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" THL Richard A VICTIM OF CIRCUIT B37- 33- L. IF CHAPTER V. .., Continued. With nay thoughts lixetl upon the ap * i" ?>" <?n <r\ 1 u-.nwllil-PlI pruacuiug aisia 111 ui.? imv. from inj' htuse, scarcely heeding Uie direction in which 1 was walking. 1 .wished to be alone to indulge in iuy sad musings, wtiieu must have so occupied my mind that 1 must have walked for an hour before 1 knew where l was. The gathering gloom recalled me to myself, and looking around, i saw ihat 1 was in lvybush Lane. It did not and would not have struck me that this jvas the place in which Siimuel Fleetwood had informed me tbut Mile. .Rosalie, was in the habit ol' meeting some unknown man had it not been that my eyes suddenly fell upon her as 1 gazed around. She was standing at some little distance l'roin me, and 1 must nave come upon her and her companion unaware?lor she was not alone: a man was with her whom 1 immediately recognized to be Redwing. Moreover, she was in that man's embrace. His arm was around her and he was kissing her iips at the moment of my approach. They saw me as 1 saw them, and they fell npart from each other. Without a word I turned and proceeded in tlie direction of my house. ; Now, at any ether time 1 should have regarded this discovery as serious, and should not have allowed it to pass Without asking Mile. Ro<?alie for an explanation, but I ana constrained to confess that in my then mood 1 attached but small importance to it. In what way did Mile. Rosalie's love intrigues affect me and why should 1 add those to my already overpowering anxieties? That was the sense in ovhich 1 viewed the adventure. Rut if I didJnot speak to Mile. Rosalie of the .incident, she did not allow it to pass by in silence. It was night. Harry Clanronald had taken his leave and my wife and Eunice had retired to bed. Mr. Mortlock had also retired. As for Mile. Rosalie, she had not made her appearance in our family circle. My wife and 1 beiug in our bedroom, I said that 1 was not inclined for bed and that 1 would take a stroll in the '.garden and smoke a cigar. There wasr '-nn+hint* iinnonnl in thic 1 hnfl nftpn JUUIUIU^ UltUOUUi AAA IU1W, J. V. w? done the like. She bade me go and smoke my cigar, land handed me my cigar case, which 1 should have forgotten in my perturbation. The case was one which she had presented to me in former years, and on its cover was my monogram, "K. P.," in raised letters of silver. CHAPTER VI. , 'The night was dark, and 1 heard no '.sound but that of my footsteps on the graveled paths. Gradually 1 became more composed; the surrounding peace, the soft air, and the echo of my wife's .words of comfort had their soothing effect upon me. "Surely all will be well!" 1 thought. "1 am tormenting myself unnecessarily." ' Suddenly I heard a sound that startled me; it was the sound of a ftAKkinr*. ft t'PAm .WVLL1UU tl iUiui 5UUVU J-X V/*-?J n*w ;shadows, aiul, falling at my feet, seized my hand, which became bedewed with itears. "Madamoiselle!" I cried. For it was, indeed. Mile. Rosalie wbo knelt at my feet and was holding my band to ber Hps. ' "Pardon me," sbe sobbed; "oh, pardon me!" "Rise, I beg of yon," I said, murh disturbed. "Why are you here? This is no place, and this is not the time, for ;us to be seen together." "We are alone, sir," she said, her .sobs continuing. "No one can see or hear us. Ab, sir listen to me! As >ou hope for mercy yourself, grant it to a despairing woman! As you hope ior peace, bestow it upon me!" * "I do not understand you," 1 said: .and 1 should bavo had a li^rt of stone in my breast had I uot been touched by her plaintive voice. "1 will listen to you?yes: 'mt I must insist upon jour rising. * She obeyed mo; but she trembled so as she rose from the ground that she was compelled to cling to me for support. "Now, mademoiselle." I said, "1 will Jisten to wiiat you have to say, il' yon insist upon it." "If you speak so harshly." slic murmured, "1 sliall die!" "I have 110 wish to speak fiarshly to you," I said, in a more pentle tone. "But 1 have a right to ask why you eeek me at such an hour?" "To implore your forgiveness." siie replied, "to recover my place in your ^esteem. To know that you have ceased .tn rpsnppt me. Ihnf vnn think llerhflv of me, is more tiian 1 can bear. Your good opinion, jour good word, is more precious to me than life itself. All, sir! How shall 1 confess itV 1 have deceived you." "I know it," I said. "You know it!" she echoed, softly. "And yet you have spared me! And yet you have not driven me from your house!" "For that, mademoiselle,' I said, "you may thank my wife and daughter, who liave no suspicion that you are not what you represent yourself to be. You ihold a place in their hearts which you Jiave in some strange manner won. They have invariably spoken well of yon; they have invariably defended you!" "Defended me!" she exclaimed, and Iher voice expressed dignified remonstrance. "From what? From whom? iWtio has dared to villify me, a defenseless