The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, August 23, 1905, Image 2

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The! Richard k VICTIM OF C1RCUM 13;y 33. Hi, IF1. CHAPTER IX. I was awakened in the morning by my wife, and, to my surprise, found that I had been sleeping-, fully dressed, on a couch in our bedroom. I sat up and passed my hand across my forehead, in the endeavor to recall how it was that I had entered the room, and without undressing, chosen the couch instead of the bed. "Have I been sleeping long?" I asked. "I do not know, my dear," replied my wife. "The opiate you gave me last night had such an effect upon me that j I could scarcely have stirred until 1 opened my eyes half an hour ago." "Then you have no recollection of my having come in, or at what time?" "Not tiie slightest, Richard." "Nor have I," said I, pondering. "When I saw you sleeping on the /?oueb," said my wife, tenderly, "my idea "was that you would not come to bed for fear of disturbing me." "That may have been my motive for sleeping here," I said, still in wonder: "but it is strange that it should have gone clean out of my mind." "It has occurred before, Richard." "True; but this is a new phase of my wretched sleep-walking." "It is easily accounted for, love. Your mind has been unusually disturbed. Do not let it distress you." "And you have had a good night?" "A wonderful night; I feel quite refreshed; and were it not for what is before me, I should feel perfectly I It uuppj. Now, it is a singular fact that my ncxid was also a blank a6 to the danger which threatened us. I had no recollection, not only of what had passed between me and nay uncle on the previous day. but even of his being in the house. "Of whflt is before you?" I said. 'What do you mean?" ''Surely you have not forgotten the task I have set myself with your uncle? I shall succeed, love?I shall succeed! The first sound I heard this morning was the singing of the birds. That is nearly always so; but this morning their sweet notes had a peculiarly joyful significance. 'Hope, hope, hope!' they sang. 'All will be well. Eunice will be happy. Your home is saved. The cloud has passed away.' My henrt sang the words in unison, and I have given thanks to the Giver of all good." Even these tender words did not mitigate the terrible oppression which weighed me down. She failed to convince me that, within a few short hours, we should not be thrown upon the world, without a home. "Mamma!'' It was Eunice's voice, outside. "Come in. dear child!" called my wife. "She is happy and hopeful, Richard. I have been talking to her 3uite wisely."' "If love be wisdom," I thought, as Eunice entered the room, "it would ;ount for much. But love must work i miracle in a stony heart before happiness can be restored to me end mine." "Kiss the clouds away from your father's face, my child," said my wife, ''and make him smile again." "Let be. let be." I said, receiving md returning Eunice's caress with :oldness. "Don't be disheartened, darling." said my wife, drawing Eunice to her. "Your father ie not himself this morning." "There is nothing new, mamma?" ?sked Eunice, anxiously. "No, dear child," replied my wife. "Keiy upon me. "I will, mamma. I will." murmured Eunice, her face upon her mother's breast. "We will go down now. Richard," said my wife; "you will join us presently?'* "Yes. presently,*' I replied. They left the room together, takinp some loose roses with them, and I proceeded to make my toilet. It was soon completed, and 1 took my watch from my pocket to ascertain the time. As I put it back my fingers encountered a ring. I took it out and gazed at it In dumb astonishment; it was the diamond ring my uncle had placed upon his finger on the first night of his arrival. By what strange means had it come unconsciously into my possession? I shook my head angrily and impatiently and tried to think. My uncle had not given me the ring, and I could scarcely have taken it without his knowledge. But, with or without his knowledge, I must Lave taken it. ror It lay in my trembling hand. How did It come into my pocket? Was I n thief? It needed but a question like this to make my despair complete. Little did I suspect what was yet to be revealed to me and all of us. The stone in tlie ring was. as i nave uireau.v stated, uot large, and could not. at the utmost, liave been worth more tlian twenty pounds. That 1 should have been guilty of a theft, aud of a theft so paltry, shocked and overwhelmed me. What should I do with the ring? 1 dared not show it to my wife; the thoughts which it must inevitably have inspired in her gentle breast would, as it were, have revealed to her base depths in my nature of which she did not believe me capable. I had to see my uncle on this morning, and I would take the opportunity of slipping the ring somewhere in his room, or of dropping it upon the floor, and thus avoid suspicion. So resolving. I went down to my wife and daughter with my guilty secret in my pocket, ready to my :?i?ht