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The f = OF Richard = CF A VICTIM OF CIRCUMS CHAPTER XIII. I n< Continued. w 'When this reaches your namls I shall be doad,- lying in a .dishonored grave. By man I shall be condemned, and in man's eyes my name will be infambu?;ybut the Supreme, I'hopc- and 115 believe, will forgive the sin it is my Tl( intention to commit. This contemplated sin -will take the form of a confession, in -which I shall declare myself to tee guilty of the awful crime you com- ^ mitted. When you read these lines, you alone, of all men living, will know that I am innocent. ?] "It was an hour past midnight -when I was awakened from my sleep by Mr. ^ ;Wilmot's voice. Thinking he needed w my services, I went into his room and ur' found him in deep slumber talking to c* himself. He was talking of you and my honored and beloved mistress and daughter; and although, after I had 111 convinced myself that I was not required, I did not stop to listen, I heard enough to suspect that, unless yon bent ' yourself to Mr. Wilmot's commands, r it was his purpose to ruin and beggar ** you. Sad at heart, I returned to my m room and sought my bed, and presently fell asleep again. I must have slept about two hours, when I started up in bed with an impression that some per- a " 1 i- II. TTT W Bon Desiaes myseu ivu? m rar. wnuivi o apartments. I arose, and was about to c ascertain -whether this was so, when the door between his room and mine was softly opened, and yoa came forth. "I shrank out of sight, and could not help seeing that your face was white and convulsed, and that your limbs p( were trembling violently. Stepping very quietly, fearful of attracting no- " tice, you left my room. Waiting a little y( while to give you time to get clear . away, I once more entered Mr. Wilmot's apartment, and discovered, to my d< horror, that he had been murdered? by you! . JJ "What was I to do? To give the alarm and point to you as the mur- n( derer? In that cas?, indeed, your ruin ? and disgrace would be complete; and'1 not alone yours, but that of the beloved ^ mistress for whom I would cheerfully have laid down my life. Overwhelmed jj by this reflection, I devoted a few miu- fiI utes to thought. To all outward evi- ? deuce I was the only witness of your * awful crime; my evidence, and only 0 mine, would convict you. What a frightful repayment for all the angelic w kindness I and my dead wife had re- ai ceived from my beloved mistress I To condemn the man she loved to the ^ scaffold, and make all her future life and that of the daughter she loved so lir deeply a life of agonizing shame and sv T nt r<> Burrow; i au tv uh:lh (jviuhu u i, shunued, or thrust aside in rags, beg- ] ging for a crust. Could I not avert *? this terrible fate? I could. "From symptoms which were unmistakable I knew that I had myself but a short time to live?perhaps not more than a few days. I was, happily, with- 9^ out a relative in the world to whom my death would bring a pang of sorrow. I could give up my life for yours. nc I could take you crime upon myself. s0 "My resolution was made. All tbat ^ I desired to avoid was a shameful end " upon the scaffold. Flight would fasten ar suspicion upon me. I might me able 0 to eonceal myself till I was convinced J0' the end was near. Then I would give 1,1 myself into the hands of justice, and , - make confession of the crime. Even if 111 I were taken, I should in all probabil- ur ity die in prison. After all, the sacri- fc fice would not be so great; a few days 1S! of suffering?tbat was all; and when m we have done with mortal life it is by God?not by man?thfrt we are judged. sl] Doubtless you would keep your fearful secret, and my beloved mistress would -n-.i iv. , v..? never kijow ujux iu? ijulius ui iuu iiuoband -who held lier happiness and honor In his keeping were stained with blood. s'! "I fled, and for some time have sue- P0 eessfully evaded pnrsuit; but I feel I am sinking fast. It is time for me to give inyself Tip and make my false eonfession. From newspapers which I managed to obtain I learned all the w surroundings of the crime. I read of the money being missing from the dispatch box, and of the stolen ting. It is by means of this information ^ that I shall be able to make the confession so circumstantial that it cannot be doubted. er "You are ?ree; your secret is safely r hidden in my