The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, September 07, 1904, Image 2
V
F Blues
i
. if! roman!
" ^
^'\A.NWVA.'>^AA /\r\-^vrv^N/V^.<'W?N '
By Miss An*
CHAPTER II.
Continued.
jyst for a moment Daphne rcalizeF,
fis she has not done these three years
oast that Jane means love; jnst for a
moment acknowledges that to spent
to a man younger than the parish rector,
more cultivated than a peasant
farmer, is not absolutely and tiually
disagreeable.
I Sir John Severne is quick to follow
?p whatever iniinitesimally small
progress he may have made.
, "As far as my present experience
goes, the Jersey lanes seem constructed
on the fundamental principle of
leading back unwary strangers to the
point from which they start. The
Hampton Court maze on a larger scale.
Now, this path we are on? is there
the slightest chance of it landing me
anywhere if I follow it with persistence?
I want to take a sketch at high
iwater of Quernec Bay," he goes on,
eind by this time Daphne's eyes are
shyly giving him back glance for
glance. "A sketch of Quernec into
iwhich I can bring the coast of France,
find perhaps get one of those old Mar,
tello towers for a foreground. You
could direct me, I am sure, to such a
spot?"
The question touches her at a vulnerable
point On the lowliest plane,
* A ~C + _
JW11Q TUC Keenest tseust; uj. uu duui tcomings,
Daphne is herself an artistderives
the nearest approach to selfforgetfulness
her life knows in watching
Nature's shapes and hues, and reproducing
them in unnaturally soft,
minutely stippled .water color drawings.
Her only teacher has been her
Aunt Theodora; and Miss Vansittart's
art notions date from her school
days. A period when young women
were wont, like Hood's Miss Priscilla,
fc> rough cast with shell work, coat
jwith red and black seals, incrust witb
bine alum, stick over with colored wafers,
or festoon with little rice paper
roses; and when wooly pencil drawings
executed on perforated cardboard,
held but a subordinate rack among
. ' these sister arts.
And still, by some native instinct,
Daphne feels as acutely as though she
had studied under a pre-Rapbaclite
master at South Kensington what a
picture should be! How like the sharp
outlines, the vivid colors she sees in~
iwoods and lanes, how unlike the hazy
counterfeits with which she and Miss
Theodora laboriously adorn the walls
or Fief-de-la-Reine. She is too dissevered
from tho world and the world's
opinions for the handle to a name to
affect her. Sir John Severne might
be fifty times Sir John, and his title
yield him no preference in her mind
over any plain esquire. The thought
that he is an artist docs give him a
passport, for five minutes at least, to
her favor:
"If you keep to this.path for a couple
of fields more it will, bring you out
by the Petite Cucellette. After that,
you know Maitre Hamon's farm?"
"Mattre Hamon's farm? I .am
ashamed to say I do not."
"Nor the But de la Rue that runs
alongside the Marais?"
Sir John Severne is forced again to
display his ignorance.
"Well, of course, if you know nothing,
not even the But de la Rue, nor
the Marais, you had best turn into the .
high -^d. Follow it straight when
once . ou leave the fields, and a quarter
of an hour's walking will' bring
you to Fief-de-la-Reine. A big granite
house," she adds, "desolate but for
t% etnn./IJol in frnnt On/?
IUC lUOUd, Willi a OUU-U1UI a* v?iv, *%?V4
a broken archway?and sea, and waste,
*nd heaps of half-dried seaweed closing
it on every side."
Daphne's face gets hack to its usual
look of blank weariness as she speaks.
CHAPTER III."
Kisses.
Bnt Daphne, without presage of evil,
is talking over her afternoon's adventure
as she saunters with slow steps
homeward through the lanes, Aunt
Hosie her companion.
At a glance you would, perhaps, not
ifliscover the younger Miss Vansittart's
gentle blood with tne same certainty
as you would 'j. heodora's. A modish
headdress, a lavender silk a la Hegenoe,
are powerful agents in determining
one's forecasts as to birth; and
Miss Theodora's line of profile, adventitious
aids apart, is unquestionably
one that betrays a score of foolish
transmitters more conspicuously than
her sister'p.
But let Aunt Hosie speak, come under
the influence of her eyes and smile,
and you feel yourself then and there
in the presence of something higher
than all gentility.
Poor Miss Theodora's airs and graces
npvpr f.iil n? rf>mmr1iri?? von. half
pathetically, like the scent of longdead
flowers, that she has known better
days in the past. Miss Howie's
brave and simply cheerfnlno.ss so caaobles
the present that you forget there
could have been a better or a happier
past to sink from.
How or why she was first called HoBie,
in lieu of Henrietta, 110 man
knows. The country folk of the neighborhood,
Methodists most of them, and
well posted in Scriptural nomenclature,
call her "Miss Ilosie'' on all occasions
when they would show more than ordinary
respect. Sometimes, cn farm
business, or the like, she will even receive
a letter addressed to "Miss IIoBanna."
But simple "Aunt Ilosie"?
fhnf is llir> rnnn? bv which she is
known, sought after, beloved throughout
the district.
Material for large charity the Miss
Vansitiarts do not possess, neither in
Quernec Bay would almsgiving, as the
word is understood in prosperous England,
be accepted. In this primitive
community the vice of improvidence is
rot. Every man has his share in a
boat, his own tiny freehold, his tight
of common; every woman clings, with
toe tenacity of a religious belief, to
her hoarded press of linon and her
fcalf dozen tablespoons. But, wher
stocking;'
11 REALITY,
he Edwards.,
ever human hearts beat, exists work
in plenty for him whose mission is the"
Samaritan's. In seasons of shipwreck
or of illness, when sons are lost at
sea, when little children arc left fatherless?in
every perennial sorrow of
our common lot, Aunt Hosie's is the
one needed presence, hers the best
| coueoJatioi). Not a sick person butj
rates her nursing powers higher than
the doctor's science?higher, it may be
sometimes feared, , than the ghostly
n? nf nrlpst.
