Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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: ' . SosvV ?X. * l' F*IT"^T TV ff A IB LI 1 ILL IVm c j A CHILD'OF | :::::: BY B. L. CHAPTER VIII. Continued. So Saranne was to marry a prince, Hhough now she trod the cutters, and lived in a very grim world of privation and suffering. It is not entirely ingenuous to say that all Little Eake-Believe's dreams and fancies were for Saranne. There was one? but was it a dream or a fancy? It is hard to say; scarcely can it oe caiiea a nope?ioat was one vision, call it by what name you -will, which Little Make-Believe treasured in her heart of hearts, on which she dwelt and mused, and built up airy castles such as we weave out of a floating cloud in a fair sky. It became with her a .worship, hidden !n a holy sanctuary, never spoken of to a soul, not even to Saranne. scarcely intelligible as to its ending even to herself. But unsubstantial, unreal as it was, It grew into an abiding happiness, and sweetened many a bitter hour. And then again, as to this prince whom Saranne was to marry. It was at first?for it was a favorite theme for years?a perfectly ideal fancy. The prince was to appear in a cloud, to be met with in the market, to knock at the. door and announce himself with a mrlinnt smile. He was for a time nothing more than -a delightful myth, but it was not long before he found a place in Saranne's heart, and never was mention made of him by Little Make-Believe that Saranne could not had she pleased, have' given him a name. But she did not please. As Little Make-Believe had one secret which she kept to herself, likewise bad Saranne; and neither of the sisters was conscious that something was hidden from her by the other. Time had not improved Polly. The vice of drink had eaten into her soul so deeply that there was no escape for her. The demon held her tight, and the too-willing slave gave herself up to the horrible thralldom. In a man it is shocking to contemplate; to behold it in a woman?as it Is -to be seen daily in the London streets?both saddens and shames us. Foxey, now a strong man, strong in tis limbs and in his passions, pursued the uneven tenor of his way. So pronounced was his vagabond na ture that, with a certain class of reformer. he became somewhat of a favorite?being in a measure a boon to .them. They preached to him and at him, and endeavored, by a distinctly wrong process, to inculcate in him some consciousness of right and wrong and of human responsibility, they even (he being willing as long as he was paid for it) made a show of him; but they Aid not discover a way of utilizing for the public's good and his own this perplexing lump of human material. Nevertheless, he had his uses, if only to serve as a peg upon which moral tsioms could be hnng. Once every year, in the days of his freedom, did he leave Clare Market of his own will, and that was in the hopping season, -when he took his rough holiday of fresh .air and brighter scenes. An experience of a better kind than the "words of cut-and-dried moralists happily befell him and left its permanent mark upon him. In -what kind of a deed he had been engaged, history, as recorded in the newspaper columns, is silent; whatever Its nature may have been, be sure it was not heroic. All that is known, and that only to the few concerned, is that late.at night Little Make-Believe found him lying wounded and bleeding in . a courtyard, (which was very little frequented after dark. Hearing a groan, she stopped and ?aw the body of a man, who. as she knelt by him, recovered consciousness. vHe seized her hand -with a grasp so powerful that she could not .release herself. "Who are you, and what do you #vant?" "I am Little Make-Believe, and I heard some one groan. Are yer hurt much?" "I'd frighten yer out of yer life, 1 suppose," said Foxey. still holding her hand, "if I was to tell yer that I'm hurt, that it's all up with me unless I get somebody to stand by me." "Oh, let me go!" cried Little MakeBelieve, full of eompassiou, "and I'll get help." "No," he said, "nobody must know, nobody must ?ee me till I'm better. I'm jest out of quod, and I don't want to get in again without a spell o' liberty. 1 know where yer live; there's a yard in the back and a shed in it. Would yer mind my hidiug there for ~ ,1 n uay vi -yv : "It don't matter to m?." said Little Make-Believe; "but make liaste, or yer'll bleed to death." He was bleeding from a great gash in his neck. ''Haven't yer got nolhink to bind it up with. Make-Believe?" She tore off a piece from her frock, and herself bound up the wouijd. "Now will yer help me to the shed?" "Yes." "And yer wont peacli?'* "What do yer take me for?" "All rigbt. _ Let me lean on yer shoulder: I wou't hurt yor more nor I can help.'