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"the splei TBE ABYENTOWIS? Br ARTHUR T. { W CHAPTER III. _ (Continued.) A pretty shout Tvent up as I pick'd myself off the turf and rusli'd for tbe back door. 'Twas unbarr'd. and in a momtnt I found myself tearing uowu the passage and out into the Com Market, with a score or so tumbling downstairs at my heels, and yelling to stop me. I knew there was no possibility to get past the city gates, which were well guarded at night. My hope reach'd no further than the chance of outwitting the pursuit for a while loDger. In the end I was sure the potboy's evidence would clear me. and therefore began to enjoy the fun. Even mv certain expulsion from College on the morrow seem'd of a piece "with the rest of events and (prospectively; a matter for laughter. For the struggle at the "Crown" had unhinged my wits, as I must suppose and you must believe, if you would understand my behavior in the next half hour. A bright thought b .d struck me; and taking a fresh wirj, I set off again round the corner of Oriel College, and down Merton street toward Master Timothy Carter's house, my mother's cousin. This gentleman. wJio was Town Clerk to the Mayor and Corporation of Oxford?was also in a sense my guardian, holding in trust about ?200 (which was all my inheritance), and spending the same jealously on my education. He was a very small, precise lawyer, about sixty years old, shaped like a pear, with a prodigious self-important manner that came of associating with great men; and all the knowledge 1 had of him was pick'd tip on the rare occasions (about twice a year) that I din'd at his table. He ibad early married and lost an aged shrew, whose money had been the making of him; and had more respect for law and authority than any ihree Ca T voflonfn/1 Ilit'U JU VilUIU. ov IUUV * j. v., witb a kind of desperate hilarity, on the greeting be "was like to give me. This kinsman of mine had a fine house at the cast end of Morton street as you turn into Logis Lane; and I was ten yards from tbe front door, and running my fastest, when suddenly I tiipp'd and fell headlong. Before I could rise, a hand wos on my shoulder, and a voice speaking in my ear: "Pardon, comrade. We are two of a trade. I sec." 'Twas a ftllow that had been lurking at tbe corner of the lane, and had j thrust out a leg as I pass'd. He was j pricking up bis ears now to the cries of "Thief?thief!'' that had already reach'd the bead of the street, and Were drawing near. "I am nr thief," said I. "Quick!' He dragged me into the shadow of tbe lane. "Hast a crown in tbv pocket?" "Why?" "Why? For a good turn. I'll fog these sentry for thee. Many thanks. comrade," as 1 pull'd out tic last few shillings of my pocket money. "Now pitch thy sword over the wall here, and set thy foot on my hand. 'TJs a rich man's garden, t'other side, that I was meaning to explore myself; but another night will serve." " 'Tis Master Carter's," said I, "and he's my kinsman." "Zounds! ? but never mind, tip with Ihee! Now mark a pretty piece of play. 'Tis pity thou sliouldst be across the wall and unable to see." He gave a great hoist: catching at the coping of the wall. 1 pull'd myself up and sat astride of it. , "Gccd turf below?ta-ta, comrade!" ' But now the crowd was almost at the corner. Dropping about eight feet on to good turf, as the fellow had said, I pick'd myself up and Jisten'd. "Which way went he?" call'd one, as they came near. "Down tlie street!" "No; up the lane!" "Hush!" "Up the lane, I'll be r*vnrn" "Hpip. hnml 1 ho lantern!" etc.. 2tc. . While they debated, my friend stood close on the other side of the wall; but now I beard him dash suddenly out. and up the lane for hit; life. "There be goes'" "Stop bini!" the cries broke out afresh. "Stop him, i* the King's name!" The whole pack went pelting by, shouting, stumbling, swearing. For two minutes or mere the stragglers continued to hurry past by ones and twos. As soon as their shouts died away. 1 drew freer breath and look'd around. "I was In a small, turfed garden, well Btock'd with evergnen shrubs, at the back of a tall house that I knew foi Master Carter's. I remembered that the Princes Rupert and Maurice lodged with my kinsman, and. breaking in upon them. I so gained their favor that they obliged Master Carter to pay mo my inheritance on the spot and escorted me themselves to the city gates, whence I set out on my travels. CHAPTER IV. My Adventure at the "Three Cups." So puffed was I by the condescension of the two princes and my heatl eo busy with big thoughts that not till I was over the bridges and climbing the high ground beyond South Hinek6ey. with a shrewd northeast wind at my back, could I spare time for a second backward look. I pulled out tiie letter that Authonv had sriven me. In the moonlight the brown smear of his blood was plain to see running across the superscription: "To our trusty and well beloved Sir Ralpb Hopton at our Army in Cornwall?these." 'Twas no mere than I looked for. yet the siyht of it and the King's red seal quickened my step as I set off again. And i cared not a straw l'or Dr. Kettle's wrath cn tbe morrow. Having no desire to fall in with any of the royal outposts that lay around Abingdon. I fetched well away to the west, meaning to shape my course for FariDgdcu, and so into the great Bath road. 'Tis not my purpose to describe At any leagib my itinerary, but ratcer 1DID SPUR*i p? OF JACK MARVEL ==? i WILLER COUCII.* i Wi! -- ?? to reserve iny pen for those more moving events that overtook tuc later. 