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' t /I . M AJJATI By Aflaa Katharine Green, J -CO^YHICMT, 1B?0, BY *e CHATTER XXXII. Continued. "Yon know, Byrd, that I have ot late taken yon to my heart. You are no longer a i?jere detective to me, nor are you simply a fellow whom I once knew and heartily liked; you are my ^friend, and the only man I can open my heart to about a matter that has absorbed my every hope. . When, therefore, you utter insinuations instead of encouragement, I feel startled, specially as I have not been without doubts myself?not of her, but of the situation in which I am likely to be placed. If she loves me?and I 6ball soon find that out?I shall still not be altogether happy, for i hate the idea of marrying a womaa who owes her immense fortune to the appreciation and choice of another man. I shall be alxvflv* ienlouK of him: I shall always I fee) as if the luxury I enjoyed was attributable to him, and so experience humiliation at the thought that my wife owes her splendor to means reeulting from another man's love. For I caa never forget that he loved her. and that it was his love that actuated his decision. Had it not done so he would have paid one more visit to the schoolteacher, who, if 6he is lame, possesses every moral attribute* necessary to entitle her to the legacy of Mr. Delaney " "Yes," was Mr.. Byrd's unexpected assent, "yoa would always have that, drawback to your- happiness. Her prosperity is certainly owing to your rival's love." , Tq utter an unpleasant truth your. *elf is bad enough, but to hear it re peated by another's lips is intoieraoie. 'Bounding to his feet Mr. Degrnw paced up and down tJbe room in visible excitement. "AL! if I conld have bnt made ber mine before ever 6he met this De graw!'" he exclaimed. The other "watched him with increasing earnestness. He had sown seeds of iflistrust in the artist's ardent breast, which would yet bear fruit. What fruit? He and we will>soonvbe given a chance to 6ee. ' CHAPTER XXXIII. UNEXPECTED CONDITIONS. Next morning Hamilton Degraw read these words in the social column of one of New York's leading dailies: "Miss Rogers has returned from Newport (there is but one Miss Rogers In New York these days), and is now to be seen by her friends at her own house at Fifth avenue." It was a happy moment for him, for the three months allotted to their separation had pa88ed, and by this return to the city she at learst showed that she did not 6eek to avoid a meeting. In his joy he tore the veil from her picture, and survejed her loveliness with burning eyes, then realizing that this was a poor preparation for the hours of waiting which lay before him he covered it up again and set himself to work, only to drop palette and brush in his impatience and take up his bat and go out. He walked in the direction of her house. It was no new walk for him. Though she had been absent from its walls all summer he had passed it by many times during these months of waiting, and though it was not a pretentious dwelling, and was only her6 while she leased it, he had conceived an affection for its every 6tone, and rould have given you each detail of its exterior as well as if it had been a Iiouse of bis own. Now its hitherto empty body had a noul, and he found himself intirci, dated as be approached it, and really went no further than the corner. But a sight of the pavement her feet had ?o lately crossed was a comfort to him, ' and he went back to his studio in a Jiopeful mood to await with more or less patience a suitable hour in which to call upon her. He chose the afternoon, first, because he had not the endurance to wait till evening, and secondly because he felt that evening would bring other lovers to her side, whose presence would be unbearanble to him in his presemt uncertain position. At five o'clock be stood at her door, and did not know whether to resign his pretensions or not when he found that before his ring at the Uell had been answered two carriages beside bis own had been driven up in front, and that two ladies and one gentleman were awaiting with bim the somewhat tardy response to his eager summons. The opening of the door decided the question. He handed in his card to the neat maid who confronted him, and eaw or thought he saw on her bright and clever face a certain look that assured him that his viBit was particularly welcome, though she merely waved him toward the same parlor Into which the ladies had already eieppeu. The other gentleman merely left a note and a bouquet, both of which Mr. Degraw -would like to have annihilated. The room into 'which be passed was a surprise to him. Somehow he hnd expected to find this new-made heiress shrined in great splendor. Though the outside of tbe bouse was plain, almost to bareness, he had looked for a gorgeous interior suitable to her wealth nnd the glowing character of her beauty. But instead of this the walls were almost bare and the furniture was plain nnd inexpensive. There were not even any ornaments to be seen, and the carpet, though new, wus one of the simplest Brussels. hoi* nctoc! flion VinmKlo^ Hr did she consider that a sudden leap' Into show and splendor was undigni-. tied in tne unsuccessful prima donna?' He awaited her appearance to determine, and was prepared to behold a richly adorned woman enter this bald apartment, and b.v her gay silks and brilliant jewels illumine the dreary ftolnaese of a room which had hot i j ' 1 ; ~ \ . \ r : 'ER * M LIONS. Ju . Author of "Tbe Forukn | I 'lu,"'Stc. | ( CUT BONNK'S ??MS. J even the attractiveness of his cwb studio. But when, iu a moment later, a light figure glided through the doorway, he saw that she relied upon her beauty and not upon her apparel for the im pression she was destined to make. Though hi6 senses swam at the sight of her countenance that was brighter, more winsome and more exquisitely beautiful than ever, he could not but note that no jewels fashed iu her ears and that her dress was of plain cloth, without color and without adornment. She bad worn more picturesque clothing when she was simply Signorina Valdi. Yet in a few minutes he forgot all this. She had but to turn toward him with a blushing ? greeting, for the