The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, December 23, 1903, Image 6
- ...
Q AM ATT
X0/Mil
i By Ansa Katharine Green, J
COPYRIGHT, 1BBO, BY ROI
CHAPTER XXIII. Ji
WELCOME AND UN WELCOME INTRUDEBS. 1
The artist returned to l)is rooms a
dazed man. The triumph of his rival 1
had overwhelmed him. He moved and
acted like an automaton, and passed
from object to object in his apartment
like one who has no further interest
in lif^ Not till he came upon the sig- 1
norisa's picture, gleaming in soft
beauty frCln the corner where he kept ^
It enshrined, did a flash of the old life
return to him. Then, indeed, he seemed
to wake and soften to the influence
of the,- tWilight, and be a man again
Of hopes and fears. But, after a long
contemplation of it, he showed re-'
newed $igns of weakening; and anxious,
probably, to stave off the torpor
which be felt overcoming him, he
passed to the closet and reached up
< his hand for a certain decanter he
kept there. It was dart, and he had
to grope along the shelf for it; but at
last he found it in what he thought a
rather remote corner, and, taking it
down, discovered, to bis surprise, that
it was empty.
Now, as he had filled it that very
morning, he naturally thought this
somewhat suspicious, and looked about
the room to see if any one had been
in it during his absence. But be saw
?? o?w?npo of this. The intruder,
therefore, must have been some one 1
both sly and deft, for the room was
quite -small and much crowded with
furniture. ?
But who had the intruder been? His j
landlord or his landlord's wife? Impossible!
Such people as they never
drink. The servant, then? But she *
was as awkward as she was good natured,
and never came into the room
without upsetting a table or so, and
knocking down two pictures at least. 1
It must have been a stranger. But '
what 6tranger? Henry Martin, his
fellow artist, whom he had originally ?
brought with him to this place, was up
in the hills sketching; besides, his
tastes were moderate almost to the ?
point of abstinence. It could not have
been he, nor any one else that be knew.
' ' * ?~ ~ ,a;,a C
It was, tneieioreT bouh," wjuc iuui uc v?u
not know.
Arrived at this point he dropped the
subject. After all, what did he care
for this or anything else? He would
sleep; he would shut his eyes upon this *
perplexing world. But here a knock at 1
the door startled him. He was not to (
be allowed to rest. Some one demand- *
ed admittance. 1
Advancing to the door he opened it.
It had darkened considerably since he
first came in, aud for a moment he did
not recognize the face that confronted
him; then an exclamation of relief left
big lips, and he stepped back with
cheerful alacrity, exclaiming, in the 1
mo3t welcoming of tones:
"Mr. Gryce!"
"The same," was the hearty rejoinder.
"I am glad to see you well."
The artist, who still held the empty
decanter in his hand, gave a short
Jaugh, pud turned to light the lamp. *
"I cannot express my pleasure at
seeing you," was his reply. "Have
you just come, and did the spirit of di- *
vination bring you? You cannot know
how desirable your presence is here, i
I was just wondering if I would be t
justified in sending for you or for Mr.
Byrd. I did qot tbink so, and yet, no^fr
that you hqve come I feel relieved of a
mountain height of uncertainty "and
responsibility. t)id you know you
were wanted so much?" / ^
"My presence should be the best answer
for that I have no time for
< jaunts, and no health to indulge in 1
them if I had." 1
"Then the detective you sent here tel- *
egraphed for you?"
"He did." 1
"Then lie is a better fellow than I *
thought." i
bo ?e nil riVhf t
Mr. Degraw, more and more cheerful, t
chewed the detective the empty decan- 1
ter.
"Some one has been helping himself I
to my best sherry," said he, "or I
would offer you a glass after your
ride." ? 5
"Whom do you mean?"
"That I don't know."
The detective moved nearer to the c
grate, upon -which his eyes had been f
fixed ever since he entered the room. 6
"What is this?" he asked, pointing I
to the ashes beneath, that were wet, or
appeared to be so. \ s
"I can't say; do you suppose it is my t
rtrHinh hoe lioon nnnrorl V x
t "I should like to take a sniff and see.
But my rheumatism is too much for
me. I could not beDd my back so low 8
?? If I should try." t
' But I can," and the artist went 1
flown on his knees, buried his nose in
the ashes, and rose up with a perplexed s
face. c
"My wine is there; what do you sup- (
pose it means?" he cried. :
^ Mr. Gryce shook his head; he was 1
W already looking here and there about 1
W the room as only a detective can. (
J- "You leave your window open?" he <
remarked. t
"Generally." I
"Some one has Jumped out of SI.**
"How do you know that?"
"Here is the mark of a foot in fhte' t
down pillow. Evidently a fl.vinj? leap a
line boon t.okpn frnm thie
v IV lUV
grass beneath."
^ "Well, I did not see that." r
"And if that is not a proof, look at i
that broken branch of vine lying be- t
low. H it were not so dark we could a
see it mere clearly, but I do not know
as we need to."' And the detective >
withdrew his head from the window n
out of which he had been peering and l
again cast his eyes about the room.
"Have any of those canvases and g
things been uioved?" ho inquired.
-No." 1
"Yet a man has passed amid ilieni <
freeiy. Ah!" t
The exclamation was caused by the <'
sudden discovery of a small, and; gUt- I
<*-;ng object lying on the floor under t
the lounge. Drawing it out he showed t
M?MpaaM\ th
j ha
ER -J s
th
LIONS. Jl |j
Anther of "The Forsaken 1
Inn," Etc. I
CUT BONNER'S SONS* f
hi^
t to the artiBt with a quiet and pecuiar
smile. ar
"A detective's badge," he cried. "The
dentity of your visitor is explained.
3e "was no one else than my coleague."
an
The artist, with his eyes flashing it
rom the empty decanter to the still of
Doist ashes, changed color. so;
"You are right," said he, "and by his j
risit he has probably saved my life." of
"What's that?" Ia1
"He warned me. He told me that I hii
vas in danger from this adventurer's hii
ealousy, and " w]
"Wart!* What adventurer?" at
"The other Degraw. You knew ot
here's another Degraw man here who wl
rails himself 'Hamilton Degraw,' did ha
rou not?" re:
"Vp R" * ?