'Twas about 5 in the evening, and I stil) laboring along, when, over the low hedge to my right, a man on a sorrel mare leaped easily as a swallow, :aid alighted some ten paces or less in front of me: where he dismounted and stood barring my path. The muzzle of his pistol was in my face before 1 could lay hand to my own. "Good evening!" said I. "You have money about you, doubtless."' growled the man curtly, and in I a voice that made me start. For by his voice and figure in the dusk I knew him for Captain Settle: and in the sorrel with the high "white stocking I recognized the mare Molly, that poor Anthocy Killigrew had given me almost with his last breath. The bully did not kDow me, having but seen mo for an instant at "The Crown," and then in very different attire. "I have but a few poor coins," I answered. "Then hand 'em over." "Be shot if I do!" said I in a pass/n; and pulling out a handful from my pocket, I dashed them down in the read. For a moment the Captain took his pistol from my face, and stooped to clutch at the golden coins as they trickled and ran to right and left. The next, I had struck out with my right fist, and down he went staggering. His pistol dropped out of his hand and exploded between my feet. I rushed to Molly, caught her bridle, and leaped on her back. It was a near thing, for the captain was rushing toward me. But at the call of my voice the mare gave a bound and turned; and down the road I was borne, light as a feather. A bullet whizzed past my ear; i heard the Captain's eurse mingle with the report; and then was out of range, and galloping through the dusk. Securo of pursuit, and full of delight in the mare's easy motion. I must have traveled a good six miles before the moon rose. In the frosty sky her rays sparkled cheerfully, and by them I saw on the holsters' the silver demi-bear that I knew to be the crest of the KilI l'grews, having the fellow to it engraved on my sword hilt. So now I was certain it was Molly that I bestrode, and took occasion of the light to explore the holsters and saddle flap. Poor Anthony's pistols were gonefilched, no doubt, by the Captain; but you may guess my satisfaction when, on thrusting my hand deeper. I touched a heap of coins, and found them to be gold. It was certainly a rare bargain I had driven with Captain Settle. For the five or six gold pieces I scattered on the road, I had won close on thirty guineas, as I counted in the moonlight; not to speak of this incomparable Mollj". And I began to whistle gleefully, and taste the joke over again and laugh to myself, as we cantered | along with the north wind at our J backs. Ail the same, I bail no relish for ria! ing thus till morning. For the night was chill enough to search my very | bones after the heat of the late gallop; I and, moreover, 1 knew nothing of the | road, which at this hour was quite deI serted. So that, coming at length to a tall hill with a black ridge of pine j wood standing up against the moon ! like a fish's fin, I was glad enough to note below it, and at some distance from the trees, a window brightly lit, and pushed forward in hope of entertainment. The building was an inn, though a sorry one. Nor, save for the lighted window, did it wefir any grace of hospitality, but thrust out a bare shoulder upon the road, and a sign that ereaked overhead and looked for all the world like a gallows. Round this shoulder of the house, and into the main yard (that turned churlishly toward the hillside), the wind liowled like a beast in pain. I climbed off Molly, and pressing my hat down on my head, struck a loud ratt-tat on the door. 1- on/1 1 UUUUUSJ^, It ut vajw, 14AJW. * saw a couple of men in the lighted passage. "Heard the mare's heels on the road, Cap Hillo! "What in the fiend's name Is this?" Said I: "If you are he that beeps this house, I want two things of you? first, a civil tongue, and nest a bed." "Ye'll get neither, then." "Your sign says that you keep an inn." "Aye? the 'Three Cups;' but we're full." "Your manuer of speech proves that to be a lie." 1 liked the fellow's voice so little that 'tis odds I would have remounted Molly and ridden away; but at this instant there floated down the stairs and out through the dark-smelling passage a sound that made me jump. 'Twas a girl's voice singing: "Hey nonni?nonni?no! Men are fools that wish to die! Is't not fine to laugh and sinjj When the bells of death do nnx " There was no doubt upon it. The voice belonged to a young gentlewoman I had met at Hungerford. I turned sharply toward the landlord, ana was met by another surprise. The second man, that till now had stood well back in the shadow, was peering forward and devouring Molly with his gaze. 'Twas bard to read his features, but then ar;rt there I would Jiave wagered my life he was no other than Luke Settle's comrade, Black Dick. My micd was made up. "I'll not rid*1 a step further to-night," said I. "Then bide there and freeze," answered the Jard!ord. Ke was for Hamming the door in my face, when the other caught Iiini by the arm and. nulling him a lit do back, whispered a word or two. I guessed what this meant, but resolved not to draw back: and presently tlie landlord's voice begun again, betwixe surly and polite t 1 "Have ye a too high a slomacb to lie on straw?" "Oho!" thought I to myself, "then I am to be kept for the mare's sake, but not admitted to the house;'' and said aloud that I could put up with a straw bed. "Because there's tLe stable loft at ; your service. As ye 'tear" (and. in fact, the singing still went on. only new I heard a man's voice joining in the catch) "ouv house is full