain and a fraud!" And with n determined step he wheeled about, leaving the passage open to the man whom he now believed he had made his enemy. lie had walked but a short distance, however, before he heard the other's step ring close at his side. "I cannot let you go," snid the stranger, as the artist turned toward him, "till you have in some measure explained yourself. When my name was first mentioned you showed an ur.nat ural astonishment, and at the time of tny introduction to you I -was met by a sarcasm which my own courteous feelings toward you certainly neither merited nor called forth. What excuse you have to make for all this I cannot say, but it must certainly be a good one to reconcile you to conduct so out of keeping with your general character and fame." "Yo\i are right." assented the artist, baffled by the other's cooJncss, but for an instant shaken in his doubts. "I had an excuse and if you wish to hear what it is I must'give it. But I would rather be excused from ofieudinc rou. and would esteem It n great favor on your part if instead of requiring explanations from me you would consent to answer three questions." "You are moderate in your demands," sneered the stranger, with a curl of his strong lip and a flash of his keen 4* A - T eyes. me luauavu pui'ijr, i uti > c certainly the right to refuse them. But I am something more than an insulted party; I am a gentleman and an honest one: therefore, if you have anything to ask. ask it. 1 will be brief but straightforward in my replies." A cold perspiration started out upon the artist's brow, but ho pursued unflinchingly the course into which fate had led him. "You will answer questions?" said he. "Perhaps, then, you will be kind enough to tell me whether you came directly here from Cleveland?" "I did not." "Have you been staying, then, in New York and was it from that place you traveled to this 6pot?" "You have said it. I have been in New York, and it was from there I came no j later than to-day on the ?? o ciock ex- i press. Would you like to know what j baggage I brought and what was the j amount of the fee I gave to the porter?" "I wish to know nothing but what vitally concerns myself and the wel- | fare of a person dearer to me than my self. Miss Rogers " "Ah!" There was a change in the stranger's manner. He seemed at once lo have I received a hint to the mystery of the J other's antagonism. "Is the bearer," imperturbably con- ; tinued the artist, "of a name that has J lately been the mark for peculiar shafts of fortune. As the lady is dear to me?you will pardon me the selfvornlofrriirnn Inr ihnco TvnTHQ ?. T have constituted myself the shield to . protect her against the assaults which have overwhelmed girls of lesser con- , sequence and attainments. If, there- ' fore, you have ever spoken to any other person by the name of Jenny i Rogers do not think you will be allowed to speak to this one. If you have not " "Sir!" interposed the other haughtily. "you are a madman. Not speak to Miss Rogers? Why, if she were your wife I should address her if I pleased, : that is, if she allowed me the privilege of doing so. and I think she would." j This shaft, which was only too ueitly leveled, struck home at once. The artist recoiled, and stammered some ineffectual words before he returned to the attack. j "Miss Rogers is no judge of her own danger," he finally remarked. "If she were you might expect less indulgence on her part.*' The stranger laughed. "You show an ignorance," he asserted, "both of ray nature and the character of ray interest in Miss Rogers that excuses you for much more folly than you evince in this interview. Danger does not menace Miss Rogers, that is, ' not from me, but if it did, you have scarcely taken the wisest means to avert It." ! This was only too true. Carried away by bis feelings the artist had allowed himself to go further than his own judgment approved. But to be told of it by his adversary was humiliating and did not serve to increase his satisfaction. It was, therefore, in a bitter enough tone that he replied: I "I have but done as any honest man would do. I have reasons for distrusting you and I tell you so. All that I shall add to what I have already said is this: That if grief or any peril comes to Miss Rogers I shall know where to look for its cause. Neither your seeming good breeding nor the dignity which invests your person and conversation shall save you in that hour from a revenge that will have not only love but the law to back it. So beware!" I He turned away; the stranger looked after him doubtfully and took one step a?j if to follow him. But this determination did not hold, and Mr. Degraw, of , Cleveland, remained silent and un- j moved, while the other passed 6lowly down the paths till he reached one of the two gates which guarded the place. There the artist paused, and his antagonist, convinced that he would go no further while he himself remained on the ground, was good na- ( turcd enough to or wise enough to turn , away toward the other gate. The watchful artist, perceiving this, passed j out, and presently