"Well, he passes for a gentleman, sa
le i8, perhaps, a gentleman, hut. for to<
ill that, he is the villain you are seek- in
ng. He came with recommendations clc
rom Cleveland, and was received into '
iliss Aspinwall'i house, and immedi- of
ttely began to make love to Signorina wi
faldi, whose real name, as you doubt- w
ess know, is Jenny Rogers. He has '
laTk hair, gray eyes and a persuasive on
nanner. He has been in New York, I
ind if not the gentleman you seek, ac
.ertainly answers to all descriptions of inl
lim as fully as I ever did." ho
"Very-good, I will see him." '
"Your man?that is, the detective de
rou sent here?is not in favor of bis yo
mmediate arrest. He wishes to wait it.
ill this mysterious Degraw commits D?
timself. But I, who have so much at ca
;take, feel tbie to be cold blooded. I no
lope you will agree with me." 4
"We will see; we will see." m;
v?o4- ici twava flnriAno effll Ho
AUU *Y UU t AO UUV1C vuttvuo uv?i,
is "well as she, declares that it is my m<
ife which is menaced, and not hers. ]
Though, to be sure, her fears are the hi;
iffspring of his, he having seen fit to wi
ell her of certain mutterings uttered he
iy Mr. Degraw, which he, in character <jli
f valet to that gentleman, had been ne
ortunate enough to overhear." fo;
Mr. Gryce, who had been studiously pjj
onsidering the head of his cane, shift- jai
id his gaze at this point to the ferule.
"Please repeat that," said he.
The other did so. -
"I begin to understand," muttered
he detective to the impassive object
le was considering. Then, in his usual jn
wlloquial manner he observed: "So
hat fellow of ours has been playing ch
he part of this gentleman's valet?"
<>tr if * C
xes. ly
"And has talked with Miss Rogers?" aD
"Yes."
"And with you?" H
4,Yes" . . dc
"Humph! And yet yon speak of him W]
n a careless "way as my man!" h
Vlj,do not know him by name." Bij
"You do not know him by name?"
"No." he
"He must be wonderfully disguised." j
"How?" Ja
"The man whom we sent here was h
Hr. Byrd." r|l
"Never!"
"Mr. Byrd," emphatically repeated af
he detective. sa
"It is impossible! No disguise could pr
nakQ blue eyes black. This fellow has f0
)lack eyes." be
"Pooh!" ar
"Black, I assure you." in
"Lights deceive " th
"I have seen him by daylight only." jt
"It is Byrd; I have bis letter bere, vo
vritten in bis own hand." ho
The artist grew excited. fo
"Letter or no letter, black eyes or tu
)lue, the man who calls himself Mr. he
Oegraw's valet and an officer of your th
'orce is not Mr. Byrd." of
The dectectlve gave a sly wink at tb
:he ferule, as if it were with that and eil
lot with the artist he had been carry- tb
ng on this dispute, then buried it, with tb
he secrets be had been imparting to it, nn
leep in the pile of the rug upon which va
le stood, and turned toward the door, w;
"Let us make a few inquiries," he fo
iroposed. aE
The artist, unused to this sort of w:
vork. followed his stens with reluct- bo
ince. th
"Whither are we going?" he asked. mi
"First, to your landlady or landlord
>r whoever it Is who keeps this house
;oing. I want to find out if any one
iaw a person enter here since you have J
jeen out, and if so, who it was." Be
"Then let us ask the old man who a*
>its on the front porch. He is always Qu
here and would be sure to see any one n'!
vho came in by the door." to
"Very good." de
So they asked the old Ulln who was
till sitting in his favorite spot, though fa
he night dews were falling and cosy- Pa
ooking lights welcomed him within. sv\
He answered that he had seen two fr<
itrance men admitted, besides the el- be
lerly gentleman now addressing him. Th
)ue.came quickly, passed him ru<Jely wl
md "went in without waiting for his de
lurried ring at the bell to be answered. 6t'
3e had a book in his hand. The other
:amc immediately after him, stepped an
luietiy by his chair and did not stop
0 ring at all. Both went toward Mr. aCl
}egraw's room.
"Two!" ^
The artist looked amazed. The de -jC(
active turned up his ferule and nodded
ah
"And when clid these men come out?"
"Why, they have not come," the old -pj.
uan answered. "I have set here on ^
turpose to watch. T was going to ask c.y
hem their business when I saw them '
gain." fll>,
"A fine watch dog, that," murmured yn
fr. Gryce, sarcastically. Theu with
1 kindly bow: "They were both young at
ner. I take it?"
"Ob, yes, young fellows; not Mr. Dc;raw?s
kind, but well enough." jj
"I see, I see. Come, Mr. Degraw. cur tj1(
tusicess takes us further." And Mr.
Jryce descended the two steps leading
o the walk while saying: "Your winlojr
points toward the west, I see.
'rttbably the latter man followed ihe '
irst out of it into thst skirting of treec thi
hat leads up the hill side. We will let on
_
f
"fy ' ' I
- r. /
% I
i
- . . ;
em take care of themselves.- "We
ve other n , tters on hand just now."
'But," objected Mr. Degraw, as tbey
ssed out or the gate into tne broau
:eet of this beautiful village, "who is
e second man? or rather, the first?
r it looks as If the latter is the dective."
<
'It could not have been Mr. Deaw?"
suggested Mr. Gryce.
"No; I left him behind me at MiPfl
spinwaH's."
'An agent of his, then?"
'Possibly." 1
'With an errand of death?"
'It may be."
'Which was defeated by Mr. Byrd?"
'The valet Is not Mr. Byrd," tbe
tist again declared.
'You stick to that?"
'Always."
'Remember Dr. .Tekyll and Mr. Hyde,
d stick to nothing, especifilly where
is a question wherein the disguising
a detective is concerned," Mr.Gryce
tnewhat sententiously observed.
\nd yet, as they proceeded, and more
the particulars connected with the
te occurrences came to light under
5 skilful questioning, it seemed from
s manner and the frequency with
bich he turned up his ferule to look
it, as if he>were not without hia
en secret doubts, though in just
aat direction they pointed it woald
.ve'been hard to tell. "When they
ached the hotel Mr. Gryce stopped.