of ccmpai y. But straw is clean bedding, and the mare I'll help to put in stall." "Agreed," I said, "on cne condition? that you send out a maid to me with a J cup of mulled sack, for this cold eats j me alive." To ihis he consented, and, stepping hack into a side room with the other fellow, returned in a minute alone, and carrying a lantern which, iu spite of the moon, was needed to guide a stranger across that ruinous yard. The flare, as we picked our way along, fell i for a moment on an open cart shed, | and within, on the gilt panels of a coach that I recognized. In the stable that stood at the far end of the court. I was surprised to find half a dozen horses standing, ready saddled, and munching their till of oats. They were ungroomed, and one or two in a lather of sweat that on such a night was hard to account for. * But I asked no questions, and ray companion voushsafed no talk, though twice I caught him regarding me curiously as I unbridled the mare in the only vacant stall. Not a word pass'd as he took the lantern off the peg again, and led the way up a ramshackle ladder to the loft above. He was a fat, lumbering fellow, and made the old timbers creak. At the top he set down the light, and pointed to a heap of straw in the corner. "Yon'6 your bed," he growled; and before I could answer, was picking his way down the ladder again, 1 look'd about and shiver'd. The eaves of my bedchamber were scarce on speaking terms with the walls, and trough' a score of crannies at least the wind poured and whistled, so that after shifting* my truss of straw a dozen times I found myself still the centre of a whirl of draught. The candle-flame, too, was puffed this way and that inside the horn sheath. I was losing patience when 1 heard the footsteps below; tbe ladder creak'd, and the red bair and broad shoulders of a chambermaid rose into view. Sbe carried a steaming mug in her band, and mutter'd all tbe while in no very choice talk. Tbe trench hr.d a kind face, tho'; and a pair of eyes Ibat did her more credit than hfi tongue. "And -what's to be my reward for this, I -want to know?" sbe panted out, resting her left palm on her bip. "Why. a groat or two.'' said I, "when it comes to the reckoning. "Lv.d!" she cried, "what a dull young nian"' "Dull?" "Aye?to ma?:e me ask for a kiss in so many words:" and with the back of her left hand she wiped her mouth for it frankly, while she held out the mug in benight. "Chi" I said. "I beg your pardon, but my wits a:v frozen up. I think. There's two, fcr interest; and another if you tell me whom your master entertains to-night, that 1 must be content with this crib." She took tbe kisses with composure and said "TVcll?to begin, there's tbe gentlefolk that c-anie ibis afternoon wiui their own carnage and heathenish French servant; a cranky old grandee and a daughter with more airs than a peacock; Sir Somethiug-or-otbcr Killigew?Lord bless the boy!" For I had dropp'd ihe mug and spilt the hot sack all about tbe straw, where it trickled away with a frag1-ntirr> ronvnfi plif llllv llfliciOUS. "Now I beg your pardon a hundred times; l>ut tlie cbil! is in my bones worse than the ague;" and huddling my shoulders up, I counterfeited a shivering tit "with a truthfulness that surprised mysell'. "Poor lad!" "?And 'tis first hot and then ccltl alj down my spine." "There, now!" "?And goose fiesh and flushes all over my hody. "Dear heart?and to pass the nighl in this grave of a place!" "?And by morning I shall be in a high fever; and oh! I feel I shall die of it!'* (To be continued.) Tlie Mont Cenis Tunnel. The gradients are very severe in the Mont Cenis tunnel, and trains coming from France, with an incline of one in forty against them for several miles at a stretch, when followed by a current of air in the same direction, produce what might almost be described as an Inferno. For lier?, as in all other steep tunnels, engines drawing heavy loads steam along with their regulators wide open, emitting huge volumes of smoke and steam, and with an atmosphere of. say, ninety decrees Fahrenheit, the discomfort of the custodians of the tunnel may be imagined far better than it can be described. At regular intervals of a kilometre in the tunnel there is a refuge, or "gracde chambre," for the workmen. This refuge is supplied with compressed air, l'resh water, a telephone in each direction, a mediciue chcst, barometer and thermometer. As it is the practice of those custodians to go in pairs, if one m;:n succumbs to the lack of oxygen or dense smoke his companion can render assistance or telephone for further help. If a man can manage to drag bis swooning comrade inside one of these chambers, lie has merely to close the door, turn on the store of compressed air. and wait either for the tunnel to clear or for a locomotive to come to their rescue.? Strand Magazine. TTeipIiir.g: the Cost. "MaT' cried little Johnny, "I want to go out." "i want you to stay in," was the ebiiling reply. "But. ma. I promised Ethel to go and play will) her." "I don't want you to go out." "But I want to play with Ethel." ' Johnny, if you disobey me, you'll have to go to bed without your supper." ".Ma"* Johnny finally remarked, after a. prolonged and oppressive pause, " what are we going to have for supper to-night?"