woman, whose misfortunes entitle her to respect? .Not you, sir, r "Pardon,,! IS7MTIAL EVIDENCE 'J^E.jeo3ST. not you! Do not tell me that you have : done nie such an injustice"' "Mile. Kosalie," I said, soaiewhat confounded by the attitude she assumed, "1 have learned that concerning you which, i will not disguise i l'rom you, has instilled doubts into my mind; 1 have seen that which, you must yourself admit, could not but strengthen those doubts.'' "You saw me 111 is afternoon," she murmured, "in a lone spo!. embracing 1 a man. '- ' "A man," 1 added, "who ;s now tyovking for me in a menial capacity." "I deny it!" she exclaimed, with indignation. "No labor is menial which is lionest. Js it not a proof how groatI}* you are prejudiced against nie when you can commit yourself to such a statement ? you. whom I venerate as ' th? perscnitication of truth and justice? Ah, sir, confess that you were wrong V" "Yes," 1 said, abashed by the reproof. "I confess it?i was wrong. But neither you nor he can deny that he is in my employment under false colors." "1 do deny it, for myself and him. He sought for honest labor, and obtained it. Js that a crimeV" "No." "What else can ycu bring against him? You have not spoken to him, ! have scarcely seen him. and yet you, (he most just of men, would blast his character. It is not for you, living in . the lap of luxury, with unlimited wealth at your command, who have but to ( wish to have?it is not for you to know , to what hard straits necessity drives a man. It is not possible that you ( should ever be .'riven, as he and I have been driven, to seek, in a lonely . int *jn<l .urmnsr strnnsrers. for the Sim- , pie necessaries oi' lil'e. It is not possi- ] bio that you should ever feel the , world's cruel injustice as we have felt ( it; that the linger of shaine and re- 1 proach should be pointed at you?a inan unstained by crime or dishonor! You j stand above all this. Be merciful, be . charitable, to those who are not as i you are." I Had a vision of the future risen before me at that moment 1 should have 1 stood appalled. As it was, 1 was pow- 1 erfully affected by the appeal, and all I my doubts of her seemed to melt i away. ' "Mademoiselle," I said, "you have, '< perhaps, reproved me with just cause. But had 1 known that you had a 1 lover " ' "A lover!" she exclaimed, softly. "Who dare say that'/" < "A lover," I continued, "wliom for months you have met in secret " "It is false'" she cried. "As I am an < honest woman, it is false! Cruel, cruel, t that I should be so misjudged! There ? ic 1-mt nno rnn-n in 1I10 world 'whom 1 1 Jove, to whroi my lieart ir? given, for whom I would bear any hardship and sacrifice; and to him 1 dare not, 1 dare not confess my love." Again she seized my hand, and in a lit of uncontrollable agitation pressed it to her bosom, to her lip?. And then it was that 1 noticed, for the tirst time, that she was but loosely attired in her dressing gown, which she must ] have hastily thrown on, 1 suppose, j when she saw me from her bedroom window and hastened out to make her confession. As she held my hand to her lips she was seized with sudden faintness, 1 would have fallen to the ground had I 1 not supported her in my arms. What was it that glided past? A | shadow, or the form of a man, who, with his eyes turned upon us for one i brief moment, sped swiftly on, and was gone? "What was that?" asked Mile. Rosa- j lie. in a whisper, clinging closer to me in affright. . "T /1/\ lint Irnnrr " 7 n in tl'.P same key; and truly I did not. It was like a spiritual beguilement. , "It must have been fancy," said Mile. Rosalie, "a shadow?an apparition. Yes. yes?see!" A slight wind had risen, and the branches of the trees, gently swaying, cast shadows around, which a ( heated imagination could easily have transformed into the shapes and forms . of living creatures. 1 breathed more freely; what 1 had seen could have been nothing but a freak of fancy. "It is time that we should part, mad- ( emoiselle," I said, cok-ly. "It would . have been better had you spoken to me , in daylight." "I should not have had the courage." j she said. "You must not leave mo till you hear who this man is who is falsely represented as my lover. I feel ' that you are not alone in this belief; I feel that another shares it." "Yes," 1 said, thinking cf Samuel Fleetwood, "my belief is shared by another." "Will jou teil me who that other is?" , "No; I do not think I have the right." "At least, sir," she pleaded mourn- j fully, "you will tell me whether it is a ' man or a woman who trad .ces me?" , I did not wish her to believe that it was my wife or Eunice, and therefore I replied, "I will tell you so much, and no more, it was a man." j "Will you see this man again, sir?" ( "I shall see him, almost to a certain- | tv tn-mnvrnu' '' "Toll liinj, then, sir. from mo, that ' the person lie suspects is my lover. ! and whom you saw me em brae ins this 1 afternoon, is mj' brother."' ] "Your brother! It is a simple, nat- ] ural explanation; but what reason \v;is ] there for secrecy, for concealment V" "I was fearful of giving you grounds 1 to suppose that I had deceived you. i sir. I did deceive you, but it was an i unconscious, an innocent deceit. When 11 rou first received mo in your lioti.so ! said I was an orphan, without a re! five in the world. Tndeed. indeed. > I believed that to be the uuha; truth. My parents were dead, and only brother I had was killed or. ' ramparts when the Germans besie-. Paris. He was but ft lad at the ti.and when they told me he was dor had no reason to doubt them. But instead ol having been killed lie wax only wounded and taken prisoner, and when lie was released he went t? America, intending to make his for; tune there and return and throw It in my lap. He wrote to me, but I did nol receive his letters. In America he wai unfortunate. Trustful by nature. In was robbed and deceived, and, withov.i n penny in his pocket, he mad?; his way to England, little dreaming that I was in this country. His sad wanderings, directed by fate, brought hi:u Uore? here, where I had the happiness oC finding a home and sympathizing friends. We met by accident; my astonishment was great; it was as if lie had risen from his grave. "What was I to do? I had solemnly assured your fjood wife and da Tig liter that I was utterly, entirely friendless, and through them yon believed this to lie so. If I now informed yon to the contrary 1 might be proclaiming my own death warrant. You have said, 'Mademoiselle Rosalie lias practiced treachery toward us; slio presented herself to us in a false light, and therefore she is unworthy of our confidence: site shall be dismised.' 1 was so harrowed by the fear of iosing this happy home, in which, after all my troubles, I had found peace and rest, thai I had not the courage to undeceive you: but ufter what you have witnessed, sir, this afternoon, I could no longer remain silent. My honor, my good name, was at stake, and it must he vindicated?for what else have I left to nerve and support me in the triais I may yet have to endure? I could not wait until to-morrow. About to seek my couch, I saw you from my bedroom window, and. blessing the chance, 1 hurried down to make my confession. Forgive me. sir: forgive me! and assure me that I have regained my place in your esteem. 'Jell me you do not despise me." "If your story is true." I said, and would have proceed?d hau she not interrupted me. "If, sir, if! Is it possible that you Kin doubt rne still? I swear, upon my knees, that 1 have spoken truly 1" "Yon are to be pitied," I said, "not ilespised." I saw i:o reason to doubt her further. Two angels, my wife md daughter, had full faith in h?r; why should not 1? In what she bad related there was not a flaw, there was nothing contrary to reason or opposed to the ordinary course of human motives. "Say that you pardon me. sir," she pleaded, "and give me your hand as i token of forgiveness." I gave her my hand, and she murmured, "I am liappy. I am happy!" The window of my wife's bsdioom svas thrown up, and, by the aid ot' the light within the chamber I saw the figure of my wife, clad in white, looking out upon the grounds. I had been ibsent longer than she had expected, :ind she was anxious about lr.r. Richard!" she softly called; her voice j ivas low and sweet, and fell distinctly ipon my ears. "Hush!" whispered Mile. Rosalie, crouching behind me. "Do not speak -do not move! She must not see me!" It was perhaps foolish on my part to )bey her, but I was dimly conscious ' liat an injurious construction might he jlaced upon the circumstance of Mlie. Rosalie and I being together at that ;ime ol' night; therefore I held my :ongue. For si space of nearly a iniuite my wife stood at the window, and for that space neither Mile. Rosalie nor I moved or spoke, she standing beJind me, and clasping me, as if for protection. Then the window was gently closed and the blind let down. "I am safe!' whispered Mil?. Rosalie, iissing my hand humbly and gratefully. "You will not betray me?you will keep my secret?" "It should l)o told," 1 sum, "to my wife .and daughter." "Lot me tell it to them," she said; 'let me choose 1 lie time! In two or three days I shall have courage." "As you will," I said, wishing to terminate the interview. * "And you will not discharge my brother?" "No." I looked after her as she walked through the shadows to tlie house, which she entered in silence. Soon ;i ft or ward I followed. ?.Iy wife was still awake. "It is a beautiful night, Richard," she said. "Did you enjoy your cigar?" (To be Continued.) A Boston Suffffestion as to Etiquette. Do you think it might help to decrease the cases of pneumonia in our cold country if the leading ladies hereabouts would say that during the winter season men might omit the customary ill tiHK Ol liifiL lunft 111 1111; onvct >i iivu bowing to them? In a town in Sweden tlie respectful [iofiing of the hat lias been declared unnecessary through the winter season by prominent ladies?but there a gentleman will insist on having his hat in his hand during his conversation with a lady. The Swedish ladles, at nil events, believed that they have introduced an important health measure into social life. Undoubtedly many Boston men who have found themselves called upon to raise their hats a dozen limes on a windy day coming down Tremont street and passing through West street have wondered if their next attack of influenza would not be the result of this manner of showing respect to the fair sex.?Boston Evening Transcript. How (o Sw<-et?: Suj^ar Artificially. .