* Unobserved, tbey mode their way to the shed, and there Foxey remained in biding for nearly a fortnight. Little Mnke-Believe never asked him bow he came by his wound, nor did she breathe a word to a soul that he was in biding. , During the time he lay concealed she supplied him with as much food as she spare-be having ho money to j vr on iri/r H I\L-ULL1LVL g ,R 111 THE SLUMS, | farjeon. :::::: ii purchase It; It was often nothing more than dry bread, but .he was grateful for i?, 5tid gazed upon her with a kind of wonder when she came to his hiding place in the dead of night to see what she could do for him. When he was able to get away, he said to her: "A friend for life, Make-Believe? mind that? Yer friend for life, that's what I am. Unless I'd seen it with my own eyes. I'd never have believed it was in a gal to do it. I'm blamed if it ain't almost Dast believinff: but I'm living here to tell it and It ain't to be disputed." Rough as he.was, there was an underlying touch of tenderness in his manner that put an inspiration into Little Make-Believe's head. "Foxey," she said, "would yer like to pay me for what I've done for yer?" "Would I like to pay yer! Wouldn't I like to pay yer! I'd give two of my fingers to do it. But where^ the money to come from?" "It ain't money?don't think that. It's a promise I want yer to give me." "I'll give yer a hundred blooming promises!" "I only want one." "It's yourn afore it's asked." "I want yer to get an honest living." Foxey gave a long whistle, looked at her in silence for full a minute, and then turned away. He was not sure how far he was bound by his promise, and felt like a fox who was caught in a trap of his nirn coffinr* CHAPTER IX. Little Make-Believe and Saranne Receive an Invitation. . It was summer, and Mr. Deepdale and Walter were in the country. This change of residence had been brought about in the following manner. For some time past Walter had been anxious about his father, wbose health seemed to be failing, and as this was a matter which touched his heart very closely, he consulted a doctor, who was at once physician and friend. "Let us have the symptoms," said the doctor, after Walter had explained the cause of his visit. "My father," said Walter, "is often dejected." "So are most men at times. I am often dejected." "But my father was never so until lately." "Nonsense, nonsense. You mean you never noticed it until lately?the reason being, Walter, that he showed you ever his sunny side. "He does that now, sir, and brightens up immediately at sight of me, unsuspicious that I have been closely observing him." "Good lad. His appetite?" "Falling off." "What other symptoms?" "We sleep in adjoining rooms. On two occasions within the last month I have woke up in the night with an uneasy impression on my mind. On each occasion I have gone into my father's room and have found him awake. He was always a sound sleeper." "On those occasions did he address you cheerfully?" "Yes; even with more than usual tenderness." . * There is no cause for uneasiness, Walter. In the course of a week I -will call and see him. not as a doctor, but as a friend; then I will take notes." The result of these notes was that the physician advised Walter to take bis father into the country. "There are ailments," he said, "which are beyond the physician's art to discover without the aid of those who suffer from them. I can satisfy you on one point; your father is not afflicted with any organic disease, but there appears to be something on his mind. Even there I may be wrong; it is quite as likely that all he needs is change of air and scene. Perhaps it will be as well to let him think that it is you who need the change." This innocent deceit was practised, and at the beginning of summer Walter and his father were- the occupants of a small cottage, situated about a mile from Rochester, owned by a motherly woman, who attended to their wants. It was one of the prettiest cottages imaginable; its walls were Covered with rosf?s. and it lav in the midst of a very garden of flowers. Surrounded by lorely scenery and within an Lour and a half's railway ride to London, it would have been difficult to have found a more convenient and beautiful residence. Contented and happy, however, as Mr. Deepdale appeared to be when he and his son were together, the change did not remove from him the dejection which Walter had observed in him, and at length the young man mustered sufficient courage to approach the subject in -conversation. Between ihese sensitive and sympathetic souls courage really was required to approach a theme, the opening of which might suggest that on one side or the other there was some considerate concealment of suffering. "Arp vou auite well, dad?" "Quite well, Wally." And Mr. Deepilale raised Lis eyes to hi* son's face, for there was a tremulous ring in the young man's voic& "And happy?'' "Quite happy." And now the tremulousness of Walter's tones found a response in his own. "Why, what should make n)* otherwise?" "Nothing in my knowledge, dad." Now. ordinarily, according to the fashion in whiclx these two generally carried on a conversation, the answer to this, from Mr. Deepdale. would have been, "Nor in mine. Wally." But on the present occasion these words were not spoken. "I'll tell you why I ask, dad." v -Do. Wally." r "First," said Walter, in a cheerful tone, to convey to his father the assurance that there was no grievance In his mind of which he intended to complain, "because since you have been here you have written a great number of letters to London." "Jtsusiness jeuers, v> uu.v. iuat io your first; now for your second." "Dad. you don't sleep as well as you used to." "Ah. you have fouud that out.'