?New Yor* Sun. ? '' tr? Baked r.lueGali. Clean, "wash and dry the fish; mix half pint broad crumbs with two | tablespoonfuls melted butter, add half : I teaspoonful salt, a spefk of pepper, ! and staff the fish; then put it in a , baking pan;' baste with melted butter j I and add half cupful boiling water; j j dust the fish thickly and bake in a , I quick oven for three-quarters of an hour, basting several times; serve with tomato sauce and potato balls. I < Afiparajras Sonp. i Boil two bunches fresh, tender as- j 1 paragus in water with one slice of j ( onion and one tablespoonful salt j < thirty minutes; throw away the onion; i . remove the asparagus and cut off the J : tender part and pound to a paste j with a little water; add to it a lump j ; of butter rolled in flour and one-half ; ! teaspoonful sugar; mix over the fire ' until it melts; now add all to the boil- I , ing water in which the asparagus was cooked; then beat the yolk of an egg ! in half a pint of cream or milk and add : I to soup; season witn sau ana pepper, j j and as soon as it comes to boiling ! i point strain and serve; cut one stalk j ! of aspnragus in tbin slices and add tbe I last tiling. """" Chop Kney. ! Bone a small cbicken ana cut tbe j j meat into half-inch strips; peel and > j slice an onion; soak a dozen mush- j : \ rooms in cold water a few minutes, j then drain; cut up a stalk of celery i j and sis Chinese potatoes, washing ! | them well first; prepare the rice by i | putting a cupful into boiling salted water, and when the grains are soft j : drain tbe water off and set tbe sauce- j : pan in the oven to dry the rice; cook ! the chicken in a big spoonful of hot | j butter well done, but not dry; add the ! I sliced onion and fry to a nice brown; I add the mushrooms and a small cupful i ! of Chinese sauce (this sauce takes the i i place of salt); add a cup of boiling ! 1 water and cook fifteen minutes; stir 1 in the celery and cook ten minutes; add tbe potatoes and cook three min- [ utes longer; rub a spoonful of flour ; smooth in-a little cold water and add to thicken; boil up once well and serve ! with the hot rice. ! Mi nts for, the'!; j'('Housekeeper^ i i Cut-steel buttons cin(f buckles may | 1 be polished with powdered pumice j , | stone slightly moistened and applied | with a soft brush or cloth. +nn lanfliM. linnto OTul I shoes, rub every part of the boots well i with a juicy potato cut in thick slices, I : and when dry. clean in the usual way ; i with blacktop, taking care to put the blacking well on. j To till cracks in plaster, mix plaster j ' of paris with vinegar instead of water j . and it will not "set'' for twenty or i ] i thirty minutes. Push it into the cracks i and smooth off evenly with a table j j i knife.?What to Eat. j Milk can be sterilized at home. Ab- j t I soluteiy clean bottles are necessary. ; j Soak them in soda and hot water be- j , ; fore using, and scald just before the ; i miik is put into them. The miik : < : should be perfectly fresh. Fill the | 1 i bottles, cork them tight with anti- ' ( ' septic cotton, lay them in coid water; j j heat slowly to the boiling point, boil . J : for an hour and let them cool in the ; . ( water. I)o not uncork until the milk ! J i is to be used. J 1 What a hostess calls "rocks," though . the name is wrongly suggestive, are de- : ( t licious little drop-cakes sure to be i j found on her five-o'clock tea. table. ' : They are made from one cupful of . j j sugar, two-thirds of a cupful of but- , , | ter. one and one-half cupfuls of flour, i i two eggs, one pound each of chopped , ' i English walnuts and dates or raisins, , ' ! one teaspoonful of cinnamon, one of , cloves and one of soda dissolved in hot j water. Drop by tea spoonfuls, as they j run easily, on buttered tins, and bake. j I They are almost as rich as fruit cake 1 and improve with age. ' j Boston baked beans are now served i as a salad. The quantity ol' oil to be | i i used depends on the quantity of pork j , used in cooking the beans, and for se- j < deutary people it is well to omit t'ne j i pork. Iu this case three or four table- i ' spoonfuls of oil may be used for a \ pint of beans. stir into it liait a tea- j j spoonful of paprika, a few drops of onion juice and two tablespoouftils of j vinegar. Mix this through the beans ; 1 and turn tlieni onto the serving dish, ] Cover and let them stand half an hour [ | in a cool place. The salad may be gar- ! nished with pimolas and slices of tiny j 1 cucumber pickles, and a teaspoonful of finely cut chives may be added if i desired. It is almost time to begin to think i , of moths, for the time to remember ; i them is before the first one appears, i With these pests prevention is not ! ; only better than cure, but it is | absolutely essential. Moth halls, tar | ; paper, the most expensive cedar ! chests, are useless after one wretched ! insect lias found a lodging in a gar- I : ment. Therefore, before the moths ap- j j pear, take the necessary precautions, j ; Beat and brush furs and woolens, not ! overlooking a single pocket or fold, j and. when perfectly certain that not a j j moth or an egg is there, pack the i * j garments away where moths cannot i j reach them. That is the whole secret, j f Furs should bo sent to cold storage. ! ? which is safe and cheap. As a matter [ of precaution, it is well to reserve one ; I closet, which lino with tar paper, i , covering the cracks around the door ; t 1 ttin Iv.rlwln i ill 111 o? (i ii i i u}' ulf l\V,? huli;. i 111 11m, ul j | Jfly nxviij* winter jrnrnu-nts in here. < j and on joy an additional feeling of se- j t I CUlitJ. I f 1 i t THE GKEAT DESTB3IEE SOME STARTLINC FACTS ABOUT THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE. Alcoholism In France?Widespread Em tlcavor in the Ke|i;il>llc to Clieck tii? Evil?Anti-Alcoliolic Congress AUopif Resolutions Suggesting u Cure. Alarm continues