room; himself and her own delicate and graceful figure to be inundated with radiance. She loved him still;! that was visible in her look, her atti* | inAn oiiil >ini. /innuflrcofinn thnnnh cho turned from bim almost immediately and gave herself up to the ertertainment of the two ladies who had entered at the same time as himself. She loved him and she was not yet spoiled by her new wealth. This was enough to fill his consciousness for the present, and lend to his aspect that subtle charm which was the secret of his jjower over the hearts of women. "While the ladies were being bowed out he stood in-a' whirl of excited feeling that was not unshared, ^pethaps, by her, and when,-'t he front door being closed, she turned back and began crossing the floor to his side, it was with difficulty be checked his wild impulse to stretch forth his arms and take her at once and without question to his heart. But be had said to himself that he would not do this, whatever bis tempttation might be, and he bravely kept his word, paling a little, however, as she reached out her hand with an air that expressed her recognition of the fact that she had not as yet given him her full greeting. She, on the contrary, was ruddy as a .rose, and seemed to expect-a display of warmth which was at yet absent from his manner. < For beyond taking ber band and pressing It he said nothing, though her eyes looked up wistfully and her form visibly trembled. "You do not say you are glad," said she. He drew a deep breath and gently dropped her band. "I do not say I am glad," he repeated, "because I "am busy schooling myself into a calmness I cannot feel. I am so glad I cannot trust myself to speak. To see yon again, after these interminable months is heaven to me. But it is a heaven I'^must not enjoy-too deeply till . "Till what-?" Her sigh was eloquent} she seemed'to hang upon his words. "Till I know how deeply you love me; how much you are willing to sacrifice for my sake, and what there is in the future for me to look forward to." "Ah," she murmured, "conditions! Do you love me so little as that?" "I Jove you," he declared, "almost to the point of folly. In these long months I have thought of nothing else, dreamed of nothing else, worked for nothing else but you. I am dazzled, I am mad with joy only to see you again. If I giveaway te my impulses I would fall at your feet and kiss the hem of vour dreBS. But I am held back by one thought, restrained by \one barrier. Yon are living'npon and enjoying the millions given you by my rival." "Bat?" "I know what you would say, dearest. He is not my rival now and never can be while you retain this money. But he did love you and probably always will love you, and it "was through this love he came to consider you as the heiress of Mr. Delancy's money, and it is because of this very love you are now -what you are, a conspicuous figure among New York's young and wealthy women." "But I do not lo,ve hrm,' and " "You do love me! Is that what you would say?" She smiled pitifully. She seemed much shaken-by his words and deeply abashed. "Do you love me enough to consider my pride?" he went on. "It would have to be a great, a courageous and a boundless iove. For I ask nothing less than that you should sacrifice this wealth, that you should leave at the altar rail these millions that have brought you fame and adulation, and accept only a painter's homage and such luxuries as his pencil can furnish you, find in that homage and these luxuries such compensation as will make you forget your brief reign of a summer as America's leading beauty and heiress." Her eyes, burning and dilated, stared into his. "You ask that?" she cried. "Yes, and since I know that I ask much I pray you not to answer me today by a look or a word. I would have you think long and deeply upon what I say. I would have you weigh the situation calmly, and then with grave decision render me the answer which your heart prompts. Not impulsively, net under the glamour of a passionate moment, but with the spell of prave.* upon you. and with a^blear foreknowledge of all that such a sacrifice means. Mr. Degraw has already asked from you a similar recognition of feeling, but he had little reasou for hope, and you did not honor him by so much as a' momentary hesitation. But this fhnico mwins something to voil. I know taat or I would not humiliate myself by following in his footsteps. Love and fondness for power-will have a battle ir. your breast, and no one, not( even yourself, can tell to-day how that conflict will end. For night will hring strange loggings, and meditation will .waken ambitions, and I ibail not be witb you to breathe love ' ' \ ' '' \ A or afisure*you tbat there are-depths in true passion'bejtofid the sounding^ en ordinary plummet." She covered her face with ber hands. "Oh, to what test6 am J put!-' was namesake of mine has "wreathed with golden blossoms she "will not cast aside for my soke. Do you not see 1hat I am right? Do you not see that we could never be happy with the ghost of another love forever gliding between ns at the indulging of any new fancy or the purchase of any new gewgaw? I may not succeed in making you see it as I do, but this i6 the question as it appears to me. Either love is worth this sacrifice or it is not. If it is not, you will frankly tell me so,-and I will bear my disappointment.'