hand. Mr. Mortlock was with them at breakfast, and Mile. Rosalie. Mr. MortJocfc gave me "good morning," and with Peril Pardon, STANTIAL EVIDENCE ARJEOK. KJtTTOOTtTTOOT a hatred in my heart which, had I not held myself in moral and physical control, would have impelled me to strike him in the face, I returned the salute, despising myself the while for my contemptible weakness and lack of manhood. Mile. Rosalie raised her eyes shyly to my face, softly said, "good morning, sir," and then lowered them again. What was the meaning of her shy, timid, singuar look? Did she know my secret? Or was it that I was in the mood to place extravagant constructions upon the most insignificant I details of social intercourse? I chose the "worse view, and. gazing with perturbed looks at them all, took my seat at the table. "You do not seem well this morning," ! observed Mr. Mortloek. Again Mile. Rosalie raised her eyes j to mine "with the same strange look; I again she lowered them immediately. "I am quite well, Mr. Mortloek." I said, and in no courteous tone. "What makes you think otherwise?" Mr. Mortloek simply said, "I beg your pardon," and proceeded with his breakfast. "Have you seen Mr. Fleetwood this morning?" asked Mile. Rosalie. The question was not directed to anyone in particular, and my wife answered no, that she had not seen him. Then, once more, Mile. Rosalie looked at me. And now in her strange glances I seemed to detect a hidden meaning which irritated and confused me, because I could not interpret it. "Do you wish particularly to know if I have seen him?" I asked. "No, sir," she replied, quietly. "I was asking generally. I observe that he has not placed the usual flowers on the table." This was a reference to a mark of affection and graceful attention which Samuel Fleetwood was in the habit of paying my wife and daughter. Every morning, when the? came down to breakfast, there was a posy for each of them placed before their accustomed seats at the table, and they knew that the flowers came from this faithful servant. On this morning there were none. My wife had noticed the omission, but had made no remark upon it; and if Mile. Rosalie spoke spitefully respecting it, a natural cause might be found in the circumstance that Fleetwood never honored her by such a mark of attention. In reply to her comment my wife simply said: "Mr. Fleetwood is too busily engaged in his duties with Mr. Wilmot." "I dare say," responded Mile. Rosalie; and the conversation dropped. A couple of hours after breakfast, it being then aoout half-past 11 o'clock, Mile. Rosalie remarked that Mr. Wilmot was later than he was on the preceding morning, and my wife concurred. but added that he must on no account be disturbed. As she looked toward me for confirmation. I said that he had given explicit instructions that no one should go to his bedroom until he summoned them. It was an evidence of the wretched state of my nerves that I should feel annoyed by Mile. Rosalie's simple repetition of my words, "Until he summoned them." She was bu^y with a piece of embroidery, which she was making for Eunice. Another hour passed without a sign from my uncle, and, with the intention ~ ' J T l./i of seeking Samuel j-ieeiwooa, i jeu the ladies and proceeded in the direction of my uncle's apartments. On the way I entered my own bedroom for a clean handkerchief, and I casually observed a piece of thin whipcord, the end of which was hanging down from beneath the pillow of the couch upon which I had slept It did not further attract my attention, and, without removing it, I went in search of Fleetwood. He was not to be found. I questioned the servants, but not one of them had seen him. I asked whether he had had his breakfast, and-the answer was that he had not presented himself at the breakfast table, and that his absence had been commented on. Knowing that he was suffering from acute heart disease, and that my doctor had said he had not long to live. I proceeded to his room, adjoining that of my uncle, fearing that he might bo ill. But Fleetwood Avas not in his room. His bed had been made and the apartment was in a clean and orderly condition. I sought the chambermaid whose duty it was to attend to the bedrooms, and ascertained that she had attended as usual to Fleetwood's room. "The bed had been slept in?" I inquired. "Yes, sir," replied me chambermaid. "You are sure you have not sesn him?" "I am sure. sir. I noticed that his room was not as tidy as I've seen it generally. Things seemed to be in eonfqsion." I returned to Fleetwood's apartments, between which and my uncle's, as I have mentioned, was a communicating door. I placed my ear to this door and listened. I heard no sound. I softly tried the door. It was locked; but whether it had been locked from *' - ! - /intcirlo T f.rmld Tint Ill*' illMUt" Ul lut tell. By this time it was 1 o'clock, and I began to feel uneasy. I went to my wife and consulted her. She hardly knew what to advise, having gathered from mo how peremptory were my uncle's