JllHUbUiU JULIO tli. poiguu s*. ??.
Not n dying pillow that her hand cannot
smooth or a group of mourners
with whom her tears?in these she is
rich?do not flow in sympathy.
When Miss Theodora. visits among
her neighbors, it is J-n a stiff, official
manner, with appropriate chapter and
veree, satisfactorily bringing back before
her consciousness the day when
ncr lamented papa commanded forts
and garrisons and it was a'duty for
his daughter to give moral succor to
such wives and children of soldiers as
were on the regulation. To enlarge
before suffering sinners upon the justice
of Providence and the retributive
nature of their own pains, is, with the
distribution of wrath-dealing tracts,
Theodora's honest conception of doing
good. And as her spiritual encouragements
are afforded either in English, of
wliicfi tne yuernac nsniag peupie miderstand
little, or in halting, grammarlearnt,
"good French," of whicli they
understood nothing at all, it can scarce
be matter of wonder that the poor regard
bcr visits like wet harvests of infructuous
springs, as some mysterious
caprice upon the part of Heaven', and
submit to rather than solicit their continuance.
Aunt Hcsie talks the island patois?
the French of Froissart yon will hear
a Jerseyman call it?with volubility; a
burr of good North Country accent
clinging to her tongue, and rendering
the speech less musical than characteristic.
She spends her life out of doors:
owning, and, with the help of Margot
and Margot's lover, farming an estate
of, I am ashamed to say how few
acres; and is sun-tanned and winddried
as a bit of autumn's vraic.
The simile sounds unflattering, but at
this seabound, isolated point of existence
one is so surrounded by vraic
that it interpenetrates the thoughts
'.mo.rr.nn/w vitoin c+ro-orc thf* Khore^.v
uuairaigo) HMVT< v %~v
gardens, fields, sends its dense white
smoke through every cottage chimney,
now fresh, now dried, now in ashes,
fills the air of the whole district with
its searching odor.
A clean cotton gow.i in summer, a
serge one in winter, a sun-honuet
through every season 'of the year.
Such is Aunt Hosie's dress. She weeds,
hoes, works in the hay field, at the
vraic harvest, the cider press; and
with it all remains a lady,%an extraordinarily
contented one!
The two elder sisters, after a quarter
of a century spent at Fief-de-laReine,
still look back on Bath. Brighton
and Cheltenham with a sigh. Miss
Theodora, notably, who keeps up the
social credit of the house, and on occasion
dines at the houses. of the aboriginal
gentility, gets periodical fits of
low spirits, uncertain temper and concomitant
doctors' visits.
From all these afflictions Aunt Hosie
is free. Her manner is a trifle abrupt,
like the sea wind, that asks no leave
before it salutes your check; her
speech wholesomely bitter, like the
simples culled from her own old-fashioned
herb garden; and for her
fa co "
"The bloom of tidiness is past," she
will tell'you, frankly. "I am a betterlooking
woman now than I was at
twenty-five, and mean to be a beauty
yet before I die."
And, little though she suspects it,
her homely features do possess a
charm, a loveliness such as many
wafftied-out cheeks and overperfect
profiles of a younger generation cannot
boast.
"As wine savors of the cask wherein
it is kept," wrote a quaint author, "as
wine savors of the cask wherein it is
kept, so the soul receives a tincture
from the body through which it
works."
ITtte conceit returns ever to my mind
when I think of the brave, weatberfresbened
old face of Henrietta Vansittart
"To-day seems fated to be one of
wild cxcitement, Aunt Hosie," says
Daphne, just as the two arrive within
sight of Fief-de-la-Raine. "Jean Marie
and Margot have discovered, after five
years' waiting, that they have saved
up linen and spoons enough to fall in
love, and I, Daphne Chester, have
spoken, actually spoken, to a stranger."
"Aye, misfortune seldom comes
single," is Aunt Hosie's answer. "Jean
Marie and yargot arc a pair of fools.
Fall in love, indeed! As if two such
heads, put together, will not be a
hundred times thicker than they we?e
apart! And at this season, too?ill
the busiest part of the year before us!
As to strangers, tive-pound excursionists,"
says Aunt Hosie, decisively, "the
j farther they keep themselves from
Fief-de-la-Iieine and from my carnations,
the better I shall be able to appreciate
their virtues."
"Five-pound excursionists,! Human
creatures with cabbage sticks in their
hands, and piuk-and-orange cravats
round their throats! Aunt Hosie,"
cries Mrs. Chester, not without a
heightened color, "what would I have
done that I should be suspected of
such things? My stranger?was?
was "
"Don't trouble yourself to teTl me,
child. I am most incurious in the matter."
"But his name?at least I might have
told you that?Sir John Severne. Not
a bad name in its way, is it?"
Aunt TTosie looks round searchingly
! at the girl's face.
j "I need hardly a*k if 'Sir John' had
a drawl, or if ho was good enough to
; admire my niece Daphne, and depre|
ciate existence generally through an
\
eyeglass?' she remarked. "In speaking
of a fine geatleman of the presenl
day these things are understood."
"Sir John had no drawl, no eyeglass,
and, I am quite sure, no admiration,"
says Daphne.
But again she blushes. In lives selfcolored,
unhurried as hers, people car)
afford themselves the luxury of a conscience.
Daphne Chester owns one,
and it pricks her?young Severne's
last glance returning before her vision
and convicting her sharply of
falsehood.