-and make a mistress of fame as I did before I saw and loved you." Her hands' had fallen from her face now, but she was not looking at him. She had, on the contrary, turned slightly away, and stood with only her cheek and the delicate outline of her | brow visible to his searching gaze. It was a bitter moment for Him. idau ne been right in subjecting feer leve to such a test? "Miss Rogers," said he. "before I left home I received an invitation from Miss Aspinwail to a day reception to be given at her house here in the city. Are you going to that reception?" Her gesture seemed to say she was. "It is set for a week from now, is it not?" "Well. I will give you tbis week in which to weigh ^the'question and to consult Hilary. If then you feel that your happiness, not mine?you must not consider my happiness in this question?will be best secured by a life spent at my side, with its love and Its hazards and its possible lack of splendor, then wear to this reception this same meek dress of brown, and be my blooming rose forever. But if, on the contrary, you have tasted of the vintage nf nrtnlntfon and feel that it is henceforth a necessary- beverage for you, and that you move In your proper atmosphere when you bear about with you the honors and distinctions of wealth, then wrap this lovely form in | velVet, and put in these dear ears the diamonds that belong there, and let me see how worthy you are to wear such splendors nnd hew little I had the right to ask you to forego them. You will be saved all embarrassment by this, of course. One glimpse will tell me what sort of a future I may expect, and while I do not promise to leave the room any too soon if I see again before me the maiden of to-day, I certainly 6hall not remain long enough in your presence to utter a reproach if I encounter velvet instead of cloth, and jewels instead of blushes." He was going, but she held out a hand, and though she did not raise her eyes or turn her head he paused wnne she said: "There is one thing you hare not explained. What is to be done with this money if I decide to give it up?" "It must be returned to Mr. Degraw, who will give it to a certain little schoolteacher, who, we muBt hope, will have no jealous lover who will refuse to let her take it." "Another Jenny Rogers?" "Yes, and a noble one." "That is all. I will not detain you any longer, Mr. Degraw." He looked, he moved away; be eame back with an almost breaking heart. After all, he might never see her again as she was now, rosy and trembling and innocently grieved. Had he been less exacting, basdt*he not puzzled himself with jealousies, "'had he been content to ignore everything but her winning womanhood, he might now be clasping her to his heart in ecstacy, instead of standing there with a barrier of ice between them and the prospect of what? Lifelong separation and a desolate Dearie; ior ?i xuai mumem ue did not believe that she would ever give up all that he asked for bis love. "I cannot leave you," said he. "with, out one proof of ray devotion." And flinging himself at her feet he clasped her knees and kissed with heartfelt fervo- the tip of her little 6lipper. "I love you!" he cried; "I love you!" and was gone, just as she 'sank half fainting upon a chair. To be continued. Eventfal History of an Island. Bass rock, which the commissioners of the British northern lighthouses are to occupy, has long been given over to sea birds that swarm there in the breeding season. It first appears on record as the hermitage of St. Balthere, who died on It in A. D. 750. It was bought by Charles I. from the Lauder family, and was used for years as a parsonage for covenanters; the cell ,n which the Covenanter Blackadder died i? still pointed out. In 1C71 a fortress was erected by the Government, but on June 16, 1691, four Jacobites shut tbe fort gates against the garrison of fifty soldiers, who were outside engaged in landing coal. These four were re-enforced by a dozen men, were victualed by the French Government, and supported by two warboats and held out against all odds until April, 1694. The place was then dismantled and passed into private hands, being of no value except for tbe eggs and leathers of the sea birds. A Lncky Painter. Sig. Fausto Louaro. a Venetian painter, who was starving at home, went to Constautiuople in search of j work. He was caught in the streets of the Turkish capital taking sketches of the Oriental wayfarers, a crime contemplated in the Koran which pro-1 liibits the reproduction on canvas of the features of the faithful. After several days spent in prison lie was summoned to explain ijis cuu- ; duct to the Sultan, who was so pleased with his drawings that he appointed him then and there court painter, gave hiin money and a palace to live in. . The lucky Venetian is now busy cov., eriug the walls of Yildiz Kiosk with his pictures.?I?oudon Express. her cry. "ion do Dot love me or you >svould not annihilate me by placing before me surh a fearful alternative." "I do love you," he answered solemnly. "and I want you to love me, tbnt is, if you marry me. 1 do not wish to feel < Vinf tlior*** To o t? ?i er in 1 hft w'orl f? IUV4V IO UUJ JU IUV ? v*i%? dearer to you than myself; tbat any riches and distinction tbat you may owe to another man's- Jove can vie with the single affection1 which I proffer you. Any lees - devotion on your part'will not satisfy me. I must have all or none. I must marry the woman I saw wake from the sleep of death, and not the woman whom a hajjpy % A SERMON. FOE SUNDAY ABCMUiiruLUi&buunat dt intncv. C. D. CASE. PH. D. Subject: "The Limit of Endeavor"?How Much l>are Toti Attempt For God? ? He Given Grace Both For Living and Dying?Activities For True Christians. Bkooeltn, N. Y.?The Rev. C. D. Case. Ph. D., formerly of the First Baptixt Church, Montclair, N. J., preached on Sunday his first sermonas pastor of the Haneon Place Baptist Cbtarcn. Hie subject was "The Limit of Endeavor." I)r. Case said: In -the fourth century of the Christian era the Goths, numbering nearly one million people, men, women and children, came down to the Danube, at tbat time swollen by many rains, to escape to the other side. A large fleet of boats and canoes had been provided, and for several days and nights work went on incessantly. Yet notwithstanding the most earnest care scores were swept away in the flood. Centuries before this remarkable occurrence another vast horde of men, women and children came down to another swollen etream. By count there were over 600,000 warriors over twenty years of age, and the entire host numbered about 2,000,000. The valley into which they descended was of peculiar formation. The outer valley waB six miles and over in width, but there was an inner valley or ravine a half mile and over in width, and still within this was the river itself varying from twenty to eixtv yards in width. But this river,-too, had been swollen by many rains and the melting snows farthertap its course, and now had overrun its usQal banks and vras rushing along with rapidity. {strangely enough no boats had