\ll sugar is not sweet, or rather sweet enongli to corue up to the required standard of sweetness, so some kinds must be sweetened artificially. There are many establishments where this process is carried on. A cone of sugar is placed over an apparatus apex downward, many little holes in the apparatus coming in contact with the point of the cone. A thick liquid is poured on the flat end of the cone and the machinery is set in motion. The holes become the mouths of the suction tubes, and the sweetening liquid is drawn through the ccne, giving it [he necessary qualitv I I A Model Good Itond. An experiment in good road build: dug that v/111 prove of practical benctit ! Ito tbe State is the model dirt road : .Which was built by the Government ' experts, Messrs. Harrison and Sheets, i through the Louisiana State University j campus. j This is an object lesson in roadbuildj ing that is receiving some attention | from tbe parish officials. This road is j built of 110 material except dirt and at i practically no cost, but it is solid and ) firm, and the hard rains and the heavy ! hauling to which it has been subjected , has not injured it in the least. When the model good road was be' gun through the University campus, ' constructed of crushed brick and j ground gravel, it was held that this j road as an object lesson was valueless | to the parish, for it would be impos| xible for the parish or the city to i spend the sum of money that was l being invested in this piece of road, ! and as> the cost has figured up to ! about .$2000 this criticism has been wel' I fAnn/l/xl j Tiie dirt road building by tiie Gov| ornnient experts is tiif> lirst practical ; object lesson done in this section, and I it shows what can be done at little I cost with the native soil of the parish, j The road was built principally with I the scraper and roller. The secret in the whole business seems to he in getI ting the right curve on the road and I rolling it firm. The water dots not I stand on the road and heavy traffic even after a hard rain has made no impression on the surface. This dlr? road was completed last week, and since that date the rain has fallen in torrents and the traffic over the road j has been heavy, but the road has not been effected by either and stands as firm and as solid as the day it was completed.?Eaton Rouge (La.) Times. School of lton>l Bnlldinff. | It is announced that the Iowa State j Highway Commission will conduct the | first good- roads school in America at ! an extra session of the State College, | al Ames. The Good Roads' Associa! tion has wisely decided to hold its an nunl meeting simultaneously with tliis session so that the attending members may have the benefits of the systematic, practical instruction -which will be given in the fundamental and essenI tial features of road building and maintenance. An extensive exhibit of modern road building appliances will be shown in operation by experts in the different lines of work, short sections of road being constructed during the demonstrations. The all important principles of road drainage for both surface and soil wafer will receivo proper attention, and full detail plans for culverts and drainage systems will be available. Road surveying and profile map work are also included within the scope of the lectures. "Water the Greatest Foe. "All practice and experience have clearly proven that the greatest foe I to good roads is water. The drain ing of improved roads is. therefore, Vie of the first principles of road construction, and its importance should not be lost sight of. Water will moke mud of any soil however hard, and unless it can be led away, mud must ! follow as the inevitable result. The fact has been stated so many times that it almost seems out of place to refer to it here. Increases Land Values. With first-class roads, over which two horses can draw two tons in a two-horse wagon 205 days in the year, irrespective of weather conditions, the land fifteen miles from town would be worth as much' as it is now two miles away. Reaclien Oar Islands. The good .roads movement is reach'ing Cuba, Hawaii and Porto Rico. Sonre? of Pride and Profit. A creditable public highway, owned and controlled by the people, could harm no one and would be a sourcc of pride aiul profit to every class. A way From tlio Kuili. "If you want to see real country life come "with me and I'll show it to you, and within fifteen minutes' journey, too," remarked a friend of mine. We crossed the river on