"No drawl, no eyeglass, no admiration.
I v/ish you joy. iuy dear. You
have seen a paragon at last. Unfortunately,
I never in my- best days had
much belief in paragons, and I am too
old and too prejudiced to subscribe to
new creeds now."
"And as Sir John Severne will
doubtless go away by to-morrowmorning's
boat, I shall have no means
of converting you,'' says Daphne,
lightly. "See, who is that coming out
to meet us?" For they are now witWn
a stone s xnrow ox uje trim, ante iu iiju
farm. "Margot, as I live. She -must
have run home quickly by the Marais
"
"And, wringing her hands, holding
up her apron to her face! What in the
name of heaven ails the daft-headed
creature now? If scenes and hysterics
are to be the first effects of courtship,
-what may we hope for later on?"
"There is something "wrong," exclaims
Daphne, her cheeks and lips,
blood-forsalien, turning to a livid
whiteness. "Something has happened
to the child. Paul, Paul, where are
you?"
And, scarcely conscious that her feet
touch solid earth, she rushes wildly
down the road, across the garden,
where Margot, ordinarily the most stolid
of mortal beings, stands laughing,
crying, talking, ail in a breath, and
with utterly incoherent volubility.
"Eh, mon Dou, mon Dou! Le pauvre
p'tit babouin?)a grande marie?le
Mussieu Anglaz!"
These, or words like these, fall
vaguely on Daphne's senses.
She heeds them not. She pauses to
ask no questions. Her heart prophesies,
answers all.
Onward toward the sea she hurries,
down the path where an hour before
Paulie, safe and happy, watf chasing
butterflies in the sunshine, past the
tottering, fear-stricken figure of Miss
Theodore,4 onward toward the sea?to
succor?oh. heaven, if succor be vain
?to perish with the child!
? ? ?
Rosy, unhurt, Paul at this moment
is being lifted by strong, familiar arms
from the "Wesley" to dry land. Not
in vain did Severne give his last halloa
before starting to the boy's rescue.
From a cottage outside the garden of
Fief-de-la-Reipe the shout was heard
by the nurse tender of a sick fisher's
wife, and help, quickly summoned from
the nearest hay field, help that did not
arrive one minute too soon. To reach
little Paul by alternate wading and
swimming, was no easy feat; but Severne,
hardy, resolute and a practical
swimmer, accomplished it. To return,
with deepening tide, and with the adds\+
r? liiilnlneo ?r>0*1 r\<r philfl
fU UUiUCU \JJL U v, V
was a matter of wholly different complexion.
Long before his rescuer
reached him.Faul's danger had become
Imminent, every deepening wave washin,
over the slippery, weed-covered
rocks, and rendering the child's slight
fqoting more insecure. At the distance
of fifteen or twenty yards nearer shore,
however, lay another ridge, still well
above water, aud. thus far upon the
way to safety Severne with difficulty
bore his charge. Then came recognition
of the truth, then came a clearer
look into the face of death than Sir
John Severne, during his five-andtwenty
years of vigorous youth had
ever gained before. To swim back
with the cbild across such a sea as
this was, he knew, the next thing to
impossible; to swim back alone?nay,
I will do the young fellow no injustice,
that temptation never even for a
passing moment assailed him!
"What were you doing, small boy,
nlpne, and at such a distance?" he
asked, as Paul's bright, undaunted
face looked lip at his.
"J'pequious," answered Paul, not
without some sportsman's pride. "V'la
man cabot!"
And, upon that, unclasped the finfiers
of his left hand and exhibited
his prize?a fish, two-tbh-de of an inch
in length, which, not even with the
waters closing fast around hiin, that
resolute little brown fist bad relinquished.
To be Continued.
Ireland's Lost ropulation.
Ireland is a country which .still lofies
thousands of its natural increase of
population by emigration; in which
more boyfunre born than girls, and the
most fatal .epidemic is influenza.
The population of Ireland in 1002, according
to the Registrar General's return,
was 4,432,274. The marriages,
numbering 22,040, and the births 101,8G3,
show a slight increase on the average
of ten years; the deaths, 77,G76,
were a trifle below the average. The
excess of births over deaths being 24,187,
and the los,s by emigration amount,
ing to 40,100, thare was a decrease in
the population during the year of 1(3,003,
less whatever immigration there
was, of which no reeord is kept
New Classification?.
Dr. Francis R. Lane, until lately ellrector
of the high schools of "Washington,
is fond of repeating the following
extract from a composition submitted
to him for approval during the days
when he was a worker in the school
teaching ranks. The extract runs as
follows: "Beings are divided into
names, according to that which they
feed on. The lion eais tiesh?the lion
is carnivorous. The cow oats grass?
the cow is hcrbariou.*. Man oats
everything. Therefore, man is omnipotent."
The World's Coal Area.
Of an estimated coal area of abon!
4.G30.000 square jniles in the world,
China is credited with 4.000,000 square
miles, the United States has about
2SO.OOO square miles; Great Britain,
11,000 miles; Germany, 1770 miles;
Franco, 20SG miles, and Belgium! 510
square miles. Area is not, however, a
true measure of value. The anthracite
tields of Pennsylvania include an area
of only ll!S miles, but these are undoubtedly
of more value than any coal
area of like extent anywhere in the
world,
I
.
| Household
! Matter
I '
Good to Know.
> Try turpentine to Temove the broi
1 spots from lamp chimneys.
; To wash silk ribbons, wash and rir
| thoroughly, iron while wet and r
j "until stillness is removed, after whi
' j press again.
1 To give a fine flavor and good col
' I to a meat roast, add to the water 1
' i basting one tablespoon sugar.