been prepared for the crossing of this host, and yet, as events proved, not one of the host was lost in the crossing. Evidently there was some vast distinction to be made between these two fjreat hosts of antiquity. What was that distinction? May it not be this, he words that Isaiah uses in the forty . third chapter and second verse, which may be considered the text of this Bermon: "When thon passeth through the waters I will be with thee, and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee." On the part of the Israelites in their crossing of the Jordan some special preparation was needed, but not in the procuring of boats. The commander of the army had sent messengers throughout the host, and commanded all to sanctify themselves, which rtfeant the washing of garments and the abstaining from all that might distract the mind. Similarly Mioses haa once commanded the people to.'sanctify themselves to-dly and to-morrow: and to wash their Sarments and be ready against the third ay; for the third day Jehovah Himself would come down in the Bight of all the people on Mount Sinai. It was a critical moment for the hosts of Israel. To fail now meant t? fail forever. To succeed now meant a premise for the future. "Hereby ye shall know," said Joshua, "that the living God is among you and that He will without fail drive out from before you" the inhabitants of the land. What a nation or a man achieves through God-given strength to-day is an assurrance for victory for to-morrow. Success is a handmaid of assurance. "Ye have not passed this way before," said Joshua; a new leaf in national history had been | turned; a new territory invaded. A new endeavor with the Israelitish J army as with us to-day needed'--special ' guidance. -The sacred ark was te-'precede the people,;tut far enough in advance to be seen by all that "ye may kudW," said the leader, "the way by whicn ye Aust go." Reverence is needed for divine things, but divine gaidance more. The pillar of fire and the cloud is now superseded by the I ark, and it in turn superseded by the Christ, who said to all disciples, ''Follow Me." In each case the command is not to I make the Guide follow you, but you the | Guide. Five miles over the river is a walled city. Thousands are watching from the walls tne foolhardy attempt of the disordered hosts. One person, however, alone upon the wall, unnoticed by the many, is looking down with expeotancy. That one is Rahab. She I watches eagerly as the priests bearing the ark by the poles step with measured tread down to the river, wonders as nothing happens, starts a6 the priests seen actually at the very edge, but at last her hopes are realized, as-'the rushing current "is' stayed by some unseen force and rolls up in a mighty wall, while below the waters hurry away urftil the last streamlets trickle down over the stones and le3ve land for the passage of the army; What, after all, is the limit of endeavor? Evidently not reason alone if at all. That Israelite who stays behind and watches the foolish performance from the hill side paces back and forth in hio disgust. Such a foolish waste of life! Such a spectacular display. Will Joshua never be done with such undertakings? Any one might know that that motley herd could not be gotten I safely across that boiliDg stream. No i boats, no possibility of wading, or even swimming?it simply can't be done. But watch. It is done. I heard a teacher in a certain normal school read in class for,the correction of professor and student :wh>f 'she would gay to a class of boys and'girls about the crossing of the Red Sea by the Israelites. A strong east wind, she said, blew the water down the sea until the Israelite could wade across, and then when the Egyptians came up the wind had changed ana drowned all of the Egyptians in the passage. "And what do you suppose," said the would-be teacher, "the people thought that God made the waters to go back. That's science for you. But, by the way, such science is a little out of date. Even Huxley declared that Hume's argument against miracles was unscientific since he maintained as a premise that nothing miraculous or supernatural could occur. As far as science is concerned it is not necessary for us to determine whether a thing is miraculous or not, the question is, did the event occur, and if so, can we find a cause? Nor is the extent of one's own power an adequate limit to one's endeavor. "Give ye them to eat," said Christ. Impossible. There are 5000 men beside women and children. It would take an average man's life's savings to feed them. We have, in 1 fact, enough to give a few men a little to sustain them, a paltry live loaves and two fishes, but what are they among bo many. Ability says. We cannot feed them. Christ says, Arrange them in groups; make ready. What, then, are the limits of endeavor? One limit is certainly God's command. The Lord commands and the host proceeds and the deed is done. The Bible teems with commands. Are they becoming useless? Has the Bible yet become an obsolete text book? Does it need revision? Some commands appear out-dated; 6ome foolish; some difficult to obey. Yet what He commands He will give strength to pe: form, and the word of Cana is the word to-day. Whatsoever He saith unto you, do it. Bfit there is another limit, which is still farther to the horizon of life, the limit of God's promises. God's promises are in Him tea and amen. Someone has said that God'? promises are the Lord's branches hanging over the water, that our Lord's silly, half-drowned children may take a grip of them. Rather are they glimpses of the mountain top, inspiring the traveler to mount the heights that he may see the heavenly realms beyond. Yet all of God's promises have expressed or implied conditions. Something must be done by us in regard to His commands. Does He say. "] will give thee a erown of life?" He also pays, "If thou art faithful unto death." Does He say, "Thou shalt be saved?" He also says. "If you believe on the Lord Jesus Christ." Does He say that He will come in unto us and make His abode with us? He makes us the condition, that we open the door. Does He declare tiiat we shall bear much fruit? He also makes as the condition that we shall abide in Him. What, then, shall we do in the face of God's commands and promises which thus set the limit to our endeavor? Certainly accept tne limit, and be satisfied with no less. A command means a duty, and a j promise a privilege. The Christian life is easy not by trying nothing but what seems | easy, not by failing gracefully with the hope that God's lavor will pardon our neglect, not by thinking that .lis commands and promises are no6 really for us, but by agreeing with General Armstrong: "What are the Christians i:i the world for but to do Lhe impossible?" Bnt in accepting the I high ideal the soul must as certainly accept the comulmestarv caoclimoa that al> j etTeDgth'ie'M God. -Power^bfcfbM^lt unto God. Oar sufficiency is of God. borne pco vi^ ->?? it v?corx /forme**]- ?7onn,i yjc ?uu as it vwu ?