* "Yes, dad.n "And it is causing you uneasiness."" "Naturally, dad. Would you not be uneasy if you had reason, or supposed you had reason, to suspect that I was unwell?" "My boy, you are all the world to me. So you have been watching me, you rascal, while I was not looking. But Wally, you must remember that I am not growing younger, and that old age, as it creeps on. brings with it a sack full of infirmities. Oh. it will come to you. as it has come to me. 1 and it must be accepted. I don't think that either of us is overburdened with philosophy, but it will be a good plan in your course through life never to trouble trouble till trouble troubles you. Walter smiled at this, and saying there was a deal of sense in it, did not pursue the subject. Deeper cause for uneasiness would have been afforded him could he have seen his father that night, who after sitting by his bedside till he fell asleep, stole to his own chamber and pored with distressed face over the letters he had received from London. "I will go to town in the morning." he said, inly, ""and see if nothing can be done." When the morning came he informed Walter of his intention, and anticipated his son's request to accompany him by 6aying that he wished to go alone. "It is on legal business." he said, "in connection with my property that I have to attend to, and I am afraid you would be in the way." Then it occurred to Walter that his father was about to make a will, and though the very thought of a will was ~ saddening, because it was suggestive of death, he reluctantly consented to the arrangement. Mr. Deepdale was absent two days, and returned in a more cheerful mood. "Ah, that is good, dad," said waiter. "you look better." "I feel better, Wally, and that's better than looking It." He had much to tell. He had seen Little Make-Believe, and Saranne, and he talked a great deal about the sisters, one of whom at least was battling bravely with the world. "The sight of that brave child," he said, "no longer a child though?she and Saranne are quite young women now?the sight of Little Make-Believe, coupled with the knowledge that we have of her, toiling in her humble way < without a murmer, should teach us a lesson. There is something heroic in the struggle. She makes no headway; I doubt if they are any better off today than they were on the night we first made their acquaintance. Do you' remember, Wally? The gTotto, the I -x Tml. >'.1.. wn o +ollir><T I 3I0ry aiimc-jucucur nuo i ihe three-penny-piece, and the eel-pie supper ?" They recalled these incidents as they strolled through a long narrow lane which led to the woods. The full glory of summer was upon them; the corn was ripening, the hedges were gay with wild flowers. "I am not at all sure," said Mr. Deepdale. "that Make-Believe has not within herself a consolation which is almost a recompense, so far as she herself is concerned, for the hardships she has suffered since her infancy. The power to be able to conjure up at will pictures of our circumstances as we would wish them to be, and to believe in them as they live in our minds?what is that worth, Wally. to one who does not often see the sun?" "There is the awakening, dad." "True, Wally, true," said Mr. Deepdale, with a sigh, "there is the awakening." A day or two afterward, when they were speaking again of the sisters, Mr. Deepdale said, suddenly: "I've been thinking, Wally " "Yes, dad, you've been thinking " "What do you suppose?" (To be Continued.) A Budding Diplomat. She was exceedingly pretty, with < soft blue eyes, a scarlet mouth and little wisps of gold blowing around her brow, for all the world like tendrils. But as she looked up from her desk and saw the troublesome boy whisper- '; ing behind his book, her eyes dilated and two perpendicular lines between i her eyebrows were plainly visible. "Tommy! Tommy Taite!" she called sharply, with a tone of command in her silvery voice. "You are whispering again." But Tommy was not only troublesome; he was clever as well. "Please, ma'am," he said, putting down his book and looking at the young teacher sweetly, "I was just tcllin' Billy Brown what nice things all the gentlemen say about you when 1 you walk along the street."