grave. What I have done and shall do is for my beloved u( mistress and her child. To you I say. repent. Endeavor by good deeds to " atone for the crime which must weigh >iaoviiv unnn vnur snnl. Pmv. and m humble yourself before the Divine ? throne; and not only for this deed of blood, but for your guilty intimacy with ai Mile. Kosalie, may God pardon you! Destroy the last visible traces of your crime, and burn this paper. Farewell! "SAMUEL FLBE1 WOOD." w h: t\ CHAPTER XIV. e: Stunned and bewildered, I sat gazing y< at the death warrant in my trembling a; hand. It was no less. This letter, bi made public, would seal my doom. a I was, then, a murderer. In my sleep ci I had killed my uncle, and had after- m ward drawn tuc ruin? uum jui? ua& a. and the ring from Lis finger. In this ti way it was that those articles came c?' into my possession. Mechanically my Is .hand stole to the pocket in which they U were concealed. Mile. Ttosalic* smiled, si and in that smile 1 saw that she knew In the meaning of the molioi). ot I could not speak; I coultf not lift eny c< .head. tr "Well," said Mile. Rosalie, "have you I nothing to cay ?" tc "What cau I say?" I muttered. How much higher than I was this aj {base woman. FulJ of venom, malicious- p< ? ? ? ?? 'eril | D Pardon, i C< tamtiai rvinrhrp " I- V lULHUU ir lirteohst. j SI ess, and spite. as she was, her soul as free from blood-guiltiness. 11 "You are guilty," she said. ^ "I must^be guilty," I said mechanic- ^ ly. "^Vbat do you propose 1o do?" "I propose," she replied, in a voice of uch,.sweetness,' "to save you." "To save me!" I exclaimed. "I am jt St to live." "Perhaps not," she said, dryly; "but - - * /? >u Lave a wife and itaugnter. vvnax " onld your disgraceful death mean to 11 lera?" This reference to Ubose dear innocent ^ les whose honor was my honor, tl hose shame was my shame, and who, J1 ere I brought to the bar of justice, n; ould share my infamy, completely ^ amanned me. A sob of agony e?- 1 iped from my lips. fl "Is it not worth while," said Mile. ** osalie, "to save yourself, so that they ay be saved?" S "Yes, yes,"' I gasped, seizing her hand fl id looking imploringly into her face. ^ ? ? rtnm 1'rnni i r?Tl flmillV find IV OUIU tucuj *o?v ? om lifelong sorrow. 0 God! Is it tl >ssible that you will do this for me id them?" n "I will. Hush! There is a knock at K le door;* Ask -who's there." ij1 Her voice, as she spoke, did not rise t< )ove a whisper. I strove to utter the tt ords she dictated, but my tongue g( ave to the roof of my mouth. "Richard! Richard!" w It was my wife calling softly to me fi om without. h; "Open the door," whispered Mile, g osalie. "I will hide behind there," ti )inting to screen. "She "will not see k e. Do not let her keep you long, w rhen she is gone I will show you that tl >u have nothing to fear." it She glided with noiseless footsteps ci At- - ? -?- - T w??? a/3 +/v TI ?ninu xae screen, uuu x uiu?cu iu iuc ^ )or. I forgot for a moment that it y< as locked, and my wife called to me ai iat the key was turned. I unlocked d; ;e door and admitted her; but I did b< )t allow her to step into the middle T ' the room. She was in her night' a] ess, and I well remember that there -h; as a piece of narrow red ribbon at U }r neck, which looked to me like ir ood. She told me that, waking and ai iding me absent from the bedroom, ie grew anxious and came to seek me. responded with wandering words and 6f oks, and this appeared to render her oj ore anxious. She tenderly asked sj hether I was not well. Ob, yes, I f< lswered, I was well, but I was en- sj iged upon a most important task. n< 'by had she come to disturb me? I h< ust be alone?alone! And still she y< igered, and continued to 6peak in V -1- - ?1 o-n/l /ilocmn/1 mo fil ift'Ct ana JUVHJfc IVllCO, aiiu viu^vu und the neck, and kissed me; but dj pushed her from me, and bade her go ai her room and. sleep. tl "You'will cwne soon?" she asked, so- p< itously. e: "I do not know, I do not know," I uttered. "I have much to do. Good V 3d! Do you not see how you are hi stressing me!" ki Shortly afterward she left me, but b< ft before she made another effort to . di othe me. She smoothed my forehead lo ith a cambric handkerchief and put it into my hand, saying it was clean ki id cool and would refresh me. As I ie crossed the threshold I quickly in eked the door upon her, and the c( indkerchief fell from my hand. Mile. c< Dsalie, gliding forward from her hid- I g place behind the screen, picked it bi ) and toyed with it, and I made no at- 1 nipt to take it from her. The vital ol sue at stake completely engrossed e. w "We are free now from intrusion," in te said, "and our business will not in ke long.