%? three words are Irgbt, life and love; Paul's are grace, faith and power. ]t is by the pace of God. His unmerited favor, reached bv faith, a complete trust in Him, that we obtain the power of God. And what power! When Paul had reached the lowest depths of Romans, the seventh chapter, and sees that he must sin, and exclaims pathetically, Who shall delirer me from the body of this death? he can only answer himself with humility and rejoicing, I thank God, through Jesus Christ our Jx>rd. . Watch the repetition. "Power," "in the power of the Holy Spirit," "in the demonstration of* the Spirit and of potvei*/' "able to do' (exceeding abundantly"' aYove all that we'ask or think according^to'tbe power that worketh in us;" "that*y??>*Hay . know what'is the exceeding greatness of His power to upward who believe according to that working of His might which He wrought in Christ, when He raised Him from the dead, and made Him to sit at His right hand in heavenly places." But power comes through faith. Watch the priests as they put their feet in the , ... , ' ^ ' 11? t OrUllC 01 Hlftl KWUHCU EjllCiUJl. FT uu? ?> fldence. How did you know -what waa . going to happen? Some say that as we ' grow older we gain more wisdom and therefore need not accept less and less the revelation by faith. Great theologians according to this might live with very little , faith. In much the same spirit it is *up- 1 posed by many that as we obtain more and , more strength we need Jess and less of di- ^ vine interposition and have less and less need of faith. But 'let him that standeth take heed lest be fall." Aa long as we live on this*, earth, there will be neyr ietriffory of wMom and power to reach, andtaew Jordtffis to cross. We cannot, Panl de- ]j dares, in Gaktians, begin by faith and. i then be perfected in the 'flesh. Faith a& a the stretching out of the hand toward c Christ must always be a Christiana priv- C jlege. a i Take your own condition, if yon are not n a Christian. If you join a lodge you make a up your mind after examination that you e can keep all of the requirements ?f the i constitution and pledges* You know your own ability and strength.- But when you e come to Christ, you do not begin by way* h ine, Can I or can I not bold out to the end, t taking into consideration the powers that } I now possess. Rather you .say. He has t promised to keep that whicn I commit t unto Him, and therefore I shaH bold (Ait. c You will make the conclusion of Charles p O. Finney as he went out into the woods t engaged in a life and death struggle with the Holy Spirit. The voice was saying. n "Will you accept tfow?to-day?" He went out determined to g/ve hiaheart to Christ ,-c before he came out/-and -be did. But if p was a* promise wbichi-he laid hold of. That- ic promise waE: "Ye iSljall seek Me and find . Me when ye shall 'search for Me with all '?? your heart." His answering faith said: 0 "Lord, Thou canst not lie; I take Tbee at ]( Thy word; I do search with all my heart j, and I know* therefore that I have found p Thee." And as he continued in prayer the 8 peace of God came into his heart. n Then there are commands and promises t connected with your burdens. Christ said, R "Do not worry over the morrow." Can we a keep from worry? You have read again r and again the words, "Ca?t thy burden on t; the Lord and He will sustain thee/' but j note that the margin of the revised version j says as the other reading,for "thv burden" "that which He hath given thee, and also notice that God sustains not the burden but "thee." Cast upon God what He has given you to bear and He will bear?thee, d and in bearing thee the burden will be a if blessing, not a curse. Is prayer a'farce? Or can the limit of 5 2 nla'n ?f3n/1'a nrnmisPR? I ^ CIIUCUVUl ill piujrc.1 Kt\i muv vwu .* p. "Whatsoever ye shall ask in My name, it 11 shall be done unto you." Christ declared f. to the disciples as they had stood helpless tJ before the aemoniac boy, "This kind com- Cl eth not forth save by prayer." Beyond ? the reaches of human strength and wisdom r is the domain of prayer-achievement. Dr. a. David Gregg when he was pastor in Bos- a ton presided at the fiftieth anniversary of ?' Dr. Cyrus Hamlin, long of Constantinople. ^ In the year 2851 Mahmoud had issued an edict ordering the expulsion of all mission- e] aries from tne empire. The British and c' American ambassadors told them that they " must go. William Godell replied to Hamlin's statement, "Hamlin, the Sultan of Heaven can change this; let us appeal to Him in prayer." Together, like Ht-zekiah ^ of old, they spread the edict before the n Lord and prayed all night. The next day aMahmoud died and the edict was never mentioned. Robert College is the monu- tj ment of the work of Dr. Hamlin. . You, to-day, are thinking especially of ^ the work before you. How much dare yoa jr attemnt for Goa? We must often begin | ft, our duty before we feel conscious of the I strength. But God giveB grace for living | +] and aying both and always when wc need g it. Thank God, we are co-workers with j 0 Him, wmch means vastly more than khat +1 we are engaged in the 6ame work or the same kina of work. Christ said, "My Bi Father worketh hitherto and I work, * showing that He was simply carrying out r the work which His Father was doing. * But He also said, "My Father, which ' worketh in Me, He doetn the work." So we mean when we say that