Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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l| am:ti Jy/yVUL By Ansa Katharine Green, | OOfYHIttHT, 1?00, BY *C L CHAPTER XXXI. j I Continued. "No; that is, I have not thought very j much about it. I took it for granted he was what he said he was. Why?" *? *"*T !*<*/! A ^fnnnrrA ciior\Wifnn ' X UilU a Diauujju ouo|;iuvu last night when I saw tue fellow who attacked you lying on the floor at the foot of the staircase. Though I had not noticed it before, I thought then that he had on eye like the Italian whom I saw for a minute in your rooms. If that is so, and he is Montelli in disguise, or, what is more probable, Montelli was this man in disguise, then the two matters are one and the plot against you is of long standing." "It may be," she acknowledged, "it may be. But it is all over now. Why 4 think of it?" "Because I do not feel at ease about him; nor do you, for all your seeming gayety. I have caught you more than once glancing in visible apprehension toward the door, as if you feared a reoio-hf of vrmr rrmrdprrms Tierse cutor." "Did I betray myself like tbat?" she asked, then stopped nnd exclaimed with sudden conviction: "It is because great pleasures never 6eem quite real. I cannot believe tbat I shall be allowed to step into this immense fortune without some disaster to dampen my happiness. It would be like the wonders of a fairy tale occurring to an ordinary mortal." "But you are not a mortal; you-are a witch, or one of the faities themselves; ao you should believe in your happiness, only"?he grew more serious here ?"I do not want you to trust it so much as to be reckless. This fellow is In custody, but he may manage to escape, and though you certainly have nothing more to fear from bis cupidity you may have for his revenge. He will never forget that through you he lias lost, as be thinks, the possibility of handling an immense sum of money." "Do you wisb to terrify me?" she inquired, with a frightened-loek. "No, no; how can you think of it? I only wish to warn you, so that if you ever have reason to think he is in any way engaged in doing you harm you Will notify the police and procure a guardian to watch over your safety. I cannot rest in peace unless you promise me this. Will you? Otherwise I ahall not be able to sleep at night." , She smiled. It was almost a sad emile; It certainly was an appealing one. But be bad fixed the boundaries to his sympathy, and would not overstep them. "Promise me," he persisted. "To take care of myself?" she queried. "Ah! it is easy to do that. I am loo anxious to show the world and you that I can bear the honors of my position and not forget my old friends." : It was charmingly said; it came like Sew to his thirsty and longing heart. He caught her hand in his and pressed It with more than friendly warmth. dux in mat very ac: arew Dacis anc. made his final bow. "You make it too hard for me," he remonstrated. "To behold paradise so near, and yet to feel one is restrained from enjoying it by the most solemn of secret oaths, is torture to such an Impetuous nature as mine. I shall therefore turn my back upon the gates I may not enter, and not till three months have elapsed will you see me again. Good-bye, dearest of women, sood-bye." And he was gone. For a moment she stood in that bow-' ?r of greenery where he had left her, onrageously smiling as long as he was within sight and liable to turn his face again for a farewell look, but when the trees had quite hidden him, and his quick 6tep was no longer to be heard on the graveled walk, then her lovely countenance fell and a startling look of care took the place of her former ?xpression of triumph. While this was still visible on her face, and before she had reached the door which led into the house, a young man stepped out of this same door and confronted her. It was Mr. Byrd. For an instant it seemed as if she idid not know him, for though she paused she did not 6peak. But as he bowed with great respect her smiles , came back and 6he greeted him cordially. "Ah!" said she, "I "was hoping for an opportunity to express my obligation to you. From -what have you not saved me?" "From more than you think," was his somewhat enigmatical reply. "I have news to give you, Miss Rogers. The man who made the attempt upon your life last night is dead." She recoiled as if be had struck lier. "Dead?" she repeated. In incredulous tones; then, as she saw that she had not mistaken his words, and that he meant what he said, she suddenly flushed with an overwhelming and uncontrollable joy as unmistakable as it was apparently unconscious. The detective watched her curiously. "How did it happen?" she now cried. When? Where?" #"He tried to escape from us at the depot. He fell under the cars. You need never fear anything from him V again." She turned her face away. Horrors were not lacking from this day of triumph, and yet this horror robbed her of a namplps.t: rivpjul "You are very kind to come and tell me," she gratefully declared. "I regret to be obliged to," he replied. "The man was merely acting for another. That other we know, but cannot find. We had hoped her accomplice's apprehension would lead ultimately to the discovery of her whereabouts, but liis death robs us effectually of this hope." "To whom do you allude?" asked Miss Rogers. "To the woman of your name in New York in behalf of whom this wretch has worked?an adventuress; the most unhappy and least respecta.bl*> of any ?rho bear your name." if" . J.