The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, March 23, 1904, Image 6
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