we are coworkers with God, more than that we are doing God'H work, but that He Himself'is ci in us "working in ug'both to will arfd'.'do " of His good* pleasure:" Professor Peahbdy,' P of Harvard, declares that there are three classes that make problems ior us in so* ?1 ciety, the "can't-wotks," the aged, sick and J* defective, who must receive gentle and con- ? tinuous consideration; the out-of-works" t< able lo work, but temporarily unemployed; 8] the "won't works," the professionally idle,- 81 vagrant,, mendicant poor. e( In the church there are but two classes ti to make problems; for there are no "can't w works," as every one who cannot take a ; o) Sunday-school class or do some other ! ei church service, does work by Christian tes- j c< timony and Christian living; first, the , L "out'-of-works," who are willing to work * but cannot find employment, and for this rt neglect the church is responsible; and sec* *1 ona, the "won't works," and Goil pity the fi church that has many of them. Let ua ii rather be the "can works,'* the ^m-works," < the "will works." ; . , t< And dofs some one ask what are the " prospects of success? Lefc'tfteni. listen to Adouiram Judson, as he.toys,,''?*11 tSem as much as there is an Al'mighty'and a j is faithful God, who will perform His prom- j w ises, and no more." Let us believe that I G we have but two limits to all of our en- S deavcrs, God's commands and God'a promises. A Constant Guide. 01 We have often to travel solitary ways. Some of us have perplexed paths to tread. g( Some of us have sad memories of time? cj when we journeyed in company with those cj who will never share our tent or counsel or steDs anv more, and as we sit lonely by our watch fire in the wilderness we nave i , aching hearts and silent nights. Some of | " us may be as yet rich in companions anc) helpers whose words are wisdom, whose w wishes are Jove to us and may tremble to ^ think that after awhile they or we shall have to tramp by ourselves. .There is a Presence T&hich never departs, which moves before us as wo journey and hoveri over us as a shield when we rest; a cloud . to veil the sun that it smite us not by day, 11 and a pillar of flame as the night falls, be ?{ jng ever brightest when we need it most (j and burning clearest of all in the vallej fcl at the end, where His guidance will onlj pi cease because then the Lamb that is in th* B mifofc of the throne will lend them.?Rami w Hofti. 1c oJ Golden Wh?at of Goodm-sr. w Tribulation is God's threshing?not tq a! destroy nu, but to get what is good, heav? a! cn.'y and spiritual in us separated from di what is wrong, earthly and fleshly. Noth' mg less than blows of pain will do this. The evil clings ?o to the good, the go!den wheat of goodness in us is so wrapped up m in the strong chaff oi the old life that only i Alii can Droduce I "VI Wit? lieu v y nan ?/*. -?u * the separation.?J. B. Miller. fc ? fe< A Holj Ministry. JV It is life itself, sanctified life, that is g, God's holiest and most effective ministry <], in <>.is world?pure, sweet, patient, ear- ca nest* unselfish, loving life, it is not so much what we do in this world as what wc ^ are, that tells in spiritual results and impressions. A good life is like a llower which, hough it neither toil nor spiD, yes ever pours out a rich perfume and thna jjeri'orras t Iip'j auamr' Djc, J. ? Mil* J One Day at a Time. )ne day at a time! That's all it can be; No faster than that ie the hardest fate; Lnd days have their limits, however ,w? .2 Begin -them, too early and'stretch them too la*?. ? )ne day at ft time! Every heart that t' aches Knows only too well how long that can a seem;-- ' CJ Jut it's never to-day which the epint breaks; . pi It's the darkened future without a ?. gleam. ? ? )na day at a time! A burden too great C) t<$ be borne for two can be borne by one; ^ Vbo knows what will enter to-morrow's w While yet we are speaking all may be in done. i' ^ ea )ne day at a time!?but a single day, ? Whatever its load, whatever its length, 2. ^nd there's a bit of Scripture to eay w That according to each shall be his ai strength. bt . c The One J oat Record. w The only absolutely .*just record of out jf, ivfifl *io Sblfk Haj) ,nUA ?u?n?nk/?^k itvw u? n??u vvu. ! ? Up DC(UVU?KU VM* learts. He knows tbe/ttotive of oar best nd worst deeds. We'itfay succeed in deeiving others, but we cannot deceive Him. _ >nr sorrows and our shame, our desires nd our purposes, our imagination and q lental struggles, our ideals and dreams? af 11, all are town to Him Who. readeth 8( ur lives, Who "hath set our secrrt sins a< q the light of His countenance." C( These are our records. What is the les- w on for us? Can we expunge what we <j( ave written? Never. But do we not p< alk of a past covered by atoning blood? d< fes, the love of God can heal the wound ]o hat sin has made, but nothing can remove b< he scar. We must keep our records a] lean. We must learn to say no to sin p< romptingB and world syrens that lure us ai o ill. in What of the record we have left in the tc linds of them? If it be unfavorable, the pi nly^way to heal it is to compel them to t< hange their estimate by giving them tt lain evidence of a changed life. The re- f* ord from faults may remain, but we can to frite across it some such sentence as this: He is a changed man. He is not what he 111 nee was. He is living a holy and blame- ? ?BH life." And what nf Cintl'a honlr nf udgment? I bring you good news. He ** romises to cover our gins from His own ra ight and remember them against us no 08 lore forever. JSe offers to cast them into w he sea of forgetfulness. And all .for the m ake of His eternal Son. "With 'him is ^ lercy and plenteous redemption." But, emember, there is only one way to ob- i? ain that pardoB, that remission. It is f~ lis way. "There is none other name."? 5s, lev. C. C. Albertson. aI _ yf True and False Toleration. Many people confuse tolerance and in- Tl ifference. 'xhey think they are tolerant P i their feelings, when, as a matter of . ict, they do^ot care enough to have any in seling. Ho^; often will a man who is eeply interested in politics speak and act 8? lost bitterly' 'towaras those whose politi- |? al principles are not his'own, and yet *? hink himself tolerant because he does not ** are enough about matters of religion to w iicd differences of opinion there?