-.: ? :ek * (J LIONS. Jl [ Author of "Tbe Forsaken ) \ Inn," Etc. I IGtRT SONNCR'teONE. J | The fair and brilliant "woman before i him shuddered. "Leave her in peace," she pleaded. "Do not try to extort anything from her. She "will be unhappy enough at the failure of her scheme. It Is not for me, in the enjoyment of my good fortune, to wish punishment to those less fortunate than myself." The bow which Mr. Byrd made in his sympathy and admiration was as elegant as if made by either of Ihe Degraws. "You are generous," said he, and said no more. She gave him a quick look. She was evidently surprised to see such manners in a man belonging to the police. "Have you any commands?" he now asked. "No," she returned, "no commands, but you will hear from me again." And with a smile that suggested future benefits she turned to go, but was Vitt r> ontrpntv WVVI/j/VVt M . "I hope," said be, very gravely, "that you will not consider any service which I may have done you deserving of any further recognition than your thanks. I was working in the way of my <3uty. and shall consider it a favor if you will let the matter drop." "Then I will," she frankly rejoined, "but it is a pity that you will not allow me to inaugurate my good fortune by a gift which any one would regard as only a proper recognition of a service without which I might not now be standing here." "I am paid," said he, "I am paid." He was such a gentleman that she( found it impossible to contradict him *>r to press the matter further. She, therefore, smiled once more and vanished. He stood a long time looking in the direction she had gone. That nlcht she received the following note: "I bid good-bye to Great Barrington to-day. Mr. Gryce tells me that the valet was killed this morning while trying to escape. . So-one serious danger is out of your, path. But remember the Portueguese. She may take up bis vengeance and seek to carry it through. If you ever see her, if one glimpse of her hateful face ever comes before your eyes notify me, or, what is better, telegraph to Mr. Byrd at police headquarters. She is now your evil genius. I gather so much from Mr. Degraw's descriptions of the woman who kept the house where Mr. Delancy died. It is identical with my remembrance of this attendant of yours, only the Cleveland woman could speak English," as I have no doubt the New York woman could have done if she had been forced to it. So, if your memory of her does not extend beyond last October (the time when Mr. Delaocy died) be sure she is the same woman. "I leave you in Miss Aspinwall's care. May all good angels watch over you both." CHAPTER XXXII. THE SEED 18 SOWN. The summer has passed and autumn has come. As Hamilton Degraw sits in his studio, the brilliant light of an exquisite September day shines on his last great effort and brings out its many beauties to the observant eye. It is the picture of a young girl lying asleep upon a couch draped with white and gold The sketch of it we- have seen, but this is the finished painting. "How beautiful!" This is the remark of Mr. Byrd, who is looking over the artist's shoulder. Mr. Degraw sighed. It "was the first time he had let any other eyes than bis own rest upon this canvas. "But dyes it not possess too strong a resemblance "to the original to be exhibited publicly?" pursued the detective, quietly. "It is not for public exhibition. It is destined for my own house and my own pleasure," returned Mr. Degraw. "I have let you see it, but I shall not show it to many eyes. The man who saved her life is almost a brother to me; that is the rqdson I make a!n. exception in your favor." "I understand and appreciate your confidence. It is not misplaced, but will you pardon-me if I ask if you intend to marry Miss Sogers. It is from no idle curiosity that I ask." "Will she marry me? That is the question, Byrd?" The detective, shifting his position into one that commanded a view of the other's face closely scrutinized it before replying. "It is then a vital thing with you; you really want her for your -wife?" "More than I want anything; more than I want fame. I cannot imagine my life without her. Had I not been occupied with this picture. I could not have lived all summer without a sight of her face." "I am sorry," Byrd began, weighing hie words very carefully, "that she is? | so rich?a woman." I The other's brow knitted. "So am I." ' ? "You had rather she had not had this money ?" "Much rather." "Yet you will not let it sta6d in your way?" "Not if she lores me." "Don't you Unow whether she does or not?" "No, Byrd." "I thought it was quite evident that day in June wh.en we were all together in Great Barrington." "Yes, but that is three months ago. She has been to Saratoga since, and to Mount Desert and Newport. She has had the homage of hundreds, even had an offer from an English peer?or bo the papers say. Do you think her likely to remain unchanged by such marked and continuous adulation?" The detective looked embarrassed, but answered him quite gravely. "If she is the woman you believe her to be nothing would be likely to change her. But " He hesitated so long that the artist, ? who really experienced a certain relief in making these confidences, felt irritated, and finally asked: "What do you mean by that 'bnt,' Byrd? Have you any reason to think she Is not a true woman? Have they, been talking scandal about my darling?" "Far from it," was the quick reply. "She is universally commended. People note her grace, her gentleness and her dignity, and wonder if it was her study for the stage which has made her so fitted to sustain-the part of a grand lady. No, she hasibut few detractors so far as I have been able to learn, and I have taken occasion te hear the talk about her, for I was interested in seeinc how her nature would bear the strain of such good fortune." "But that 'but?' What did you mean by it? It sticks in my ears." "Yes, I made a mistake in using it. especially as I cannot really say why I did so. Perhaps because the usual risk there is in marrying a woman of so much wealth aggravated in her case by the suddenness with which she acquired it." "That wretched money!" "You know, Degraw, that I am not a light-hearted fellow; that I look at things seriously, and that-I regard love and mutual regard as the only good foundation of marital happiness.. Therof/irp xirhon T wsrn vnn tn bi> careful and make sure of this -woman before you place your honor and happiness in her keeping I am bnt acting a friend's part to you. I should so hate to see your fame and the serenity of your life sacrificed to a capricious or selfish woman." "They will not be. If she marries me at all it must be because she lores me. I have painted pictures, but I am not yet first in my art, and men more eminent than myself have done her homage." Byrd shook his head and wheeled a portable mirror suddenly in front of the arast. "Every man does not look like that." he remarked, pointing to his friend's reflection in the glass. "She undoubtT edly loves you, but? There is that miserable 'but' again," he laughed. "I do not wonder