the two could he seen hasting through the street, the one toward the hotel, the other toward the neighboring dwelling which held his rooms. I Would they have passed so lightly ( had they possessed the power of per- ' ceiving thp girlish figure that sat be- ; rs<> 4-VkAC>/> nnc-rtmnn + f. iirtnn 4 liiliU UUC KJL IJULUOC vpcu V,UOCiilCUlO u^uu which they now turned their backs? ' I wot not, for in the eager face up- ! lifted to the moon there was a look j which puzzles us and would have puzzled them. Was she listening? Was she dreaming? Was she hoping? Is it a spell of delight or of apprehension ! which holds her enthralled and makes i her a statue of wakefulness amid a household of sleepers? We may not know at present. Will the time ever 1 come when we shall? To be continued. What to Learn. Learn to laugh. A good laugh la better than medicine. Learn to attend strictly to your own j business?a very important point. Learn to tell a story. A well-told j story is as welcome as a sunbeam in J a sick-room. Lenrn the art of saying kind and en-; couraging things, especially to the ? young. Learn to avoid all ill-natured re- j marks, and everything calculated to create friction. Learn to keep your troubles to your- j self. The "world is too busy to care : for your ills and sorrows. Learn to stop croaking. If you can-! not see any good in this world, keep the bad to yourself. Learn to hide your aches and pains . under a pleasant smile. No one cares whether you have the earache, headache or rheumatism. Learn to greet your friends with a ! smile. They carry too many frowns ! in their own hearts to be bothered with any of yours.?Christian Life. viue export or coal is becoming very important in Japan, amounting in value as it did in 3900 to $10,244,715. London is to givej^kOOO for the imperial hospital to A SERMON FOE SUNDAY AN ELOQUENT DISCOURSE BY THE REV. M. W. STRYKER. "Democracy and Christianity," the Subject of a Forccful Argument by tile TresJtlent of Hamilton College, Clinton, N. Y.?Tlie People's Day Advances. New York Citt. ? "Democracy and Christianity" was the subject of a forcsful sermon by the Kev. Dr. M. W. Stryker, President of Hamilton College, Clinton, N. Y., in the Brick Presbyterian Church, Sunday morning. Dr. Stryker said: It is not always remembered that, on its human side, Moses founded a republican form of government. It was to be maintained through popular representation. The failure was in Israel, not in the idea. When Samuel anointed Saul he did it under solemn protest. It was a relapse from privilege. Aings were a makeshift and it turned out badly. Seeking a sound philosophy of man and his affairs, and distinguishing humanity from its utensils and iurniture, I would earnestly attempt the connotation of the two words which state?each in its own way, but with the strongest mutual bearing?the whole hope of mankind: Democracy, Christianity. You may run out, in their reach and width, the many propositions which I can now only utter, not amplify. 1 have only time for the broadax and the adz. I used the word "mankind"?that is, man-kinned ? related, cousined, brothers. When Paul, the apostle, speaks (literally) of "the whole fatherdom in heaven and earth"?he affirms the broad and elemental gospel theorem of the common origin, the common opportunity, the common concern of all humanity. "God hath made of one blood"?"In one spirit all baptized into one body"?such phrases characterize this whole new covenant and contemplate the rearrangement of the world. A unity of privilege, duty, affection?a common derivation, development and goal ?the doctrine of the essential solidarity of man. To affirm this is the instinct, the infrangible purpose of the gospel.^ Either this mutuality, this cohesive and integrating impulse, working its way steadily, however slow its stages, or at last a eterile race and a shattered star! Economics? It is the law of the world's housekeeping. Politics?it is man's common citizenship. Philanthropy, equity, law, ethics, religion?these are the bonds that transcend race and region and date. Before their scope provincialism passes into insignificance. History i6 the record of the painful but steady evolution of human unity?homogeneity. Sociology is ethics. This is the "increasing purpose" of time. Man's nature involves society. He is environed by his fellows. He is born into and constructed for their close relation. This is his irrevocable constitution?the means toward it, better or worse, are but by-laws. The one inevitable, the others __? 