- Mat- ,,, ers of trutn and faitn are Avorth feeling bout. They are so much worth feeling 81J bout that it is better to be bigoted beiuse we feel strongly about them, than i! ; would be not to feel about them at all. 2 'he old Puritan who has written as his pitaph in the ancient Massachusetts Qurcbyard: cj Let men of God in church and nation dj watch a 'Gainst such as would a toleration al hatch." - d< : more honorable in our1 eyes than the P< lodern dilettante who feels very strongly Bt bout the color of his cravats, but has no P:eling about errors in religious truth. Yet lere is a genuine and- 'Christian tolera- v on which is not indifference. It con- & sts with the most deep and serious feel- cc ig. This toleration cares about truth, . ud cares about what 6eem errors in its :aching; but it rests confidently in faith lat truth will win its own victories in w od's good time; and it acts consistently a the Knowledge that love is greater even ian truth, and must break the path in jr laces where trutn ha9 not yet appeared. 'his is the tolerance of faith and chanty, ( hich a man shows in places where he fa .'els deeply, whether those places be in. jj, olitics or in religion. fe di Sympathy's Lifting Power. th A world without eympathy would be a H ^iel abiding place. . Those who have $uf- tfc :red and received/espressions of true ?ym- C! athy from frieiids would hardly aare a' e require to watch over and mange our-* link what their suffering would have dc een without a spoken word of comfort lo om a living soul. We are often tempted H ) feel that any word of sympathy we may leak or write to another, at a time of H jecjal trial, is not worth the doing; that (? > many such words will be spoken to *n lat one that our own will count for noth- t0 ig. The prompting to keep silent in an- *? tiler's time of Borrow is a false one.. Spok- A i sympathy is as a mantle of love; it jmforts, strengthens and inspires. Our jv ord Jesus Christ longed for sympathy. 811 here is no more affecting passage in the ?j ;cord of His life than that which tells of "> nf Hi? nnH rfearosfc . i iends to watch and sympathize with Him l the hour when Hi8 soul was "exceeding jrrowful." There has never been a word ej( )0 much of sympathy spoken to a sorrow-' ig one. Sympathy's very cumulation ^ >rms a great force that uplifts and mi ;rengthens. It is needed by the weak:, it fa still more needed by the strong. It fr qj ithin every one's power to give it. ^ind th od, who is love, will bless it always.? ?t unday School Times. j? G( Bo Cheerful. \yj We ought to be as cheerful as we can, if "C lly because to be happy ourselves is a an iost effectual contribution to the happiess of others. There is no doubt some elfish satisfaction in yielding to melaxiloly; in brooding over grievances, espe- ] ally if more or less imaginary; in fancy- G1 ig that we are victims of fate. To be in right and cheerful often requires an ef- coi irt; there is a certain art in keeping our- th< lives happy; in this respect, as in others, be e require to watch over ana manage our- *el ;]ves almost as if we were somebody else, bis -Sir John JjUDDock. cuj sea lticht Leading antMt'lgiit Following. Jf wc see a good example we well maj am nitate it. But we are not to be always As :meinbering what has been done success- the tlly. What can be done we should con- od< der. God has set before us great princi- fur les for our imitation and guidance. Lord eig aeon says: "Set it down to thyself, as 11 to create good precedents as to fol>w them." It is well to tread in the steps i those who have gone the right way be- ] >re us. It is even better to tread in a wa ay that shall lead others aright, as they th< re influenced by us. Are we leading .of right, as we seek to follow right prece- Ur ents? Frightfnl Deaths in Desert. The bodies of between twenty and thirty . * en who perished from thirst while at- '01 impting to cross the desert between [oapa and Los Vegas, Nevada, have been ^ iund within a few weeks. Many of the ^p adies were without clothing, and it is be?ved that the victims'' haa gone insane om thirst and had wandered about nude J ime of the victims are auDDosed to have aid unk water from "Dear Man's Well," lo Ru ited almost in the centre of the desert, inv ie water from which is eure death to cm iose who drink it. Our Foreign Commerce. ] The foreign commerce of the United for Uites for 1903 amounted to $2,450,000,000. me % =====iBSB!s==! v HE SUNDAY vSCflOOI k frM m *JTER NATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS FOR MABC^ 6, object: Jnu Calms the Storm, Mark IV, 35-41 ? Golden Text, Paalin 107, 99 ? Memory Terse*, 37-89 ? Commentary* on the D?|'i Leuon. I. Crossing Galilee (v?. 35, 36). 85. me otner aide. jesus naa proDapiy oe)me very weary through the long day's ork ana needed retirement. He knew aat quiet and re<t "could be best obtained! 1 the solitude''of Ihe'eastern shore. Ae- Drdingly He proposed to the disciples that jey cross over the lake. 36. "Sent aw*yitthe multitude.? Thejuntry aroundKftfcernaum, and in all Gal* ee, was densely populated an# great "owds of people followed Christ wherever [e went. His teaching was original, Hieersonahty very striking, and His miraclesroved His power and authority, .Some ished to hear the truth, others had a iriosity to see the man, and many desired - , > be nealed of their diseases. "At He as." Christ had been engaged-up to the fit moment, and now leaves without mak- ig any preparation for the voyage. Just efore the boat put off three of the ljsten-. rs to His words desired to'attach them- > ilves to Him as His disciples: 1. A scribe. \ An already partial disciple. 3. Another - I ho wished to bid farewell to his friend* 1 c home. "In the ship." .Life has often> fl een appropriately described as a voyagje. 