*' hi 'Business?" I muttered. "What busi- fc >?s?" "The business of saving your life," ie replied, "i have terms to proISO." "Name them." , "First," she ?aid, and now her voice Yl ul assumed a new form of malignity, J ell me what you think I was joins liilo I was hiding behind the screen." ' "Doing? Nothing!" ^ "Not even listening?" w "All, yes; you could not help doing at." " "Of course not. It is uot to be sup- ' )sed that I would play the part of ' ivesdropper unless I was compelled, uch an infamous -woman as I am! Iiat is what you called iue a few min- j? 'es ago, 1 believe. I was a liar and a lief as well, was I not? I like to be ^ >rreet. And but a few short hours ? ?fore that you discharged me in a . anner that would ruin the fair name V : any lady, and informed me that 'l was not a fit associate for your wife 1,1 id daughter. And yet I am going to S1 ive them; yes, indeed I am, and to a ive you, too! But I must tell you h i>ct -tvlint T tvjir whilr? vonr wife ? as here. I was taking down in shortind every word that was spoken be- d veen you. You had 110 idea of the 11 ctent of my accomplishments, had E >u? I am really accomplished. Years a ;o I learned shorthand, and it used to 11 ring me in a few shillings. Oh, what ^ hard life I have had! what a bitter, uel life! But I am going to enjoy s< lysell' now that I have the chance. J3 ou see, with this handkerchief and ^ lis little piece of paper in my hand 1 in go to your wife and say: "Not only ? your husband a murderer, but be- ^ veen him and I there is ' Well, ie can gxicss the rest when I prove to E?r, by relating what you said to each " her just now, that I was in your room tl mcealed while you were so anxiously c< ying to get rid of her. Proof positive, w call it. And at such a time of night, io! Oh, fie!" She did not speak rapidly; now and ti ijain she paused, to give me an op- h artuaity of replying; but I could find t< V ' n>f iTrfi 't.ilCrtf i -? -- \ - o words, so confounded was I by her Itered manner. That I was more comletely than ever .n her power was evient to me in .spite of my agony of ( ewilderment. Tiiief, murderer, adulter?I was thus io be proclaimed to je world and io my wife and child, tut the woman who held me in her )ils had said she would save me! In 'hat way! Not out of tenderness an<2 ity, but out of hate and scorn. What ! aurse was to be dictated by these j ?ntiments? i "You understand roe:"' she asked, j It is necessary that you should tell le that you understand me." - ] "So far," I said, "I iinderstand you." "I am about to dictate terms. My ilence, my mercy, must be purchased, have set a price and terms upon : ] jem." She forced me to reply, keeping ] lence till 1 spoke. i "Let me know what they are?" "That is sensibly spoken. In the ] iurdered man's dispatch box there 4hAitc<oiul nnnn/lc T mnci clc | . ave that money." "I liave- not got it." "Nonsense! I must have it."- , 1 "I have not got it." J i " 1 "Swear by the living God." 1 "I swear by the living God!" < She laughed mockingly. "But. my ear sir, my innocent, virtuous gentle- ] lan, money I must have. You drew om the bank to-day ?1000. I must 1 ave that. It is in tbis room. Ah, j lere is a safe in the corner! You keep . our precious things in it. Your eyes ? re wandering toward it now. And j ieee two keys upon the table?why, as ' am an honest woman, tbey must be 1 ie keys of the safe! I wonder, now, 1 ' T 1/1 ?+?>? ] JL tUUlU U111W. IX AC I allowed her to do as she would, he unlocked the safe, and drew there om two bags of gold, 500 sovereigns 1 each. "I Bell you your life for the gold in jese bags," she said. "Is it agreed?" I nodded vacantly. My senses were umbed. If I could have poured out iy life's blood to save from sorrow ad shame my darling wife and daugh?r, gladly would I have shed it. What, len, in comparison, were these bags of old? "It is fortunate," she said, "that you rere pa*d in gold. I should have reused bank notes, and then you would ave been on the straight road to the allows. But there is another condi* J on: Your life is not worth a moient'6 purchase if you decline