?New York Tress. Tho Baboon's Nino Lives. When baboons once take to a mealis field they will not leave it until they have eaten every cob. When they depart every evening for their 110:1:0 1 they have filled their stomachs, their cheek pouches and their arms! You cannot poison those pests, for fifteen grains of pure strychnine in a banana lias failed to kill one. Or.ly sbootiug with a rifle will do, and no human army was ever cleverer in setting sentries. Even at night-time a large- force of hunters has often been defied in its attempts to surround the rook stronghold of Cynacephalus porearius. E\>n dogs sent against the baboons fall before creatures which have hands with which to seize their enemies before biting them. Let: the stay-at-bome farmer congratulate himself on possessing merely rooks, pigeons, rats and | sparrows.?Country Gentleman. To Keep Farg. Furs are preserved during the tfrae they are not being worn bj being stowed in deep ?traw hampers, with sheets steeped in .turpentine laid be< tween the folds. .'T;' fTS?- >;$'' '"fr- '' WWWWVWW^mj I HOUSEHOLD * ? * ? | * * * * MATTERS S SVAWAV.WAWA'AVWJ To Clean Plate Glass. For clearing and cleaning piate g;ass rouge is most generally used by glass manufacturers. White oxide of zinc is also good, and when the glass is set in frames, is preferable to rouge for the reason that the latter, if it should eome in contact with woodwork, is very difficult to remove. Either may be bad at most any drug store, and is applied on a damp cloth rubbed on the glass and let dry, then polished off with a very soft, dry cloth or soft chamois skin. To Fill In Crack*. For filling cracks in your floor, put to soak in water several newspapers, torn or cut into fine pieces; mix one pound of flour and one quart of water together, beating until perfectly smooth and free from lumps; then stir in a tablespoonful of alum and two quarts of boiling water, set on the stove and let the paste cook well, stirring so it will not burn. Squeze out the paper and add it to the paste, mixing thoroughly. Let boil, if not thick enough, until it is of the consistency of putty, and press it into the cracks with a knife blade, smoothing it over. It will soon harden and make the floor smooth. Dt?p Koomi. To ascertain whether or not a room is damp aoout a coupie 01 pounas 01 fresh lime should be placed therein after hermetically closing doors and windows. In twenty-four hours It should be weighed, and if the lime has absorbed more than about one per cent, of water the room should be considered damp, and classed as unhealthy. The question of the dampness of dwellings is a frequent cause of dispute between landlord and tenant, and is naturally solved in the negative by the former. The question can be settled in the future by the test of the hydration of lime, which will give irrefutable proof of the validity of such complaint Forslturo Polish. To polish the piano and remove the bluish color caused by the action of the damp air, apply a Crop or two of sweet oil and rub the surface thoroughly with a bit of clcan, soft chamois skin. A good furnitv.re polish is made of one scant ounce of linseed oil, a full ounce of turpentine and three-fourths ounce of vinegar. Shake until thoroughly mixed. Rub a little on the furniture and allow it to stand for several minutes, then polish well with a soft, dry cloth. In using any polish, there must be thorough, liard rubbing, in order to bring out the polish. All greasy feeling should be rubbed into the wood, else the oil will only be a dust gatherer, and the last state will be worse than the ?The Commoner. A Homemade Antique. A woman whose desire for beautiful things quite outstrips her pocketbook created from an old square piano case a magnificent library table. The works of the instrument Lad become absolutely worthless, so they were taken out. When the piano was clcsed it was a tight box of rosewood. Th? front piv>ce was taken off, and a pine drawer was fitted in with the front piece for the front of the drawer.. Two cldfashioned glass knobs were screwed Into the drawers for handles. The legs were beautifully carved, but were of course too long, so they were sawed off to make the top come to a convenient height for a table. The whole thing was polished highly, and the'result was a table that could not be bought for $100. A Ferfect Ted. A nerfeet bed is deliciouslv soft with out being too impressible. The quality of rebound is indispensable?it is the lack of it -which makes the feather bed and its prototype among womankind after a while pre-eminently tiresome. A8 to clothes for it, Brummel's famous aphorism anent dining out, "The finest linen, plenty of it and country washing," applies excellently. An exception may be noted?the linen need not be overfiue provided it is -generously applied, o"f a fair whiteness and smelling of rose leaves and lavender or newmown hay. The coare6t textures so conditioned make even beds of straw or husks more inviting than those stuff monuments of great estate, flock beds, flown beds or hair mattresses, even though they be sheeted with satin and lace. By the way, it was a flock bed, "my second best," that Shakespeare filled Anne Hathaway, his wife, not, as some have said, in misprision of her, but because the best bed, like freeholds and leaseholds, was subject to entail and went iQvariably to the Leir.?Good Housekeeping. pit recipes:^ [ Feather Drops?Beat three eggs with one cup of sugar, and when stiff and frothy stir into the mixture one heaping cup of sifted flour, in