Revivinc Faded Carpet*.
After sweeping the carpet, rub
i over with a cloth wrung out in vineg
| and water, and if possible do not
1 j it be walked upon until it is dry, sa
the Chicago News. The quantity
! vinegar is a teacupful to a pail
i warm water and tliis treatment oft
! j lias a wonderfully good effect in 1
i-viving the faded color of an old c;
' j Pet.'
A Concealer.
[ Trunk covers are useful even to t
| ! stay-at-homes. A simple kind is
, ; large oblong denim?one. seen recenl
j was in red?the edges buttonholed
j around in "white, long and short stit
j and a large initial worked to come
| the top of the trunk. This not on
I covers the trunk, when closed, but
! useful to throw over trays or the op
| trunk when interrupted in process
: j burrowing or packing.
To Clarify Syrup.
Use only the best sugar. To make
very clear, handsome syrup, put U
, i quarts of sugar, with one quart or w
' ter, in an enameled pan, stir in t
: whites of two eggs, which. have be
beaten light, but not to a froth. He
! slowly, stirring frequently as it boi
then let it simmer haif an hour, wh
* the white scum can- be removed.
( syrup made of the Juice of acid frui
i such as currants or green grapes,
de/ioious to use for preserving stra
berries, apples, pears or' any oth
j sweet fruit.
Tlic Map Wringer.
j The mop has to be wrung, and the
. ai-e a dozen ways of wringing it. J
most any one who has had the v
pleasant duty of wringing a mop h
, adopted a method of her own for clej
| Ing the mop of the unclean water.
mechanical wringer seems to posse
i a good deal of merit. Two rolle
i working in the upper part of the p;
; and between which the wringer
placed, are brought together by a sj
tem of levers, pressing the water fro
the meshes of the mop. The lever
i conveniently placed on the outside
j the pail and is operated by the fooi
Importance of Flower Holders.
; The vessel iu which you put yo
Cowers has much to do witn their <
J feet. Long stemmed ones of steai
j habit, like the lily, will be spoiled
i low vases are used. Flowers wi
i short stems are always unsatisfs
! tory in anything but low bowls
| shallow vessels, says the Ladi<
! World. ' Color must also be taken ii
j consideration. A blue ckina bowl m
| be pleasing when filled with yelk
i roses, but put pink roses into it a
; you get a discord. As a general thii
a crystal vase or a cut-glass bowl w
! be found more satisfactory than ai
j colored vessel, because when these a
| used there can be no clash of color
I no striving for predominance in b
or tone between the flowers and th<
receptacle. Where colored vessels a
| used, great care must be taken to j
i cure proper contrast and entire hj
mony.
Quilting.
How many have found quilting <
; the machine easy? Having pieo
j your quilt and put it together the pi
I per size, get your lining ready, ai
i with a paper of pins and the waddii
| at hand you are ready for work. Li
: the quilt down right side tipon t
j floor, and stretch out perfectly straig]
I Upon this lay the wadding out
I lengths till all is covered. You ne
! stretch the lining, right side up, ov
! the wadding, when you begin the pi
| nins at intervals of every six or eig
: Inches, rolling up the quilt as it
pinned, until you get it alf well togel
j or, ready to take to the machine. I
gin stitching straight across one ei
and go on and on, removing the pi
as you come to tbem, ana roiling
' the stitched part as soon as it g(
unhandy. With the assistance of o
person to help hold it in place a lar
quili may be quilted in throe hou
; and finished up even to binding in
I afternoon?Mrs. John F. Payne, in T
I Epitomist.
!
. Griddlcd Potatoes?Have c?Id, boil
i potatoes and cut in long, rather "tt
j slices. Dip them in melted butt
sprinkle Avilh salt and paprika. Br
and when serving garnish .wJ
j chopped chives.
' i White Meat Mixture?Cut into di
| throe ounces -of cold chicken, rabl
j or any other white meat with t1
j ounces ol' cooked ham or tongue a
I two hard-boiled eggs. Heat this wi
I any kind of white sauce and seas
1 i with salt and pepper. Any kind
' cold meat may be used in this wj
varying the sauce.
Beef ltoll?Beef ro'.l is more substi
, j tial than potted meat, and is not tr<
blesome to pack. Oiip pound of bo
I steak, one pound of uncooked ham
j bacon, half a pound of bread crum
i two eggs, a small grated nutmeg,
: j little mace, salt and pepper to tas
. (tIsitu fUinn tlir- mrvnt vnrv
. put it through a mincing machine, a
tlie liaiii and bacon. Put all the ing
dientsf, except (lie glage, in a basin a
mix thoroughly. Shape the inixti
i into a roil, tie in a pudding cloth
you would do a rolIy-polly. l'.oil in 1
i stock pot for three Lours. Undo <
cloth and roroll the meat very tigh
in it. Put the beef roll on a dish w
another dish on top. 'on which pk
two weights. Let it stand till en
brusli over with melted giaze n
leave till set.
THE SUNDAY SCH001 T
INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS Si
? FOR SEPTEMBER II.
} Snlijert: Elijah Taken Up Into Heaven I A]
II King", H., 1.11?Golden Text, Gen j
; v., 24?Memory Ver*e?. 9-11?Commen- j
tary on the Day'n Lesson.