1 ?j i ? ..4.:? provisional unu lciiuiuivc. jl jjcsc ait changed and shaken, that remains. The definition and practical ordering of this relation, whether by means better or worse, the assertion of partnership and federation, in whatever degree of wisdom ?the assertion of a common weal (or woe) ?this is government. However they have blundered, or stuttered, or fumbled, the experiment toward the organizing of human life and its activities have been experiments in search of fair and fruitful terms under which men may live together. Perceived or unseen, the ends of government are to secure the well being of men as men, and that must be the best government which most effectually seeks the utmost welfare of all within its control?which seeks a right and equitable society. As a means to this end it is strong and sacred, as a means to any other ends it is stultified. It concerns us, then, at once to note the names and essential implications of the 6everal schemes and forms of government (or ways 01 getting on togetner; wnicn men have attempted and exhibited. Autocracy?the rule of one man, centering all power in his own person and responsible only to himself. "L'etat c'est moi." Absoluteism?an imperfect man cannot, a perfect man would not; for either way individually is frustrated. Despotism is misanthropic. Monarchy?which ordinarily implies a degree of consent and delegation of power, and has wide limits according as the subjects have great or small influence. The forms of monarchy are not inconsistent with real popular power, only then their terminology is an anachronism and their retention a superfluous and absurd expense. Plutocracy is the role of wealth?the power of money holders as such. It is subtle and subversive of men. That it goes by "community of interest," by silent arithmetic, does not indeed necessitate, but makes possible oppressions not less "actual because insidious and unavowed. It has ruined great peoples. For "community of the interested" is widely diverse from the interest of the community. The peoples also "cannot serve God and mammon." Plutocracy is not a commonwealth. Weal itself is not mere wealth. The word "wealth" begs the question. Plutus was blind! Oligarchy, the "few" in power, whether n rlinnp a hureau. a "machine." or a rincr. and bv whatsoever means installed and tolerated. Its selectness and eeparateness and virtual assumption is its odium. Its irresponsibility is its vice. Its selfishness is its defeat. It refuses to share. Aristocracy, literally the rule fcy the best, ideally an excellent term and thing, practically, however, the self-elected at their own rating?what one has called "the fine irony of an entailed nobility!" Hereditary privilege tainted with pride and superciliousness and snobbery and the dry rot of these?a non-sequitus. still exploiting the many for the few, class prerogative and the non-human proscriptions of caste. The "best" should rule in the interests of what is good, but the self-styled best, nursing their own exclusiveness, may become the worst. Anarchy! Contradiction in terms! The law of lowlessness, the rule of caprice and all violence, denying authority in that license which is the parody and ruin of true liberty! Freedom crusl^jid under the absoluteism of the mob! Theocracy ? the reign of God, actual ?i-:i- /i-J n l 1: j Willie \J?UU IS vauil, l.i Uiy I ' ?All/?CLl III UIUVC1sal recognition of Him "the first and the last and the living one;" but never delegated to any vicegerent, installed in the common consent of free consciences and when usurped by kingcraft or priestcraft the basest perversion of the higliest truth. Democracy: Self-government by the people. The dignity of the people is the intention of their Creator. He who is the eource of thicr self-rule, is also its only security. Each man ^wjth, not apart from, every other, directly and iointly responsible to God. The highest lav/ final?man absolved from all usurpations, and, as a man, secured in the perfect freedom of the largest obedience. Democracy may be a name for the mere tyranny of the multitude?a subservient mass a prey to passion and to schemers who are its panderers? flattering while they degrade. But then the "rule" is lost, and the demos is by his means thwarted of his end?. Democracy is ideal when it meets all the conditions of total responsibility to Godwhen in the high peerage of that loyalty of creature to Creator all neighbors love all neighbors as one family of the highest! Love, vertical and lateral, ia its law?the "perfect law of liberty." Therefore, I hold both that Christianity intends democracy, and that only in its reality can democracy thrive or endure. Other foundation it cannot lay. If the Son of Man shall make the peoples free they shall he free indeed, ana not otherwise. His autonomy is theirs. His valuation exalts them. His rights secure theirs. In Him, who is all in all, they are complete. A republic is a democracy conveniencing its self-rule by representatives who are its agents. These are but trustees and stewards?accountable to the people's intelligent will. Other, they are defaulters. Relieving that under God man shall not fail. I believe utterly in democracy as the final experiment of time, up to which all others have led. If this idea is bankrupted all goes down. Only as it reasons deeply as to the source of its rights and the scone of its duties shall it avert failure < n.,i ? i ana cciiaciydin. uuu, ui mc ucju^c. I believe in democracy because I hold that man is not a mechanism but a mechanic?that every individual soul of 'he race is sacred, that the probation of mankind lies in the full consent