which has been mixed two teaspoonfuls of baking powder. Drop in spoonfuls on a buttered .tin, and bake in a quick oven. Any desired flavor may he added. Cream Finnan Haddie?Pour two eggs well beaten i^o a cup of milk and stir thoroughly. .Have a cupful of picked finnan haddic browned in butter in a raucepan and turn the milk and egg mixture in. . Thicken with a little flour and milk, season, and serve H nrv^tnoc fnv hvootfact "White Mountain Cake?One cup sugar beaten with whites four eggs, half cup sweet milk, two and a half cups sifted flcur, three teaspoons level fuil bakin~ pcwder, one teaspoon nonalcoholic flavoring powder. Beat to a foam, then add half a cup melted butter and beat again. Bake in moderate oven. Chilled Bananas?Select firm, large .%np onllf a nor* rm ctHo oml vn LJU1JCI LIU O , npuw V?S<~?A WIMV t*MV* * V. move the pulp carefully; beat tbo pulp to a ereatn with chopped maraschino cherries (eight or ten will be enough); add four tablespoonfuls of sugar, a teaspoonful of lemon juice, and mix well together, taking care net to make, the mixture too liquid. >111 the bennna skius and idaee en icv. ( THE GREAT DESTROYEK SOME STARTLINC FACTS ABOUT i THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE." The r?? or Intoxicating Bcimsei Is a Peril of Stupendous Proportions Even "When Taken In So-called "Moderate" Doses?Health Speedily Undermined. We are sometimes told that it is only drinking to excess that can do any damage to the human constitution, and {bat moderate drinking?that is, the I drinking of a physiological quantity of alcohol?can do no harm at all. It Is a, somewhat curious fact that, although this physiological limit is exceedingly low, there still remains great diversity of opinion amongst medical observers as to the exact quantity that may be taken with impunity, or may be utilized by the body. Some authorities give one and one-half ounces per diem of absolute alcohol freely diluted as the maximum amount which may be safely taken; others place the physiological limit at one ounce, whilst others again place it at half this quantity. One thing we irny ; notice, and that is that the dose is j gradually diminishing in quantity; and , ..,1 *1,? ? xici c Lur u\n. a uiuci vrc oiv ?.ti tainly justified in taking the smallest quantity as the one beyond which it is unsafe for people to go. whilst we are: assured that even this n^odicum in specially susceptible individuals may be'avoided with advantage. May we not. as individuals endowed with a certain amount of common sense, ask ourselves. Is the game worth the candle? Whenever alcohol is used it appeats to compel us to use up some reserve or other, to draw on our margin of health, and on the store of energy laid up in the various organs of the body. We may be able to meet the drafts so made for a long time, and ill healthly individuals and under ordinary circumstances the balance of th< bank of health and strength is not completely depleted; but in disease and under extra exertion there may come a time, and this frequently happens, when, if the balance has been drawn on at all freely, it is insufficient to meet the extra demands, and the patient succumbs because his reserve already 1 too low, is not equal to such demands made upon it.?Dr. German Sims Woodhead. Harm of Moderate Drlnlnnj; Dr. Newsholine. of Brighton. England. discussed the effects of the use of alrohol on the nrosneritr of insurance sickness societies among artisan clubs.' He found Jwo of the most important factors of the sickness an<l mortality of these clubs were tuberculosis and a)?oholism. Twelve per cent, of the funds of these societies was expended upon cases of tuberculosis. The sickness that came from alcoholism was ascribed to so many causes that no deductions could be made. It was found in the mortality lists that over thirty per cent.'was directly attributed to the use of alcohol. He argued that moderate drinking in almost any degree di-. minished longevity and increased sickuess rates. Liquor Dealer Paid xirSw A licensed liquor dealer was speaking of his custom of trusting mechanics and laboring men, allowing them to settle on their weekly pay day. "Don't you lose a great deal?" asked the gentleman with whom he was speaking. "Very rarely," was the reply. "If they don't have money enough to pay all their bills, they always pay me, for ! my place is near where they work, and i they come in here first, after they get j their pay." How do grocers and storekeepers in general like the idea of having the liquor dealer take the cream of the la ooring raan s "wages? Hendrray in Germany. The National Tribune is authority for the following: "The temperance cause is making great headway in Germany, so much so that the con-' sumption of beer has recently fallen below that of the United States. This is attributed not only to the temper-ance agitation but to the better condition of the workingmen. which gives them more substantial food, and renders beer less attractive. The manufactories are working in the cause of temperance ? reformers for