1. Elijah and Elisiia journeying togctbise
cr (vs. 1-8^. 1. "When the Lord would
ub take up Elijah." A great truth is here j
cj2 disclosed. Our lives arc absolutely at |
God's disposal.' If had been at least tenj j*
or twelve years sinee Elijah had asked a
lor that he might d.e, arid during all that time ' ,
'or ! had keen wielding a mighty influence '
i for God. But now his work was ended.,
! Although no mention of Etisha as Eli-,, t>.
| jah's companion is given in the history a
! between the day of Elisha's o;ill and the i w
It i time of the events in this chapter, yet !
from 1 Kings 19: 21 and 2 Kings 3: 1] ' j
' we conclude that Elisha had spent most
of his time with the aged prophet, min- w
ys istering to his necessities. "From Gil- - fl
0f gal." This was the Gilgal a few mires
northwest of Bethel, not the Gilgal near
| Jericho. A school of the prophets was | ^
en i located here aa well as at Bethel and Jen- | ^
fe- | cho. 2. "To Bethel." About nine mike j VJ
j scutheaat of Gilgal. 4. "To Jericho."
1 About thirteen miles southeast of Bethel. er
5. "Sons of the prophets." That is, the ^
young men. attending the theological seminaries.
first organized by Samuel for the
. preparation of religious teachers for the cj
people. These ancient colleges were un- jl{
3 der the superintendence of a recognizd ^
:ly prophet, who'was called ihe "lather."
while the students were styled his chil,
! dren or sons. They were places of retire- ra
j ment, adapted for study and devotion.' jj
oil 1 The students' were permitted to maiTy. jj
]y The subject of study at these institutions cj
J was the law of Moses. Attention was givI
en to music and sacred poetry. "Knowen
j est thou," etc. Not only was Elijah himof
I self conscious of some great event at hand, i:?
| but Elisha and the bands of prophets in ^
| Bethel and Jericho had an intimation that
I the departure of Elijah was very near, j
j "From thy head." That is, from being
a thy head; thy spiritual father, teacher, -x.
YO leader and director. The expression,
| which is literally "Taken from over thy re
'a* head." jnight ateo intimate the manner |e
be* of Elijah's removal. "Yea, I know." j_
en Elisha replies with solemnity and emphasi.s.
Literally, the Hebrew is, Of course ^
I know; hush. E'isha cannot bear the
questioning. Pie thinks of his own weak*
en luvs and of the great responsibilities
which will be upon him when left alone, j
His soul is burdened. A,
(5. "TaiTV here." Elijah had made the vj
is same request at Gilgal and Bethel,
w- Whether this was to try. the strength of
! mi- l. a a Er
| JMIbllti b iliici: 11UIJ, Ui liccd-upc UllUCL II1C "
I weight of these hours he preferred retire- |
j merit, or because he would utter words s
| which Elisha might not hear, or because iI
he thought God would have no one witj
ness his translation, we may not affirm. ,
' I "To Jordan." About five miles from Jeri- ,
' clio is a bend in the river Jordan where '
in- | thfc> ascension of Elijah is supposed to have
as j taken place. "As the Lord liveth," etc. .
I Tlris double oath, expressive of the most *".j
ir" j intense earnestness, is repeated three
A j times (Vs. 2, 4). The two clauses of it are
?ss i separately used with some frequency
i fJudfc\ 8: 19; Kuth 3: 13: 1 Sam. 1: 26>,
| but seldom united. "Will not leave." He ,,
refused with gentle, respectful persistence. .*
is { He will not be dissuaded from hi? pur!Sr
| pose to remain With Elijah to the end.
7. "Fifty men." We see how large were ,
. I the prophetical schools of Jericho. How
is j surprising to come upon so large a body j
of of men devoting themselves to a holy life .F
i. ! while Ahab's eiiifdren w.ere still on the
! throne. "Stood to view." If forbidden i?
I the gratification of personally accompany- P
| ing their master/ they would at least ,
ur watch liis movements as long as possible.
;f- j What they saw we are not told. 8. "His
i mantle." The shaggy garment which had
~ i been so long his prophetical badge. It Jr
" j was probably a sheepskin. The skins of '
th j beasts dressed with the hair on were worn jC
IC_ by prophets as an insignia of their office. ar
! "Wrannprl it." Titrhtlv round and round.
t | as the word means, in the form of a staff.
?S j "Smote the "waters." As if they were an S1?'
ito | enemy in his way. Elijah's mantle was to
av | him at Jordan what the rod of God was
to Moses at the Red Sea (Exod. 14: 16, ,
J 21); and many things in the lives of these
nd j two prophets who should meet Christ on
!gt { the mount were parallel. "Were divid..I
| ed." "On the one side rushing hastily on; ,
i on the other, towering up like a wall of
ny crystal."
re ! If. EHsh&'s request (vs. 9, 10). 9. "Ask."
. ! What is your last, request? Elijah thinks
not of himself, but of the needs of the one th
he was so soon to leave behind him. The
sir test "will show whether Elisha's aims are
re spiritual or material. How'would we an- 661
p. . swer such a question? "Before I be tak- ?a.
i en." What Elijah does for Elisha must be
ir" | done before his departure, for there will ^
be no communication between them afterj
wards. There is no warrant in the Scrip- y?
tures for the doctrine of the intercession y?
:>f the saints after they had left this world. ^
j~ L'hrist is our advocate before the throne:
fd | we need no other. "A double portion." Pe
o- j There is nothiug here of selfishness or t0,
n/i a7nbition.
10. "A lmrd thing." It was hard (1) be- W?
[ cause God and not Elijah must bestow W
iy j such, a gift, and (2) because it depended . he
i upon Efcsha's fitnesj to receive it. "If
ui i thou see me." Jf he was able to retain
. j to the end the same devoted perseverence,
in ! and keep his eye set and steadfast on the xt
! departing prophet, the gift would be his.