it. You ill go from this house to-night within le hour, and you will never set foot i it again. Where you go to I do not ire; disappear, drown yourself, hang ourself; it will not matter to me. *If ou refuse to obey me, if ever you seek gain the society of your wife and aughter, they and all the world shall e made acquainted with your crimes, hat is my revenge; as sweet to me? b, sweeter?than money. You would ave driven me forth. I drive you >rth. So long as you are in hiding i any part of the world you like you re safe. Do you agree?" "I must, agree." "Then there is nothing more to be lid." She moved toward the door, lened it, and spoke to me from that jot. Every word of her hissing voice 'II clear upon my senses, although she mta in A tnnA Krt low that it COuld 3t travel to any other part of the Duse. "I shall watch that you keep sur -word. I hate you and yours! iolate the conditions I have imposed, nd I will bring your lady wife and lughter- to the gutters. I will hunt id pursue and expose them, so that ley shall never know a moment's ?ace. You know what you have to cpeet. Good-night." She was gone, and I was alone. Tell did I know that she would put er threats into execution if I did not faith with her. And was it not ?tter, apart from this, that I should isappear from the sight of those I ved and never see them again? Was possible, knowing what I knew? mowing that I was a murderer?that could ever allow them to place their mocent lips to my guilty ones, that I )uld ever gaze into their dear, inno * - * ? 13 1 o rrv_-_^ I int eyes wltnout suuaaenngr aiue, ( felt that I bad sinned unconsciously, t ut the guilt was no less mine than if 1 had done the deed in the broad light i ' day, with all my senses about me. f Yes, I must go; from this home to 1 hicli I had brought my young wife, c i which my dear child had been born, J i which we had enjoyed a heaven of j ippiness. I must go, and live hence>rth a dead life. x To be continued. t , g Mine. Lonbet. The mother of President Loubet, who ( ied recently at the age of ninety-ona s ears, was a woman of a type to be < let with nowhere outside of France. s he came of that country stock, to be * jrfeetly candid, that peasant stock, j liich is the backbone of the republic, s rid s?ie never pretended to be any- J ling but what she was. Even after i er son became President of France i io could not be induced to pay a visit ) Faris. Of course she was proud of M. Louet's success, but it is said that ber rst remark after she learned that be as President was: "I sball see him ss than ever now." In this, however, je was mistaken. M. Loubet connued to be a frequent visitor to the ttle farm at Marsanne where he was orn, and which, after her sons became jeeessful men, Mme. Loubet looked fter alone. She always refused to in ust the management of the farm to , nyone else, and remained vigorous [ i brain and body almost to Her dying ay. When lier sons visited her she rj lade tbem help in the work. "When i Imilp Loubet went to Marsanne soon 1 fter he had been eleclcd President, 1 er first words, after she had greeted f im, were: "Come on, Emile, I want you to do , smething, I am too old to knead the j read, but I never let anyone else bake j ;; you must help me in the job." 1 The President thereupon took off his ; aat and went obediently to work.? ' lew York Times. 5 - j T2v? counsel of George Washington: j Labor to keep alive in your breast { tiat little spark of celestial fire called 1 onscience," is a word of advice al- J rays worthy of thought. "That man has n perfect right to dieite to his wife." "How so?" "Oh, 'j e married his stenographer."?Prince- s )A Tiger, v i ( ... ... .. . . THE PULPIT. A SCHOLARLY SUNDAY f^RMONI E THE REV. ALBERT JONES LORD. Subject : Sacrament of Service. Brooklyn, N. Y.?The Rev. Albe: Jones .'_ord, pastor of the First Concrr pjational Church, Merldcn, Conr preached in riymonth Church Sundn morning in exchange with the assistai pastor, the Eev. Willard F. Harmo: Mr. Lord had a good audience, an preached an excellent sermon. H subject was "Tba Sacrament of Se rice." Tie tPxt was from Isaiab xli:i "They helped every one bis neiglibo and every one said to liis brother. 