you are angry. I am insuneraDie, i Know. The artist looked greatly discomposed, but it was not exactly with anger. If Bryd's objections were unexpected and calculated to wound bis keenest susceptibilities, the manner in which they were urged was so candid and sympathetic that a more irascible man than Degraw would have hesitated before taking offense. It was fear which had been aroused in him by his companion's words, or rather dread. The future, which* had looked so rosy an hour ago, was becoming darkened by shadows he neither understood nor welcomed. "You have heard something against Miss Rogers," he finally affirmed, "and are trying to break it to me." But Horace Byrd shook his head. "No," he declared, 4*you are mistaken. ah tJiat x nave neara is in uer iavor, I have absolutely nothing to urge against her. I only wish you to bo careful, and to blind yourself to hei beauty and her wealth till you know the depths of a nature that may well havr been greatly tried by this 6udden good fortuhe. Is it asking too much? Am I transgressing the bounds of friendship, or obtruding too much of a I detective's caution Jnto the, impetuous I artist's affections?" s Hamilton Degraw did not immediate, ly answer. He was engaged in dropping a curtain over the exquisite picture of the signorina, which he may have thought was being robbed of some of its eacredness by this free talk concerning its beautiful original. When it was quite hidden he spoke. To be continued. Did Not Drive a Cab. "The only time that I ever saw a smile come over the.face of the able jurist who presided for two terms as our County Judge back in the '80s was during the trial of a man, charged with larceny. The attorney for the State, a certain lawyer who was not well liked, was attempting to overthrow our alibi,M said F. Whitman, an Iowa attorney. "We had produced aB a witness a man who had testified for the defense that the defendant had ridden in his cab for an hour, including the time when the crime was committed. The cross-examination commenced and the opposing attorney commenced to try to get the witness mixed. M 'You drive a cab, do you?' he asked. "Without hesitation the driver answered, 'No, sir.' " 'What?' queried the astonished lawyer, 'did you not testify that you have been driving a cab for several years?' " 'No, sir.' " 'Do you mean to say, remembering that you are under oath, that driving cabs is not your business?' " 'I certainly do.' " Then please tell the court what you do fo* a living.' " 'Why,' answered the unperturbed cabby, 'I drive the horses that are hitched to the cab.' "The expression which came over the counsel's face was enough to make an elephant smile, and the court indulged in a hearty laugh, although he later cautioned the witness to pay less attention to the technical points in answering the questions." ? Milwaukee j Sentinel. Tbe Pi#-Ei?tln; Plntociat. One of the sights in the restaurant in the hyphenated hotel is the pie-eating plutocrat. Naturally, New England fathered him, but he carries the pie habit to an extreme remarkable even among native New Englanders. He' begins his dinner with pie when other men are usually eating oysters, and he ends it with pie, this time of another kind. His taste in pie is catholic and his appetite is large. Any kind of pie, and a big piece of it, seems to be his idea of it. His friends say that the pie habit has characterized him all his life, and yet he knows not indigestion. On pie he has bocome rich and powerful and he keeps healthy.?New York Sun. Noted Shakei*penro Folio Defaced. A Shakespearian student in tue tferlln Royal Library has discovered that the unique copy of the famous 1023 First Folio, which the Emperor William I. presented to the library, has been completely mutilated by a careless or malicious reader. The whole of "The Comedy of Errors" has been cut out. It Is believed that the loss is Jrre- j placeable, as the remaining copies of j the First Folio are in private hands. ' ' ' . ' , ' . * ^ 4 A SERMON FOE SUNDAY AN ELOQUENT DISCOURSE BY THE REV. DR. ROBERT COLLYER. D? T??l, ??. *?l. ll TI.V nm o Hidden Way Kvery Life Should Be an Open, Self-Contained Providence? Lose Not Heart and Hope. Brooklyn, N. Y.?Dr. Robert Collyer, ^who recently passed his.eightieth birthday, E reached Sunday morning in the Second Unitarian Church. The audience filled the church and listened with creat attention to the eloquent -words of the famous preacher. ' Dr. Collyer took for his subject "Light on a Hiddea Way." His text was Job iiirl'd: "Why is light given to a man whose way is hid?" He said: "The Book of Job." says Thomas Carlyle, "is one of the grandest things ever written with a pen: our first statement, in books, of the problem of the destiny of man and the way God takes with him on this earth: grand in its simplicity and epic melody, sublime in its sorrow and reconciliation; a choral melody, old as the heart of man, soft as the summer midnight, wonderful as the world with its seas and stars; and there is no other thine in the Bible, or out of it, of equal merit, f suppose it is not possible now to tell whether the book is a true story or a sort pf Oriental drama. The question is one Jhafc will always keep the critics at work rs long as there are rational and what ought, in all fairness, to be called not rational schools in , theology. My own idea is that the rude outline of the story iras floating-abaut the desert, as the story of Lear or Macbeth-floated about in later times among our own fore-elders, and that, like those great dramas, it was taken into the heart of some man now forgotten and ;ame out again endowed with this wondrous quality of inspiration and life, that will bear it onward through all time. But whatever the truth may be in this direction thiB is clear, that when Job put the question I have taken for a text he was as far down in the world as a man can be who is not abased by sin. Job had been the richest man in the countryside, honored by all who knew him for his wisdom. bi6 goodness or his money. He was now so poor that, he says, men derided him whose fathers he would n.ot have set with the dogs of his flock. He had been a sound, healthy man. full of buman impulses and activities; he had been eight to. the blind, feet to the lame, a father to the poor and