instructions that he should not he disturbed. But when another hour had passed we decided that, in the strange and unaccountable absence of Samuel Fleetwood, we would make a gentle effort to arouse him. We stood together at the communicating door, and softly called to him, and presently called in a louder tone, without receiving an answer. My wife I tapper! nt tee door, with no better re : suit, antl then 1 shook it, arid called in a clear, loud tone, "Unale! Uncle!" And ft 11! there was 110 response from him. "Richard." said my wife, "I an alarmed. Ho is an old man, and " ! She could not proceed. Speechless ! she prized at me. find I nt her, and 1 felt that, in her mind, as in mine, wer< recalled the rvords I had tittered oi the previous nipbt. "Something must be done," I said. How it came about I know not, bui now there were other persons in the room be?ide ourselves?Mr. Mortlocli and Mile. Rosalie. "The door should be forced," said .Mr. Mortlock. "I will call cgaii, first," I said, and I cried, at the top oi* my voice, "Uncle! Uncle!" There was a dread portent in the silence that ensued. Feeling now that there was not n moment to lose. I put my shoulder to the door and tried to force it, but my strength was not great enough. "Let me try it," said Mr. Mortlock. He put forth all his strength, and literally smashed the door in. Even al this rlread iuncture I noticed that Mile. Rosalie looked at him in admiration of his strength. . We stepped iuto the room, expecting and hopin.tr that my nnele would leap from his bed at the unseemly intrusion and confront us. The form of my uncle was upon the bed, encompassed by an awful stillness. We softly j moved toward it, and, bending for- | ward, saw that he was cold and dend1 j Horror-struck, we retreated; then in- j stantly stepped forward again, my wife j only keeping in the background. 1 | lowered my ear to my uncle's mouth; j it was rigid and fixed. I placed my hand upon his heart; it was rigid and j fixed. I placed my hand upon his heart; It was pulseless. "He is dead!" I said. Mr. Mortlock cast infuriated glances at me. My wife was falling to the | ground as I caught her. "Poor gentleman!" said Mile. Rosalie. "Poor old gentleman!" ' i CHAPTER X. i It was an awful sight There was an expression of pain upon the pray, upturned face, and it is the sacred truth that my feelings were those of a man upon whom had fallen a most terrible and overwhelming blow. For a few moments, supporting in my arms the insensible form of my dear wife, this, and no other, was the impression produced upon me by the awful incident. But it is the sacred truth as well that my agitation presently assumed another phase. My uncle was - * J,-j V. ? I (leaa?ne nau uieu ut*iuie uc carry into execution the stern and I ruthless design which would have shattered the happiness of ray beloved ones. They had escaped the sentence he would have pronounced upon them. "Is it true, Richard?" whispered my wife. "My God! Is it true?" "It is as true that he if! dead," said .Mr. Mortlock, between his teeth, "as that he has been murdered." An exclamation of horror burst from my lips, and from the lips of my wife. Mile. Rosalie was silent "It is impossible," I said; "it cannot be!" "Look here," said Mr. Mortlock. He turned down the bedclothes, and i pointed to a thin circle round the dead man's neck. 'He has been strangled," said Mr. Mortlock, "in his sleep." "Heaven have mercy upon him.'" murmured my -wife, in a low, shuddering voice. "It will have." said Mr. Mortlock, "no mercy upon his murderer." "It is strange," said Mile. Rosalie, j finding her voice, "that nothing has ! been seen of Mr. Samuel Fleetwood." "No. no!" cried my wife, horrified at the suggestion. ilTk- A " ?-*J T>a?ihU/? Tm'fh noi*. "JSUT, ' SH1U .Ulie. rwiniir, sistence. "It is strange, is it not. sir?" "It is," I mechanically replied; "be must be found." "Meanwhile." said Mr. Mortlock, "this is a matter for the police." "For the police," I exclaimed. "For the police," repented Mr. Mort- | lock. "A wicked murder has been com- j mittcd in your bouse. Do you propose i to hush it up?" "No," I replied, "I do not. Your in- | sinuation is injurious and offensive." "Perhaps," he retorted, with bitter emphasis, "as injurious and offensive nc vnn hnve considered my presence in | your house to hare been." "Ah," I said, "you have observed that." "Oh, hush, hush"' murmured my i wife. "We are in the presence of j death." To be continued. A Hainan Interrogation Point. It was refreshing, too, when a young child traveling eastward from the far West held a conversation close beside me with a pallid mother. I never saw a -woman more utterly exhausted, while the child seemed as fresh at sunset as at dawn. It was -when the through train on the Boston and Albany still stopped at West Newton, and the conductor had just called "with vigorous confidence the name of that station. After a pause the child exclaimed as vigorously, "Mother!" to which the mother responded, perhaps for the two hundredth time that