'Let me do this business myself,"
id Mr. Gryce; and leaving the only
) willing artist on the piazza, lie -went
and bad his little talk with the
;rk. Shortly he came out.
'Mr. Degraw and his man are neither
them in. This we expected. I shall
lit till one or both of them return.
h?i+ -roill mil rln'"
'Wait. too. The piazza is dark
ongb to conceal anybody's identity,
will sit here, and if you see fit to
quaint me with the result of your
:ervlew, well and good. I shall know
w to be grateful."
'That I do not doubt," observed..the
tective. "I have no objections to
ur .remaining here. In r'act, I prefer
But do not think of accosting Mr.
;graw or his man. We have a delite
matter here to handle, and it will
t bear the least interference."
'Do not fear; I shall not budge from
y corner."
'Very well, then. You will hear from
? again."
3e went in, and the artist settled
mself for a long and tedious hour of
liting. As the clock struck ten, he
ard the notes of a fine baritone voice
sturb the quiet of the night, and the
xt moment saw Mr. Degraw's fine
rm come up the steps, cross the
jzzn, and enter the house by the
ge front door.
CHAPTER XXIV.
A FORTUNE AND A DEATH-BED.
The moments that followed were
11 of suspense. What was happen- J
g in Mr. Degraw's private room, or
aerever it was that the detective bad J
osen to confront him? Was an arst
In progress, and would ho presentbehold
Mr. Gryce issue forth, proud
id triumphant with evidences of his
ctim's secret villainy in his hand?
e dared not anticipate the scene; he
;sired it 60 much. Jealousy bad
rought its perfect work in him, and
i could think of no more welcome
;ht than the vision of his hated rival
disgrace. But he was a generousarted
man, for all that, and did net
ve way to anticipations that he
guely felt dishonored-him. though he
id no uoudc oi ineir justice ur ui ma
ral's hypocrisy and secret crime.
When, therefore, some ten minutes
ter the disappearance of his namebe
into the house, another step apoached
and another form passed be- j
re his eyes into the big front door, j
allowed his attention to be attracted j
id his interest engaged, especially as '
the passing glimpse he caught of j
is person he was nearly assured that j
was no othet> than Mr. Degraw's j'
let who h^d thus boldly entered the j
itel before his eyes. Had1 it'not been j
r Mr. Gryce's injunction not to dis- j
rb himself, no matter what occurred, '
would have made himself sure of ,
is, for he felt that he had questions j
no unimportant nature to put to <
is man. But, as it was, he remained |
ent and immovable among the vines
at clustered over the portico, and let
e fellow go by, finding his reward a
oment later in the discovery that the !
ilet. if it was the valet he had seen, j
as not "without eyes to watch him, !
r only a few steps behind him came j
lother man, who entered the house
ith an easy swing of his graceful ,
idy, which was strangely familiar to i
e artist, and which roused., in his
ind the strangest conjectures.
\yo be continued.
The Refinements of Duelling.
Al large meeting of students of the
irlin University was held recently, i
which a resolution was passed re- j
esting the Minister of War to recogse
the sword as the official weapon j
all duels between officers and stu- ,
nts, and only to permit the use of the
stol jn cases of (1) the most serious j
mily insults, (2) If one or the other j
rty is physically unable to use a
*ord, (3) if one of the parties suffers
Dm a contagious disease which can i
communicated through the blood, j
ie concluding clause of the resolution, '
rich was agreed to*:iv sixty-five stu- I
nts' "corporations." numbering 2318 !
idents, reads: "The students are of
e'-opinion tliat the lives of officers
d students belong lo the fatherland,
d that they should not be risked on
count of petty differences."
Livingstone's Compats.
There has just been added to the col ticn
of relies of Dr. Livingstone,
lich the Royal Geographical Society
eady possesses, a boat's compass
lich belonged to the great traveler.
ie instrument is one which was used
Dr. Livingstone quite early in his
reer as an African missionary and
plorer. being employed by him the
st time he descended the* Zambesi
illey in 18.">G. It was left with other
tides of the traveler's impedimenta
the Portuguese station at Tet-.1, and
'er having passed through several i
rrtc finnilv Tntulrxl !!1 tilOSO Of Ml'.
R. Wallace, the British Consul
sre, who has presented it to the
ographieni Society. ? Westminster
izette.
J.org or Knii.
rhe hopeful man never gets anying,
but he Las lois of fnn keeping
guessiug.-Xcw York rretsb.
\
A SEBMON FOE SUNDAY
A BEAUTIFUL DISCOURSE BY THE REV
DR. HOWARD DUFFIELD.
Subject: Heart's Knte-The Iron H??Never
Entered the 8oul of Thofto 'Who Expect
Happiness to Be u Matter of l'ertonal
Choice.
*-" 1.7 (V... <<T7 TT*,s.tx? Wna
i\EW X UJti\ Wi l."" iicui'i> a jvaav n?o
the subject of the sermon Sunduy morning
in the Old First Presbyterian Church,
Fifth avenue and Twelfth street, by the
Rev.,-Dr. Howard Duffield. pastor. The
text was from John, xiv: 1 (Revised Version):
^Let not your heart be troub'ed.
Ye helieve in God, believe also in Me."
J?r. Duffield said:
Let not their hearts be troubled? How
could they help it? They were not men
who knew the world well and they were
going out to fact; the world alone. They
were not men versed in the wisdom
c. the schools, and they were to be the
teachers of novel, profound and revolutionary
truthn. They were impulsive, undisciplined
and without social influence.
Hitherto in every hour of difficulty a di
vine menu nau hiuuu m men muv. .?
blunt upon the shield of His love every
dart which was launched at them. Now
they must address themselves unfriended
to a mission Mich as men never attempted,
and they must enter upon their adventure
broken with bereavement and crushed with
a consciousness of helplessness. How could
they be otherwise than "troubled?" It is
simple mockerv to say to the heart which
is harried witn the mystery of pain .and
haunted with the bitterness o.' loneliness
and stung with the keen Sense of "its inability
to cope with the responsibilities of
existence, "Don't be troubled." Tbe oppressed
soul is ready to reply, "Pour acid
upon alkali and say 'do not ferment.' Cut
when wishes are thwarted and hopes are
withered, and endeavor has its upshot
in disappointment, and the light of life
has gone into eclipse, do not say to me,
'Let not your heart be troubled.' Either
you have not measured my grief or the iron
iias never entered your soui.