business reasons?having found that a man who drinks beer is less valuable than one who does not," How Drankarus Are Treated In Feriia. Persian drunkards are blacklisted, ?tnd to be blacklisted means that the person so enrolled cannot visit the bazaars,to buy things except at cer| tain hours, and then only under police supervision. He cannot visit any place of public amusement, and even when at prayers in the mosque he must hold himself aloof from his most respectable neighbors. If, after being blacklisted, he drinks again and is found under the influence, h-e gets eighty lashes on the soles of his feet.?Presbyterian. Trumpet riowcrs ami s?iou3>. In the city of Honolulu there formerj Ij grew a beautiful flower called the I white trumpet flower. One day a child I ate the blossom and died. Immediately j the people began to pluck up the plant | all over the city. The next morning ! the roads were full of the outcast | flower. Human life is too precious to j be exposed to such peril. Is not a I man's character of too much value to | be exposed to the perils of the grog [ shop, even though the town may get a license fee of $1200, or even $500, i'rom it??Northwest Mail. Temperance >"otcs. The increase of insanity in England startles students of social phenomena. There has been an average annual increase of 2513 insane persons during the past ten years, and since 1859 the number of lunatics has trebled. "Alcoholic inteoneranco" is the chief cause. A new precedent Las been established in Indian Territory by the stopping of an eastbound passenger train by Deputy United States Marshals, who seized several gallons of whisky consigned to parties at Melvin, I. T. Robert Hunter estimates that there are in thLe country 10,000,000 of the miserably poor ? paupers, or on the ! .verge of pauperism. If the saloons | were abolished, the figures would be cut down four-fifths. i Three "middies'' at Annapolis were recently given 100 demerits each and ordered to the prison ship Santee Tor the remainder of the year because they tried to smuggle liquor into the Nav.* Academy. Archbishop Ireland is proud of the fact that not one of the 400 saloo.nueepers of Minneapolis is a Roman (jailiofc. He says lhat men in such xust get out oi that ciufch. akra2>i?te 'Mie Partible of the Corn. There is life in the dry grain of corn ns certainly as in the growing stalk. I But in the former we see no life, not ! even thp ^virton^o of it mnv nnl it under the microscope, but we discover 110 life. We may sbave it down, j flake by flake, but we cannot see it ; nor tell where it has gone. But the i life is there notwithstanding our failI ure. Only by adversity can it be made i to reveal itself; and its highest maniI Testation can come only through death j and dissolution. Heat and moisture j will call forth the latent life, but not ; until that yellow tabernacle is placed ! in the earth does the matured possibll! ity of the seed manifest iself. ! Have we not here a parable? Man j has a soul, but who has seen it, or felt i it, or touched it? Can we. by any ' known process, lay that soul bare that we may look upon it with our mortal eyes? Will our most powerful microscopes magnify it? Will our X-ray disclose it? You may take this body down, part by part. You may dissever every member from its fellow. You . may uncover every ligament and nerve ! and artery. Cai^tfce scalpel uncover ! the soul? Has the operator ever seen { it as he laid open the body? Has the i young physician in the dissecting I rooms ever found it? But the soul Js in the body as truly as life is in the I grain of corn. Both are invisible by : any known device of man. . j We may see the evidence of growth ! in the soul as we may see it in the seed. : In both cases the life is revealed mainly by sacrifice and surrender. In both the fullest glory comes after death, and neither the seed on the one hand nor the body on the other ever beholds the highest development of its nn?n inhnnflnf Ufa Th o f liac horATlfl Ull U lUUClVUb iUVi Jkuuw KVW WX.J VMM the dissolution. And will not our postmortem life be as much greater and grander than this life as the maturing stalk with its green leaves, its pink plumes on the end of the ripening ,. ears, and its bending tassels, is greater and grander than the little yellow crescent of corn which was dropped into the earth? Hit Finit Convert. Rev. J. J. Brokenshire, in telling how to win boys, recently told of his first convert. He said: "I was preaching i?y first sermon and had a hard time. It was a country town and I was being entertained at the parsonage. After the evening service the little boy of the home was appointed to conduct me to my room. We slopped at the hall window on top of the stairs, just to look out for a moment into the moonlight. " 'Tommy,' I said, 'have you ever really accepted Christ as your Saviour?' Some earnest words followed, and then we kneeled beside the little hall table, and my young companion' gave himself to God. "It was the first seal upon my minis try. A month later a revival broke out in the town and over a hundred professed Christ. The minister wrote me a letter fall of joy and gratitude. The revival was in a great measure the result of Tommy's conversion."