day, in a feeble voice, "What, dear?" when the following conversation ensued: "What did tliat man say, mother?" "He said West Newton." A pause for reflection, then again: "Mother?" j "What?" "What did that man say | West Newton for, mother?" To this the mother, with an evasiveness indicated by despair, could only murmur, "I don't know." This was too well-tried an evasion, and the unflinching answer came: "Don't you know what he said West Newton for. mother?" Thus demanded came the vague answer: "Paid it for fun cf it, I guess." By this time all the occupants of the esr were listening breathlessly to the cross-examination. Then came the inevitable "Mother," and the more and mure hopeless "What?" "Did that ma?i saj West Newton for the fun of it, mother?" "Yes," said the poor sufferer, with an ever increasing audience iistcniug to her vain evasion. The child paused an atom longer; ana then continued, still inexhaustible, but as if she had forced her victim into the very last corner, as she had, "What was the fun of it, mother?"?Atlantic. , Professor Fahlbeck says there are j 3000 noblo families in Sweden, while in Norway there are only five noble families, which amply explains the difference in their ill-matched union. While pursuing a mouse the other day, Mme. Delatour, of Paris, broke through the floor of her room and j found in the hole a brass box, contain- ! ing gold coins of the value of $1000. Some of the great reservoirs in the country districts that supply certain English cities with their water have become populous breeding places for water fowl and are well stocked with valuable fish. In Northern New Zealand recently a - - - -i i 1 native woman aeseriea iier nuouiiuu i and ran away "with another man. A | native court fined the deserted husband | horses, cattle and money for "lack of j marital authority in not being able to j I retain his wife." A Lafayette County farmer, whose sheep were being killed by wolves, covered a lamb's carcass with strychnine one night and left it outside his sheep pen. The next morning nine dead wolves were found within sixty feet of the carcass.?Kansas City Star. The arm of a well known London ! man might well be described as a gpnealogical tree, for it is being rapidly covered with dates. In addition to his own and his wife's birth dates and the record of their marriage, he has. the name and date of the birth of j eacn or his cnnaren. The Cnnard steamship Campania, on arriving at Queenstown on May 13, reported that on May 8 a wireless longdistance record was established. Messages were received direct from the Marconi station at Poldbu, Cornwall," a distance of 2200 miles. It is stated that the previous record was about 2000 miles. "Nothing doing" seems modern enough; is it slang? In the "Creevy Papers" there is a letter written to Thomas Creevy by a Dr. Currie, dated May 1, 1803. He is referring to Napoleon: "We are all cursed flatt here about the spunnet negotiations. Nothing doing. Everything stagnated. We shall have war, because it is just the most absurd thing in creation." LIFE INSURANCE IN CHINA.' Agents Require the Patlcnce of Job and a Cast Iron Digestion. In a lively letter to his friends at home, the English representative of an insurance company in a Chinese port tells of the devious Vays by which an insurance proposal is ap proached. "One of my agents," he writes, "comcs in and says, 'Please, master, .wantehee you come city side talkee one woman. Can takee insure, pidgin.' To which I reply, 'More better you talkee mississee come ny side, catchee chow (take dinner).' This being arranged, the lady arrives iu her chair, accompanied by two maid servants and her body servant. I have to go out and shake hands violently with myself, then walk backward over the gangplank, while her maids help her along. Her feet are perhaps two and a half inches long, so progress is slow. "Chinese ladies love to be asked how much everything costs, which is really a nice fashion, as they wear lovely r>tuff. She had gold bracelets up to the middle of the forearm, valued at ?1200, and pearls all over her hair worth ?300C. Her coat of lovely light cherry colored silk took five months to weave, and cost a trifle of ?80. She tells me she is a No. 2 wife, her husband having four altogether. "We have dinner of fourteen courses. She smokes cigarettes all the time, and I have to hand her every dish myself, and she has to rise and bow. She drinks port sherry, beer, champagne (at Is. Gd. a bottle), and then smokes a cigar. After dinner her maid gives her a silver basin and her powder box and combs, and she does her liair. Then I take tier to me uieau-e, and we eat nuts, oranges and biscuits. "The next stage is tliat I accompany her to a Chinese festival at a leinple tip the river. After seeing a procession, of 2000 boats, we cat and drink from solid silver dishes and caps, and -with, gold chopsticks. There are eighty-sis courses (believe it if you can), and they include shark's fin, birds' nests, doves' eggs and other luxuries. We drink native wine and tea. Another houseboat arrives alongside, containing her husband and three singing girls, one of Whom he will probably buy as No. 5. "I ask No. 2 if she is jealous, aud she Bays, 'No, not a bit,' and asks me if No. 5 is really pretty in my judgment It is all- the queerest mixture of morals and manners. Up to now we have not even mentioned business, but after about three weeks' palavering she will eventually insure. It is a queer business, and one requires the patience of Job and a cast iron digestion."