to human equality before God, and to all the equities jvliicb that involves. Here stands the last bulwark against tyranny. This must be te the method, if there be any, before which ar a false subordination and a false insub- tb ordination are both to be banished. The salvation of the peoples is in a divine hu- a man society which at last shall realize the whole purpose of Jesus Christ. It has ar not yet been seen; but "to this bear all CI the prophets witness"?a socicty feeling p? all its common responsibilities, and "each in for all" fulfilling every relation?this, and tli because it is "ideal," is the finality. In bi it democracy and Christianity would ar meet, and righteousness wed peace! < qi To conquer this ideal into actuality is the task ana travail 01 time?to uuuui cr that it can be is to surrender toe cause of L, mankind. w There is now in some quarters a sickly tn and sentimental dissent from the rcoa! of te democracy, and a cowardly whispered tr preference against the substantive claim of man as man. This reluctancy 'from the P< burden of the problem and disregard of er the good of the manv is ordinarily tracea- to ble to a selfish and absentee spirit. It w assumes to distrust what love of ease dis- oi likes, and what comfortable and corapia- tr cent apathy would postpone. Its invest- of inents are all in the present, as it is, and aj it will take no stock in the future as it d< should be. It interprets the major con- al 6iderations of life by the minor. "The offense of the cross is not ceased." But it is crucifixion that leads to resurrection, at Away with this droning and whining pes- w simiem! re And, on the other hand, there are those yf who applaud democracy without reckoning its principles and its foundations. Ee- in tween it and absolutism there is, in time's oi long run, no logical half way. Can man m learn that democracy brings no one down, of but every one up? Can man learn its tb reciprocities and its emancipations? Will to uiau nic uaauax uuouiijl ui nic jim ? herent value and birthright of cach several m soul?value to itself, to all others and to the one God of all: If not, then all falls apart and a society B; not made up of a bulk of subservients and ar a few preferred creditors is a fatuity and of a dream, and the Nazarene was a dreamer. A But that way lies the madness of anarchy, tn Any government is, at a given time, cc strong, as the ratio is of its people (or v parts) who believe in it and are ready to kf back that belief. Ultimately it is as strong as it has principles worthy to be abelieved in. The bottom idea of democracy is the utmost diffusion of two th things: (a) authority, (b) responsibility, in Both of these. Neither goes well or far, re or can stand fast, alone. These balanced A centrifugal and centripetal forces main- cc tain the orbit. All the phases and hopes ar of a genuine and rational democracy are bl reducible to the balance of this double idea. The duality is critical. pi By this as a definition I will stand? pa that true democracy is a government in is which every whole man, ana because a ra man, counts one. Persons are the units,' w and government of, by and for these is th the sum of all its parts. Its spirit is as al great ad the number of spirits that share jt, and as good as the number of good p? spirits that share it. Its division exactly yi equals the dividend, and the quotient is al one. "Division of labor," which is made to ^ mean "you labor and I divide," is not democracy. Since, in this long division jr of "authority and responsibility" every man should be fitted to count one. Dem- 62 ocracy menaces itself, denies its raison d'etre, when it for a moment neglects to seek this fitness of its merits. Represen tation is of these fit merits. The proxy " is valid only in this. The ballot affirms the importance of each integer. Its qualified intelligence and its unmolested freedom is its safety, that always it shall be counted as one, and never more or less. Less or more is the suppression somewhere of manhood; less, it were tyrannized; 83 more, it were tyrannical. To corrupt, to m seduc?, to intimidate or to suppress it is to violate democracy. Democracy alone tr causes the rights of a minority to fear a d( majority. Fcr all and by all this recog- ff7 nition of man declares that because every man should count one he shall! No other cr method of government declares this, or cc attempts to realize it. Resting its case upon "the right assessment of what con- !? stitutes human value," it implies that rights and duties are strictly correlative in and reciprocal. It studies its rules in the daylight of its principles. Our Supreme m Court is governed by this overruling equity. Democracy is its test and its dictum. c' Ti i 1 1I? i . _ . i. 1 f _ C iL ? ii is tue ultimate national reiuge 01 me people. It (rives the higher law. ?e The distributive assignment of govern- m ment is the radical end of democracy, not to descending to man, but ascending with fe him. It is not paternal, but fraternal. tl Human ethics rising from loyalty to a. one mere tribe or clan ? Ishmaelitish!? hi rises toward the comprehension of man- m right. The history of this growth of human institutions, making and remaking H themselves, discovers that they move with the instinct of a generic human life. The ra impulse strengthens as if by hydrostatic 01 pressure. That great democrat. Lincoln; gi that snlcndid representative of the fine w old aristocratic family of man, said well, of in 1856, what has the broadest possible Ji application: "They who deny freedom e. to others deserve it not for themselves, and under the rule of a just God cannot w long retain it." The paramount doctrine r? of equal rights is that each soul has a di- di vine right, a kingiy and knightly right, cl to all the liberty he can use. ar.'l has the p< right to stand un. in his Maker's image, d< to show what he can use. Its formative df proposition is that a just society lies in er the good of all its elements, and that this goo<f lies in the removing, by pick or powder, of all avoidable hindrances to the affirmation of social personality, lies p. in its enabling and ennobling (so far as ai circumstances can) eacn unitary being to a nve the fullest possible life. All "liberty" has social limitations, and its problem is to reduce these limitations uj to the lowest terms necessary to and consistent with its own utmost diffusion. jn Freedom also is law. fp. It is not the commercial, the strategic, beariD^s of the Monroe doctrine that ja makes it strong in our American hearts and determination, but its immense moral ^ meaning that democracy shall not have its w providential arena narrowed, nor its scope s; thwarted by the imposition of another ^ theory of the people. America (noble America) is the vantage ground and the bulwark of popular free government, and ^ to maintain this high theory of man un- w endangered, we will fight if need be (though God forbid the need) if all the as seas are to run red! It was this tremendous instinct in which, in one of the noblest wars of time, we rose up to lift Cuba m trom under the bloody heel of the line of to Philip II. and of Alva. The people's day w advances. t t.i T +/\ oceorf- flinf n'Jvph JL I'UiilC, Uil'lCiUic, i w v kMi.v ......... J have tried to approach, and this it is: That the aim of a true democracy is in the most complete accord with the aim? of the gospel. Both are emancipative. Their implications arc mutual. They alik* stand or fall upon the proposition of the J> universal spiritual rights of all men as men. w r.ach breaks down all "middle wall of ?' partition." and unlooses "the yoke of bondage," <Jpcns the gates of day to :s '"every creature under neaven!" Each 'f, seeks the creates*, quantity of the highest quality. Christianity, truly measured, ** comes (in the strong words of Eenry Jsesh, in that splendid little volume, "The Genesis of the Social Conscience"): "lo make the best the world knows native to the humbicst." ^ "In His name?"Son of Man"?the great Emancipator has "authority to execute )v judgment." upon all oppressions. He is " man's Man! His authority intends the s-!) commonalty of all souls yielding to Him se a supreme loyaltv. His church is the nr democracy of freed men. Abolishing bar- w ricrs, rending divisive artificialities. leveling up, not down. He introduces the au- " tonomy of those He redeems from everv inhuman bondage, and recalls every child of Adam, every "prisoner of hope," to be in his true birthright a prince and a ?e priest. All for each and each for ail is the bold and beautiful charter to which }VJ His signature is given, and which is sealed with the sign of the cross! Under it all "suffer and reioiee together." Democracy Is not "the multitude in ca power, with no adequate ideal to elevate a;i and to guide;" for that is not rule; but fa it is the people bound in a fraternity, an j" equity, a unity, in which all are common shareholders in an uplifted and celestial- ali ized manhood. 01 Democracy, justly conceived. i9 indi- stl jreno.s to Christianity?Christianity implies democracy and nothing short of it. Dependence (upon God): independence (of all insalutarv duress); interdepend- ... "iice (as members of one great human m body); these are the three august watch- a words of what the Son of Man prepares th and will perform. They are cardinal. All Su ,-N mporizinp expedients will fail. They c dozv and brittle. Paresis stamps iem. They are judged. All the real progress in the idea of what genuine democracy includes, and what excludes, hr-.s been, consciously or not. i appreciation and incorporation of brist's ideas of man. It nas been a iinfnl Tirnrppe slowlv nenetratincr the tricate processes and sodden politics of ie world, attended by harsh parodies and tter failures: but it has been continuous id culminating, and at last it will conicr. The errors and follies of men in the saed name of mankind have been appalling, iberty has been declaimed i v those who ere "themselves the servants of corrupon." but the very currc..cy of the coun* rfeit is a testimony to the value of the ue coin. Timid souls shrink back from the birthmgs of change. The