'I of good courage.'" Mr. Lord said: We have been passing rapidly in tl last half century from an individna istic to a social type of civilizatio: rani's words were never more tn than to-day. when he said, "None of \ liveth to himself, and 110 man dieth liimself." All the forces and factoi pertaining to hnman life?mechanics social and religious?have been movii to such a degree toward each othi that the twentieth century can say tb; the one word which will serve her be for a watchword is "Together; togetl jr." In the industrial world the concei (ration of forces is most manifest. D T/vcinh tn mlnfl hflW til! fifty years ago it wan the age of bom spun. Families could meet all tl needs of their households, spinnin weaving and the making of garment The fields about the home supplied tt inmates -with the necessities of !if Then it was that the main force wi the brawny arm. But to-day manufa ture has forsaken the home for tt mill and the factory, and steam an electricity are the regnant forces. E vision of labor has taken the place < the single hand. Then one man mac many things; now many men make 01 thing. But as industrially, so socially ai sve becoming more intimately relate A. half century ago there were cor mnnities, many but small in numb< md limited in advantages, yet eomple in themselves. Citizens seldom wei hm-nnrl thp hnrdprs nf their reSDCCth towns. But gradually those commnn ties have been grouped into towns..ar the towns developed into cities and tl ;ities into greater cities. Whereas 01 fathers were independent of all tl svorld, we are more or less dependei >n the whole world. This made Robe Louis Stevenson exclaim, "It is real; iisheartenins how we depend on oth< people in this lifp." This complex life has given rise to ;reat many social and fraternal o ;anizations. Men have banded thee selves together for mutual helpfnlnes Fathers, working by the week ar 'or small wages, having little ones d lending upon them, have serioi houghts when they realize that sic! less may be lying in wait for thei md short hours may be their lo SVhen the head of the family is sic md unable to work, the income cease jut expenses increase. To meet a liese possibilities the various benev ent societies and fraternal organizi ions have come into existence. It is every man's duty to consider n< inly the present demands of the fnc ly, but its future welfare. It is :rime for a father to spend bis mone ,'reeharided at the bar. or in hospitalil it the club, or squander it in sport vhen he has not, either in the savin? lank or in insurance, made secure tl 'uture welfare of bis family. It jvery man's duty to endow the futui vith as good a livelihood for his fan ly as lies in his power. We heartily sympathize with frate lities and societies in their sick ben its and care of widows and fatherle; :hildren. They Lave a mission in soc >ty. But, however commendable the nay be, they must not take the plat )f the two divine institutions?th lome and the church. There is but or )lace where God has set up the altt ?f domestic affection, where conj gi elations are sanctified by the present if children, and that is the home; an here is but one institution which tL son of God ordained while upon eartl md that is the Christian church. Fri ernal organizations should be suppl nents, but never attempt to be subst utes for the home or the church. But we cannot say that because li) s becoming more highly organized ;an be lived more easily. On the oth< land, we are inclined to say that tt :Ioser men's relations are the greatt he friction and the moro difficult 1 lave every event work good to ever lerson. This kind of life, I repeat, : ar better but more difficult to live i til its relations. The tone of a thrt ir five bank organ is much bette idler, more sympathetic and harmon ius than the tone of a cabinet orgai n the one there are few combination vbile in the other there are hundred \.n amateur can play the one, but on] he master organist can play the othi iatisfactorily. So in these times < lighly developed social and religloi ife it is difficult to live a full, rounde Christian life. A company of peop ;pread over a large area can get aloe omfortably well, but crowded into ;mn!l inclosure they will sutler en jarrassment. They all liave elbow md where it is ideal to march tliroug ife. torching elbow to elbow, it is n< ;o comfortable when men are crampe tnd their elbows touch one anothj nder the arms. Our whole social lil s, therefore, a question of elbows. This leads us naturally to the que; ioif, How can life be lived so as to fu ill all these