; 111. Elijahs translation (v. 11). II. ?'1
, I "Talked." We can understand how much j"}
l.n_ j Elijah would find of exhortation and entat
! couragement to bestow as parting counsels ^
is ! on his successor. What moments were J
. those! It was a walking and talking on j
. " j the verge of heaven! "Chariot of lire." ?0'
'?* ete. We cannot acrree with those coinill,
! mentators who think this was merely a
ug "display of flame and fire," "a ficrv phe- cx
_ I nonieuon," which appeared "as a chariot
^ , of fire," etc. These were creations of the ho
its I spiritual world. This heavenly scene was
ne ' no hallucination, hut the chariot and ^Yc
j horses of fire were a part of that- vast host, J'11
? j the sound.of whose movements Ds.vid ha.
Irs once heard over the mulberry trees (2 5*e
an !?ani. 5: 24), and who at a later time, filled he
he ! the mountains round about Elisha (2
j Kings 6: 17), "Parted them." etc.' The ",?
i fiery chariot separated the two prophets.
"A whirlwind. The text doe? not say 5
that Elijah went up in the chariot of fire, ^
but he "went up by a whirlwind." It has r1"
been usually and very naturally a^Mimed, ln
however, that the translated prophet ascendcd
in the chariot, aud that, the char;
iot was borne aloft on the wings oi the y1'
wind. Compare Psa. 104: 3. "Into heav- ('e
j en.'' The abode of Cod's saints. who rest '"s
G(? j from their earthly labors. Elijah's transI
lation is a proof of the existence- of anoth- "e'
lin | er world beyond us, and tli.it the soul er,
I lives after it leaves this life. Nearly mne ma
0|j cciituries later we sec Elijah on tin* Mount cai
.. ! ci Transfiguration. Death does not end
j .nil! it is the beginning of a new existence
which will never end.
ice j)og Tramps 1UOO Mile*. nif
bit A Newfoundland dog, which was tshrn
[YQ to Portland, Ore., twelve months ago. ha* q.?
1 I'eturned to Omaha, Neb., having tramped jjV
uu 1H00 miles in search of familiar s -nes xv"i.
itJb j ond faces. Tlic animal belonged to .Terry
on 1 ??i!Iivan, formerly sexton of lloly S-puJ. j.rf
Qf j c!ir? Cemetery at Omaha. When Sul-iy.-.n tjjc
and his family moved to. Oregon ih> ovjr.
l3'? j which was ten months old. waf to-keii
f along. He remained six months, but t-:- olfused
to eat. lost all his playfulness >>d jjV
seemed to suffer from homesickness. ViC
in- ! day lu? disappeared. Nothing more wa< j.|1;
of. | heard of him until a short time ago he ap- n|^
or | pcared in Omaha gaunt and sluggy, with 0jjj
! cockle burrs matted in his tail, his feet (.fll
'}S< ! badly blistered. The animal went straight
a | to the house where his miistcr had lived.
|e ! Finding strangers, lie whined dismally,
' and soon limped sau.y away, lie is beuit; ,
or I cared for by a neielibor. , .
Iso! ? d"
I'C- Hnrvcstlnc Ice in 31 Id-Jane.
nd The eld Corbin drift at Shamokin. Ta., nai
ire long since abandoned, filled with water, ])u
and the severe winter froze the water into ]an
as a solid mass a considerable distance from jni
he the surface to the interior. People have the
[ie l>een cutting the splendid ice and stocking |..(]
.. it away during the summer. tin1
th i ~ tht
') A irus;e I-olmter.
A huge lobster measuring thirty-four hi.
j jncites in length and weighing twelve and 'he
ud ; ii half pounds, was recently takcu lrchi a Jv"
' aeu at liastpcrt. Me. f"v
ter
HE GREAT DESTROYER
DME STARTLING FACTS ABOUT
THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE.
oother In tlio Scries of New York
American Editorials on Temperance?
A True Story of the Bottle That Stucn
to Its Victim.
This is a true story, readers.
The writer lirst knew the man in Lon'
>n. He was successful, owned a bank,
id a fine house in the city and another
the counti*y, had horses and carriages
id a promising family. He belonged to
fme of those clubs in which membership
eans cheap and desired'distinction.
He had ambition. His friends predicted
iat his success and affluence would grow
id his ambitions be realized as the years
cut by.
Amcmg his other possessions, this man
id one to which he attached, then, but
icht importance. That was a bottle
hicn was passed to him quite often by a
neiuu miner, wno always orougnt witn
a smaller bottle containing soda water.
The curious part of the story is that
lis man gradually lost all of the important
lings, all of those which he originally
ilued very highly, and that he never lost
lat one small, unimportant bic of propty?the
plain, black bottle of which, in
le beginning, he thought so little.
The man was seen again the other day
>^yard dusk on tlie sidewalk of a Western
ty. It was difficult to recognize liim, and
: was evidently surprised that any one
lould recognize him, and take the trouble
> check him in his shuffiing^march.
His clothes were dirty "and actually
gged. The brim of his hat was torn,
is face was bloated, his;look uncertain,
is diffident, timid smile, with all the
d self-reliance gone, was very pathetic. .
The man told his story, and as he told
in a restaurant, after being .asked to eat
d drink, he whispered to the waiter: "A
;tle whisky, please." And the waiter
ought him that same da::k bottle that
id been brought to him so often in the
tys of his prosperity.
The story that he told was his story, but
was not the story.
The real story was very simple; you who
ad this can guess quite easily its main
atures. It is a story that you can read
the faces of men in every barroom,
ison and poorhouse, in the faces of men
iat commit suicide, of those that commit
urder, of others that shuffie along as this
an shuffled?poor,, heart-broken lailureg.
The man had- gradually lost his mental
lenness and capacity for" business. Oths
got his banking business away from
m.