a defender of the oppressed. He was now a diseased and broken man, sitting in the ashes of a j ruined home; his iire? all gone out, his household goods all shattered, his children all dead, and his wife, the mother of his ten children, lost to the mighty love which will take ever so delicate and true-hearted a woman at such a time and make her & tower of strength to the man. His wife, who should have stood, aB the angels stand, at once by his side and above him, turned on him in his uttermost sorrow, and said, "Curse God, and die." Two things, in this sad time, seem to have smitten Job with unconquerable pain. First, he could not make his^rtrodition chord with his conviction of what ought to have happened. He had been trained to Dciieve in tne axiom we puc up in our Sunday-schools, that to be good is to be happy. Now he had been gooa and yet here he was. as miserable as it was possible for a man to be. And the worst of all was. he could not deaden down- to the level of his misery. The light given him on the divine justice would not let him rest. His subtle spirit, pierced, restless, dissatisfied, tried him every moment. Questions like these came up in his mind: '^iVhy have I lost my money? I made it honestly, and made good use of it. Why is my home ruined ? I never brought upon it one shadow of disgrace. Why am I bereaven of my children, and worse than bereaven of my wife? If this is the result of goodness, where is dause and effect? What is there to hold on by, if all this misery and mildew can come of upright, downright truth and purity?" The second element in Job's misery I seems to lie in the fact that there appeared to be light everywhere except on his own life. If life would only strike a fair average; if other good men had suffered, too, or even bad men?then he could bear it better. But the world went on iust the same. The sun shone with as. much splendor as on his wedding day. The moon fioured out her tides of moulton gold, n.'ght retted the blue vault with nres, tree" blossomed, birds sang, and young men and maidens danced under the palms. Other homes were full of gladness. This man had sold his clip for a great price; the lightning had slain Job s sheep. That man nau uone wcji ju unurs, uic luukiuu had twisted Job's trees down. Nay, worst of all, here were wicked men, mighty in wealth; their houses in peace, without fear; their children established in their sight, sending forth little ones like a flock, spending their days in prosperity and yet saying, "Who is the Almighty that we should fear Him?" While here he was, a poor wreck, stranded on a desolate shore: a broken man, crying, "Oh, that it were with me as in days gone by, when the candle of the Lord shone round about me; when I took my seat in the market place, jijMi. . justice was my robe and diadem! When I think of it, I am confounded. ' One dieth in the fullness of his prosperity, wholly at ease and quiet; another dieth in the bitterness of his soul, not having tasted pleasure. How i6 it? What does it mean? Why is light given to a maji whoBe way is bid?" ' ' Now, I suppose that not many men ever fall into such supreme desolation as this, , that is made to centre in the life of this . most sorrowful man. "It is the possible ! of that which is in itself positive." But then, it is true that we may reach cut in all directions and find men and women who are conscious of the light shining, but who cannot find the way; whose condition will not chord with tneir conception of life, and who. in a certain sense, would be better .if they were not so good. The I by'w^ich they are most easily braised. Keen, earnest, onward, not satisfied to be below their own ideal, they are yet turned so woefully this way and that by adverse circumstances that, at the last, they come to accept their life as a doom, and bear it in grim silence, or they cut the masts when the storm comes and drift, a helpless hull, broadside to the breakers, to go down finally like a stone. A young man comes to town from the country full of purpose and hope. He finds difficulties confront him; he strives, but remains poor. At last, Avhen hungry and faint and alone, the devil comes?a nice person, probably, but still a devil?and tempts him. The young man yields. Or, he succeeds, and then slides into the belief that there is a Providence that will keep htm prosperous because he is a good man. Disaster comes, and he loses bis all. ini i\io Violiof in CSntl Or n mairlpn leaves her home full of trust and love. I Under adverse conditions she loses hope, | and ?6ks: "Why is life given when the ] wav fs hid?" And so, T say, in men and nations you will find everywhere this discord between the longing that is in the soul, and what the man can do. Our life, as some one said of the Cathedral of Cologne, seems to be a broken promise made to God. Now, in trying to find eome solution of this question, I want to say frankly that I cannot pretend to make the mystery all clear, so that it will give you no more trouble; because I cannot put a girdle around the world in forty minutee, and also because a full solution must depend greatly on onr own dissolution. 1 believe, also, that the man who thinks he has ieft nothing unexplained, in the mystery of providence and life, has rather explained nothing. I listen to him, if I am in trouble, and then go home and break my heart all the same, because I see that he has not only not cleared up the mystery, but that he does not knov. enough ahout it to trouble him. The "Principia" and the Single Rule of Three are alike simple and easy to him because he does not know the Rule of Three. And so I cannot be satisfied with the last words which some later hand has added to the book that holds this sad History, mey ten us now .jod nas an his property doubled, to the last ass anc] camel?nas seven soil's r.jjain and three daughters, has entire satisfaction of all his accusers, lives a hundred and forty years, sees four generations of his line and then dies?satisfied. Need I say that this solution will not etand the test of life, and that if life, on the average, came out so from its most trying ordeal, there would be little need for our sermons. For then, every life ?euld be an open, seli-coatained proyj V \ , ' deuce and the last page in time would vindicate the