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Q A-Mati JL^ * MIL I By Anna Katharine Gr;sn, J COPVrilCMT. 1690. BY R< CHAPTER XXXVI. | AT THE RECEPTION. Miss Aspinwall's hom;e in the city was as sumptuous as Miss Rogers' was plain. On this afternoon, jt was more than sumptuous; it was a fairy-land of exotics ami flowering shrubs. In a room above, amid crowds* of richlydressed women, stood Miss Rogers with an undecided look on her downcast face. She did not seem ready to advance and mingle with the crowd that was descending to pay its respects to the hostess. She faltered and answered absently those who felt they had the liberty to address her, and only moved on at last when the pressure of the crowd became unbearable. Arriving in the hall, she hesitated still. There were a few gentlemen standing on the staircase nnd she seemed to have a dread of gentlemen, And to shrink whenever she saw the head ol' one turn in her direction. ' Withdrawing herself "with some difficulty from the throng by which she wns hemmed in. she slipped into a little alcove coniaining a small tahle on which was a pitcher of ice-water and some glasses. As she moved to come out again she heard someone remark that Degraw was to sail that night for Rome, where he intended to set up a studio. Everything was black before her for n moment. He had no faith in her. She looked down on her velvet gown and hated it. All was forgotten, even Hilary, but the fact that he was going away and that the earth was empty for her. She worked her way to a certain little dressing room, where Hilary kept her dresses. Choosing the one most like the discarded one at home, the put it on. Then she went out and turned her steps again toward the crowd, moving toward the stairs. As she did so she felt her shoulder touched. A hand reached through the mass and thrust a roll of paper into her hand. Frightened, she knew not why, she unrolied the paper and read, with staring eyes and hair rising on her forehead, a few mysterious words. Merciful heaven! What did they mean? Where did they come from? How did they come here? Recoiling for a second time from the head of the stairease, she dashed toward that part of the house into which a messenger, such as sho '.magined herself to have seen, would be likely to disappear. Sbe sought, she inquired, and found, not one of her own maids, but the jolly little French girl who had taken her hairdresser's place that day. "Did you bring this?" she asked. Ifc^Ycs, mademoiselle." < .. "\nd who made you?who gave you {his to mo?your employer, l?ulai5c ?3" ' "'Oui, madmoteelle; who else? I assure you I carried it quite joyfully, nnd only regret 1 had to interrupt mademoiselle's pleasure??" But mademoiselle had turned her back. "The Portuguese!" she murmured, "the Portuguese!" And she grew quite white and stole away into Hilary's dressing room for a second time, and mechanically took down a large silk cloak that she wrapped about her, thus hiding her gown, and making of her appearance a mystery, which might and might not be penetrated by a watchful lover's eye. Thus enshrouded, she descended into the room wondering would he see what her non-committal costume meant? Miss Aspinwall, meantime, was awaiting her friend's tardy approach with secret impatience. Contrary to Mr. Degraw's suggestions, she had not been taken into Miss Rogers' confidence, and knew nothing of the im i. pottance of the hour to the two hearts Nearest to her. Yet she felt vaguely uneasy, especially after she saw Jenny's face, and could not prevent a Wondering glance as she noticed that licr friend was wrapped in one of her own cloaks. **I have had an accident?spilled lemam ?amatviinrr oil ara?? 41ia UIUIVHJ U1 CUlUCUJIUp, <44 Jl V?tl L4IV 1IVUI of my dress," -whispered Jenny, as site observed this look, and her friend's wonder and astonishment. There was not time for more; a dozen ladies were behind her. Miss Ropers passed on, but she felt her heart unaccountably lightened. She always <lld when she looked in Hilary's pure face. She then sought out a place where she would not be too visible, but where she could herself see the persons about her. So finding a vacant spot near a Jofty palm, she turned her face slowly toward tl:c crowd and at last ventured to lift her eyes. Ho was there. She saw him but he was not looking her way. Nor did he look her way, though lier whole soul summoned him through lier eager glance. While she was standing in lier place, absorbed in her own reflections concerning him, a hand was pusiied against her own and would not be denied. It was a very fine and courtly gentleman's hand. She noted that before she had taken in his face. When she did she turned scarlet. It was Mr. Byrd who stood before her. and he was looking at her with very searching eyes. "I sincerely beg your pardon," said he. "I am not an invited guest in this assemblage, but I have a bit of news to Impart to you, that will, 1 think, excuse my presence, both in your eyes and in those of your amiable hostess. o n hoo /Ivnccfwl vmiv hair for the last tliree months is dead. You see, this is the second time 1 have had to be a harbinger of