to be felt in France, reSorts United States Consul Af.vell, from :oubaix, France, ever the steady growth in the consumption of alcohol in that re public. A congress was held in Paris ia October to deliberate uoon means to eradicate the evil, eminent men of letters and clergy of various denominations joining hands in a fight against, the common foe. On October 28 the Anti-Alcoholic Congress adopted the following resolutions: "That the number of saloons shall be restricted by law; debts for liquor sold by the glass shall not be legal; that the pro' prietor of a saloon shall be held responsible for crimes committed by a person or persons who have become intoxicated in his saloon; that the court shall declare the forfeiture of paternal authority in all cases where habitual drunkenness shall have been proved; that prefects shall exercise more frequently the right conferred upon them by the law of April 5, 1884, to close saloons." A spur was doubtless given to the present widespread endeavor to combat the increase of alcoholism by the fact that a company controlling unlimited capital has been formed recently in France to lurnish BO-called "aperitifs" at a price defying competition. ( The feeling with regard to the peril of France was voiced by Dr. Debove, Dean ot me lueaicai .r acuity, in nis opening remarks before the National Anti-Alcoholic League at a meeting held in Paris during the latter part of October. He spoke aa follows: "I gladly accept the honor of presiding over your meeting. In the face of the peril which menaces us no one has a right to refuse hifi support, for we have the disgrace of ranking first among alcoholic nations.'"' Official statistics bear witness to the unfortunate truth of this statement. France has 464.556 saloons to supply the wants of 38,666,366 inhabitants. That is one saloon to eighty-three inhabitants, and this number is constantly increasing. The following table, showing the annual quantities of alcohol consumed per capita in the several countries, places France at the head of the list: Country. Litres. Gallons. France 18.21 4.81 Switzerland ....12.5 3.3 Belgium 10.42 2.75 Italy 10.23 2.7 Denmark 10.21 2.69 Germany 1 9.25 2.44 England 8.91 2.35 Austria 8.59 2.2G Holland 6.9 1.74 United States 5.19 1.37 Norway 2.6 .69 Finland 2. .58 Canada * 1.94 .57 During the past ten years the consumption of alcohol in France has increased in alarming proportions, while England and the United States have progressed toward temperance. Liverpool has closed one-third of its falcons (luring the past ten years and so decreased her police force in consequence as to have made an economy of $40,000 ) C.W l? . Sweden and Finland have also made marked progress in temperance. In 1829 Sweeden had one saloon to every 100 inhabitants.. and the consumption of pure spirits was 2G.35 liters (6.17 gallons) per capita; in 1900 she had but one saloon to 5000 inhabitants, and the consumption had fallen to 4.79 liters '(1.31 gallons) per capita. In 1330 Finland had one saloon to every 100 inhabitants, and consumed twenty liters (5.28 gallons) per capita: in 1000 the consumption was but two liters (a fraction over half a gallon) per capita, and there was but one saloon to every 9000 inhabitants. In order to compete with Sweden and Finland, France will have to close ninetenths of her saloons, and it is with this er.d in view that the French press is exhorting the nation to temperance. The general abstemiousness of the people is now regarded as one of the principal causes of the increasing commercial supremacy of the United States.?New York Times. Lunacy in Great Britain. According to a London dispatch, the annual report of the lunacy commissioners shows a great increase in insanity in England and Wales. In 1859 the number of insane was 36,762, or a proportion of the population of one in 536. There was a steady increase from that time up to January 1,. 1903, when the number of insane was 113,964, or a proportion of one in every 293 of population. The rate of increase since 1S94 has been especially noted, the increase being from 92,067. One-fourth of all those admitted to the asylums are found to have suicidal tendencies. The increase is more marked in the country than in the cities, yet in London itself there is an average increase reaching the startling figure of 500 per cent. It is nointed out. furthermore, by Dr. E. W. White, who was recently elected to the presidency of the Medical Psychological Association, that during thirty years past the rate oi' recovery has not materially advanced, despite all the new discoveries and more rational methods of treatment. He advocates governmental regulations to prevent the marriage of those tainted with insanity ? one great cause of the increase?and also the sale )f spirituous liquors. England's having become, within the past half century, a spirit drinking nation is regarded as another great cause of the increase in insanity, which is traced to the excessive ise of hard liquors?Albany Argus. An Epidemic of Crime. As a contribution to the discussion by the press on "the epidemic of crime,'' the Corner Stone says: "Crime is on the increase hecar.se we sell the right to carry on a crime-producing business for money. In Ohio any man, to matter what his character, may enter the business of crime making for enly $50. He may cany on that business unmolested for a whole year for that amount )f money. He may debauch and ruin as many of the boys and young men as he :an entice (into his den for a whole year ior that amount of money. He may do this as a regular business. This may be tvith him just as much a regular business is selling tea, coffee or sugar. So long is this condition of things prevails, of :oursc crime will increase. "It is the legalized saloon that is tuning loose upon the world an army of what ive call criminals. The fact is too evident io need proof." Army Sobriety Order. The hereditary Prince of Saxe-Meinin;en, commander of the sixth army corps, ivho recently issued an order advising sol liens to Jodge complaints wnen mey were ]] treated, has issued another corps order igainst drunkenness. He points out to the privates the damaging effects of alcohol on ;he health and usefulness of men, and directs the regimental doctors to demonstrate to the so!d:ers its evil effects, authoritatively and in a kindly manner. 