But he who SDoke ihitt se-ivence Dad
taken the cxact measure of the woe of
those to whom Ho spoke, and He knew
the wormwood tang of sorrows blackest
draught. Hie acquaintance with grief
was life-long. He knew grief not as a
casual passerby upon the streets. He
knew grief not as we know some neigh-1
bor by occasional eight. He was the intimate
and inseparable associate of that]
grim companion. It was just because He
knew tbe secret sorrow, its strange ministry
and its woudrous outcome, that when
He saw His friends standing at the threshold
of'the very life which He Himself had
lived, a'life wrought out in loneliness
and suffering and defeat and scorn, a life
of utter 6aerifice to t<-- uplifting of otha
life rejected by the world for whose
enrichment they were to give up everything
that made their years sweet to
them. He said, "Let not your hearts be
troubled." In thought He was looking far
forward from that unknown house in Jerusalem
beneath whose roof they then were
seated, to another mansion, not made with
hands, eternal and elorious in the city of
"Prpcpnf tr> TTiu crnrp wns not SO
much the plow and the narrow and the
cold, dark furrows of the trcdtime, as the
rrladsome company of the reapers, laden
with golden sheaves and shouting the song
of the harvest. He was looking across the
storm-swept sea of the safe and sheltered
harbor where the troubled waves were
sleeping. He was thinking not only of
the wrench of parting, but of the clasp of.
greeting. Present' to His mind was not
only the death which was to seDarate. but
the death which was to unite. So He said:
"Let not your heart be troubled, neither
let it be afraid. During the strange, cad
hours and the hard and weary days that
are coming, believe in God; believe also in
Me; and by and by the uoors of. your
Father's house shall open wHe for your
entrance upon a larger, holier, purer ministry
for which the disciplines of time
shall have evoked the canacity. if it were
not so. I would have told you."
"Believe" is Christ's talisman for charming
away the specter of trouble froia the
haunted heart. Beiieve in the Father's
plan for His child. Believe in the Father's
care of His child. There is no speculative
process by which; the mind may unravel
the sore '.ingles of, mortal experience. A
condemned heart cannot find relief in a
logic book. The cold bloodless hand of
reason never wiped' awa a tear. The intellect
has never discovered any balm for
heartache. When one is dvinr; of hunger
it is no time fo discuss the process Dy
which flour is prepared. When one is
pinched with poverty, it is not the hour
> broach the tenets of political economy.
The famine-stricken soul cries for bread,
At- - 1 1 4. j J_ rrL _
ine uariKrupt. aeotor demands ruin. .me
troubled, heart yearns for Gorl Himself,
and not for any theoretical discussion of
the nature of deity. . When the probiem
of the cross becomes too sore and the
weight of the burden becomes too heavy,
C.. not struggle to express vour experience
in a theological formula; do not strive to
endure the 6train in your unaided
strength. Lean on God. "Cuddle down" in
?Iis arms. Be not afraid. Believe. That
is the way Christ would take the sting
from mortal sorrow.
To attemnt to analyze such an act of belief
as the Master here prescribes would be
like endeavoring to learn to sing by studying
a picture of the larynx. One may
master the anatomy of the throat and
uover utter a note of song. Think yourself
hack into ihe situation. Jesus was
not a theological professor sittinc at Hi*
desk and lecturing to a class with reference
to a neatly articulated system of
dogmas. The shadow of life's* mystery
was chilling to the hearts of those He
loved, and He was striving to kindle in
their breasts a vivid, luminous, unquenchable
consciousness of the divine sympathy
His word to them is ''Realize God instead
of theorizing about God." A? thouirh
He said: "Peter. James, John and all
the rest, you have lisped sentences conrerninc:
God sir'-e you were little children.
David's holy hymns were your cradle 6ongc.
The sacred roles of the svnagogue have
spoken to you their Sabbath day messages
from the Infinite One. Your hearts were
burned as<. you participated in the so!
emnities of ifassover and Pentecost, which
celebrated the august sovereignties with
which God had shaped your nation's life.
With an irrepressible wistfulness you have
pondered the grandeur of .Tehovp.h as you
felt Him present in the grandeurs nf
nature, while the quiet watrhes of the
night stole over you as you lay in your
fishing boat's beneath the insleeninz stars.
That God is your God. He thinks. Ho
plans, He works for you. He marks your
stens. He treasures your tears. " He
weighs in His heart every cross before
He lays it upon your shoulder, ^'he
march of the tribes through the de?ert. the
progress of humanity through the centuries,
the swing of the stars through the
sky is no more to Him than the passing
of the days of your life. There is nothinc
better known to God than the things
which befall you. There is no one nearer
to the heart of God than you are. Believe
in Him. - ^
The reaspn trouble is ?o troublesome .is
that we seldom put God in the present:,
tense. We transpose Him into the diVn
past and dwell upon the wonders He
?rnniTht in thr fl.lvK of the fathers. We
transpose Hi-; into the remote future
and droam of the glories which shall be
ours when ail the veils which now hide
Him shall be lifted. Christ's cure for trouble
ie to live with God beside us in our
every day ex-erience?; tj take God to
the office, a partner in our business; to
talc- God to the parlor, a sharer in our
pleasurps; to be In the comnanionship of
God when throngs surround u? or when
we tread a way wheis rio one else hut
He can walk or enter the shades of a
Vneliness whereby ;.ll but He are forgotten.
Eternity can bring us no nearer
t God than we are now. The great secret
of peace and ol nower is mastered by him
wiio comes to know that the comradeship
with (iod. which shall become visible
hereafter, is actual now. jL'he pain, the
strife, the wrong that burn this truth
into the tablets of oma's consciousness
are disguised angels.
"Believe also in Me.' The realization
of God that brings help to human hearts i
can never be grasped as a practical truth
in any other way. A personal acquaintance
with Christ carries with it a knowledge
of the personality of God. All formulas
are sorry makeshifts. Whoever is
r.rgued into faith may be arg -ed out of
it. If the foundation of your belief is a
form of words, it will be overturned whenever
a neater and more masterly phrase
than yours is framed. "No man cometb
; r:. ,'r , Vj?,
to tiie Father but by .nae. - ay me way
of philosophical analyais one may arrive at
sortie concept of God as "a power not
ourselves that makes for righteousness."