?Loudon Mail. A Leviathan BaWlenhip. Two hundred additional men have been taken on at the Portsmouth , * J 1 *u1 r? rr voilfl trt aocicyaru, UllU luc.v iiir lujiut, .uu? the building slip nt North Corner, upon which the new Dreadnaught will be constructed. Every step to facilitate rapid construction is to be taken. All materials will be carried on rails alongside the slip, and the shipwrights will use pneumatic drilling and riveting tools. The Dreadnaught is to be the largest warship afloat, and the admiralty intend to have her ready for launchnig wiihin six months of the keel being laid, which will be the shortest time on record.?London Mail. Road to Rank in China. ?" i. II SCC1US IU Ut' LjUllf Uif mauiuu Vi late in Fekin to add military rank and powers to civil officials, presumably because the recipients of these rather unusual honors showed a knowledge of military matters when questioned by their majesties during audience.? Shanghai North China Herald. \ , THE GREAT DESTROYS! SOME STARTLING FACTS ABO'J' THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE; VThnt Somfi Teople Suy kcdnwii to f Abunrdlty? If Alcohol Gives fjtrenjrt Why l?o AthletCH Ab*tain 'Wljtlo 1 Tr?lBlnc??V|wel? I'oily mill Mlmt. Some ?>ny alcohol gives strength, so. why do athletes abstain wbi training Tor n vuoe or other oorites requiring specini strength? .Some say alcohol gives ondnrane If so, wby do great employers of lain cut off the supply of drink when woi of an especially arduous nature is r quired? Some say alcohol sustains the healt If so, why do insurance compauii take total abstainers at a lower pr tnium or cive them larger bonus* than others? Some say thai alcohol is good .?*. stimulant for brain workers. If tl. is a fnct. then all physiologists ai wrong, as they unanimously agree tfci the smallest quantity of alcohol up.se the balance of the mind, and Dr. She] pard. of London, and many other in thc.ritios state that about forty p< cent, of the cases of insanity ai caused by its use. Some say it is dangerous to give t the use of alcohol suddenly, if s why do prisoners, ail of whom ai obliged to abstain suddenly when con mitted to jail, improve in heaitb? i-'bme say why did God m::ke sue things if they were not to be usee God never mode alcohol. It is m found anywhere in nature, but is a pt son manufactured from rotten and d :-ayed vegetable matter. Some say our liOra tnaue wine, nr therefore it must be good, and mn t?e meant for use No doubt, all tot! ribstnicers would be prepared to drill wine as our Lord made it. from pui water. It is wine made from fennen ?d grapes and putriiied grain wliic contains the deadly poison called ale hoi. to which they object. Some say a little alcohol is a goc thing to take when weak and faggei As alcohol contains no food prc^)erl whatever is not this absolutely u wror nonclusion? It only acts as a whip 1 the tired1 horse, which draws out u li tie more of its exhausted strength, bi puts,nothing in it* place. A glass < warib milk will give the same feelin of relief, and at the same time mal the body and mind stronger. .Hie liquor truim; in ? unuivu monster, which only continues to In because it is fed by the moderai Irinkers. Thousands of drunkarc perish every year, and the ghafjtl urray is daily recruited from the rani jf the moderate drinkers. Count up your friends who wei Dnce moderate drinkers, but have bee ruined by strong drink. Think of tl danger of your loved ones, and remec ber that their safety may depend upc your example. It takes couragc and unselfishness 1 abstain, but face the facts and as yourself What is my duty? Twenty Braxonn For Opposing '.ho 1. It never builds up manhood, bi tears it down. 2. It never beautifies the home, bi cften wrecks it. It never increases one's usefo ness, but often lessens it. 4. It never allays the passions, bi inflames them. 5. It never stills the tongue of slai der, but loosens it. (i. It never promotes purity < thought, but poisons it. 7. It never empties almshouses ar prisons, out nns ineir. S. It never protects the ballot bo: but defiles it. 9. It never makes happy familie bnt miserable ones. 10. It never prompts to right doic In anything, but to wrong. 11. It never prepares one for beave: but fqr hell. 12. It never diminishes taxes (wit all its revenue), but increases them. 13. It never renders the Sabbat quiet, but desecrates it 14. It never protects our properl ncr perscnul safety, but endangei them. 15. It never helps one to get a goc insurance policy on his life, but mil tates against it. Ki. It never creates ambition ar thrift, but invites laziness, profligac; poverty, idleness and crime. 