near-sighted and ise-loving refuse to think large enough > see what lies in that proposition, in hich the evangel is cognate with the law : liberty?that every man is a man. But ie virgin's magnificat is the ennunciation ' a new society. It is a prophecy. An jocalypse is folded in it, "He hath put >wn the mighty from their seats and exted them of low degree." That cause of the people, which by the ;most widening of responsibility engages hi euucaieB wie largcuu uumuci, muw? ith each latest day. Before ita ' awful ise of dawn" the lanterns of groping sirs are superseded. The law of the lirit of life, aq Christ, the people's Man, terprets it, making all classes "dangeris classes," and those the most so who ust absent themselves from the concerns ' men at law; it instills the conviction lat an actually human relationship yields i no "adverse possession" of privilege, id that the dynasty of tne minority ust pass. For democracy America stands. To it e are shut uo. This is the people's land. y Christianity democracy shall stand id hy naught, else. If it denies the law Christ, it denies that which begat it. divinely human society, from God and irough men, with the two great and Inst immandments as its pillars, is that to hich we are summoned if we are to ;en faith with men and God. Signally, before the envious nations, we e to chasten, uphold, defend that idea, ide as the earth is. We cannot evade ie duty, and we must not sell the bless 2. To retreat or to retract would be to linauish that opportunity of which merica is the trustee?not to exploit & mtinent, but to uplead a world. New id emphatic providences thrust this doue faith upon us. The cause of the peoples?of all the peoe, the cause of mankind and of every an, specially the lowest and the least? the cause and the only cause of democ,cy, and it also is the cause of Him hose errand was liberation, and who, as le eternal deliverer, lives to accomplish 1 His invincible decree. Hail, Thou Son of Man! Let all the :ople praise Thee! Then shall the earth eld her increase! The enlargement of 1 the sons of men is Thy suDreme ariment and evidence. They shall walk at oerty because they seek Thy precepts. Thou shait make us free we shall be ee indeed. Love is Thy law and the felwshir of love its answer. Unto Thyself ve Thou this America. Well did Grover Cleveland say this ring at St. Louis: "It is a solemn liner to belong to a people favored of od." . Conversion of Justice Chase. Chief Justice Chase was in the habit of .tending the Metropolitan Church of our and One-ilalf street, Washington, it he always left the church when the icrament of the Lord'o Supper was adinistered. Affpr nnp such occasion. Dr. Newman. le pastor, went to him and said: "'Why 5 yon not avail yourself of the means of ace in the Lord's Supper?" The Chief Justice answered: "I do not insider mvRelf worthy to partake of the immunion." The Doctor said: "We invite all who ve the Lord, and who do truly and heartf repent of their sins, to join with us this service." "Yea, that is iust it. What do you ean by 'repent?'" Then the Doctor gave him a full and ear explanation of reoentance. On the next communion any instead or avine the church, the Chief Justice re-, ained in his seat. After all had corauned, Dr. Newman said: "If any soul els its unfitness for this service, to him lis invitation is specially riven. If such one fails to acknowledge the Saviour and s own unworthinesR before his fellcw en, we are assured that the Saviour wi]l >t acknowledge him before His Father and is holy aneels." The Chief Justice rose and staggered ither than walked to the front, and fell i his knees at the altar railing. After ving to the kneeling man the bread and ine, the Doctor, seeing the strone foce 1 the penitent drawn with grief, with the isticc still kneeling, pronounced the benliciion. Within a few days the Chief Justice ent to New York to transact some busies. The morning after his arrival he d not come down to breakfast. The erk waited till 11 o'clock; on receiving > answer to his frequent knocks, the ior was forced, and there was found the ad body of the Chief Justice. He had ilered oh his closer walk with God. They Trusted God. There was a knock at the door of Aunt mny's pleasant kitchen one morning, id on the steps stood a little girl with 1 1 i. urtsivuc uii iicj. aim, "jJon't you want to buy something?" le asked as she came in. "Here are some ;ee home-knit stockings." "Sureiy you did not knit these stockgs yourself, little girl?" said Aunt annv. "No, ma'am; but grandma did. She is me, and so she sits still and knits the lings, and I run about to Bell them; :at's the way we get along. She says e arc partners ana 60 I wrote out a gn and put it over the fireplace: 'Granda & Masgie.'" Aunt Fanny laughed and bought the ockings, and as she counted out the oney to nay for them Maggie said: "This ill buy the bread and butter for 6uppeiv' "What if you had not sold anything?" ked Aunt Fanny. But Maggie shook her head. "You see, we prayed, 'Give us this day ir daily bread,' and God has promised i hear when folks