Through the labyrinth of speculative
thought one may reach the conclusion
that?God is the unknown quantity in the
equation of the universe. Along the path
of a logical syllogism one may deduce the
idea of God as "an absentee God sitting
b;. aT/d watching the universe go." But
through Christ alone can one learn to define
God in terms of fatherhood. In Christ
alone ran one learn that the earth life is a
disciplinary process?a curriculum of
Daren ta] love?its defects, its catastrophes,
its pains, its mystery, its perpetual sacrifice.
all energies under the control-of infinite.
beneficences , and compelled to
achieve its purposes, >ffor He, the best be*
lovo.l of the Father,; had a path of tears
which ended at the. cross, but from the
cross He shed a light upon a nath by which
men find their way to the heart of God.
From Him we learn that God holds this
noor stricken world in the embrace of an
inexhaustible sympathy and thqt He purposes
to crown the fn ~mentary life of
men with a divine completeness and symmetry.
Christ is daily translated into the
terms of our moral life and expressed in
the forms of our human experience. There
is no seminary of theology like that on
Calvary.
"Let not vorr heart be troubled." Your
mind may be, but your mind will never
bring you into touch with God. If we fe?l
after God we will find Him. If we think
after God we will lose Him. The relationship
between God and ourselves is a
tie of love, and true love is not the offspring
of logic. The link between God
and ourselves is that^between father and
child, and the mystery of narentship and
sonship evades speech, and b measured
onlv by experience.
"Let not your heart be troubled." 'It
be ofttimes saddened. It may be spent
with strain, wearied with toil, broken .with
grief?but let it not be palsied with''melancholy.
Let your life be as the stormvexed
ocean, whose surface the tempest
lo.she6 into fury, while calm eternal and unruffled
abides in the unfathomable depths.
"Let not your heart be troubled." Others
may be the heirs of unrest, who with"
their back to the source of light look
out only upon the ever lengthening track
of their own shadow. They travel the
burden of life unheloed. They toil at '
the work of life unaided. They stand on j
the brink unfriended. A brood of trou- i
b)p? nests within such hearts.
But for you. believing in God as yonr !
Father, and in Christ as your Saviour, life I
is as a iourney home. A few more days of
mingled cloud and sunshine; a few more j
wondrous passings of winter into spring:
a few more hard endeavqre ?in the seed
plot of mortal soil; a few more hot strokes
noon .tHe field of earthlv battle?then the
flirfit of all shadows, and the blessed vision j
of the face of God.
One Way of Serving.
It is nsually a disconcerting thing to be
told of our faults, but there is one lamentable
fact which ought to be brought home
to each of us, and that is our negligeqce
in returning gracious "thank yous'"' for tne
favors and courtesies continuously pouring
upon us. Try to realize what life
would be without tne little amenities.which
come to ug, whether through love and
friendliness or the mere politeness of a
stranger. Rather blank, wouldn't it? For
we obtain through kindness and courtesy
much more than is ours by right, and our
daily debt of thankfulness is a heavy one.
It is easy ?to say "thank you," but it
requires more than a mere thoughtless
murmur of-, words to express thanksgivinor:
a rav.of true anDreciation must shoot
out from the heart, and this is not so
easy. And yet how much it means to the
recipient! Gladness because of pleasure
bestowed; faith in man's appreciation of
kindness, and encouragement to good
deeds. In the home life, in the fields,
the shops and the streets are occasions
constantly presenting themselves where a
word of thanks, with the true spirit of
thankfulness back of it, will tend to ennoble
our own life as we]l as brighten
others. . ^
The rush and hurry of the day is perhaps
largely to blame for this* lack of'
courtesy on our part. At least, we try
not to think that it lies within ourselves.
But only a moment is necessary to thank
the giver of a favor, and if it is impossible
to personally do this, k Rxatefu)ffnote Teoaires
but ja trifle longer. Perhapa the
favor is verv little?scarcely worth noticing,
we think. It was given withfkind intentions,
was it not? Then accept it in
like manner, and say "thank you" .iust as
earnestly as if a great service had been
rendered. Some of us have only little
things to give ?tnd how it hurts when they
are overlooked! *
Let us encourage our hearts tn feel grateful,
to appreciate the small favors, and
our voices to ring out speedy words of
thanksgiving for every courtesy, for every
gift, until all the hills are echoing "thank
vou8," and every life >s a song of thanksgiving.?Mae
Y. Mahaffv.
Religion at Rome.
Ti.e religion of Christ is intensely practical.
It is intended to be manifested in
our home life, just as\faithfully as at
cnurch. This is why!, ;we\ can gener^llv
obtain a true conception of the soundness
of a man's faith by spending a few
days in his own home. Many a man has'
a reputation for piety, when nis home life
will not bear close inspection. It is in,.|
u e hum-drum duties of home that we are
tried. The way we meet the everyday
worries is a better test of our reliction
than the way we behave in church. It is
comparatively easy to be sweet-tempered j
when we Have nothing to ver. us, but to I
keep our faces bright and our hearts light j
rmid the uninspiring labors of weekday
life we need to have the spirit of God
dwelling in our hearts. Such living is
possible. Not only is it poss'ble. but it is J
necessary for us if we would live up to
our responsibilities. Our Lord expects
us to ba true to Him in our homes, as well
as in church, and we are not fulfilling
His commands when we fail to live every
hour of every day in accordance with the
high standard. He has set before us.
It is an inspiring thought that we can
take Him with us into the humblest daily
duties. The busy housewife, as she goes
about her task, making a home bright
for those dear to her. is serving the Masfiiiof
ne ffilir an/1 inet ns fnithfllllv ilS
the preacher in the pulpit. Let us en*
rourace our hearts with the tliought that
Hp gracious'v accepts every offering of
faithful service of home as well as at
church.?George D. Gelvlcks.
l>nty Above Life.
Life is a matter of very small account
to anyone in comparison with duty doinj:,
whether a man realizes this truth or not.