good news to you." ' Good news?" she faintly repeated. "Yes. Did you not know who this woman was? I have been told you greatly feared the Portuguese " A waiter with a tray full of lees pushed his way at this iustant directly 'between them. When he had passed. ?lisa Rogers was gone, and the detec|r' BRhmfirfiw' iS"' : ' ..Lit j~' LIONS. J' /v I Author of "The Forsaken 1 I Inn," Etc. f, JBEPT BONNER'S SONS. M ' tive, astonished and not a little chagrined, looked about him for some min 1. _ r r.n ttt r\rt oin Thon lilt's ueiurtr iiv ?u? uci nfcitiu. -i. uiu be perceived that she had thrown off the long cloak that bad seemed so out of place in this brilliant throng, and stood, beaming and beautiful, near a piano, where some one was just beginning to play. Hilary saw her, too, at this minute, and asked herself what her wonderful look meant; for, while Jenny Rogers' eyes burned steadily in one direction, it was acquiring a purpose, the determination of which Hilary could see but not explain. And she felt that it needed explanation, and left her place to join her young friend, and succeeded in doing this just as Miss Rogers said, in low tones, to the person at the piano: "I will sing 'Robert, toi que j'aime.' M Miss Aspinwall, thoroughly astonished. took Jenny by the hand, asking what did she intend to do. Jenny replied that she was going to sing, in fnitio -fhn+ rrt-iuinPBfl Hilfllir that thprp was something deeper that caprice behind her action. "It will be a noble kindness on your part if you will," said she, "but you look so excited, and you tremble so, you make me feel that there is something at stake which I do not understand." "There Is, Hilary; my whole life's happiness. Hamilton Degraw is here; he loves me, and told me if I returned his love to wear a cloth dress to-dny. I have on the dress; I am ready t? stand by what it means; but he will not look this way. I wore ? velvet one when I came, and perhapsi he saw me then, or saw the cloak with which I at first tried to hide the change I hnd made; and now nothing can make him glance away from the man he is conversing with; and presently he will go. and bis going means an enuiess separation for us, for, Hilary, be has engaged passage in the Etruria, and she sails to-night, you know." Miss Aspinwall uttered a low cry. No one heard it, not even Jenny, for the impetuous girl was full of her own thoughts, and was 6ayiug? passionately: "My voice will be a surprise to him. He must turn, and then if he goes away " She finished with a gesture. Hilary gave her one look, it was that of encouragement. and the next minute Jenny was standing by the piano, and the first liquid tones of the fine instrument had burst forth. When, in an iustant later, this trained singer's melodious and exquisitely cultivated voice broke out with a force and fervor it had never displayed even in the old happy and ambitious days with her singing-masters, not a head but responded to the call, and she sa'w, with a rushing sense of joy which nearly stopped her voice, that he not oniy saw her, but flushed with an unexpected rapture which made all her future assured. Thinking of- ljim, and ( only of him, she went on, filling the great rooms with melody such as they had never heard before, and never will again, doing for love what she had failed to do for ambition, and wakening in more hearts than one there an enthusiasm never to be forgotten In the presence of any other singer. When stillness came, an irresistible cry broke out; but she did not hear it. She was looking for Mr. Degraw to advance. And he did. She saw him burst from every detaining hand and come forward with his heart burning on his lips, when what is it that makes him stop suddenly and as Hf held back by a force he cannot resist? She cannot see; she only realizes that he does not come; that he gives her a look which seems to promise something, but he does not come, and at last she perceives him melt away with the crowd and vanish in the direction of the door, which finally opens and shuts upon him, leaving her with her glory and her grief. CHAPTER XXXVII. A TUTIN OF THE WHEEL. Throe days went by; three slowfooted, miserable days, and another evening was nearing its waning, and no ring at Miss Rogers' house bell had as yet announced the artist, nor had the post brought her any message to relieve her anxiety or explain his neglect. The only comfort she had received -was that which came with the discovery that the name of Hamilton Degraw had not appeared among the list of cabin passengers sailing in the Etruria. The manner in which lie had cut short his approach after her s?