the little ferryboat for Upper Rensselaer. The scenery is very fine at this time, and we enjoyed n long walk immensely without feeling the heat that was blistering Albany. On our way back we stopped into the tavern. We had to Avait quite a while before we got served. The reason? The proprietor was having his portrait painted. This may sound extravagant, but he was I having his picture painted, not "taken." In the middle of the barroom, surrounded by his paraphernalia for working, stood a typical traveling artist. I Seated against the wall was the proprietor, and the likeness which the artist was painting in oil on the canvas was a really good one. ' The last time 1 witnessed such a sight," remarked my friend, "was years ago and away up in the heart of (he Catskills."?Albany Journal. Hard to Play Oil. The experiences of George B. Cortelyou, chairman of the Republican National Committee, during ihe recent campaign were many and varied.. With keen relish he tells of one that came under his notice. A country club about to give a parade was debating as to the number of i transparencies to be had in line. It ! was about settled that twelve would be ! the proper number, when an old fellow , with his trousers tucked in his boots ! arose and said: "I guess two will be about right, j 'Tain't at all likely more'n two will know how to play on 'era."?Success Magazine. Unkind. In Boston, the other day, a young j lawyer who spends most of his time j trying to seem busy and prosperous | went out for a while, leaving on his ' door a card neatly marked: "Will be back In an hour." On his return ho found that some envious rival had inscribed underneath: "What for?" ?& ?*? r TKE GREAT DESTROYER SOME STARTLING FACTS ABOUT ! THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE; r. Sir Victor norsley, M. D., Frodnces Evidence From the Scientific Standpoint to Frovo That Alcolial in Not Essential to Life or Health. I At a rcecnt conference-in London on the subject of temperance, Sir Victor Horsley. M.D., dealt with the subject of aleoiiol from the scientific standpoint, bringing evidence to prove that alcohol was not essential to life or health. The medical profession, he; said, held it to be one of the greatest evils of the nation, but he would submit that socially and commercially it was a far greater evil. The late Lord Chancellor had declared that alcohol j was the commonest cause of poverty and of crime; and certainly it was the commonest ciiuse of disease. Had not the time come, he asked, when this great city should view the situationfrom the commercial and economic standpoint? The annual expenditure in intoxicants of ?100,000,000 to ?1S0.000,000 (which, by the way, was all thrown away) only represented part of the country's drink bill. To that must be added the enst of most of the crime, the poverty, the premature death of tlie breadwinners; and we had also got to add, from the medical point of view, the cost to the nation of preventable disease; and the cost which meant commercial inefficiency was very largely due to alcohol. Sir Victor proceeded to arffiie that for ail this vast expenditure there was no profitable return. Neither was there any profit to the individual from tiie dietetic use of alcohol. It only had a paralyzing effect upon the nerves. Under its influence a man thought slower, although lie might *alk faster; there was stimulation, but no profit. And imagined benefit was absolutely swamped by the depressing after-effects. And what was true of its action on the brain was also true of its effect upon the hand and the eye. These statements, he said, were based upon scientific experiments, measuring keenness of perception, the rapidity with which one could pick out a cipher from a row of ciphers, accuracy and clearness of judgment, the power of adding figures, and other points which directly bore upon commercial efficiency. There could be 110 doubt, he said, that alcohol, even in small quantities. diminished that efficiency.?Belfast Witness. "The Green Peril." Some statistics which have been published of the growth ol' the absinthe habit in France seem to justif' *be !il:irmisfs wllr> SllPftk of the beVtl* " as "the green peril." Fifty years the quantity consumed in a year was only 7350 quarts; and under the Empire the annual consumption never cxcedeed 20,000 quarts. After the "terrible year," however, the aperitif rapidly advanced in favor. A population practically stationary drank 130,000 quarts of it in 1880, 580,000 quarts in 1885, 1,120,000 quarts in 1890, and not less than 1,330,000 quarts in the latest year for "which the figures are available. Nor have other kinds of alcohol been abandoned because this has become popular. Fifty years ago the country was satisfied with 6,000,000 quarts per anmim to quench its thirst. Now it requires 20,000,000 quarts. During the same half-century the number of lunatics under treatment has increased from 10,000 to 80,000. After quietly working for several months, the Millville (Pa.) Temperance League has