first. Men do not so lire and die; and such cannot hare been the primitive conclusion of the history. It baa deeper meaning and a snbhmer justification. or it had never been inspired by the Holy Ghost. And this issure to suggest itself to you as you read the story, that <Tob, in his trouble, would have lost nothing and gained very much if he had not been so impatient in coming to the conclusion that God had left him, that h'fe was a mere apple of Sodom, that he had backed up to great walls of fate and he had not a frtend I*:ft on the earth. His soul, lookinjrtbrongh her darkened -windows, concluded ~tho 'heavens were dark. The nerve, quivering at the gentlest touch, mistook the ministration of mercy r for a blow. He mightvftave found some cool shelter for his aeoiry; he preferred to sit on the ashes in the burning sun. He knew not where the next robe was to come from; this did not deter him from tearing to shreds the robe that was to shelter him from the keen winds. It was a dreadful trial at the best; it was worse for his way of meeting it; and, when he was at once in the worst health and temper possible, he said: "Why is light given to a man whose way is hid?" Is not this now, as it was then, one of the most serious mistakes that can be made? I try to solve great problems of providence, perhaps, when I am so unstrung as tn be entirely unfitted to touch their more subtle, delicate and far reaching harmonies. As well miizht you decide on some exquisite anthem when your organ. is broken, and conclude there i3 no music in it because you can make no mpsicof it, as, in such a condition of Kfe and such a temper of the spirit, try to find there great harmonies of God. When I am in trouble, then, and darkness cemes^&wn on me like a pall, the first question ought to be, "How much of this unbelief about providence and life, like Cowper's sense oi the unpardonable sin, comes from the most material disorganization ? Is the darkness I feel in the soul, or is it on the windows through which the soul must see?" Then, clear on this matter, the man tried so will endeavor to stand at the first, where this sad hearted man stood ac the last, in the shadow of the Almighty, if be must stand in a shadow, and hold on to the confidence that somewhere within all this trial is the eternal, the shadow of a great rock in a weary land. Friends speculate all about the mystery, and their conclusions from their premises are entirely correct; but they have' forgetten to take in the separate sovereign will of God, aa w orking out a great purpose in the man's; life, by which he i$ to be lifted into a grander reach of iri&ight and experience: than ever he had before. Job said: "I suffer, I am in darkness and disappoint-. ment and pain, because it is fate." Job's, friends said: "No, -you^ suffer because you' have sinned. Rushes never grow without mire." They were both wrong, and all wrong. He suffered because that wias the divine way of bringing him out of his sleek, well satisfied content; and when through sufferingtbis was done he said: "I have heard of Thee with minfe ears, but now mine eye seeth Thee." There is a story in the annals "of science touching this principle, that we cannot struggle faithfully with these things and leave them as we found them. Plato, piercing here and there with-his wonderful Greek eyes: "Searching through all, he felt and saw 'xhe springs of life, the depths of awe, To reach the law within the law," was impressed by the suggestive beauty of the elliptic figure. He tried to search out its full meaning, but 4'Cd withont the sight. A century and a half after Plato, Annrtlrtnuio /tomo woo in lAjjjjVivuiua IIUD, 1U wug same way, took up the question where Plato left it, tried to find out its full meanings, and died without the sight. And so, says a fine writer, for eighteen centuries, some of the best minds were fascinated by this problem, drew from it strength and discipline; and yet, in all this time, the problem was an abstract form, a beautiful or painful speculation. It did not open out into any harmonious principle. There was light on the thing, but no light on the way. In the full time. Kepler came; sat down to the study; and by what we call the suggestion of genius, but ought to call the inspiration of the Almighty, found that the orbits of the planeta were elliptical, and be died. Then Newton was born, took up the problem where Kepler had laid it down, made all the established facts the base of his mightier labors; and, when he had done, he had shown that this figure; this problem, which had hekl men spellbound through the ages, is a prime element in the law of universal gravitation ?at once the most beautiful theory and the most absolute conclusion of science. Then men could Ree how it was. because God had made the light shine, on the thing, that the way was found. From Newton back to Plato, in true apsoto'.ic order, every man, bending, over this mystery of a light where there was no way, and wrestling faithfully with it, had not only grown more noble in his own soul in the struggle, but had done his share toward the solution found by this greatest and last, who was also "born under the law that they might receive the adoption of sons." So, I tell you, is this restless search for a condition that shall answer to our conception; this fascination, which compels ..us to search out the elliptic of providence, , the geometric certainty underlying the apparent eccentricity. And every struggle to find this certainty; every endeavor to plumb the deepest causes of the discord between what the nature bears and what the soul believes' every striving to find the God of our loftiest faith in our darkest day, will, in some way, aid the demonstration, until, in the full time, some Newton oi tlie soul will come and, gathering the result of all these struggles between our conception of life ana our condition in life, will make it the base of some vast generalization, that will bring the ripest conclusions of the science of providence into perfect accord with the grand apostolic revelation. "We know that all things work together for good to them that love God." We ovrong the deepest,, revelations of life when we are not content .to Wt this one little segment in the arc of our existence stand in its own simple/ separate