*ng argued a suddenly conceived determination. He did not wish to ackuowl edge her devotedness. He reit tu.it it came too late or was prefaced by too much hesitation to be real, and so took this way to express his displeasure and withdraw his claims. It was a crushing experience for her; it was a humiliating one. She would not see Hiliary; she would not see any one. She paced her room by day and tossed upon her bed by night. If the bell rang her heart gave such a leap that she could not recover from the shock for rnTnutes. and if by any chance a letter came she grow quite ill between the time she saw it in the servant's hands and the moment it readied her own. And, as has been said, the clock was verging toward 9 on a Friday night. Though Jenny has forbidden her maid. Claire I te, to bring her any card which has not the nnme of Hamilton Degraw i nnnn it tho 1c? cfnrwlinr* in 1ho #1nnr? way with an inexplicable smile on her I !;ps nnd a small silver tray in her hand, an which Jenny can faintly see gloamI ing a white bit of pastebord. She tries to l>e calm, but she springs toward the girl, seizes the card, gives it one look nnd becomes in an instant another woman. There is a peculiar look on Clairett's face, a hesitancy in her manner, but Jenny Kogers observes neither. She 1 ?mAm tV> or* I Wiivtru XUtT &Jli liVU) lilt i WUJ, iiitu I calls her back to say: "Remember. 1 receive no oiber callers to-night." and sends be? forth again in baste. The young heiress dors an exquisite robe of purest rose. She is happy. but she does not mean that he shall be happy too. No. she will give him coldness for coidntss; suspicion for suspicion, and pride for pride. But she "will look so beautiful and bide her joy under such an airy veil that he will never go away again, nor leave her as before to eat out ber heart in pride and desolation. When 6he entered the parlor a tall figure emerged from behind tbe curtain of a window. She advanced with a downcast look, but her cheeks were suffused with blushes. He came forward. and as she slowly looked into bis face she saw that he was her benefactor from Cleveland, and not her artist lover, Hamilton Degraw. His manner was almost as agitated as hers. He took her hand and bowed over it with an air such as she had never seen in him before, and when she had composed herself sufficiently to awaken to the duties of a- hostess and offer him a seat he took it with a lingering look at her youthful loveliness that set her heart beating with new fears and possibly new hopes, for her faith in her recreant lover was broken and a violent resentment had taken its place. She broke the embarrassing silence, cn. out ?uiu IUUL ciit: uuu uiitu iu thank him for the great benefits he had heaped upon her, but did not like to write. His answer startled her. He spoke about her position being changed by unsuspected tircumstances, and. following the impulses of his heart he offered her his hand without any of the conditions as those he made upon a former occasion. He noticed her astonishment. "I do not wonder at your surprise,** said he. "You ask. and rightly, what nuld have occurred to make such an fiction as this on my part pardonable. 1 will tell you in a word. After my return to Cleveland the lawyer friend under whose invitation I visited Mr. Delancy's death bed. came to see me, and asked if I had determined upon the woman who was to inherit that gentle man's fortune. I told him that I had whereupon he put some very plain questions, which elicited answers that undoubtedly betrayed my interest in you. for he smiled as he said: " 'Then it will not be a trial for you to iuiDii iur. jueiancy s jasi request; " 'And what is that?' I asked. " 'That you should marry tbe girl you thought worthy to enjoy this fortune.' Miss Rogers, I have never expressed my feelings to you either in their depth or persistency,but you can imagine how I was affected, if you remember the stand I took at the critical moment before the signing of the deed. I risked that which it was my happiness to possess, and all for an instinct of honor which these words proved to have been founded upon a mistake. I would have vented my despair upon the lawyer, but he answered me that Mr. Delancy had breathed this wish in private, and requested that it should not be made known to me till I bnd made my decision. Though I have never been far from you, I resisted my impulses to the extent of not showing myse.r 111 your presence till time ana inquiry have assured me that my conclusious were groundless and that your band is quite free." She looked up in fine scorn and her eyes blazed "with more than her old fire. ' ^uite free." she echoed, and with the words she seemed to cast something away from her that was very precious. I-Ie saw the gesture and- seemed to comprehend it. A softer look crept into his face and he took a place nearer her side. "Xo heart 1s without its burden," said he. "I love you none the less that your cheek is not quite as round, nor your eyes quite as brilliant as of old. Will you let that love be your comfort? It is fervent. Miss Rogers, and it is very deep and sincere. It has never been frittered away on another, and it will know no change. I love those now Tvhom I loved in infancy, and never lose an affection which I have once formed." To 1?'- continued. A Curluu . -Mall Byetem. CJ'n-ItoavliTifl liot no irnnrl n Tnc+nl service as can be found anywhere. It has about 16,000 postoffices and abooi . 