Whatever is worth living for is worth
dying for, if dying be an inrdent to its
pursuing. When the Eoman General,
Poinncy, was warned against the danger
of his returning from . n-pt to Italy, to
I meet a new trouble in his own land, his
1 erioc a newer Was: "It is a small matter
that I shouid move forward and die. Jt is
too great a matter that I thould take one
steo backward and live." Life is never
well used when it is held dearer than
duty. He who would tell a lie in order
to live is willing to pay a great deal
lareer price for nis life than that life is
worth to himself?or lo others.?II. C.
Trumbull.
Trannftfirured Beauty.
Let our temper be under the rule of
the love of Jesus. He cannot alone curb
it?He can make us gentle and patient.
Let the vow. that not an unkind word to
others shall ever be heard from our lips,
be laid trustingly at His feet. Let the gentleness
that refuses to lake offense, that
is a.ways ready to excuse,- to think and
hope the best, mark our intercourse with
all. Let our life be one of self-sacrifice,
always studying the welfare of others,
finding our highest joy in hlessing other?.
By His grace the most commonplace life
r\n itflfli iiio hriorh f npcc nf
a heavenly beauty, as the infinite love of
a divine nature shines out through our ]
frail humanity.
How to Gain Strength.
Power is pained rather by the effort
to give to others than >y t ie effort to
ptet from others. Of the supremest being I
who was ever on earth it was said that '
He came not to be miniitered unto, but '
to minister; not 'o be served, but to
serve. W .ioever has the spirit of Christ
gains strength in giving strength to othera.
' ' V . ''
' ' . ' . i ' ;v. ,v ..
THE SUNDAY SCHOOL
INTERNATIONAL LtSSUN uuiwiwcn 10
FOR DECEMBER 27.
ilcview?Head Pulm 103, 1-12?A Fins!
Survey of the LeiBone For the Latt
Quarter of the Yeart-Golden Text, Fia.
103, 17?Summary of the Topica.
Introduction.?The lessons this quarter
mark the time between the bringing in
of the ark to Jerusalem under David and
the dedication of the temple. In the his- *h
tory of David and bis sons we see the great
truth emphasized that "whatsoever a man
eoweth, that shall he also reap." During
the quarter God's love and mercy have j>]
been extolled and we have 6een the joy ?
that comes through forgiveness. t
Summary.?tesaon I. Topic: Bringing
the ark to Jerusalem. The ark was a j>]
small chest; the lid wae called the mercy- ^
seat. It was a sign of the divine presence; ^
for seventy years it had lain in neglect; ^
David now decides to bring it into Jeru- a
salem. Proper reverence is not shown; j~
I'zzah dies lor touching it; David is displeased
the ark is left at the house of 0]
Obed-edom; three months later David q
takes the ark and brings it into Jerusalem; y
the priests and Levites and chief men are g,
called together; a great .procession is f,
formed; sacrifices are frequently offered; jj
there is music and singing. It was the
greatest day of David's life. ' B
II. Topic: God's promises to Dsvid. u,
David desires to build a house for the R
Lord. The ark was On Mt. Zion and David B
wa6 living comfortably in his own house A
of cedar; David spoke to Nathan the
prophet-about his desire and Nathan at
once encouraged him to proceed with the
building". But God spoke to Nathan, informing
him that David's desire could
not be granted; he had been a man of war,
and there was still much to do in estab- f
| lishing the kingdom. He could prepare
the material, but his son should build the
house. The Lord said that He would es*
tablish David's throne forever.
III. Topic: David praying for forgive- *
ness. When David was about fifty years 7?
of age he committed two great sins. About if
a year afterwards the L^rd sent Nathan, ,
i l-;? v: U
I the prophet, to Dim 10 enow aim ma gicai.
| wickedness; the king's heart was tender; r,
be saw his sin and mourned exceedingly. S
[ This psalm shows the depth of his,repent- F
ance. He pleads for forgiveness, and that *'
his transgressions may be blottea_out;-knd ?
that he may be washed and -deanssd. D&vid j
has great confidence in God, and prays ,f
earnestly that the Lord would still uphold :
him with His free Spirit. He resolves to..
employ his life from thi? time fully- in
\ God's service. ? * - p* |S
j IV. Topic: God's mercy and love. This
I is one of the seven so-called penitential
psalms; it has reference to the forgiveness'
that was granted David after he bad committed
his great sin. In psalm fifty-one +
we see him repenting ana pleading, for
mercy; with the opening sentence of this u
psalm we heat him A&y, "Bltesed is he n
: whose transgression forgiven, whose sin L
is covered;" ne speaks bere also of his^erfp' U
repentance and of his' confidence in Uod. c
God was to be his mighty., deliverer'. ; \ t
V. Topic: Absalom's rebellion. 'The fi
bitter fruits of Datidli own unholy coarse L
are now beinff seen;. David's eons were j
wicked; Absalom . was a . wicked, pjroud a
young man;' he was renowned, forchis
; beauty; he laid a plot to overthrow the
government and eeize the kingdom';, he
; stole the hearts of the people by his sub- ij
tletv; he then lied to his father ami went
, to Hebron and'set up a government of his i.
j-own* he soon started with afi army to- :
[' wards Jerusalem. David fled frt>n? the city (
i. and crossed 6ver Jordan and established f
, headquarters at Mahanaim. ' v -v J
VI.. Topic: Putting down the rebellion^ j
! When David fled from Jerusalem he re|
fused to take the ark with him: Absalom ?