17. It nevir builds up the churci but peoples the station houses, prisoi and chain gangs. 18. It never refines character n< promotes Christian grace, but is a d stroyer of the soul. 19. It never teaches honesty and it Tightness, but invites the incendiat to apply the midnight torch. JO. It never protects a man. but rol him of his money, his family hapf ncss, his good name, his hopes and n endearments of life?American Issue Is All This Sc? There is but one sure cure for tl drinking disease or habit, and that the simplest of all. The cure consis i:? eating fruits. That will cure tl worst case of inebriety that ever i fiicted a person. It will entirely il stroy the taste for intoxicants and w make tbe drunkard return to 11 thoughts and tastes of his cbildhoo when he loved the luxuries nature hi provided for him and when his app tite had not become contaminated 1 false, cultivated tastes and attendai false desires and imaginary pleasure No person ever saw a man or woimi who liked fruit and who bad an app tite for drink. No persons ever saw man or woman with an appetite i'< drink that liked fruit. The two tast' are at deadly enmity with each otbe and there is in room for both of tbe in the same human constitution. Ot will certainly destroy the other.?V.'hi to lint. Trinprrnnce Nofrs. Wi1b the exception of Quebec evei province of Canada has now deelan for prohibition by a large majority. No Senator or member of tho I-Ioii of Representatives can purchase a dr< of wine or whisky or beer in line Sam's Parliament House. The Massachusetts Breweries Cor pany. known as the brewery tru> owning and operating ten I.-.rye plant has been indicted by the (Jvji.M ,Tm for selling bottle ale containing si pliuric acid. It is a splendid fact thai the pr ,.! (I... n'-ieliiiurinu r'.inHol lull l.pjti pr.rhtted of (lie sale of Iiqt:c There is now not ;i single bar at: where in (he vast building. We see in the Roston Evening Tra script of April 2!) that of sixty samp!< of Kost*'i whisky recently analyzed 1 the State Board of Health, only t\\ met the required standard of alcohol. Geo. T. Angel I. Intemperance alone, working uii chief with camu?utive effects, won destroy the race in half a dozen geni-r tions if the checks and balances of ten perauce and health did not mote tlui offset the ravages of vice. I THE . SUNDAY SCHOOL INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS FOR AUCUST 27. Subject: Jeremiah in the Dnnpeor. Jer. xxxvlll., 1-13? Golden Text, Malt.- v. li 1 10?Memory Verges, K-IO? Commentary on the Uaj'n l^cskon. .. I. Jeremiah's enemies (ys. 1-4). 1. . "Tlien." After the events referred to I? in chapter 37, where Jeremiah was delivered from 'the dungeon. "Shephatiah," etc. Some of Jeremiah's enemies ^ who wore seeking his life. "All the people." They had free access to him j5 in the court of the prison. 2. "Life for e' a prey." A proverbial expression. To . make one's escape with life like a vaiuable spoil or prey that one carries off; the narrowness of the escape, and the joy felt at it are included in the idea. ?s He shall carry off his life as his gain, saved by his going over io the Chaldeans. Had Jeremiah not had a divine commission he might justly have been accused of treason, but having one which made the result of the siege certain he-acted humanely as interpreter p' of God's will under the theocracy in u" advising purrender. 3. "Surely be -r given." This was a testimony.that he ^ constantly bore; he had the authority of Cod for it. He knew it was true "P and he never wavered or eijcivocated. ?* 4. "The princes said." Their reasons r0 were plain enough, but the proof was wanting. "Seeketh . . . the hurt." An unjust insinuation, for no man had ? done more for this people than had Jeremiah. His preaching was calcuII x- ? JUtl'U lo aruumi uieiu lu u ncuac ui lucu sins and cause them to turn to God. e" One of tbe commonest ways of injuring others is to misunderstand and misinl(f terpret their motives, as Jeremiah's j motives were maligned because it was H' possible for him to have clone what he _ did with bad motives. When there are "e two possible motives for the conduct J" of another, it is not only a more eharitnble, but probabJy a more truthful judgment to impute the better motives. "Judge not that ye be not judged," should be rritten in capital letters, a- yen. in flaming letters, before us all. II. Jeremiah in the dungeon (vs. 5, 'g 6). u. "King is not he." IZedekiah was t0 a weak.king. He lrnd a conviction that T" Jeremiah was a phophet of the Lord, and yet he dared not oppose his stafesmen, but yielded to their will without 's a question. An innocent man was thus :e sacrificed to their malice. These princes were wroth with Jeremiah (chapter 37: 15); "he had compared 'e thom to rotten figs" (chapter 24). But , for him they would have had affairs le .. . till ICOir own way, iiiey v< cur uiu.iuiu _*v tt> be rid of him. kS C. "Then took they Jeremiah." Jeremiah "was the butt of ridicule and scorn. He was put in the stocks, was u publicly whipped, was misrepresented ie as an enemy, was imprisoned several 3* times, but he kept right on. "The dun111 geon." Literally "the cistern." It was net a subterranean prison as that in L? Jonathan's house (chapter 37: 15), but !t u pit cr cistern, which had been full of water, but was emptied of it during the siege so that only mire remained. Such empty cisters were often used as ?n prisons (Zach. 9:11); the depth forbade lt hope of escape. "Sunk in the mire." They evidently expccted that he would die in that place. III. Jeremiah's friend (vs. 7-9). 