2000 letter boxes and it delivers mails j to tbe very top of the Alps. The postal j service does many things that our officials would not think of doing. It acts as banker and express company for the people. It will collect your bills for you and bring the money to the house. If you live in Switzerland and a man owes yon, say, $2, all you have to do is to send him a bill for the amount in a sealed letter with a word or two to the postoffice on the outside of the envelope, and, in addition, a twocent stamp. This stamp pays the postoffice for its trouble in collecting and delivering the money to you. The charge is about one per cent, of the amount, and for this the money will be collected in any part of Switzerland. If payment is refused, however, the authorities will not enforce the collec tion. ! ' Tower From 'U'nvc-Actlon. Probably upon no other single subject, save That of navigation of air, have so much thought and energy been expended as upon the conservation and ( utilization of the power exerted upon j our sea coasts by tbe force of the waves. And certainly since the days of the alchemists and astrologers lew themes of thought pursued for practical ends have resulted in so little reward to their students. For with all the theories of securing power from wave-action that have been evolved, with all the designs of machines for such purpose that have been drawn, and with all the patents that have been granted upon such drawings. I do not know to-day of a single machine that is an unqualified success, or for which the success stoutly claimed by the inventor is borne out by the actual operations of his working model.?John E. Bennett, in Lippinc-ott's. C? + o T-rv linlnrr tnbfin tr\ xrlnfl Tin \ QIt'J/O cue UtiliQ luavii v. ? K "Big Ben," the great clock in the Erit- i ish House of Parliament, by electrical power instead of by hand. ft New York City.?Blouse coats ?tnke precedence of almost every other sort for the more elaborate costumes of soft materials and are most charming SHIRRED BLOUSE COAT. In effect. This one, after a design by May Manton, includes a yoke and pointed collar that are in every way desirable and allows of many combinations. but is shown in champagne colored veiling with collar and bands of brown chiffon velvet enriched by medallions of lace. The yoke is stitched with corticelli silk and over it the points of velvet are exceedingly handsome, while the full puffed sleeves with the flaring cuffs and lace frills are essentially elegant and smart and the draped girdle makes a most appropriate finish. The blouse is made over a smoothly fitted lining on which the yoke and 6hirred portions are arranged, but which can be omitted whenever desirable. the shirrings being stitched to the yoke. The sleeves are wide and graceful as well as comfortable and when lined can still be kept loose and ample by leaving the outer seams of the foundation open. At their lower edges are the shaped cuffs and from these cuffs fall the full frills. The belt is draped and is arranged over the I A Late Design b lower edge, closing with the blouse at the centre front. The quantity of material required for the medium size is four and threeeight yards twenty-one inches wide, four yards twenty-seven inches wide or two and a quarter yards forty-four inches wide, with one and five-eight yards of velvet and four yards of lace to make as illustrated. < Flowers. Flowers are seen in profusion in the garnishing of the new models. Again roses seem io Lave thfe lead. Tiny button roses, in single and double garlands, edge the brims of hats, and double, triple and quadruple garlands encircle crowns and otherwise trim | hivts. and laid flat they cover crowns. Small and medium small roses appear as garniture in single and double garlands; large roses are employed singly and in couples, and small green rose leaves border brims. Rivaling roses and used for covering crowns and other effects in millinery decoration, as seen in the Paris models, were small field poppies, scarlet anemones, field daisies, violets, cowslips, lilies of the valley and other of the small blossoms. Much favor has been shown by the French milliners so simulated smaji grapes ana ouit-r kuuiu nuns? huckleberries:, in great, dense clustery in tlieir gray dusted bloom, trimming hats most attractively.?Millinery Trade Review. Violet Cloth For Afternoon. A light shade of violet broadcloth is used for a lovely afternoon gown. The skirt is leng and has a circular flounce finished with four wide folds in tuck effect. The waist has a yoke of cream lace over white chiffon, and this is made to look like an inner garment by the outline of dark fur which borders the cloth part of the waist. The bund I of fur extends down tLe side of the I waist to the belt, as on a Russian blouse, and there are four large rhinc6tone buttons that nppear to close the gown. A ripple bertha, edged with fur. Tails over the shoulders, shawl fashion. Leg o' mutton sleeves with a bit of lace insertion, outlined with fur, ure tight at the wrist and show a tiny ruching of white crape. "FarRifal ltlne." At last "Parsifal" has serTed its purpose to womankind. Parsifal blue is : ' ' I ' b V- ' ' '. 'i,' :f 1 i si tbe newest color for spring aDd summer wear. This is a grayish Line, and ic currrroct<ir1 liv rnllPS worn bv thp t. JO ^ ^ -? 