intention, whether it be gladness or'gloom; and trust surely, if we are faitbfuJ, the full and perfect intention must come out in the full range of our being. God seldom perhaps never, works out His visible purpose in one life, how, then, shall He in one life work out His perfect will? The dumb poetry in William Burns, the father, had to wait for Robert Burns, the son; Bernardo waited to be perfected in his son, Torquato Tasso; William Herschel left many a problem in the heavens for John Herschel to make clear; Leopold Mozart 1.7 ^ .1 :il j.j: iu.i r%\ WACBUCU wim uieiiHiicg IUCIL v^iii^auetum Mozart found afterward of tliemselves in every chamber of his brain, and Raymond Bonneur needed his daughter Rosa to come and paint out hie pictures for him. Dr. Reid has said, that when the bee. makes its cell so geometrically, the geometry is not in the bee, but in the geometrician that made the bee. Alas, if in the Maker there is no such order for us as there is for the bee! If God so instruct the bee; if "God so feed the bird;, if even the lions, roaring after their prey, seek their meat from God; if He not only holds the linnet on the spray, but the lion on the spring, how shall we dare lose hearf and hope? So, then, while we may not know what trials wait on any of us, we an believe that as the days in which this man wrestled with his dark maladies are the only days that make him worth remembrance, and but for which his name had never been written in the book of life; so the days through which we struggle, finding no way, but never losing the lignt, will be the most significant we are called to live. Indeed, men of all ages have wrestled with this problem of the difference between the conception and the condition. Life is full of these appeals, from the doom that is on us to the love that ia iivf>r ii??from the (iO<l \v<> fpnv in the God we worship. The very Christ cries once: "My God! Why bast Thou forsaken Me?" Yet never did our noblest and beet, our apostles, martyrs and confessors, flinch tonally from their .rust, that God is light; that life is divine: that there is a way, though we may not see it; and have gone singing ci' their deep confidence. by fire and cross into the shadow of death. It is true, nay, it is truest of all, that "men who suffered countless ills, in battles for the true and just," have haa the strongest conviction, like old Latimer, that a way would open in those moments when it seemed most impossible. Their light on the thing brought a commanding ' assurance that there must SMBewbyfc sometime, be light on the THE SUNDAY SCHOOL INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS < # FOR FE8RUARY 28. Subject: Bearer* and Doers of the "Word, Mutt, til., 21-29? Golden Text, Jatne* 1., 22?Memory Verve*, 24-25?Com* mentary on the Day,* Leiton. I. Mere profession not sufficient (vs. 2123). 21. "Not every one." Christ is here L laying down the true test of admittance into the kingdom of God. He haa-just told I tnem mat tney must enter in tnrougn ? narrow gate and walk a narrow way, and G now He intimates that many will seek to gain admittance on the ground of mere I profession. "That saith?Lord, Lord." , True religion is more than a profession. We may acknowledge the authority of Christ, bcHeve in His divinity and accept His teachings as truth, and still without the love of God in the heart we will "he ^ shut out of the kingdom. "Kingdom of ? heaven." Defined by Paul as being "right- j. eousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy i Ghost" (Rom. 14: 17). Jt has reference to ? that spiritual kingdom whioii Christ sets up in the hearts of His followers. It is ^ true religion. But why called a kingdom? 1. Because it has its laws?the precepta of [ the gospel. 2. Its subjects?all who be lieve in Jesus Christ. 3. Its King?the g sovereign of heaven and earth. "He that doefch." Christ's followers are "doers of _ the word and not hearers -only" (James 1:. 22). See Rev. 22: 14. "The will," etc. y That is, the one enteretiuto the kingdbm c who obeys the gospel apd keeps the com- Q manumenis 01 v*oa. Mc.w -a.13 win even our sanctification, and: that we should pray nhvays. It is our duty to follow its precepts fully. "My Father." Christ does not refer to God as a stern judge ready to condemn, but as a loving father who is ready to bless and help His children. This was a truth hitherto unknown. 22. "Many." Not merely an occasional one, but the number will be astonishingly large. "In that day." The judgment day. The day when the final accounts shall be brought in, and when each shall receive his just desert. See Acts 17: 31; Rom. 14: 10;, 2 Cor. 5: 10. "Prophesied." . As t^e whole gospel is a real prophecy, foretelling the vast future of the human race?death, judgment and eternity, so every preacher is a prophet. Here, then, are preachers who plead their ministry in vain in that day. See Paul's definition in 1 Cor. 14: 3. ."Cast out devils." Through their preach-' Lag souk had been converted and devils had actually been cast out of men's hearts. "Wonderful works." There have been great revivals of religion and great manifestations of divine power. The truth has been preached and God has blessed it. 23. "I never knew you." How sad! From this we see how easy it is to be de ceivea. Many irusnng in tne cnurcn, ineir < good name, their generosity,, .their great. gifts, their employment iif ministry, their self-sacrini^ their devotion to " the j cause, etc., etc., while at heart they are not right with God and at the last great day will be-.cast to the left hand. "'Depart." Such belong at the left handi i From Me." What could be worse than 1 banishment from God? . II. 