1 hrist will come on board the barque in> hich our destiny is being cartiedjforward, we want Him to. "Little shjj&r" None E the so-called ships on this latit were of ay great size: they were what-we wo?id< til fishing boats. II. A great tempest (vs. 37, 38). "A eat storm." It was one of those sudden* . id violent squalls to which the Lake, of ennesaret was notoriously exposed, lying: i it does 600 feet lower than the sea ana lurrounded by mountain gorges,' which" t. lilcp ffiffantic funnels to draw down the1 ' >ld winds from the mountains. Theseinde are not only violent, bat they come Dwn suddenly, and often wbea the sky Msrfectly clear, life's storms come rodinly. Temptations come when we are nol-. oking for them. "It was now fojl."'1 The >at was now filling. This storm was probsly excited by 8atan, the prince oftbe swer of the air, who having the .Author id all the preachers of the gospel together i a small vessel, thought, t>y sinking; itr ? defeat the purposes of God. But the ans of Satan often mistsrry. Christ is able i bring good" opt of the threatened ill, an<f ius cause even'the devil to assist Him injecting the courage and faith of Hit 38. "He wafiin," etc. UntOrjChrist wi* l the ship there was no storm. Wfyite en are resting quietly in carnal seecritjk 1 is peace, hut as soon as Christ rebnkeeA le world of sin the wicked are like the) iging sea. that cannot rest, whose water?i ' L?t up dirt and mire. ''Asleep. Here) e see that Christ was a human being?* t an like other men. He became very V eary, and His nature called for rest' ancT L eep. A moment later when He stilled . te raging waves we see just as clearly that .. e was God. "They awake Him." In the >ur of their distress they turned hrist; so should we. At. times He may >pear to he unmindful.of our need," arid it : ill be necessary for us to "a^rake Him" r earnest, persevering prayer.' "Master."" he double "Master. Master," of St. Luke ves vividness to their haste and terror. tVe perish." We are in danger Of perish- ' g. They did not know-'that no ship could nk with Christ on board. Thtise m dan* . r of nerishins should always go to Christ r help, for tnere is none who can,-save om the storms of dime wrath but the >n of God.- This was a model prayer. It as short, appropriate, fervent. * IH. The tempest stilled (v. 3#). 30. Ele arose." Christ is always ready to asBt those in trouble. If we can ^et'the Tnpathies of Christ enlisted in our case 1 will be well. He (1) arose, (2) rebuked, id (8) there was a great cahn. "Rebuked te wind." The wind was the cause of the aming sea. "Peace, be still." Literally, je muzzled." The word means (1) to ose the mouth with a muzr^e- (2) to re* ice to silence.' He rebuked the winds a* ; master rebukes a raging animal. Mark one preserves these words which' were jubtless addressed -to "the princp of the ' iwer. of': the air," by whose, agsncy the orm had arisen. "A great calm." As ' ile, after a storm the waves Continue to;ave and swell for hours, but here at the' ord of the Lord of nature (there was eat calm. The calm was gnat from the ' impleteness of the stillness. IV. A gentle reproof (v. 40). 40. ''So \ arful." You should have remembered tat the Son of God was on board. There- ' no cause for fear. Note some signs of * eak faith: 1. Fear in danger. 2. Doubt the Lord's power in danger. 3. Anx* us solicitude about earthly things. 41 npatience under trouble. "No faith.'* atthew records Christ's words as being, ) ye of little faith." 1. They had "no ! itn" in themselves or their own ability to ish the elements or to quiet their own. ars. 2. They had a "little faith" in their vine Master. This is seen from the fact >at they (1) came to Christ. (2) awoke >rn and 13) annealed to Him to save bn. 3. But tluyr own fearfulneaa and rpnroof shows that they had only little faith. 4. " Christ's queirtions go to ow that they were responsible for the ifectiveness of their faith. 5. Chrwt'd ve for them did not lead Him to shield is disciples from the reproof they dc? rved. 3. Christ honored a little faiti". e (1) arose, (2) rebuked the wind, and ) caused 8 great calm, Is tbere a tempest your heart? There is One who is able drive out all the elements that cause dtfrrd and unrest and give vou perfect pfeace. nd it is the duty of the tempest-tossed ul to make a personal application to irist for the peace which He so much deres to give. V. Great astonishment (v. 41). 41. "eared exceedingly." Matthew savs, "The en marvelled." They were greatly astopned; filled with amazement. They were erwhelmed with the majesty and ease itfc which He issued His orders to the ements, and at tbe; submission with hich they, like livifcf intelligoncies. are ished by His word. .."What manner of an." What a vast display of power; bow r plaited above rtorutls must He be! irist is the great problem of hiatory, of eolojry. of life. What is He? He is nan," but what "manner" of man? He the God-man, who stands equal with 3d on the high level of Deity, and equal ith man on the low level of humanity. )b y Him." The One who created wind d sea could control them. Has ? Florida Winter. Dr. Godfrey R. ^Artin, a physician ol ens Falls, has created a Florida climate the Adirondack foothills. Tbe doctor ncluded that he could partly duplicate i atmospheric conditions of Florida, and tried an experiment this winter. Be ected his library in which to perform i experiment. Sending to Florida-, be sered a large quantity of native pitch and i salt. Taking an earthen vessel'he filfed with pine boughs and pitch. Over this poured a four per cent, solution of'ealt 3 placed the vessel over an- oil he-ittrr. annn no maw to h? had > damp salt air and the invigorating ar of tne pine, and by keeping the house Dace going the required temperature of hty degrees. 1 Frozen to Death in River Bed. Robert Hendricks, fifty-six years old, 8 found frozen to death in the centre of ; dry bed of the Rio Grande River. Half hie body was in Mexico and half the lited States. ' Swears He la 148 Tear* Old. Stephen Joice recently made affidavit here the court of Dallas, Texas, to being J years old, stating that he wa? born in uisiana Province under the dominion oi ain in 1756. Woman Hoarded 91,000,000. \n qld woman who for twenty years reed in a "small room in St. Petersburg, ssia, was found dead of privation, and estigation resulted in the finding of fccitiee valued at $1,000,000. K a Mian War Force. [t is stated that tbe total available war mm ce of Russia in the Far East ie 390,000 Eg