10 Knights of the Holy Grail. It is a m delicate tint and Will be becoming to re most women. In the last act Parsifal J}! wears one of the gray-bine mantles, and all tbe Knights are arrayed in I) raiment of the same color. In the opera these robes are embroidered with silver. All the silk mills are turning out et bolts of Parsifal blue. Those new lo weaves, such as peau de soie. peau de P* cygne. louisine and various crepes, look wonderfully well in this new ]i( blue color. By the way. blue has a* ite 7orn'th mi/1 iR th?? fnlnr fif SP icavuvu iig Aivjuiu K..XC V? ~ , ^ the moment. Only a few Parsifal blue ai gowns have been seen in 'public, and w there is the chance that this shade may become the rage. C New Taffetas and Lonipinn". ^ Many of the new taffetas and louis- j] ines are in shot effects. There are the d( usual red and black, blue and black and green and black, as well as new ! ^ faces, such as violet shades shot with I t white and old blues shot with pale b; browns. ?' la tl The Epaulet Effect. a] The epaulet effect is much in evi- e dence on many of the new blouse h< waists, and the deep collar is also to be seen. Detached collars and yokes ]e are much used, and add a toucb of t? distinction to a dark blouse. di A Favorite Trimming. A favorite trimming will be the open 0] cut work, or old English embroidery, a E showy but elegant form of needlework, r? popular in early Victorian days, before machine embroidery destroyed the 8C taste for simple things. V * The Round Skirt. j? For evening wear the trained skirt is entirely replaced with the round ]j skirt, gathered at the waist. t< ai Bo* Pleated Yoke Walat. White with crcam makes a favorite ^ combination of the season and is al* ^ ways satisfactory. The stylish May tl ef w ?y May Manton. ? n< ki I H c? II ' w ol fil - Dl Manton waist shown is made of crepe de Chine, with tLe yoke of deep cream m colored point ce Venise over white 6t mousseline and bands of taffeta ruch- P1 ing, and is well suited to theatre and ^ informal dinner wear nd to occa- jj. sions of the sort, but can be rendered in ----- ?? uij-- al available ror evening aiso ny omuuuis ? the yoke as shown in tiic small cut; Dr, again, can be rendered convertible, tl so serving a double use. When made tl low It requires elbov sleeves, but ? tbese also are in vogue with bigb waists so that by addiug or removing h the yoke, which Is separate, the waist w becomes quite different in effect. . ^ The waist is made over a smoothly e( fitted lining and on this are arranged ai the box pleated front and backs. When o\ a simple yoke waist is desired it can be made high, the drop yoke arranged ai over it and all finished together at the cc neck, but when either a low or a con- sq vertible waist is desired it can be cut out on indicated Hues. The sleeves are wide below the elbows, but fit vi snugly below and are pleated lor about ?c half the distance from the shoulders jt to the cuffs. fia The quantity of material required at for the medium size is three and seven- ?! eighth yards twenty-one inchcs wide, ai three and one-quarter yards twenty- S< seven Inches wide or two yards forty- Cl a ee ' " - C_ ' ^ ^ w ' ' ' 00 BOX PLEATED TOEE WAIST. tb ftmr iiifhos whip with onn nud five* sr eiglit yards of all-over lace for yoke and cliffs and fo*ir yards of ruclimc to ]0 trim as illustrated. 'a. . ' , \i'* 'y !"* 'v.'ci-/ 'f c' l SEEMON FOE SUNDAY' SJ INTERESTING DISCCURSE BY THE REV. DR. H. C. SWENTZEL I ibjecf: The jjlvine Carpenter?Christ Belonged to the Grand Army of Self-ReBpeotlng Workincmcn-Hi? Life Condemns the Slnf nines* of Idleness. Brooklyn, N. Y.?An interesting and rceful sermon was preached Sunday orning by Rev. Dr. Henry C. Swentzel, ctor of St. Lifke's Church, Clinton avele, near Fulton street. The subject was rhe Divine Carpenter," and the text St. lark vi:3: "Is not this the carpenter?" r. Swentzel said: The glorious Son of Man was a mechanic, i is well worth while to consider those ghteen years which He spent at Nazar;h, concerning which we would dearly ve to know so much, but of which it is jsaible to learn so little. Whether He ere rich or poor, whether He devoted imself exclusively to the exercises of region or was occupied with other concerns i well; whether He were, ro to say. a an among men, or lived a strange weird fe as a recluse in the wilderness?these e queries upon which we may reflect ith profit. During the period which began when the hrist 'Child went down from among the actors in the temple to the Galilean home ? prepare for His public life there is only ae bit of definite information concerning im, and that is furnished almost accientally in the text. The people who had known Him all ong were astonished when they heard is sayings and saw His mighty works, he record which He made among them in /gone years was worthy of Him and lght to have prepared them to texpect xge things of Him sooner or later, but ley could not forget that He had lived nong them as a common artisan, tyhen ^e returns to them with all the fame He id won and was about to spend a brief ^ason with them in order that His former iends and neighbors might not be negcted in His ministry, they