scored a great victory over the beer clubs, and it is now a settled fact that all will be closod. Several of these clubs have a membership of more than 2000 residents of Philadelphia. Bosinesfi and Steady Habits. The Chicago and Alton Railroad in its recent rules for employes ha's forbidden its men to visit race-tracks, dance-halls or any resorts where liquor is sold or gambling permitted. Good service, it holds, depends upon steady habits, and both help insure public safety. By way of example, officials have quit carrying intoxicating liquors on tiieir private cars or entering saloons along the line ot' the road. Such consistency is bound to command respect among employes, if not necessarily imitation. The company makes no pretense of carrying on a moral crusade. It hopes to live up to business principles wJ]ich depend upon the competency and reliability of its men. "All, the things which are prohibited," says General Passenger Agent Charlton, "either tend or might tend permanently or temporarily to impair a man's mental and physical powers." When temperance and good habits are made part of a man's earning capacity he will often cultivate them <even if the loftier picas of morality fail to remove them.?New York World. Tl>o Kcasoii TVIiy. Tho Ron Aniliw; 1^ White i:i his autobiography, after expressing disapproval of certain methods cf the rcceu. temperance movement, adds: ".My advice to all men is to drinl: nothing but water. That is certainly the wisest j way for nine men out of ten?and protably for all ten. Indeed, one reason why tlis groat body of our people accomplish so much more in :i given time than those o" any other country, and why the average American workingman 'catches on' and 'gits thar' more certainly and quickly than a man of the same sort in any other country (and careful comparison between various other countries and our own has shown that this is the case), is that a much larger proportion of our people do noi stupefy themselves with Simulants." Temwctanco Note*. No other poison kills as quick, if enough is taken at once?IS. \V. Richardson. M. I). Alcoholic liquors are poisonous, because they contain alcohol.?Frank Woodbury, M. D. In Denmark one out of every seven men who dip between tin? ages of thirty-five a lie! tiftj-tive is a victim of alcoholism. Piotr Kasrmieresak died in Detroit recently at the age of 114 years. According to the daily papers he was a lifeiong abstainer from intoxicants. Professor Stadelman, principal physician of a great hospital in Berlin, estimates that between one-quarter and one third of the diseases afflicting; workiuguten in ths? great am! crowded districts in the Prussian capital are t*a;ixe?I by the improper ns?> ot aicoiioj. The latest s<vr;;f organization is the Supreme Antl-Treating League of America, "\vhii-li has bmn incorporated at Princeton, 1 ml. it. is a mutual benelit association, having for one of its announced objects tlit* making oi an active campaign against the practice of "treating," which takes many into the saloons who would net otherwise go. ; . I PEACE; Peace, perfect peace in this dark world o? sin! The blood of Jesus whispers peace within. Peace, perfect peace with thronging duties pressed, To do the will of Jesus, this is rest. | \ Pono UL I * vuwt, ^cav;c ?iiu 2>uiiu>v aaigiug t round! On Jesus' bosom naugnt but calm is found. Peace, perfect peace, with.loved ones far away? In Jesus' keeping we are safe and they. Peace, perfect peace, our future here unknown! Jesus we know, and He is on the throne. Peace, perfect peace, death shadowing us and ours, Jesus lias vanquished death and all its powers. Jt is enough, earth's struggles soon will cease, And Jesus' call to heaven's perfect peace. ?Bickersteth. A Lay Sermon. In the remarkable discussion on religious problems now being held in The Sun nothing is more noticeable than the entire absence of bitter criticism and intolerance. Your corvispondents who are perplexed with doubts in trying to solve the problem of the universe are anxious, not scornful. Giving expression to questionings does not mean that the searcher after truth has lost his faith in God or his belief in immortality, but it does meau that the spread of free inquiry has unshackled his mind from traditional errors which have bred bitter controversies in the past. Many of your readers of okl-er years will remember the narrow-spirited bigotry of selfishness exhibited in many a country town by overzealous members of the several churches there and the utter absence of that spirit of charity and brotherhood which happily is on the increase these days. The search for the unknowable will continue as long as the human mind endures, but after all what does it profit a man? The old question by 1he patriarch Job, "Canst thou by searching find out the Almighty?" applies to-day as of yore; and our sight will always be hid by a cloud. Still, the plant grows in the mist and under the clouds as truly as under sunshine. I Call religion mere sentiment, superstition ot an