'me wise builder (vs. 24, 25). -4 "Therefore." Jesus now proceeds to in:- j press the truth by the use of a very strikmg illustration. "Whosoever heareth." j See R. V. Both classes of men hear the } word. So far "they are alike. The two , houses have externally the same appear- . ance, but the great day of trial shows the . difference. "Will liken him." St. Mat- , thew, who living near the lake had often , witnessed su?h sudden floods as are de- ] Bcribed, uses vigorous language and draws ^ the picture vividly. Palestine was to a siderable extent a Jund of hills and mount- , ains. "A wise man." The truly wise man . pays attention to Spiritual and eternal \ things) He is a prudent man, a' man of , understanding, who looks ahead and sees ] the danger and makes use of the best , means in avoiding it. The wise builder is i the one who hears and obeys the words of ^ Christ. "Built his house." His character; } his soul's interests. Each man possesses a ^ house which is his absolutely, and for j which he alone is responsible. "Upon a / lock." Our rock is Jesus Christ (Psa. 118: j Zi\ 18a. zn: 10; i vx>r. y: nj. ne is me ( sure foundation. As we.centre our faith in Hiih, and bui]d according to the max- , irris which He has laid <fown, we will be j safe. 25. "The rain?beat." So tempests j and etorms of afflictions, persecutions. ] temptations and all soris of trials beat < acainst the soul. Suddenly, when we think we are safe, the calamity comes upon us. \ How important in that hour to be pos- , gessed of something the tempest cannot , destroy. "It fell not." The religion of j Jesus Christ in the soul will stand every j test. The emblem of a house to represent ( the religious life is specially appropriate: , 1. A house is for rest. 2. A house is for ahelter. 3. A house is for comfort. In ] like manner true religion id the rest, pro- j tection and comfort of the soul. III. The foolish builder (vs. 26, 27). 26. , "Doeth {hem not." The foolish man is j one who -fails to do what he knows he ] ought to do. He hears, but is disobedient. , '"lne sand." The foundation is the prin- j cipal thing. The houseron the rock stood, ^ but the structure on the sand was soon , undermined. The one who 6ays, Lord, ( Lord, but whose heart is not right, is on f the sand. 27. "It fell." So falls the sin- " ner. The floods are wearing away his sandy foundation, and soon one tremendous storm shall beat upon him and he and his hopes shall forever fall. Perhaps he has heard the words of Christ from child- J hood, and he may even have taught them to others, and yet he has failed to lay a ( solid foundation for himself. Notice two points of difference between the wise and 1 the foolish: 1. The wise builder has a re- 3 gard for the future; the foolish builder 8 thinks only of the present. 2. The wise t looks to the solidity and durability of his * structure rather than to the appearance; 1 the foolish cares for the appearance only, t "Great was the fall." How great is the 3 loss of the bouI! What a terrible fall for a c soul created in the image of God, and with J all the glorious possibilities before it of a life of bliss forever with Christ, to be cast to the left hand at the last day. IV. An astonished people (vs. 28, 29). ? 28. "These sayings.'" The sermon just c preached. "Astonished." The teachings' > > of Jesus all through His life excited aa- ? miration, wonder and amazement. They e were astonished, 1. At Christ's claims. 2. 8 At His manifest^ power. "His doctrine." ? The Sermon on tne mount contains a buid- ? marv of all the great moral principles and f cardinal doctrines of the gospel, except the * atonement. 29. "Having authority. His ? power'lay in Himself ana in His life. "The scribes." He did not speak like a common interpreter of the law, confirming His doctrine as the Jewish doctors usual.y did, by i the authority of their learned men, but c with the air and authority of a prophet, 1 and by that authority took upon Him to i even correct the doctrine of the scribes i and Pharisees themselves. t A Thousand Mile Channel. ' " J A six-foot channel in the Mississippi t River at low water frookSt. Paul and Minneapolis, to Cairo, a distance'of 1000 miles, to be completed by the 'time the Panama CAnal is put into operation, iefthe project c advocated before the House Committee on ( Rivers and Harbors at Washington, D. C., e by a number of capitalists from different f States. The total cost of the improvement f is estimated at $15,000,000. Governor Van e Sanf nf Minnesota, told the committee , that fifty cities were directly interested. f and 15,000,000 people would be benefited e by the canal. I v s Died From Nightmare. Jacob Harlan, of Union City, Ind., evi- ] dently died as the result of a nightmare. J ICariy one day lie awakened shaking with a chill, and said that he dreamed he was driving a team of horses that ran away, and that his father was killed in an effort to stop them. He grew worse, gasped a * few limes and died. j, e t Jo Jo, the Doz-Faced Man, Dead. C Jo-Jo, the dog-faced man, who traveled & through the United States with Barnum, a and who appeared in many museums in the t United States, died at Salonica, Macedonia, of pneumonia. t Louisiana Adopts Section Syttem. j Louisiana ia the latest Southern Stat* I a to adopt the South Carolina primary eleo-. I -v tion ejirtcm, j t * mmmm??????m l A Prtyet. .ord, help me tell Thy story tweet, To troubled ouerAanound mep * lely, me with smiling' face to meet The duties that Surround me. Jrant unto me tfce;?trength to do, ' Each day the taak before me;. Lnd then at WfK 4ead Thou mo thro^h The miflte that hover o'er me^ '< ?George D. Gelwfcks. ? . . The XnUncas of God.* " How much of God do you and-1 desire?, 1 Yhat eort of a .Saviour are .wo looking * or as we go on our brief way through his World? A God who cap prolong' our ives and give us the temporal pleasure* v> re desire, and ?ave us from ^Jeatmction, i Ad finally bring us to a world better tftan * his with as little trouble to ourselves as lossible? Or do we really hunger ami \ hirst for a God who will satisfy all the \ nnermoet longings of our own mysterious i ouls, for things we* have neter had nor . / een; the yearning for love 'of a quality, v arth does not know? Hundreds of 'expedients there are by, ' rhich we seek to Jill this empty, place in ~ j *ur beings, power, money, fame^leasure* jfection?Hmited. to the humitfL'jphere? ill these, men cast into the void in tfte rain hope to fin it. And for a while it nay be they are deceived into thinking hey have accomplished their purpose. -Tha ery araor ci pureuii, inc m? jiun v*.