! and his army marching from Hebron en- c
j tered Jerusalem the same day ; Absaloirt t
at first intended to follow David immedi- ?
ately and overtake his father while he was \
; weary, but he finally decided to take, more f
j time and raiso a large army. Absalom wan ?
i king in Jerusalem about three months; he _
i then went out to battle with Davidls war- a
' riors; Absalom's army was defeated and E
he was slain. David mourned over the e
: death of his son. * i 1 ,
( VII. Topic: Praise and thanksgiving r
I for God's goodness. This is one of the r
Esalms supposed to have been written by j
tavid during the latter -part of his lffe.r It j f
I contains -two figures: i. rue cnepnera ana : f
i his shee?. 2, The Host and his guffet. i r
' Christ is the^good Shepherd; His people I J
! are the sheep; the divine Shepherd ^ives a
| soul rest, soul satisfaction and soul liberty. r
' David is abundantly supplied so that his ^
i cun runneth over. 0
j VIII. Topic: The -woes of intemperance. a
I The wise man writes of the curse of strong -g
drink. This Jesson refers to the personal t
1 experiences of the drunkard as well as to 0
i the influence of strong drink in general,
r Strong drink causes poverty; it mocks peoj
pie; destroys happiness; brings 6orrow,
contention, wounds, redness of eyes; by it {
j many are deceived; it ruins character and j j
destroys the prospects or eternal me. (
IX. Tonic: Solomon's duties outlined. ]
I After David'9 victory over Absalom lie re- a
turned to Jerusalem; he was now growing t
old and a new lung must be selected; Da- j
vid'a choice' was his son SoTomon; the v
SrincesA of Israel Avere assembled ' and R
avid commissioned his son to perform t
the great work of building a house for the c
Lord; David had many pons, but among }]
them all Solomon had been chosen for };
the throne; David charges Solomon to l
know God and serve Him perfectly. <j
X. Topic: Solomon's request and God's *
reply. Soon after Solomon became king 1,
he assembled the people at Gibeon; the r
Lord appeared to Solomon and asked him t
what he desired most; Solomon replied \
that because he was young and incxperier.ced
and the kingdom was great, he most I
of all desired wisdom and understanding t
in order that he might guide the affairs .of
the nation aright. The Lord was pleased
with this request and not only gave him
wisdom, but also gave him riches and c
honor in abundance. r
XI. Topic: The various services at the 8
dedication of the temple. As soon as Solo- j
mon was made king he began to prepare p
lor the building ot tne temme; me maiw i r
rial was nearly nil ready; the temple was | t.
to be a large building finrro.unded with several
courts, and was to contain many ar- 'J
tides of furniture. When it was finally R
built th? ark was brought in and the hou?e j]
was dedicated; So!omon offered the dedi- 0
caiory prayer; God accepted the house and k
filled the temple with a cloud. a
XII. ToDic: Wise men seeking Jesus, c
When Christ was born in Bethlehem of y
Jucea, in the davs of Herod, ^wise men t:
came from the East seeking'Him; they J
knew of the coming Messiah, and were n
directed to Bethlehem by a star; they J
went to Herod and asked him about
Phrist: Herod secretly dccided to kill
.T*sus; he asked the wise men to inform
him concerning Christ in order that he p
too might go and worship Him, but the f
Lord warned these men and they returned 0
r.nother way, thus defeating Herod. t(
o
Sun En* Perpetual Smniner.
Alexander Young, the astronomer, has
made several important, discoveries concerning
the condition and functions of the
Kun, and has asserted the existence of life a
cn that planet. He says that the sun has V
perennial summer, divider! Between seven n
months of vernal or springlike summer and d
five of deciduous or autumnal summer, a
marked by changes in the vast masses of L
forest foliage observed by him by the instrumentality
of the soiarscope which h?
has invented. At this time the red and
reddish brown hues prevail, to be replaced
in January by the living green of summer.
ij
I/ong Trip of a Toy Balloon. o
What was probably the greatest journcj ^
ever made by a toy balloon has just beei
recorded. A little balloon was sent up a"
the lair at Bioomsburg, Pa., last Ssptem
lier.. Qn it was the address of H. C. Giger ,b;
A few days ago he received a letter frore 'AN
Biddeford, Me., saying that the writer hac >'<
found the balloon* ou Wood Island, neaj la
f h 0 vo * '* Hi
ta
gi
Steamclilp Lnnncjeu. go
Ths new White Star steamship Baltic,
which was launched at Belfast, Ireland, is
the largest liner in the world. She is 7-0
feet long and is of 23,000 gross tonnage. ^
se
Our Agricultural Products. ea
The total actual yields of forests and S*
farms in the United States in 1903 is ?5,- f'1
000,000,000 .' tr
*mgr fl
Charity. 9H
1 Corinthians, 13 Chapter. HB
lough I with angel's tongues ehdnia Mm
epeak .
ad be moat lowly, just and meek, gn
Dd have such faith that I could make MB
je tyigest mountains move and quake; H
dd'^ave not charity, alas! MB
imwcome as sounding brasf. HH
bough I in mysteries be learned, 0|
nd give my body to be burned, |SBB
nd all my goods to feed the poor, BH
nd trials patiently endure, 9|
nd not in charity abound >^H|
am but as cymbal's sound.
haritr suffereth long?is kind-*
f teachable and humble mind?
aunts not itself?it envieth not-* IHj
ehaveth Beemly?Joubeth naught?
i not puffed ud??<eek? not her owiv? ng
ot soon provoked?offendeth none; -7 "
earetbj believeth. hopeth all.
ndureth, and shall never fall; ^H|
!nowled?e may vanish, tongues may <*?#,
ut charity shall still increase' ?
nd of faith, hope and charity . JO
ver be the greatest of the three. r 1
?A. L. Bours};ip Detroit Free Press.
The Boad to Truth. * :i9
"The end 6f man." says Carlyle, "is a?
etion, not a thought." That is not. say- 'JM
is: that thought is not a necessary na'rt of 'J
II high action, of course. But thought "jM
lat stops in itself is stopping on the road :?
) truth. Action and action alone, say^ '?
hiladelohia Young People, takes it for- -'jm
rard. Professor James, the noted psycho- . Si
>gist, has well represented thongbt a* ^ Jfl
only a dace of transit, the bottom of a S
>op. both of whose ends have their point H
f application in the outer world.? AIT -^^B
fiat our eyes, our ears, our daily connec- H
ion with the world and with others brine - H
a us, must pass throuch our minds -ana H
jui8, ana return to vne ouuiuc wuriu
eain transmuted Into action. ".In plain H
English perception and thinking are only H
here for behavior's sake," saya the nrole**
or, and long before modern psychology 1M
ame to the conclusion that the. Bible j
umraed up the same truth. ''Faith, if it
ath not works, is dead, .being alone."- 9H
For this reason truth can never be " H(
famed by mere argument. We do not H
eally possess & truth untfrVe have'acted
n it. and. it takes continual action on it H|
o make it part of the, fiber,of our mind* % H
nd souIr. Wo can fail to make nrojrres* jB
oward truth by refiwin?>tnf.aot upon it.