'Vbcut 1700 instances of drunkenness were punished in the sixth corps, numbering .'5,000 men, last year. A New Method. In raiding a supposed saloon in Lewis* ton. Me., the other day. special liquor Icpulies discovered a new method (o sell ii violation of the law. It was in the 'orm of a gas jet. Fiy climbing tiirough a seultle t<> a place eve the store, a bo.nd partition was seen. This was broken and 'onml So contain a copper tank. The lank ,vas connected with the- store by a tube, viiich resembled a gas pipe. J'y turning Ml the gas jet whisky could be obtained Lord Holierrs* Viewx. In a recent interview Lord Roberts, o* he Uritisii Army, insi.sled thai measure} hould be taken to prevent soldiers irn:?; lrinking intoxicating liquor. jTHE SUNDAY SCHOOL) INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS FOR MAY 29. ! I Subject: The Passover, Matt. xxvi.. 17-30 ?Golden Text, 1 Cor. v., 7 ? Memory j Vermel", 2G-28 ? Commentary on the | Day's Lesson. ! I. The preparation for the meal (vs. 1719). 17. ^ "First day of the feast."' The ? 14th of Xisan was the day of preparation and hcnce called the first day of the feast, r although the feast properly did not begin j J until the 15th of Nisan, which, according t'o I _ I the Jewish reckoning, commenced imme- j J { diately after sunset of the 14th, and was the day on which the Passover was eaten. * The celebration continued until the 21st (Exod. 12: 18-20). "Of-unleavened bread." So called because at this feast only un- * j leavened bread was allowed. It symbolized three things: 1. The haste with which ^ they fled from Bgypt, not having time to wait for bread to rise (Exod. 12 : 34 , 39V 2. ^ Their sufferings in Egypt, hence called the bread of affliction (Deut. 16: 3). 3. Their j 3 j purity as a consecrated nation, since fer- | j mentation was the beginning of putrefae- i i tion, and leaven was tnus a symbol of im- I 1 I purity. "Where wilt Thou." "Jesus had no j i home of His own and the disciples knew I 1 | that some place must be chosen at once, j ! "That we prepare." That which was re- j 1 i quired consisted of a room furnished with j I table and couches; and for food, unleav- | ' ened bread, bitter herbs and a paschal | | lamb, which must be slain in the temple j ( between 3 and 5 o'clock, and cooked in a j ! private house. i ] ! 18. "Go into the city." Luke says that j } I Peter and John were sent. They were now i | at Bethanv and Jesus sends them to Jeru- < I salem. "To such a man." It is prolxible j I that this meant some person with whom j ! Christ was well acquainted, and who was ; j j known to the disciples. Mark and Luke | state that they would meet a man bearing I a pitcher 'of water, whom they were to foi| low. "Say unto him." Say unto the mas- < ter of the house, who was probably a dis- J ciple, but secretly, like many others, for , | fear of the Jews (John 12: 42); and this J j may explain the suppression of his name, i "The Master saith." The teacher saith. . 19. "Did as'Jesus had appointed them." ' They obeyed in every particular, and found . everything to happen as Jesus had foretold. * Those who would have Christ's presence with them must strictly observe His in- | J structions. , II. Events during the eating of the Passover (vs. 20-25). 20. "The even was come." It was probably while the sun was beginning to decline in the horizon that Jesus and the disciples descended once more over the Mount of Olives into the^ I holy city.- "Sat down." Or reclined, ac- | j cording to, the custom of that time. Their | ] feet were extended away from the table , I and not under it.- . . i It was at this time that the disciples j j strove among themselves as to which : | I should be_ accounted the greatest (Luke ' j 22: 24). The strile prooaoiy oegan wneu they, were taking their positions at the , ! table. It is suggested that this contention j is the probable reason for 6ome of the exhortations in John 13: 1-20, and for th? washing of the disciples' feet. Possibly 1 those sought the places of honor at the ( table who had been especially honored on j other occasions. j 21: "As they did eat." The Passover, ' I not the memorial supper. He tasted first | 1 j the unleavened bread and the bitter herbs | 1 before the lamb was served. "One of you." j < I How sad! One who is pledged to be faith- | j ful and true. Jesus was troubled in spirit j ' i (John 13: 21). "Shall betray Me." Judas ' : had already agreed to betray Him. This j 1 ! finnouncement woukl give him an opportu- ; nity U repent, but this he did not do. j I 22. "Exceeding sorrowful." Because He was to be betrayed, and because one of ( their number was about to perform the i dastardly act. "Is it I?" They also asked j < I themselves the questions (Luke 22 : 23). 