But the bottle stayed with him. He
adually came to rely more and more
>on'it,-and to value its companionship
his forcc of character diminished.
His friends left him, and he had to leave
s clubs.
But the bottle still stuck to him. The
les that it claimed he paid faithfully. It
is there at his elbow when his other
iends had disaDDeared.
He lost his house in the city an<! his
niae in the country, hut that bottle,
hich represented now his chief posses)n.
was still with him.
His wife and his children had to go to
oae who could talcs care of them. But
ey did not take the bottle away with
em. The wife had tried only too of tentake
away that bottle, but she had to
xve it. She could take away the children
the law allowed her to ao that. The
eriff could take away his horses and his
rriages?the law allowed that. The govning
committees could pnt him out of
e clubs, and friends could take away hia
putation and remaining chances of cmoyment
with a shake of the head.
But no power on earth and no law could
ke away the bottle, that stuck to him,
id he stuck to it.
The man who had traveled with his boti
from success and fortune to ragged
)thes and pathetic despair, ate his ainr
and drank his whisky, and, with the
unkard's pitiful self-deception, said*
"I don't look like much, do I? I am
raid I have been drinking pretty hard
ice luck went against me. It is not many
my old friends that speak to me when
ey see me now."
Even then the poor man could not see
at it was whisky that had turned fortune
ainst him?not ill luck that had turned
m to whisky.
Whisky conquers men by deceiving them,
encouraging them to think that their
unkenness is some one else's fault.
Years "before this man had deceived hinvIf
when told by anxious wife and friends
at he must give up that bottle, or give
i everything else. And now that all but
e bottle had gone, he still deceived him
If into the belief that the dottle, wmcn
used his misery, had come realjy as a
end at the end, as a solace in his misfor*
nes.
How great a benefit it would be if every
ung man in this country could have seen
ars ago, and one week ago, the whisky
2tim that is told about here.
Tt is hard for us to learn through the exrience
of others, but no man could fail
be impressed by this example.
The man once had everything that he
inted, and one thing that he did not
int. or need?the whisky bottle.
Had he given up that; one unnecessary
ing. he might have kept all the others,
d the remaining years of his life might
ve been happy and useful.
But with the power of self-deception
lich that very bottle supplied to him. he
mg to it to the end of his good fortune,
d he will cling to it to thei end of his ;
e, unless a miracle of self-control should
ire him.
[n mere selfishness and the desire for
>alth, success and ease, there are to be
ind powerful temperance arguments.
>ung men must make up their minds, in
is day of competition and of organized,
acting struggle, that a man who would
to the top must not try to carry that
ttle with him.
But for the real man, the young man
irthy the opportunities of modern life.,
e argument against whisky should he
sed, not on selfishness, but on a noble
sire to be a useful and worthy human
inc.
Whisky takes away your money, your
uses, your friends, your prospcots of getig
those things.
But it does worse than that. It takes
ay your manhood and your courage; it
Ices away your right to look other men
the eye, and your power to use the
ength that nature has given to you.
Whisky destroys the will and supplies
a lying arguments with which its victims
ceive themselves. It arouses the lowest
jtincls of vice and of dissipation, and
okes the possibility of progress toward
tter things.
[f whisky controls you. you cannot be a
in. Leave it alone.?New York Ameria.
JKceps Pletlgc to His Mother.
'T;ike away the whisky. I promised
ither I'd never drink, and I won't break
r word." These were the last words
)ken by eighteen-year-old Thomas Gold-"'1
?'?"> uHpr<>H when a class of
lijsky was placed to his lips alter he had
. n run down and mortJly hurt by a
illey car. Less than an hour later he
<1 in St. Michael's Hospital, Newark.
Idbv, who lived t\i his parents in
amy; N. J., stepped off a car in front
his home and instantly was crushed
another and dragged 100 i'eet. His
ither saw him rescue*', but was ignorant
it he was her son. A richly attired wo11
passenger knelt and p*it 3r ivutdkeref
to the big wound in lis head as the
raced with him to the hospital, where
mused ihe liquor.
Moderate Drinking Hurtful.
n Switzerland an advocate ot' moderate
nking experimented for eighteen ? ?>n
his chi!?lren, whose ages r.iri..^ i
i to fifteen, several months'
ling with several months of ah-.' .
ring the wine periods the chi.'dn:: mtu
guid and less inclined to perform mentas-ks,
their nights more restless, and
ir sleep less refreshing. Two of tbw
i> begged that they be excused from fitrt
wine drinking, being impressed by
:ir lack of condition.
Vt the great banquet given at Berlin to
1 famous De Wet, general of the Boers,
ile champagne was freely iised, the
ive Boer general drank nothing but watlirough
the whole banauet.
z
"
; '
JL11*>\? Wearhj, ''' ^
We are -weaving tie thread of our lift
TTebs, fl
A J -x ,Day 1)7 dliy'> .
Ana its colors are some limes somber,
pomcnmes-gty,'
For we d7e -with every1 passing thought;1
And with -words and deeds is'the patten
Brought.
ft'
The pattern will gro1 into likeness
Of our t.eed.
If the thought be loving and tender,
Fair the deed.
It glows with a beauty rich and rare, '
Ana its fadeless colors are passing fair..
But, alas! it is interwoven
4 Oft with sin. ,
And the somber thread of an evil though
Is woven in. , >.'
The pattern is manned as the shuttles fly*
And the colors fade as the days go. by.
!
We are weaving our webs for eternity.
Day by day.
If we make the pattern beautiful? v
As we may?
The Master-weaver will, one by one,
Test the'glowing colors and say, "TVdB
\ done!"
I
Our weaving days will be over i
By and by. u
And the busy shuttles motionless gj
^\na silent oe.