?The Ram's Horn. Not Peculiar to Religion. No truth is peculiar to religion. You ?an translate every virtue of piety '.nto other terms and find them just as indispensable in education or art or "iterature or business. "Art for art's sake," is a true phrase; Tor art nor piety nor honesty nor any iind of work or virtue ministers to life except it be loved and followed for its own sake. " ' When a man delivers his own soul oe has delivered the universe. A new heaven and a new earth, seen with the same old heart and eyes, would soon fade into the same old weariness.?From sermon on "The Grasp of God," in Union Church, Worcester, Mass., yesterday FraltleM Toll. The disciples bad toiled nil rugni, md Lad taken nothing. At the break of day Jesus bade them cast their nets on the right side of the boat, and there j they found. We, too, have toiled and 1 caught nothing. It -was good for us j to learn the lesson of fruitless toil? t opart from the direction of the Lord ! we shall accomplish nothing. What j j we bring to pass must come through j listening to His w?rd. One hour of i j work guided by the wisdom of the in- I | finite shall outweigh a year of toll j by an unaided man. Prove it this day. -Pacific Baptisf. Religions Independence. j It is the right of every man to form | j his own conception of life, and in j ' faith or religion every man has the i j right of secession. With what right I is the insistence that a man shall not I j depart from the views of his father or his ancestors, which were formed before he came upon the earth? Judaism is not a religion, the expoundings of certain great teachers and i scholars to the contrary cotwithstand ing. No Jew may tell another what i to believe or excommunicate another { for not believing as the first would j desire him.?Dr. E. G. Hirsch. The Divine Element, True sympathy is the divin<? element ! In man. A purer sympathy, largei hearted and sincere, would make the .. world a nobler world, aud the man I who owned it but little lower than : the angels of God, for it is the offI spring of the deepest love, and this | commandment have we from Him, ! ??mv,?4- wUa fin/l Invp hifl JL 1JU t JLIV ??UU lUfVlu V4w?k w ? brother also."?Scottish Reformer. Cultivate JoyoultiieBD. Do not Jet the empty cup be your first teacher of the blessings you had when I it was full. Do not let a hard place | hero and there in your bed destroy i your rest. Seek, as a plain duty, to cultivate a buoyant, joyous sense of the crowded kindnesses of God in youi daily life.?Alexander Maclarcn. Furit.v of Deart. Purity of heart is that quick and sensitive delicacy to which even th< conception of sin is offensive.?Chalinj era. Lassoed in His Engine Cab. J Attempting to lasso a locomotive, a Downington (Pa.) boy nearly caused the death of a fireman on the engine. | The lad was in charge of a switch on a . bridge 130 feet above ground. He had [ been practising with the rope, and I thought it would be sport to catch i , some projection of the locomotive. He I fastened one end of the rope to a j beam, and as1 the engine passed cast | the loop at it. Just then the fireman ! leaned from the cab and the noose settled about his shoulders, so that he was drawn out until his legs remained, jrhen the rope broke and released him. ' THE SUNDAY SCHOOL umauiTiMin l CCCAU mUUFMTS tIK I lirUMM I luixrvu UWJVH V?'?? ?... FOR MAY 14. 8object: Jeans Prays For Hh Follower*, John xvll., 15-20?Golden Text, John ZTll., 9?Memory Ver*e?, SO, 31?Commentary on the Lutou, I. Christ's prayer that Sis apostles may be kept from evil (vs. 15, 16). IS; "I pray-not," etc. He would not have them with Him yet, nor would Ho have t*;em esfape from the active, tempting world. "From the evil one" (R. V.) The devil. Christ prays that thev may be delivered from the dccep tion aiid power .of Satan. 1(1. "Not of the world." They do not partake of its spirit or follow in the walie of its ungodly practices. "Even as." etc. Christ's trne followers partake of His nature and are led and controlled by Him. They are born of God. II. A prayer that they may be sanctified (vs. 17-19). 17. "Sanctify them." 1. The idea at the root of the word rendered "sanctify" is separation. It is opposed not to what is impure, but to what is common, and is constantly; used in the Greek of the Old Testament for the consecration of person? and things to the service of God. "Through thy truth." "In the truth."? k. v. xne "trutn," tne sum or toe Christian revelation, "the word of God," at once embodied in><3hrist and spoken by Him, is (as it Were) the element into which the believer is introduced, and by which he is changed. What the eleven needed above aH things was a profounder apprehension of Christian truth, and a holier character. 