manifold relations Tii mswer is found in the words of tli est, "They helped every one his neigJ )or and every one said to bis brotlie Be of good courage.' " I wish thes vords might be placed over the dooi >f every church, inscribed upon tL vails of every place of worship an ;elected as a watchword for ever haritable organization. What iiangd world this would be if the sci iment of this text should go into effe( o-moiTow morning. The words su{ ;est to us two ways by which we ma idminister the sacrament of service. Humanity is in constant need of hel] rhe circle of suffering and misfortun s all the1 while changing, but it neve lappens to De empty. m spue 01 m 'act that "wo are a rich country an ire living in times of plenty, there at hildren in every city in need of brea< md elderly people in need of suppoi md comfort. It is no disgrace to Li wor or to be sick if we have done n n our power to drive away the wol 'rom the door and beat down th germs in our system. Jesus was poo nore so than the foxes and 1he bird: Paultwas poor, bavins few or no poi ;essions but "the cloak and the parol nent;" Peter was poor, "Silver an jold have 1 none." Poverty is no dii jraee, unless it be the dregs of ,vasted life. Wherever there is hoi >red poverty there should be generou jenevolence. To pity distress is but human; To relieve it is CJod like. When Jesus was upon earth He sai .hat every benefaction which was tx stowed upon one of the least of 1h jrethren in a loving spirit was accept! ble. unto Him. Inasmuch is a -word which is full of significance to all charity -workers. "All the beautiful sentiments in the world will weigh less than Y a single lovely action." Many of the fraternal organizations might teach us who are members of the church lessons .. in charity. A short time since I received in my mail by mistake a postal sent by one member of a fraternal orrt ganization to another, asking him to e" call and assist a sick brother. How often does our fellowship prompt us to I ^ do this? Yet the Bible says, "Do good unto all men, especially unto those who are of the household of faith." No gift ip of means or might will ever fail to be 1S thrice blest. Let the largest end of r; your generosity be beneath the surface if it chances so to be: let the number of r> T'niiv honofnMinns hp n secret if VOU ! 5e will, but. whether secret or public, crowd your life with endless benefac10 tions and countless mercies. Edwin MnrkUam has a beautiful n- poem entitled "Inasmuch." He pictures ,e a watchman. Ivan by name, on Mos's cow's castled height guarding the cit10 adel. The driving snow was heaping rs itself against the citadel wall when a half bare beggar man tottered past. The watchman ran and threw his own coat around the half frozen beggar, but that very-night died himself from exposure: But waking in that Better Land that .ies Beyond the reaches of these cooping skies, n- Behold the Lord curne out to greet him ,. home. ^ Wearing the coat he gave at Moscow's dome? e" Wearing the heavy, hairy coat he gave ie By Moscow's tower before he left the g. grave. le "And where, dear Lord, found you this e. coat of mine, 1S A thing unfit for glory such ns Thine?" ? Then the Lord answered with a ]ook of t 1'Rht: , "This coat, My eon, you gave to Me last 'd night." "* But *iiere is another way to again offer the sacrament of service than by le giving food to ent and raiment to put 10 on: It is suggested by the last half of the text: "And every one said to his re brother, 'Be of good courage.' " There are men and women in this world who D" need an encouraging word more than er they need bread. Man does not live te bv bread alone. There are men on our 3t streets who Lave been unfortunate in re their livps. They are pessimistic and discouraged and distrust all the world. lcl There are others who are in some vole cation which does not measure up to ir their ambition, and they need to have some one tap them'on the shoulder and say. "Be of good courage." There are i a good many men who become dlscourly aged before they become drunkards. 