illusion, still the fact remains that it is the bulwark of our nation, the foundation of the American home. It teaches respect for old age, reverence for womanhood, consideration for children; it builds hospitals and asylums for the afflicted, erects schools and colleges and feeds and clothes the poverty-stricken. To its adherence to these principles does this great nation owe its progress and preeminence, and to withdraw the re straining innuenee lue v^uspei uvu the passions of men would prove disastrous. Ask the devout churchman, be he a Catholic or a Protestant, as to the proofs of Christianity, aud he will tell you that his religion is true because it satisfies the soul. As of old, tho great body of workers "hunger and thirst after righteousness." .Faith in God is still a living force among men. If you do not believe it, look at the great number of communicants who go forth every Sunday morning to throng the aisles of every Catholic church in your city; those who "labor and are heavy laden." No human agency, no gift of tongue, draws these tired people out of their beds so early on a cold, stormy day to worship. Is faith dead when a refined Christian woman will stand 011 a street corner by the hour on a bittc-r December day ringing a bell, asking alms to feed the poor, as many a member of the Salvation Army does yearly, "In His name?" Never has the church been presented with such magnificent opportunities for helping humanity as at the present; but if the people receive a stone when they crave bread, they will seek righteousness from other and unexpected sources. The Christian is not afraid of the truth, but Pilate's question, "What is truth?" and "Where is it to be found?" is as potent to-day as ever. Contradictory answers will confuse the seeker, who is sick of insincerity and 1 1 Ka UJf'pUCrJSJ', UUl vinuaiijr iivj ?yjij | to his own?John M. Hoysradt, in the j New York Sim. A Gl?nce Hoinowanl. Father in Heaven, we rbank Thee for the Homeland beyond the river. May the fact that we are Homeward bound fill us with joy, comfort us in sorrow, Arm us for difficulties and purify our every thought, word andaction. Let the prodigal feel that Thy great heart is still yearning and that hp may yet return and sit down in the Father's House. Guide us step by step up the ladder of light and at last admit us to the hospitality of Thy Light, for Jesus' sake, Amen. Secret of Courage. In the faith that, although life is a mystery, it is not a muddle, for God is in Iii.s world bringing order out of apparent chaos; in the reverence which trusts aud obeys God, mingled with the affection which clings to Him and rejoices in Him; in the will set to do God's will and have a little share in God's work of healing, helping, conquering love, is found the secret of a courage which 110 dangers can daunt, a patience which 110 delays can exhaust, and a confidence which no disappointments can destroy.?Outlook. The lteward. Happiness, content and right satisfnMinn. rill doubts answered, all dark places lighted up, heaven begun hero? this is the reward of loving God. In this world, tribulation; yes, but good cheer iu spite of that.?George Hodges. D.D. llfi Will! Mend. It is when we feci all broken up i:mt wasted, and that wc can only bring the bits to God, that He says. "Come," and He will take us and mend us and mak?? us wholt* again.?Mrs. A. D. T. "Whit lie.v. The Fatal Highway. I A south Georgia singer says he tried 1 ?.o follow the old-time advice abotil I "Keeping in the middle of the road," wit); I jhe fololwing result: . ! "I Kept in the middle o' the road, A mile an' a half from town. An' a automobile, it come along. An' knocked me upside down! "I kept in the middle r' the road. An' a hurricane hit' a tree. An' blowed it clean across that road, An' killed a mule for me! "No more in the middle o' the road, You'll see me Joggi:-.' along; j I'd rather ride with a lightnin'-flnsh Or a hurricane biowin' strong!" ?Atlanta Constitution, j *":r?"1 V/ , ?**- - - ? -- zx^HHnraunmaHjEHBB| a? "Josiab.'^Bg|M^N^HHMHEH couT^nHQ|0m|^BHBMHH son of AnH9^HHNHB|MHn9Q married aH^rammHraH budah. 2. ^BmBMaa8W|KB^jBH into a nobieWH^Hyfll influences o^fflHSnnKMn trons court ail^EMHUgrajHHHflH atrous- father. was right not^HjnM|^^3Rfi^H men, but in "Ways of DaTi9HBBffi9HHM David was the sacred historians^BggjH^^^H trying bis successcH&MSfflHBH Kings 14: 3; 18: 3;^HB9ffiBOH8| 2). David was reg?