pray; eo I guess there asn't any 'if about it. When He says tings, they're sure and certain." Hapi.inees in "Work. Some people dream of happiness as mietiiing they will come to dv and by, ; the end of a course of toil and struggle. :it the true way to find happiness is as o go on in our work. Every day has its vn cup of sweetness. In every duty is not of hidden manna. In every sorrow a blessin" of comfort. In every burden rolled up a gift of God. In all life hrist is with us, if we are true to Him? we nave learned this secret, even the linps that seem unpleasant and disagree)le yield joy in the doing. A traveler in rath Africa saw some boys playing mares. using pebbles. One of these rolled the traveler's feet, and, picking it up, seemed to him only a rough stone, ithout beauty or worth. But as he turned over a gleam of light flashed from one ot of it. It was a diamond. Duties em dull and dreary to us, unattractive, ird. but (hoy infold secrets of happiness hich wc find when we accept them with vo and do them cheerfully.?Rev. J. K. iller. A New Note. Make up your minds that dc.1nite and tiled opinions in theology, if not within sy reach, are possible, arc desirable, are orthy of intense inquiry. Shake oft' this thargy which allows you to remain in ernal suspense, this indifference which iu call liberality, mis apathy you name ndor. It needs, I doubt not, some finer id more generous statement to win the r and heart of Christendom, but 1 feel a ightv confidence that, the first time bow at Christian theology clcars her trumpet id utters a not uncertain note, the voice Channing will be the dominant of the rain.?Henry W. Bellows. Man's Destiny. Every -word, thought and deed has its .,;is::ce upon the destiny of man. Every t . ivcll spent or ill spent, bears -with it Ioi.k train of consequences extending rough generations yet unborn.?Samuel ailes. THE SUNDAY SCHOOL' - J a? INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS ? FOR NOVEMBER 29. Subject: David's Charge to Solomon, 1 Chron. xotviii., 1-10?Golden Text, Ptot* ill., 5?Memory Verses, 9,10?Commentary on the Day's Lesson. I. The assembly of princes (vs. 1-4). 1* d 2. "And David assembled," etc. This re- J ' ? ? 1 lers to tne persons wnoae uawca wm ?- _ are mentioned iti the preceding chapter. J An assembly convened consisting of th$ A princes of tribes, captains and subordinate officers of the armv. stewards of the royal household and nobles of the land. The paticn was well represented, and the occasion' was solemn ar;u important. "Stood up.'' HH| He was now very old and chiefly confihed to his bed, and while he was addressing his son Solomon he continued on the bed, ^ but when all the principal nobles of his J kingdom came before him he received -* strength to arise and address them standing. "My brethren." Although David in their superior Ad speaks with dignity and authority, yet his spirit is humble and affectionate. "I had in mine heart." David had intended to build the temple, until God denied him the privilege and promised , him a son who should buila it. 'T"o build i an house." David had accomplished nearly ] all of his heart's desire as to his kingdom* He had found it small and left it great ^ He found it chaos, and left it finely organJ J ized. He found religion at a low ebb, and ^ | left it earnest, active, organized for work. But there was one great work on wmcn ne had set his heart which he could not accomplish. and that was the Tearing of ?' temple worthy of the religion of the true Goa, and which should hold up the name of the true God before the nations, and make permanent in his own nation the Srinciples and teaching* of the divine reSion i . 3. 4. "A man of war." The wars of David were not carried on against God'e -. will. In many cai-es they were expressly, ordered by Jehovah, nnd often called the( <)( "wars of the Lord." In order to establish Israel in Canaan, wars and bloodshed could not be avoided. Yet this was not in harmony with the symbolism of peace and quiet which were to be embodied in the, house of Jehovah. Hence it could not be done by David in his time. "David is not blamed for his great wars. Thfy were' necessary wars, not wars of aggression, but defensive wars, to keep the enemies of , true religion trom destroying the nation, I and the religion it represented; or they m were executive wars for the necessary pun- ~ ishment and restraint of crime. 1. These wars took up his time, so that he could not do well the orher task, for which his victories prepared the way. 2. They unfitted him for the best doing of the great work of peace. This required a different kind of ability and a different training. 3. It was fitting that the temnle of the true God for all the world should be a temple of peace. It was intended to' proclaim. peace, to bring peace, to teach peace tQ ^ individuals and to nations. Its victories were to be victories of peace; into it waa to come the Prince of Peace, proclaiming "peace on earth, good will to nfen.