23. j ( "He that dippeth." The thought of verse i 21 is repeated. It was at this point that Peter beckoned to John, who was leaning ( on Jesus' bosom, to ask Jesus who it ' | should be (John 13: 22-27;) and Jesus prob- j j ably gave them a sign bv which they knew. f j Knives and forks and plates for each guest ! j | were unknown. The food was piled in a , , ; great circular dish, over it was pored the , ! broth, and the guests with their fingers ) j dipped a piece of meat or of barley cake | j into tiie Drotn. ana xnus ate u. I 2-i. "Goeth." To the cross and to death. j j "As it is written." In such scriptures as . Isaiah 53. "Woe unto that man." A sad j statement of a terrible fact. Jesus had prej viously told of His betrayal and death, but ' it must be remembered that the betrayer ; ! acted voluntarily; the prophecy did not j compel him to sin, but merely told that in . : the natural course of events he would sin. ! "Had rot been born." This proves conclu! sively that for the lost soul there is no re- 1 ! demption. 25. "Is it I?" Judss tried to ' 1 co\*er his hypocrisy and wickedness by ask- j j ing this question. He knew that he was I ' i even then seeking an opportunity to do this very thing, and if he had not been < ) spiritually blind he would have known that j J Jesus knew all about it, too. : ' i III. The memorial 6upper (vs. 26-30). | I I 26. "Took bread." Took the loaf or thin j cake of unleavened bread, which was before I Him. "Blessed it." Invoked the blessing j of God upon it. "Brake it." The act was j | i designed to shadow forth the wounding, 1 j ' piercing and breaking of Christ's body on ; ( the cross. "This is My body." This bread j represents My body. 27. "The cup." The ' i i word "wine" is not used, but "cup," "the j , ; fruit of the vine" (v. 29), so that "unfer- j , j mented Rrape juice was all that was used." ! ; I "Gave thanks." It was like giving thanks | J i over the shedding of His own blood. t j "Drink ye all." They were all to drink of , . ! this. Mark says, "They all drank of it." i 28. "Is My blood." Represents My . blood. "Of the covenant" (R. V.) It was | . j an old covenant renewed, and thus a r.ew / promise to men that God would provide a | J ! great salvation. "For many." For all man- j J : kind. "Remission of sins." "For the tak- j 1 ing away of sins." But although the atone* j I mcnt is made, vet no man's sins are taken j . ... God's Unchanjjlnc Lots. tough darkness may gather and stormi clouds appear, tough suffering and sorrow may causa thee to fear; "he promise God gives us is a "good promise yet; n the aarkness and storm He docs not forget. ["hy path may he stormy, and heavy thy, * load, ^.nd faint 'neath the burden, you may fall in the road; ["hough friends may forsake thee, and bitter tears wet The place of thy pillow, God cannot forget. /' n the midst of thy sorrow, thy faith may; grow dim; ?or often, 'tis true, we're unmindful of promise to Him; rtien how precious His promise?immu* tably set: 'I will not forsake thee; I cannot forget.'* D! how sweet is that promise! our lov? may grow cold; * But His is the same it was ever of old; t *o change can affect it, no hindrance?' no let! 'I have said that I love thee, and I do not forget." \ mnffior mfiv turn from the rhild of hep love; f \.nd false to its pledges frail Nature may, prove; rhe heart of the child may prove false to its debt, But the promise God gives us, He'll never forget. 3od help us remember, 'midst storm cloud and ftloom, t i Etis promise outlast e'en the night of the tomb; Sow bright is fulfillment, when in heaven we vo met, I*o hear the glad welcome?"I do not) forfet!" , ? ?Rev. Leonard Cox, A. M. The Countersign. The farm was a lonely one, and the 'armer's "wife, a gentlej timid creature* ,ived in dread of tramps. Three times a pear, when the farmer went to town for. i day and a night, the night was a uleep*, e68 one for the poor little woman. They cept no hired man except in the haying ieagon. "Nobody ever has come!" grurftbled the iarmer, when his wife poured forth her: ears. . , t "No, but some one. might," she protestid. And sure enough one evening the ireaded happened. t It was late November, and cold. The jround was frozen, and the wind, as the :armer's wife expressed it, "was cruel.,,: [t was seven o'clock at night, the house tvas barred and bolted, the two children vere getting ready for bed. . , There was a loud knock at the door, fofc. lowed by a succession of brisk raps. "Who is there?" o.uavered the farmer's wife, through the keyhole. > ? "1 want a bed for the night," said a> nan's hoarse voice. "fin nu'jul fin nwnv!" frlprl the farm*. ir's wife, in terror. * "You wouldn't turn a man off this kind )f weather, I hope?" said the voice on ;he other side of the door, and then the itranger coughed distressingly. The farmer's wife looked to the chain: >n the doer, drew the bolts, and opened ;he door the width of the chain. By the ight of the lamp which she carried 6he law that the stranger was roughly clad ind unshaven. "I'm here alone with my jhildren," she said, firmly, "and I'm not i;oing to risk letting any one in." The man hesitated a moment, then ;hrust his hand into his coat pocket, drew, 'orth a little book and handed it to her. 1 "For the sake of this won't you trust ne?" he asked. She took the little book. It was worn ind thumbed and old. It was a Bible, Without a word she unfastened the chain ind let the stranger in. > The next morning, after he had helped/ ier with the chores, he thanked her and bade her good-bye, and as they shook lands he said: "I might have been a bad one, for sure, md only trying to blind you with my Bible." "I know. I thought of that," she answered, calmly. "But you had the countersign. I had to trust to God that yon jad come by it honestly."