recall His an cedents, and they ask with mingled won?r and scorn, "Is not this the carpenter?" The question establishes the fact that esus had been known as a village carpen:r. From the.days of youth until He set at to do the stupendous work for which .e was sefliVHe accepted the trade of His iputed father "and was occupied largely ith its ordinary employment. He bemged to the "working classes." A de:endant of the royal David He most sure' was, and yet He thought not of the irone of His renowned ancestor. He was ideed a king, but not after the world's ishion, for He came to be King of men, i rule the heart and conscience of manind. He seems to have had no ambition ) attain unto a lofty station, and the parphernalia of earthly greatness had no iarms for Him. His masterful purpose as to save the world, both the classes and le masses, and He would, therefore, idenfy Himself personally and actively with le multitudes and not only with a privil;ed few. He could teach princely virtues ithout being a prince, and He would benit the hosts of mankind by allying Him Jf with, the conditions and experiences of le many. He understood full well that d political contrivances could bring the ingdom of God to this earth, and He con* dered that the needs of the millions could ? served in no other way than by the oral and spiritual democracy which it as His mission to establishOur Lord was a wortingman. It must >t, therefore, be supposed that He held a rief or thundered a bull of excommunicaon against riches. He had something to ,y against mammon worship, and He arnea against the temptations of opunce, but He never branaed wealth as esntially evil. He taught emphatically that le responsibility of people is in exact projrtion to what they have, and that.'inaauch as money entails numerous obligaons, they who have it can be saved only irough the most devoted regard for their ? - f tTi. J--? m.a11 4m_ Jties. aome 01 HIS UltK-'ipjfca were wcirwr j, and both the midnight inquirer and the >od man of Arimathea were dear to Him. The common people heard Him gladly," jt others were not excluded from Hie essing simply because they had possesons. The gifts of the Magi at the beginng of His career and the rich man's tomb herein His mangled corpse reposed at; the st, indicate that His mission included jth the many and the few. He advocated ane of the insane social or political herees which some believe in now, but, takig full account of human inequalities, He raght the world to do its best, to live anfully amid the strains and stress of fe, to use the present situation with all s ills for the glory of God and the well;ing of the human family. No Croesus >uld have been the Son of Man. The real in of Man must be typical and represenitive in every noble way. He must be the rother of the toiling millions who earn leir bread in the sweat of their face, and ho deal every day with the urgent probm of livelihood. And yet Jesus did not accept the state : squalid poverty. # He was no pauper, he purpose of infinite love which brought am hither could not prompt Him to ac;pt the state of such a forlorn character. ; would be impossible for any individual ho was poor through his own guilt to be ther than an incongruous and repulsive gure, or to strnd as the model of perfect lanhood. Pauperism is an evil in every ;nse; and while society is bound to help , it is too degrading and polluting "to ierit encou. agement, and an enlightened ate will wisely make laws by which, if jssible, to crush it. Guilty poverty should i rebuked and shamed. ine con 01 jwan >uld choose it not, for th^n He would ive disgraced Himself and presented an iferior ideal for His followers. Never by lowing Himself to be a burden to others " by becoming an object of public' charity, >uld He have spoken to men and elevated leir standards and raised the tone of their lought. Neither a high social degree nor discreditable beggary would have been ill irmony with Himself or the interests hich He had in view; for in either case e would not have been in a position from hich He could touch the minds and hearts id lives of the nations. The Son of Man ust be where He can speak to all with mal advantage, where He can reach their lections and wield His blessed power rer the sphere of their practical questions id activities. He could not have been one ho was arrayed in purple and fine linen id fared sumptuously every day, neither >uld He huve adopted the portion of a ualid and self-inflicted poverty. He would >t be either rich or sinfully poor, but an jnest. industrious, royal workingman. "Is not this the carpenter?" Jn this enous and half reproachful question of His :quaintances is a happy revelation of the eal or the Son of Man for all the world. , was in Joseph's shop that He spent all va tlirop vpars of His manhood. It was ; the bench and with the tools of a melanic that He chose to live in order that is example might speak lessons of truth id inspiration to all human souls. The iriptures lay stress upon His humble cirlmstances, but they ao not place Him on par with the thriftless sluggard who deirves to feel the pinch of want. No efrt of ours can