^ "Chose me/' See 1 Sam. 16:1-13. Notice / the different steps mentioned here. Dflvidf refers to the tribe, the family and the .i- ^dividual. One after another was set aside *and at lost he wa? chosen. II. Solomon declared successor (var. 5-8). 5, 6. "Many sons.'' See chap. 3:1-9- ? "Solomon." The meaning is "peaceful." .^j He was so called because his reiim waa to be a peaceful one. and also because, being ' ,1 peculiarly associated in prophecy witq " David's greater Son in whom the throne ' of hia kingdom should be established for- .3 ever. He was to be a figure of that Messiah who if the Prince of Peace. "Upon: '2 the throne." Note the qualifications need- ^ ed to successfully do (rod's work: 1. The presence and help of the Lord. 2. A pcr^MH feet heart (v. 9i. 3. Readiness and abilitj^^H to do the Lord's work (v. 6). 4. Pcrfe^^H| obedience to God (v. 8). "Solomon . ^H|BS shall build." God had appointed Soloj^HflH to do this work, and nothing couldfl couraee him more than a knowled^HHHN this fact. "My son." A most pr^HnB^B promise to David that his 6on sho^HSBflMfl ceive a father's care from the Lordj^BKSHH most cheering message to offer t^^Hn mon. "His father." What a to! promise is thie! And yet this ise is made to every one who will t^HSBfiyZj God and serve Him faithfully. An eaW^H9H father is ejected to (1) care for, (2J pw^^H vide for, (3) -rotect. and '4) correct hw ' ^1 children. God will do all of this for^Hw' children. All we have comes from God. He has watched over us during our entire lifetime, Drovidmp for us and protecting us from harm and danger. But the best of ail is that He has promised to correct us. When we do wrong end go astray He follows us by (1) His Spirit, (2) by His firovidennee, (3) by the entreaties of our riends, (4) by the prayers of Christiana, and thus endeavors to win us back to the < right way. We should learn to love, trust and obey Hi:n in all things. Those who do this are saved from many difficulties. 7, 8. "Will establish." Added to Hi? tender fare should be the strength, power and authority of the Lord. There could be no nation greater than Israel, for God was their Kinc. "For ever." This promise^ so ? . far as Solomon is concerned, is made con? dltior.al on his obedience. "Be constant." It is fhe constant, steady obedience that is pleasing to God. "To do," etc. There is no way to usefulness and success in doing God's work except by a careful obedience ? to His law. For lhafc law will (1) show i him what to do. (2) give him the qualities of mind and heart which bring success, and (3) enable him to work by example ae well as precept. "May possess." The Jxn-d designed ;tnd promised prosperity to Solomon, but it must not be expected on any other condition than obedience to the same laws of government that had fixed . ^ the standard for others. The fundamental principles nia't be observed, else all the (structure would be lacking. III. D; id's charge to Solcmjn (vs. 0, 10.) 9. "Know thou." Become thoroughly acquainted with God. "Of Ihy Father." God had beta true to David and sustained and kept him for many veare. "Serve Him," ctc. We can serve God acccptably pnlv as we have a perfect heart and a trilling mind. "C?8t thee off." The Lord is no respector of persons, and Solomon ll?o Irin/r -TO/inl/l tinvp'im favnr nhnwn him ? ' If he failed to obey the Lord. He would Fare no better than the poorest subject in J his kingdom. "Take heed now." Notice. j J. The anxielv cf David for the moral and 1 spiritual "welfare of hi* son. David cared first for character, and next for circum- J stances. He believed that if the heart were A right with God things would of themselves po right with men. 2. Thejjyiliiig"rrei<tf of f-'o-onion to receive Kuclj/^ounsele. How different was his spiriY^om that of Adonijah (1 King* 1-5). -Though young, highspirited. of prim ely rank, and already anointed king, he boivs to listen to his aged father. Lesson? of reverence for age and respect to parents are to be drawn from thin. "V;:5n''.blf* Foaurls Found. The people cf Mmrie, "a small town on the Wabash River, in White County, 111., have become *:cc!red over the iinding,of valuable pt;>.'> in the river bed, and scores of peonlc .'.re now fvorking daily gathering rnussefl siicllv, v.iijqh are.wiling at $15 a ton. .Sci'.t critlgfM can secure a (on per cVtv. Th^j^wSeing found range ?? To UilJ WcMl* That Kill Cattle. The Dcjin^-tt of Agriculture has sent one of its i-pecteijgts to the West to investigate with a '/lew to stamping out the / poisonous weeds eaten by grazing animals on the zrvzl ranches.' Locoweed in Montana alone to liave resulted in a loss of Mock VcU%"dat *100,000. Guard lioaac on Tekin Wall. The War Department of the United States has authorized the construction of a fjuard house op the Tartar wall at Pekin, China, for soldiers stationed in that city aa a legation ?uard. I S10,400.000 From Klondike. A sre;ial from Da\v.?on, Alaska, says that the kuIiI output of the Klondike for the past <-eaean is estimated at $10,400,000. Cotton America's Greatest Export. ^ Last year cotton wa.? the greatest Ameri- j can export, $316,000,000 worth of the raw nrn/1ii/?f krlr?n> PvnnrtPrl V4- ^ - ..'cm