? xouth's Companion. Affliction Thnt Pays. A psalmist once said: 'It is good for mo :hat I have been afflicted; that I might earn Thy statutes."- He might not have sought the ways of God had ne not found lis own ways hedged about him. His experience was that of a great number of nen who discovered riches in affliction ivhich were otherwise not to be found. The depth of human love and sympathy tvould never be known if it were not for iffliction. Through sorrow there has often poured a wealth of love and affection, marrelous in its sweetness and power. It was E lot until he was afflicted that the psalmist I saw the glory of the Holy law. It is in af- R liction also that the glory of human love ihines out, richer by far because it^ ia jj iharged with the holy love of God. Yes# I t is a dear price to pay, but in the after- | ;low we shall be able to say that it waa I ivorth paying?Baptist Union. 9 Bom's Horn Blasts. w The Lord is not a refuge when religion I s all repose. , I The church needs manhood more than I nachinery. 'I A wide-open Bible never made a wide? | ipen town. fl There is no greatness in man without E jrod's grace. , You do not kill the tree of sin by picking J] its fruits. fig The grace of a sermon is nothing unles# I t has a grip. Ej Finding the Gold. J I How fond we are of thinking about what i I re have not, instead of about what well lave! It has been well said that "some \ I >eople's cast-off happiness, like their cast- II iff clothes, would make some other people ll ?cry happy." The cheeriest lives are not hose that have the most, but those that S ppreciate the most. Everv one of us I las a gold mine of unworked joy close at H land. But gold needs searching for. Are I ou finding yours??Sunday-School Times, Doles Or.e'g Duty. H Let us do our duty and pray that we may, lo our duty here, now, to-day; not in B Ireamy sweetness, but in active energy: lot in the green oasis of the future, duo B n the dusty desert of the present; not ia B he imaginations of otherwhere, but in the I ealitics of now.?F. W. Farrar. B Well to Beat* in Mind. 9 That which is good to be done Cannot I )e done too soon; and, if it is neglected B o be done early, it will frequently happen B hat it will not be done at all.?Bishop B Hant. H Forests and Climate. . B The influence of forests unon climate I ras the subject of discussion at the annual B neeting of the German MeteorologicaJ So? B iety at Berlin. Professor Schubert, o| I iottinpen, gave a summary of the results B f his Tour years' observations at Prussian orestry stations throughout the extensive fl voodea region of the northwestern part 01 B 5randenburg. Two observations were B aken daily at numerous points within the orests, in clearings and other points. Thefl esult.was that from the minimum variai? ions of temperature and humidity in th^D orests and at more remote points it waf^E oncluded that the forests had no apprq^B iable influence unoa the rainfall ral climate. away only as he repents and turns to Uod. j 29. "Not drink henceforth." He would not eat and drink with them again; this was their last meal together. "When I ' ! drink it new." When I drink new wine? i "wine of a different nature from this"?in ; ' the kingdom of God. ^Here is a pledge to i : them that they would again assemuie, m . ; the kingdom of glory, to commemorate the ( ( triumph of Christ and His kingdom. 30. 1 I "Suns: an hymn." Which was always sung ( at. tliii clc.-e of the paschal feast; it con| sisted of six psalms, from Psa. 113 to 118. j I "Into the Mount of Olives." Where Jesus suffered in the garden of Gethseraine and ( was betrayed. j Coquetry Good Training-. The scientific status of coquetry was J j discussed by Dean Tufts, of the I'niver- 1 ' i sity of Chicago, for the benefit of the sen- I iors of that institution. His general topic < ; was "Play." "Play is an important factor * | in gaining control' of our faculties," said * j the Dean. "Coquetry, like other forms of j i play, is a training of the abilities which . J one needs in serious life. It is not merely ; ? ! an outlet for the dissipation of surplus en- I J i ergies as it has been considered, but it ia ' i instinctive and tends to the development ' ! of the higher and intellectual faculties." Tree lOOO Feet l/'n<ler Ground. Drillers in an oil well in Houston Coun- 1 j I ty, Texas, when they reached a depth of [ j I JOOO feet encountered the trunk of a tree. | ^ i Large pieces of bark and wood of clear x j grain have been brought to the surface in I a perfect state of preservation. The wood ! i is very hard, and the tree measured, as i near as could be estimated, between two i .tnrl throp fet't in diameter. i L Electricity Couldn't Kill Him. t | After receiving one current of 45.000 ^ j volts and another of 25,000, and falling 1 | forty feet to the ground, Harry Elsey, an I electric lineman, is alive with the loss of j. two toes, his oniy permanent injury. The | current was so strong that it melted the * i eoles of his rubber boots. ! c ; < Largest Ostrich Farm. 1 o The largest ostrich farm in the world is f to he established in the La Hara Valley, i \ California. One hundred and twenty 1 I acres of land in this district are to be | t utilized for the production of the much- j f demanded plumes. r * i t Diamond in Thief's Stomach. f By means of ihe X-ray the Chief of Dc ' c tectives of Davenport, Iowa, has located s j c stolen diamond in the stomach of a negro. ' e ? 5