7. il- "Ebedmelech." The servant of the king. He probacy was keeper of the it royal harem, end so had private access to the king. Already even at this n- early time, God wished to show what good reason there was for calling the jf Gentiles to salvation. An Ethiopian stranger saves the prophet whom his id own countrymen, the Jews, tried to destroy. So the Gentiles believed in x. I Christ whom the Jews crucified, and Ethiopians were among the earliest s, converts (Acts 2: 10; S: 27-39). "Sitting in the gate." The gates of cities were ig the places where justice was administered. 8 "Went forth." The servant n, went immediately to the king. There was no time to lose, for if he delayed h the prophet might perish. What a bold, eor.raKeons.aet this was. It ought b to put many of us to shame. 9. "These men," etc. He must have ,y been in the kings confidence or he : $ would not have dared raise his voice against the action of the princes. The id Lord can raise up friends for His peoi pie where they are least expected. "No more bread." That is, no more bread ill left of the public store in the city jr. (chapter 37: 21); or. all but no bread left anywhere. This shows to what h, straits the city was reduced. is IV. Jeremiah rescued (vs. 10-13). 10. "King commanded." Zedekiah's better jr nature was stirred. "Thirty men." Not e- merely to draw up Jeremiah, but to guard Ebed-meiech if the princes p. should oppose him. The king was de y t ermined that he should be rescued by force if necessary. Ebed-melech was 3S rewarded for his faith, love aud courii age, exhibited at a time when he might ill well fear the wrath of the princes. ?. 11-13. Ebed-meiech took the men as Ihe king had commanded and rescued Jeremiah. He let down into the pit some torn clothes and worn out garme.nts and instructed Jeremiah to roil i-c them around the ropes and place them ts under his armpits, so as not to suffer ie injury from the ropes when he was n- drawn up. Although-' Jeremiah was e- thus rescued from a terrible aeam, ne ill was not set at liberty, but remained in ie the court of the prison. He was still :l in prison when the armies of Babylon i<l took .lerysaleni. He was found in e chains and carried with other captives >y on the way 10 Babylon, but was reu( leased at Kamah. six miles from Jerus s::)e;u. Thus ended the prison life of in tho pfopl'.et. IIow Ion? he was in e- priron it is difficult to determine, prob<i ably for years. The- Lamentations >i which ho wrote after the destruction of py Jerusalem must have been his frequent r meditation while in confinement. in " There t:c two cicnanmn harvests annal11 * ly in Ccyloa. Mottier of Twenty-fire. Mrs. Samuel P. Swartwood. the rj mother of twenty-five children, died at h her home, at Mountain Top, Wilkesbftrre, Pa., of heart disft.se, aped forly51 seven years. She was married when jr she was fourteen, and the first baby ;< was born fourteen months afterward. There were but two spts of twins in n all the twfntv-tive, and all are alive nritv hnf coven S/kmn nf tlin s survivors are married, and twelve ' grandchildren also survive. Mrs j Swart wood contended that it was easier to raise a large family than a small one, and said that the varying ages ot 0 her children were such that they could '' look after one another. ir y A Small Baby. A diminutive bit of humanity arrived u In the City Hospital, at Jersey City, N. ^ J., by the stork route. The happy mother is Theresa Selva, and the baby weighs but fourteen and one-half ounces. The child is perfectly formed ind apparently healthy. s A Rich Bird. n In dressing a fowl, Lucie Manrentz, a n Paris cook, found iu its interior a gold ring set with two superb diamonds. j \ THE SIMPLE DESIRE; H I 0 Master, let me walk with Thee, MB ! In lowly paths of service free; m | Tell me Thy secret, help me bear a| The strain of toil, the fret of care. Help me the slow of heart to move M By some clear, winning word of lov<:; Teach me the wayward feet to 6tay, H And guide them in the homeward way. H Teach me Thy patience, gtill with Thee I In closer, dearer company, H In work that keeps faith sweet ai d str<]fl In trust that triumphs over wror g. B In hope that sends a shining ray Far down the future's broadening way. H In peace, that only Thou canst give, With Thee, 0 Master, let me live. -H ?Washington Gladden? ADVICE TO CONVERTS. g BT 0IP8T P*ITH. ' ' "Let your light shine before m? Never fail to witness for Christ, your home, first of all, not only word but in deed; in the chui amongst fellow-Christians, and in i world, never be ashamed of Jef You are to be a witness for EK? this is His desire for you. "Let i redeemed of the Lord say so/' " shall be witnesses unto Me." (A 1:8.) "They overcame by the blood the Lamb ar.d by the word of th testimony." (Rev. 12:11.) There thousands of .professing Christians w have no joy, because- they bear witness for Christ Oh, for the bolda or feter wfcui fie said, "We caul but speak the things which we hi seen and heard!" (Acts 4:20.) As far as you can undo the pf If there is anything wrong in the pi of your life, and you can put it ril do bo without delay. 'If you1 hi taken anything from any scan, rest< fully, or go ts far as you can in tl direction; this, is right Not only;f sake'sin,-but confess it, for that w put you rlghf. with the man you ha wronged, as well as bring you ii close relationship with God. 5 God "requireth that which is pas (Eccles. 3:15.) The jailor at Philii took Paul and Silas "the same h< (of his conversion) and washed*"!# stripes." He could not wait till me lng; when morning came, he was Joicing in God. Joy always folkr stripe-washing. Let all those w know you se-? your rellgiou means < ing right all along the line. This m mean time aad trouble, and even si fering, but tbe soul made right wl God must get right with man. Don't lose heart because yon f tempted. You will be more conscio of temptation now you have giv yourself to (Jod and are trytng to right The devil is now your bltl enemy; he will seek to trip yon every step. He would delight to av* throw you; your fall would be a grc victory for him. But remember y are not alone; Jesus Is not only for yi He is within you, and. all about y< as a wall of fire. You have notbi to fear; the Mighty One lives to bri you through the temptation more th conqueror. Yon do not fight alone, you would fail. The Lamb slain iM fore the throne is also the Lion H the - tribe of Judah, and He lives H give victory again and again. Be ifl afraid! But yon say: "Supposefl am overtaken and fall into sin, wbH am I to do then?" Go back to GH Instantly fa: pardon and cleansifl Tbe command is "Sin not;" "but any man sin we have an advoceH with the Father." (1 John 2.) 9 Saved to Serve.?Remember you afl saved to ser^e. Christ Himself cacH not to be miaistered unto, but to mfl later, and to j?ive His life a ramsonr: the world. Yon, too, must be of-a vice to som<' one If you would en into the joy of the Lord. Try to n lster some hit of honest work 1 Christ and man, every day you H There may he tears and heartache the work, but remember Christ's 1 was service for you. If you are H you must 6erve. All He did was do because He loved. "I must worl said Jesus. If you have His spli can you be 6elflsh and idle? " many as are led by the Spirit of G< they are the sons of God." (Roma 8:14.) You may be saying, "What can do?" Do the little things; begin the home, speak lovingly, act gent Serve those who are near you?fa er, mother, sister, brother, wife, hi band, child. Sink your own will a rights for their good, do not seek the good for yourself. Always willing for those about you to sh? with you, and ever be willing to de yourself. A heart filled with t love which "never faileth" will in t end win great victories. We poss? most truly when we give most awj we save ourselves when we lose oi selves for Christ's dear sake. Let tl mind be in you. Remember, the t gers which made the stars cooked breakfast for hungry fishermen! UTom jdints to i\ew converts. Reunite of Kind Deed*. Perform a kind action, and yon fi a kind feeling growing in yourst even if it was not there before, you increase the number of objects your kind and charitable interest, y find that, the more you do for the the more you iove them.?William 0. Peabody. Striking Testimony. { I have been driven many times my knees by the overwhelming con\ tion that I had nowhere else to My own -wisdom and that of all atx me seemed insufficient for the daj Abraham Lincoln. PeirctMl Guidance. There can be no safe guidance wh. is not perpetual. The advantage ol year may be lost in an hour. If net independently of the Spirit in lit things we shall look for Him in vi in great things.?George Bowen. Fill Your Nlchi>- SB Find your niche and fill it. If itH^ ever so little, if it is ouly to be n he\^B and drawer of water, do somethinjE^B this great battle for God. and trut^H Spurgeon. 19 Eleventh Hour Weddinc. A remarkable wedding took plaee^B Penzance? England, the eontraet^B parties being Francis Russell Vince^B a hale widower of eighty-six years, i^B Annie Harvey, a healthy and actfl^ widow*, aged ninety-six. They are fl| fives of West Cornwall, but h<^H known each otlier only n few wee^H Each lias been married twice viouslv. Hot?l Fot Tramps. Wm A comfortable home for trampe very ambitious lines has been biSS In Chicago.