.Tie voursr man who holds the gospel mes- jJfl
are in his mind, hut determines not to yM
ake any action on it at"nrt*titi is kwrin#
lear nereeption -of it.' and power"of dear
ho?utht abont fr; daily.. He may' A6< think
o, henray think inste?4.^h"f he. jx gaining
n intellectual perception of its difficultly.. H|
kit the fact is. that he- is losing pow?r to
ict by nnt acting?that is all.*' He has- H|
hecked the advance'of truth hslf way, ' M|
hutting it nor in thoiwhtrwhen it ou^ht to 4H
>e seffree in-actv "If anvptan -will do
lis will Iv3 shall -know of the doctrine . fl[
whether it be of Go^.J> Thought-alone m
)Ower]ess to know CJod; filing alone is
lowprless to love God. We must keep
Tod'fi commandment*. putting our >mo- M
ions and .thoughts into -acts of ob"dienee fl
>?>fore we can abide in Fw-^ove. and know ' ?
I>m whom to know aright is l'fe eternal. rfB
It in a verv simple road, after all. To !
>erceive. to thinlc. to act?surely anv ?ne jjfl
an reach tmth without trouble. Bat.that .'M
bird sten is where many young rwjple . M
)ause. It; is easy to ?ee the beaoty holi- '
less, and ensy to think about it. Those ,;yH
wo steps are unnofcicp<L ?r.e?te no antagon- .
3i". make no costly demands. But t? act 8
-that means a great deal. Better wait for B
, little more knowledee. a little more con- I
lderatfon nf the matter, whispers tBe *>n- 9
pit of sou's, and manv $ouls vield H the ifi
?hi??T)er. And then, bavin? blocked the
oad to rruth. thev lose themselves in, I
nazes of douM. and never get -anywhere.. fl
'erfaaro. like I^late. who knew the right, I
>n* refused to act unoii it.' they end by* I
ailing ^fl"k upon +'"4 p^'loaonhioal re- v^a
"flrk: "What is^rrMi?" 4b??! the reaxoa j1
'ilate never r?aftied anv 'urther rennet- >SS
Ytsia willi 4 t*nf tv a a fViaf K/? vrmil/? nnf n^fc '
i th? know'ed?*e of Christ; h* ''p'1 a^ad^r**"' 9
[*)ie dvin" thief had not had half. Pih?*e'? fl
iDrort.unitip?. hut he was a man of^action, M
,rd it wed him. For many ?f *?* to-day A
alvation har"s unon action. Shall we act.
Hen?or ofcxH we nause in the barrenneiir H
if thought and never reach saving truth? ' fl|
Take Time to Serve Gofl.
It is said of a certain railway engineer
hat his dutw*8 call him at a verv early .
tour?3 o'clock in the morning. He is ?
""hristian, and. knowing full veil that soul
ife must utterly nerish without readingnd
gt.udv of the Bible and praverful devoion,
he rises at 2 o'clock in the morning.
tfore than thafi.led by the Holy Spirit,
ritbout effort of affectation, he finds many
n opportunity .far pointing the way back
o the cross and sometime! of exhorting
old-hearted. Christians-upward to sunlit
[eights of the, holy living and heavenly ,
tappiness. He is a happy man. You may
ie so, too. Religion is not a cunningly
levised fable. Our Redeemer is might? to
ave. strong, to deliver, limitless in love,.
oneinp to ake you lianpy.. Believe Him
iow. Do like the early ri?insr engineer?
ake time to be reMeious. Read and study
our Bible every dar. Talk to G^d every
lour in t^e drv. Believe what He says)o
what He tells you to no. Put at least
en names on ycur prayer list. * ^
A Beautiful Prayfr.
0 God, who art. and wast, and art. to
orne. before whose face the generations
ise and pass away, age after age the living
eelc Thee, and !ind that of Thy faithful
less there is no end. Our fathers in their
tilgrimage walked by Thy guidance, "and
ested on Tn.v compassion: still to their
hildren bv Thou the cloud by day, the v ~
re by night. In our manifold temptations *
'hou al6ne knowe?t and art ever nigh. Jn
orrow Thy pity revives the fainting souh
a our prosperity and ease it is Thy spirit
nly that can wean us from our pride and
eep us low. 0 Thou sole source of peace
nd righteousness! take now the veil from^?
very heart, and join us in one communion
rith Thy nrophets and saints who Jifave
rusted in Thee, and wert^pbett&iimed.
Jot of our worthinesF^^^^Thy tender
wcy, hear onr piyF^r"fAmen.?Jame?
laitineau.
Ij^bt Removed.
We ?>nall never truly honor God unless
,e can tallyto Hiin about everything that
opcernft ire. witnout a cioua 01 uouot. ji
nly we Jteep rear to Him thus, who can
el] wharc depths of teaching such intimacy
f roj^munioa rviil open up??Episcopal
tecplder.
f - 1 -%
& art With God. #
Thf ear'y hour is. thev hour for prayer
nd the Bible. Start the day with God!
Ve know not what the day may bring?
i either trim or temptation, xne rooet I
angerou.s temptations are uic unforeseeu
rid uncxpccied.?Theodore L. Cuylcr.
>. D.
Antwrred Players.
There is no true prayer without some re- 1
porse. Invisible wires frcm heaven to *
irt'i are ever vibrating with divine bleselgs,
f"id when prayer touches them the
iec. .j stream of low enters the ?
[ewnrni Hall.
Lurfent Steer in the World Sold.
The largest steer in the world was sold
r James Swope, of, Kokoma, Ind., to a
'crld's Fair i indicate. The steer is four
jars old and weighs 2800 pounds. When
t he will weigh 4000 pounds. The anial
is eightee.i feet six inches from nose to
il. and is sit feet nine inches high. His
rth measure is six feet four inches. He
ild for $280.
To Wear Oxygen Alaska.
Future aenal navicators desiring to at
.in great altitudes will use hermetically
alea, double-walled, aluminium and glass
ige6, and before eiarting will put on oxyin
masks, according to a prediction of Dr.
ermann von Scbroetter, of Vienna, Au?
?_ .. - vi?. i a