God grant that each weaver may do loot
Tbest.
That hid finished fabric may stand tb<
test!
?Pittsburg Christian Advocate.
s Sunshine in the Coul.
A little church in Connecticut was hold
ing special services, having an evangelist
and a singer of some note as assistant U
the pastor.
"I want you to make a visit with/ nx
this afternoon," said the minister to h?
helpers.
"Yob want us both?" asked the singer
"Yes, both, and you especially. Then
is a young woman<who has been ill for i
long time, and who-has' been interests*
in these meetings. *1 wish you to me?
her. Every day she inquires about tb
work, and it will do her good for many j
weary month to come'if you will eo wit!
me and say a word of comfort and einj
a hymn for her."
The three men went together, and to
?;ether they entered theisick chamber, i
ittle room not over twelve feet squafe
in which the young woman had been ly
ing helpless for sixteen years. Stricke
down in the midst of a happy girlhood
she had spent the remaining years
youth upon a bed of suffering, from whia
she never rose. So had passed the dawi
and the morning of her young woman
hood, fche had entered early middle HI
with the prospect of long years to liv<
yet with no hope of improvement. Sh
was never free from pain, and ftS her ?ui
ferings increased her bodily powers wer
failing one by one. Thare Remained on!
the capacity to know ana to suffer. Abov
the bed was a mechanical contrivance b
which she was .daily lifted while the be
was changed. It was a painful undertai
ing and not needlessly prolonged, .an
when it had been completed there w
mained nothing more for the day but t
wait and bear the constant pain.
The hearts of the visitors ?ank as tfye
entered the room and learned the stor
of the woman they had come to viml
What word of cheer could they say to bei
what song of hope could they sing?
But the voice in which she spoke t
them was not the querulous voice of a
invalid. The tone was one' of habitaa
patience, thrilling now with the jov,'o
this unexpected visit. It was not har<
to speak words of cheer to her. Indeed
it was hardly possible to speak otherwiu
in response to her own strong, confides
expressions of faith and trust.
"What shall we sing to you?" inquire*
the sineer, after a time.
A. ten inch pipe oonnccts the Lank wi^^B
tprinkler pipes. A steel coil encircles
superstructure, and jets of sieam can
forced into tLe tank from the boilerhou^H
in the winter to prevent freezing. It
164 feet above the ground level, and hasHn
148-foot, elevation i'uself. fWB
Searchlights in the Yeliovrfltone.
Powerful searchlights are to be u.sed'^E
show off by night the geyser* in the
lowstone Park- - .
"Sing 'There Is Sunshine in My SouJ/'
she said.
The singer could hardly bring hhnsel
to sing it, so fltrong was his own emotion
But he found his voice at last, and sasg:;
"There's sunshine in my soul to-day, '
More glorious and bright
Than glows in any earthly sky,
For Jesus is my light.
"Oh. there's sunshine, blessed sunshine,
When peaceful happy moments roll;
When Jesus shows His smiling face,
There is sunshine in the soul." ,*
Eoth the words ani melody mark thi
as a song for those to whom pain it ue
known, and who rejoice in exuberan
strength. Yet this song it was which es
pressed the.faith of the hopeless sufferei
and for many days thereafter she stiftl
hummed it as she lay in her loneliness an
pain. . Was.
>he not right? The true sunshin
of lite is not that of the world, whic
brightens and grows dim, but that ot th
Spirit of God within, which is constantl
bright, and shineth more and more unt
the perfect day.?Youth's Companion.
God Wants Contrition.
The great thing is contrition, deep, go<
ly sorrow and humiliation of heart b<
cause of sin. If there is not true contr
tion, a man will turn right back into th
old sin. That is the trouble with man
Christians.
A man may get angry, and if there
not much contrition, the next day he v,i
get angry again, A daughter may aa
mean, cutting things to her mother, an
then her conscience troubles her, aud fei
says: '
r?i r.l _ t? e
"Jiotuer, l m norry; iurgive jhc. km
But soon there is another outburst
temper, because the contrition is not dec^H
and real. A husband speaks sharp ivort^H
t^? his wife, and then to ease his conscien^H
he goes and buys her a bouquet of floi^H
ers. He will not go like a man and
he lias done wrong. m
What (xod wants is contrition, and
there is not contrition, there is not fu^B
repentance. "The Lord is nigh to
broken of heart, 'and savetli such as
contrite of spirit." "A broken and a co^H
trite heart, 0 God, Thou wilt not d^H
spise." Many sinners arc sorry for the^K
sins, sorry that they cannot continue
sin; but they repent only with hearts th^H
are not broken. I don't think we knoHH
how to repent nowadays. We need son^E
John the mptist, wandering through
land, crying: "Repent! repent!'-?D. J^H
Moody.
Come Unto >I>. grab
"Cast thy burden upon the Lord. ai^H
He will sustain Lhee' ?burden and
"Thee" is the greatest burdeu that th<^H
hast! All other burdens are but sligh^H
but this is a -crushing burden. But wli^H
we come to the Lord with our burde^H
He? just lifts up His child, burden and n?
and bears him all the way home.?Chai I^H
Grow in Holiness. flH
This ought to be our endeavor?to >'oBH
que:- ourselves, and daily to wax strou^H
er. and to make a. further growth in bo^H
Iikas?Thomas u Kprr.ni* fi3H
A LaK'e in Mnt-Air. gjgM
There has been recently erected at
waukee, Wis., what is #uu! to be tiie l.n^H
est elevated >teel water lank ever built f^nl
& private concern. The t:mk is twentv-tv^BS
feet in diameter and iwcnty-eight ie^H|
hieph nn/? will lml/1 10 i Oil!I crillniis nf