^GBB^RNBHH king (1 Kings 14: of David," which ar^^BflMBflfln referred to were tbo^^^BgSH^^^Hj was led by his religiocHHRMgSM| zeal. "His father." ^BBRm9^Q| "Turned not aside" phrase implies an ^ndH^NHQ dience to all the commaVHHSHH II. Idolatrous images a^BnBHH 3-7). hM 3. "Eighth year." Wb^RN|^B sixteen years old. "Began^HKflflj It is quite wonderful to see man in tlie midst of the temp^^fflfifi au idolatrous and corrupt cou^HEm at the first dawning of Ills m^^^H to serve the Lord with all his^HH Those dw^lling under unfavora^^H| fluences should take'eourage. "HRj to purge." The condition of thin^^H Judab and Jerusalem at the tim^H Josiah's conversion was most depHj able. For nearly seventy years i|H atry had prevailed. In the twelM year of his reign, nDd the iwentl^ year of his age, Josiah set out in cfl nest to destroy the idolatry of his.fcin| dom. In 2 Kings 22: 3 the date givj is the eighteenth year of bis rel "High places." It was the practiced the heathen to erect altars for'^thH Idolatrous worship on the tops of tie am mAimlnino cnnnAclnr to4l VJJ. IUUUUIU1UD, OUp|^v?M{, ? nearer heaven. "Grooves." "The At erim." 4. "They brake down," etc. ijT temple was cleansed of idols, the.uu ten linages, Idol altars and Ashe* were ground to powder and tiielr at sprinkled on the graves of their w shipers in the king's presence. \ "Burnt the bones." This was predi ed of Jrtsiah more than 300 years I fore this time (1 Kings 13: 1. 2). T bones of the idolatrous priests, wi the one exception of the prophet Bethel (see 1 Kings 13: 1, 30; 2 Kin 23: 15-18), were disentombed a burned upon their own altar?. 6. "In the cities," etc. The northo kingdom was now under the Assyria government, but the remnant of Tsri maintained close relations with Jtrtfi and looked to them as their natui protectors. Josiali used his inflnen and what power he had in renidvii the idols from the land of Israel. T Assyrians probably did not trout themselves about his religious proce ings. Assur-bani-pal, King of AssyrJ left his kingdom in such a disturb state that his hold on Palestine i laxed, and thus opportunity was giv< to Josiah for his reforms. "With tl?< inattoeks." "In their ruins/' R. Josiah overthrow idolatry in the eiti named, which were many of them ruins. III. The temple repaired (vs. 8-li 8. "Eighteenth year." When he w twenty-six years old. This was tl year in which the great work begi six years before was carried fully or "Purged." The purging of the temp had prooably been the firstwork. Fro purging he proceeded to repairs, &i these had evidently been carried < for some considerable time before th particular occasion. "Shaphjin Called scribe in 2 Kings 22: 3. "Jfa seiah." Not elsewhere mentiohe "Recorder." An officer of high rank the Jewish state, exercising the fun tions not simply of an annalist. < maker of records, but of chancellor president of the privy council. H title has reference to his office as a viser of the king. "Repair the house! The first work was to clear away til imnrrfimpnts and Durce out the evifl that Lad gathered in and about tiB house of the Lord. 9. "Hilkinh." S(fl of Shallum and grandson of Zadok I Chron. ?>: 12, 13). "Delivered tfl money." The temple had not been rfl paired sinee the time of Joash, 200 fl more years before this, and it was s doubt in a bad condition. The arranxJ ment for receiving money appeal's have been the same as that adopted ll Joash (2 Kings 12: 9-12), when a cliel wias placed in the temple iuto wblfl the people put their offerings. "I* vites?had gathered." The money w collected, not merely at the temple, !) also by collectors who visited all par of Judah and Israel for uie purpose soliciting contributions. This work a pears to have been done well and th< ougbly. 10. The money was plffced the hands of the overseers and th paid it to the workmen. 11. "To floor th? houses." "To ma: beams for the houses." It. V. By "t houses" we ar* to understand t houses and chambers of the priests the temple and its courts. 1.1. In this verse we are told "of t Leviles there were scribes, and o cers, and porter?."' Here we have coi to r, new order of things. An order scribes, forming a distinct division the Levitiral body. has been i-istitutr When Hezekiali employed men to co; the uncollected proverbs of Solomi j iIYov. 25: 1). a class of scribes mii have been instituted. It is probably I *i..? ..ten st-r !?:?; f.i.ocs tlmt v;p are i dolstul for the preservation of so ma; prophecies of Hest-kiah's time. An Auto ia Not a Hone. A garage is cot a livery stable and ; automobile is not a horse, wagon truck. This has been judicially deci ed by Mr. Justice Clark in tbc Nt | York Supreme Court Livery stat keepers have a lien on borses, wago and harness in their possession for t amount of their storage and boa bills. A keeper of an automobile g? age undertook to hold aJi automob for storage and to enforce his lieu, judgment creditor of the owner of t | automobile levied upon it and sold t The court holds that the garage keep had no lien and that to give him o; there must be a special law passed. 'Girl Who Saved Train Rewarded. The bravery of Nannie Gibson, eleven-year-old mountain girl, livi near Asheville. N. C., who, by flaggi it with her reil petticoat, saved a trt from plunging into a landslide and t< plfrig down the mountainside, has be substantially rewarded by the .Sou ern Railway. When Nannie was ask ! what she wanted. ?lie said she desir j to go to school. The Southern Tlnilro i has sent her a check and a letter s>gr< ing to provide for her education a afterward to see that she is well pi I Tided for. iitiimjutmi' *?il nil Ml 1 illTi i n il I