fathom the depths of His imiliation who, being the Son of God, beime the Son of Mary and a carpenter; ho, though He was rich yet for our sakcs e became poor, that we through His pov ty might be rich, but He knew no indi;nce. We see this divine Being in Nazait'n on a self-supporting basis, making a ring by mending plows and yokes, retiring houses and doing all the jobs which II to a village carpenter; we see Him orking with ills lianas ior nreaa ami arning by day that way of labor which ust be trodden by all bread-winners. He ?!onged to the grand army of self-respectig workingraen. Not from a palace nor ?t from a hovel, but from the workshop ; an artisan does Jesus of Nazareth make >mmon cause with all the people of the issing generations. How surely our Lord condemns the sinilnes.s of indolence, and how sublimely jes His example urge the employment of lr energies. He might have maintained imself without work, but to have done so ould have been to set the seal of His motion upon the very spirit that prompts le average individual to get through this orld with as little effort as possible?the >irit that is plainly the spirit of the devil, id that is the prolific cause of crime anaoe. He who fed the crowds from a few aves and fishes might have wrought a uii miracle ior Himself, but never once i t f was His omniDotenoe Exerted in Hi? o^TffWl behalf. He accepted the very situationf^B which confronts as. Engaged with the oC^fl cupatione of His trade during 80 roaa^H| years, He exalts industry into a diving|H virtue and brands sloth as a deadly He has no favor for an ambition that longff for absolute ease. It may not be neceuarrf^J for any one to be occupied with the bur?fl| dens of business, but we are all bound toHj keep in personal touch with the life of manity. There are other spheres of uae?^P fulness than the field and the shop, office or the counting room. The chr-JiHj asks for thousands who are willing to.fota|H low the example of splendid heroes who have withdrawn from the haunts of tradck^B and from the hope of gain in order to de>f vote themselves exclusively to the mini*tmJB of Christian laymen. Everywhere arc chai^^H ities calling loudly for encouragement and?MB service. Politics presents a wide range {< the activities of patriotism and of the veryj^f highest religion. There is something fonHj everybody to do, and no one is justified iflH| living for himself in a sequestered and tractive nook away trom tne aemanas taas^nj sound from every quarter. Each indirid^'^H ual should have some occupation, a placWH] in the world's vast factories, a work o!H some^sort which shall tell for the happinei^^H The Lord has a strong word for laborjj^H He is the fellow and the champion of aBH| toilers. He has a meaning for all thosdlH who work with their brain or with theisMl hands, for all such are workingmen. Hfl^B has forever consecrated the evervdavneM^E of life. He adopts the workaday worldv^B "The Light of Asia," which states beanti*^M fully certain features of the Buddhist relfi^H gion, represents the incarnate Buddha as jflKj wandering beggar, asking food. JeftU0H| Christ was no beggar. The mendicant, ax^H more than the pauper, receives not the apjj^H proval of His own practice, by which sanctified labor until the end of the world^H The Gallilean Carpenter was po less th*^H incarnate Son of God during tbe yeaxa^H which He spent at Nazareth than He vaflH on the mountain of the transfiguration on the first Easter Day. There are miuajj^H reasons why work is honorable, bat it re^B ceives its crowning plof-y from tbe exper^H ience of the divine Christ during the lon^^ Lieriuu ui wuivr'u wc iu>?.vr uuvuuj^m^ He was a mechanic. He has endured aUH| occupations with dignity, that nothing shorl^M of our own disloyalty can possibly t&kaH away. It matters not what-one's dail^^H toils are, they are worthy- of fidelity anal energy, and they ar? as mochvfc part O^H God's service as the saying -of.'prayens ukH the: receiving of religious, rit?i.oahe en*fl| peror and his humblest subject,"the prime^H minister and the street sweeper, the'mS^B lionaire and his valet, all are included in^H the spirit of industry and devotion which^H Jesus manifested at the bench which stood^H in a shop or, perhaps, at times under. a^K huge tree at Nazareth. He has .ballon td^H all vocations by the consecration of Hi^H -inHnofr-ir on/? fWpv ahmillf lw>. lllfli terpreted and accepted as a sacrtd partdflH the life which now is. ' y . The Nazareth Carpenter teaches tbaflH worldly place of itself is nothingfrorth^ A^HE man may be a man wherever, he is, andHG labor is honorable whatever it maj be^B Station or the lack of it does cot the man or hiB life. The people of lowly^R degree may likewise learnpreoioqs( lessOoHH of the Galilean artisan. Tbtfr become couraged because they fancy themselves be of no aceount, and they too often ebtrH ish an unhappy contempt for their dafljHH ? "* mi J 1? M ions, iney ueupiBe tuc i<u.