\ xmeeewn, seems to aid them to forget he lack. But only for a time. They have \\ orgotten God, but God has not .forgotten V hem. TTiere comes sudden loss. Hope V lies. Then when the world has turned to t litternees, some will turn and search for rl heir dead Lord as did Mary when she, ' vent to toe tomb, and to such will He ;ome and speak their names in love, and * nve them a glimpse of what His fulness. a. But many of us are satisfied to sing, ilong our way, feeling content that we lave made our peace with an kn^ty God . ind are attempting in the main' to do i bo tit ngnt, ana tnougn we wutuaaww -o confess it,we do not really want to be illed full oMj^t's spirit. A little it efficient for our needs. .Such a fullness of . 3od would binder '<ur earthly plaris, 'tad ?e really hayeriet time. life iB so rtort,. . ind to. Might; until the shadow comes. To such members of the earthly oban& ?mes this prayer of Paul's to. God for i&>' lidding us remember our high hjrth* oil ;he line?not of Abraham or David?out of; '' "the Fathi^" pf,<wrJ^d.-Jt^^ri?4:j\ enrinding Us of 6uT kinship witn'tne restf-V if men and angels, "of ^nbm thie itfcote :*> family in heaven and earth is named.'" ] "To be strengthened," the prayer goes \ )n. Why,, we thought we were qmte i rtrong! Are we not pDkra in the. church? Do we not teach a Sunday school oaii and cad in Christian Endeavor .matters? '! irat this strength is not that we liaay be ible to shine na great workers' hut rather; . that we may oe filled with the strength' it His Spirit that Christ may mske fiw borne in our hearts. His facc ons of.the number about the fireside of our secret self,- Hia presence the moving power it* > )ur-lives Because He dwells there. Only; an til one has lived daily with a person, in til one has experience^ another s love meter the shadow of sorrow and loss and humiliation, pan one know the. depths of that love. So, only when we live iif. Christ ind feel Hi& touch at every step -pf, the wav. His delight in our joy, His comfort Hid healing in our Borrow, can- we begin to feel what is that love. Says Bishop Vincent: "The perpetual hold oLChriet upon us is like the peipetlal hola of the son upon the -earth, .The arth cannot warm iteelf at the ran, and tbeq swing off on its own account, to be i source of Kgfht and heat?lif,ht and heat rhich it won from the son, and now gives t second hand, independently of the ?nn. rbe constant hold of the sun on the earth a the only hope of the earth. AS that the ;arth can do is to let the sun h*ve its-owa way, and -yield to him. So Christ is oar V til and in aD, and n always our all. There i 8 none other. Our hope is in Him* Oar, Faith rests in Him. Our life comes from mim wo OWI ' WpII ' if LJLU11* JIU L'V BU1V) nw wi w *.??. "?7 - -. the earth, were a free - and intelUffent being the beat it could do would be to Jet. sun have, its radiant and regal way f vith it, and to swing in its orbit and thra ind turn toward the sun just' as It does. So we believers in the Sun of Righteousaess?His planets. His disciples?attain jut best by doing His will, by letting Him io His will in and for and by us." And best of all, tiere is never aheart hunger that His fullness is too small, to fill. He can do "exceeding abundantly ibove all that we ask or think." ' Dr. Alexander tells how bis little daughter -came to him soon after her mother had gone to Heaven, and said: "Oh, father, 1 want something eo much, and I don't know what it is!" and how he took her on his knees to Jesus, and the little seven-year-old girl went away happy in the love of Christ.-Srace Livingston Hill, in the New Yorl Mail and Express. ^ Be Happy. 'All people that on earth do dwell, Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice; 3im scire with mirth: His praise forth tell, V }otne ye before Him and rejoice." These are apt thoughts for anjr season, 5C nappy; ix is not umj yviu u?<( 'our duty.. God has wrought to that end, ind bids you so work also. Make not only be most, but the beat of life. Be "true t? he kindi-ed points of heaven and home." jet there he gladness under the family rooi ree. Let old and young rejoice together^ 'for will the joy be less sweet and deep bea use it is sanctioned and sanctified by tb< leavenly Father. And let it-be well remembered that nc tyway of selfishness 'leads to selfishness, )ver the road of love And self-sacrifice sdo levout endeavor for the good and happines# if others, and only that'way, lies the deep> afe haven of an untroubled peace. A m&ni aith Scripture, must give an account fot very idle word; that is, for words thai piing from an irreverence find religious .oth. How much more shall God call him o a reckoning for every unkind word, , or every word ehadowed and sharpened -by . spirit of bitterness, selfishness ami [loom!? F. C. McCook. A Simple Kellgion. A Quiet home; vines of our own plant ng; a few books full of the inspiration oi ;enius; a few friends worthy of beinjj oved, and able to love us in return; a I intiiwenf n'ooonrPa t.hfit hrinff nC I lain or remorse; a devotion to the right hat will never swerve; a simple religion uiutv ol ail bigotry, full of trust and hope md love?and to audi a philosophy thi? vor!d will give up all the empty joy il tas.?David Swinj. Trust God. Providence hath a thousand keys tc >psn a thousand doors for the deliverance if IJis own, when it has come to the ereat st extremity. Let us be faithful and car< or our own part., which is to do and suf* er for Him; and lay Christ's part on Hinv elf and leave it th^re; duties are ours, . vents are the Lord's. When our faith ;oeth to meddle with events and to hold i court?it- 1 may so speak?upon God's jrovidence. and bczinneth to soy: "How vilt Thou do this or that?'* we lo?? [round?we have nothing to do tiie<e; ii s our part to let the jVJmighty nxem>>t iis own office and steer His own lielm.^amuel Rutherford. To Diesect Jnrabo'a Heart* Professor Wilder, of the department of ihysiology of Cornell University, has promsed his classes that he will give them the arcrest heart in the world to dissect and xamine. It is the great muscular pump hat forced the blood through the arteries { Jumbo, the famous elephant. Jumbo'a ? leart is ninety-eight times as large as the .verage human organ. It now weighs hirty-eix and a half pounds. The humaa leart is less than six inches long. Jump's js twenty-eight inches long and tweny-four inches wide. The ordinary hearti ould be contained in the main artery of fumbo's heart. The walls of the artery: ' re five-eighths of an inch thick, while the valla of the ventricle are three incieq tick( - . i>n i i 'I a ?