18. J'Hast sent Me." To redeem and save the world. "I also sent them." To carry on the same work by preaching the truth and leading men to God* As the apostles were directed to ordain others to the game work it is evident that a body of ministry, issuing, from God Himself, distinct from the laity; is a divine institution in the Christian /?hnT?/>Vi 1Q 44T con^Hfc XfrflAlfw T consecrate and devote Myself to deatb^ that I may thereby purchase eternal salvation for them. Tims as & Redeemer He was made perfect through suffering;. '"ISmt they also." 1. Hewould not asb^them to do what He wasunwilling to^do Himself. 2. By" Hiff sanctificationtlHe set them a true example. 3. By His sanctification,. which led" to the atonement on . the, ctoss, He presented every motive for' tneir sanctiflcation, and gave them new; spiritual life. , ' \ III. A prayer for the unity of all be-' lievers (vs. 20-28). 20. "Neither?for these alone." * Onr Intercessor now) broadens His scope so widely that every man may enroll himself in thelimits of the prayer. "Through their1 wora." xnose wno we^e lea 10 ueneve the gospel through the preaching of believers. This is the means God uses for the conversion of men (Rom. 10:14,. 15). . 21. "All may be one." This prayer was literally answered in the case of the first>believers who were all of one heart (Acts 4:42). And why is lttthafc believers are not in the same spirit now? Because they neither attend tl> the example nor to the truth of Christ "World may believe." The unity of be^ lievers would be the means of leading men to Christ. Nothing so distracts, and destroys faith in the earth as division among God's people. 1. Christian unity shows the power of the Christian, religion. Only a mighty power could, effect such a result from the widelydiffering elements of which the churclt is composed. 2. It shows the diviner nature of religion, in that it produces the same characteristics In all. 3. A united b&nd Is far more-effective lit AtTAw/irtTy>5iv? fho n-nrlrl onrl />nnnnorin<T UTC1 UIC WMW . 22. "Have given them." ChrlstfsH glory is in them even now, in variouaM degrees, a spark, a slender flame, al beaming luminousness, destined tofl shine In eternal splendor in the celes-M tiai firmament. ^ eH 23, "Perfect In one." Tbe unity ofH the church consists in doctrine and inH spirit. The historian of evangelical H doctrine finds that the system, in itsH great outlines, forms a grand architec-H tural structure, extending throngliH ages, identical in its genera! outlines,H and excluding all mere half-faiths, her-Hj esies, novelties and infidelities. AsH such a system it does, by its self-con-H sistency, strength and permanenee,H form a powerful proof of the reality ofH the Christian faith, calculated to makeH the world believe. fl IV. A prayer that they may be par-H takers of His glory (vs. 24-26). 24.H "Father." The relationship is theB ground of the appeal; He knows tbalH His will is one with His Father's. < "iH will" Not I pray, nor I ask, but thiiH is My will. He speaks as* a son re-Hj turned to his father's house, who tello^H in loving confidence how he will have^B things. He will bring His bdove^H comrades with Him, that they may wliui u ?iuri<jv*a ]n itiwc juc io, uuu what a glorious palace. "Behold glory." In the sense of sharing uncHB enjoying it, for itlie faithful shall alsc^R reign with Him (2 Tim. 2:12). Behold-Hj ing His' glory we are all changed intoflB the same image from glory to glory <^D Cor. 3:18). The real import of Christ'^H prayer ia that all who believe on Hin^H ; should continue to love and serve Hii^H while in this world and then be eter^J nally united with Him. |N 25. "Righteous Father." God baiH| not only His parental, but His judlcia^H and governmental aspect. He Is no^| only a Father, but a Judge and SoverM| eign. "Not known." Would not ac^H knowledge; was willfully ignorant. \rtiv hp in them." May rule in theiflH hearts as a guiding principle, withouBjl which they cannot receive the knowl^M edge here promised; for "he that lov^H eth not, knoweth not God" (1 JohJHj 4:8). "I in thorn/' These last word^B of Christ's mediatorial prayer sum u^B its purpose. He is going away and ye^H abides with tliem ' * A Kailroad Collect. Jfij A college is to be maintained by Western railway system whicl^ is t<^H tit the men for the details of theij^H work. Cars are fitted out with all thfl| appliances in practical use, and will b^H run from place to place. They wil^H have libraries, and lectures will be deH| livered and lessons assigned by ex^H perts, the work being mostly done bj^g correspondence. Mjj Lasso Sarei Life. A lasso was the means of saving th^B| life of a woman who had left her haHZ and jacket on the rocks and jumpe<H| into the sea at Ferryside, England. Sb^U was noticed by Edgar Williams, a locaWl butcher, wbo lassoed the drownlnBI woman and bauled tier safely ashore. My Elegant KeTen~e. EnH Hi? Excellency the Viceroy of th^H Two Kuang, at Kueiin, a suort iiiubiu ago, at tlae execution of a famous rebaMfl chief. stepped forward and caugtH| some of the blood and drank it. HS An Old Blb^e. |R A German Bible, printed it 1660 an? weighing Jfteen pounds, is owned b^l Edwin Z. Miller, of Reading, Pa.