-buijr ut office as necessary evils. Jesus has a leescriM for them which He pronouncta. from th^M Nazareth shop. Long years He apent ii^H obscurity. N& murmur*, escape Him, afl signs of impatience, no evidences of ' rest less longing to be ;othen#se, HO vuigu|H and, godless disposition to try to improv^^l upon the plans of divine providence. Quiet^Hj lv day after day He was concerned wiU^H the unimpressive and uninteresting matfl ters of Hie business, and His only aim wafl to be'true to the state where He was de?H -tined) to live until the time woe, for be^B giruling the public ministry. Wherever th^H Heavenly Father has placed us We, tb^H| sons of men, can be the sons of God. Th^H real things of life are not earthly and tem^H pofal, and the true estimate of ourselves ii^H not. the place?be it loftv- 0r lowlyr-whicl?B we hold among men. The divineXarpenSHj faf'io n rnmfnrt WnH ah instiiratiottvto all. MS Amid, the employment of His trade di<BI Jesus prepare Himself for His public life|^H Th^re He?waj j^^e.-readyr.at.leas^Q part^B to.fxemae alJ.i;h^'8eI.fcaaBC?odejitty grea^B Sialities of mind and heart which; marke<^B ifl ministry.. .For, l&ce.e years He gav^B Himself-up-to His woVk aaHhe wood's BeBtf defmer, but fifteen years, and jfcore, a^B was probably tbe case,'He was orjy a car^H pepter. Surely He. didjBgt^spen^aH HiJHB time and energy upon.HiE-dauy toils. Of^B ten did He devote Himself to godly exer^B rises of prayer and contemplation, withonBgl which no one can develop..^?. traits o^B highest character. But He was no recluse^B He settled the truth once for ali that tb^B place for strong-minded, stout-hearted folBH tc serve God is in the world: the arena foBH J?!?? iTafiipr'a will in riant here. wher^^^H we Save abundant opportunities for thflH culture of holy graces and the nractice oBH holy living. We need the benefits of occa^H sional solitude, but we are bound to thin^^| so seriously of life and of God's, cause a^H to give no place t&the mawkish.sentimexHH talism which adores perpetual /flechuitx^BH and calls it the noblest type;,qf religion^H The divine Carpenter hesitated not spend the years upon which His futurj^H work w*s founded amid the activities inc^Bn dent to the daily interests of mankind. was a bread-winner, a wage-earner. ' MB Work is God's ordinance. If it was. rar^c in the beginning, it is a blessing no?H| It is one of the best tonics. It is scarce^^B less than a sacrament. It may be debasei^^H even as may the sacrament of the altar i^^H which one may eat and drink damnatiofl^| to his eoul, but it is something of a sacrsfl^H I wKiok ia infpnderl. if used aright, tH UICUV nuivu , strengthen and uplift, and to further thJKU divine plans. It is a sacred duty. It is tti^flB privilege and the prerogative of takin^^H part in the vast activities of humanity. is an invitation to the market place to diJ^H pense comforts, to have a share in world's progress and the making of hi^^H torv. It proclaims independence, it disc^^Q plines character, it schools the affectionflH We are only holy ground and are doit^DR holy things when we go with Christ's spira^Ej to the daily round and'the common tadHH The founder of Christianity, the incarnat^BH Son of God. the universal Man, was a vi^^H lage carpenter. Seeds That Will Grow. The soul of man is the great masterpie<^H| of the great Master Builder.?J. Ritch^^H Smith. He is building on the rand who mak^^H the opinion of others the ground of conduct.?United Presbyterian. ABB It is a noble sight to see an honest ma^^H cleave his own heart in twain and flii^HH away the baser part of it.?Charles Read^HH The capacity of our sorrows belongs our grandeur, and the loftiest of our ra^^H are thdse who have had the profounde^^H sympathies, because they have had t^^H profoundest sorrows.?Henry Giles. Life is what we are alive to. It ia n^^H length, but breadth. To be alive .only appetite, pleasure, pride, money makin^Ee and not to goodness and kindness, puri^^M T - A mnoi/t ana iove, aitnuiy, pucu,i, stars, God and eternal hopes, is to be but dead? Malthie D. Babcock. fiD None but the fully occupied can appr^^H riati the delight of suspended, or, ratne^^H of varied labor. It is toil that creates ho^^H days; there is no roval road?yes, that^^H the royal road?to them. Life cannot made up of recreations; they must be gaHH den spotx in well farmed lands.?Mrs. Gnu bcrt Ann Taylor. If thou canst not continually recol]c|^^| self, yet do it sometimes, at least oncej^^H day, namely, in the morning or at nijgb^^wj examine thyself what thou nasi done?nc^^M thou hast behaved thyself in word, de^^H arid thought, for in these perhaps thou oftentimes offended against God and tl^^H neighbor.?Thomas a hempis. Holiness and Humility* fiflffj The highest lesson a believer has learn is humility. 0, that every Christi^^H who seeks to advance in holiness may ^BdB member this well! There may be intenHK consecration, and fervent zeal, and hea^^H enly experience, and yet, if it is not pflM vented by dealings of the Lord, there m^RQ be an unconscious self-exaltation with it Let us learn the lesson?the highest fa|oH| ness is the deepest humility, and let us^^Hm member that it comes not 01 itseir. wh only as it is made a matter of special del^BH inp on the part of our faithful Lord aflf His faithful servant,?Andrew Murray^ fen _ _ h .Jfl