2r There are others who lose their hope before they lose their good name. a There are many who need to be met r* at the door of the factory at the close D" of the day's work and led beyond the s- saloon to the doors of their homes, ,a that they may be saved to themselves e" and to their families. They need words 's of strength. Their wills are weak and must be reinforced. They need to be inoculated with courage, and the powei to resist evil. * Very few of us realize how much help there is in a handshake when 11 given in a brotherly way. One of Wei?" lington's officers when commanded to go on some perilous duty, lingered a moment, as if afraid, and then said: 3* I "Let me have one clasp of your all- | a* conquering hand before I go. and then a I can do it." The majority of the y needy ones of earth ask .not for our 7 money, but for our sympathy, and our s' sympathy we ought to give. "Some ?s one ought to do it, but "why should I?" !e should be turned into the sacrificial |s sentiment, "Some one ought to do it, e so why not I?" Frederick Douglass a* appreciated the uplift which Lincoln always gave him when they met, for r- Douglass said: "He is the only man e- who does not remind me that I am a ss negro." To say (o a weak brother with . :i- all the meaning in your soul, "Be of 'y good courage," will often make him a ?e moral giant and suffer him to rise ie above his difficulties and his sbortcomie ings. There are .very few persons who ir do not need words of encouragement, ill who do not need to have some one say ;e to them, "Be of good courage." d Xo one has ever been able to SDeak >e this word with such pathos as Jesusj b. and no hearts have ever been lifted into a- the presence of their bes't selves as e- those to whom He spoke. When the i- woman was brought to Him taken in her sin, it was "Go sin no more." ?e When others would condemn the wornit an who stole her way into the house of ir Simon the leDer to anoint Jesus' feet le He said: "She hath done what she ?r could." When Mary and Martha were to mourning the loss of a brother it was, y "Thy brother shall rise again." When is the thief on the cross threw himself in upon Jesus' compassion, the Master ?e said, "To-day thou shalt be next Me in r, Paradise." q Something Extra. s, It is not enough, according to Chriss. tianity, to be as good as the average, iy yet many seem to think so. It is hard *r to overcome the childish habit of com)f paring ourselves with others, and takis ing what comfort we can from. tbe d thought that we arp not any worse ie thau they. ig Jesus said: "What do ye more than a' others?" Christianity, if it is anything a- new at all, is something extra. It does s, not say that the old religions are altoh gether wrong. No, it says that they [ )t are inadequate. Christ came to fulfil, d not to dectroy. The bruised reed He ;r does not break, the smoking flax He ! :c does not quenco. me ursi ne sn-fts j to bind up, that it may become just as j s- strong as possible; the second He fans I 1- into a flame. Christ says to all men: j ie "You arc My disciples indeed when j ie you become all that God intended you | i- to be. Do not remain in the lowlands, j r, Do not be contented with a common- I ;e place life. Come upon the mount with j s Me. Live the separated life. Be some- i e thing extra."?Northwestern Christian j d Advocate. v A Great Calling;. j- "Be inspired by the belief that life is ;t a great and noble calling; not a mean and groveling thing that we are to i , j' struggle through as we can;'but an | ? elevated and lofty destiny." There is x inspiration in such a beJief. It gives , Ie strength, courage, patience; it furnish- | ,r cs a firm foundation for faith; it en- ] (j courages to high endeavor; it quickens j . d the purpose of righteousness; it puts , t? dignity upon the strivings and long- i | ings of the soul; since it establishes ! ( t relations of divinity between the in- 1 ( |e dividual and the Eternal God; and it I . H makes it possible for one to go forth I !.t. ,, hit, llUQ,.*- flltl i . If Willi il iVJIljS ?'? "v..... ...v, J e King's work ail the dim day long."? , r> Gladstone. '? One Cannot Abide Alone. 3* Tlie love we have to God is realized 'j iii our lovo to men. It cannot abide alone. They "who have thought to gain ] 9" it by retirement and meditation have a found it only a will-o'-the-wisp, save as l" it has issued in the love that seeks s men and tries to do them good.-Herman Packard De Forest. The Soul a Beautifier. d As a countenance is made beautiful ! ?- by the soul's shining tLrough it. so e the world is beautiful by the shining"' i- through it of a God.?Jacobi. THE SUNDAY SCH001 INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS FOR OCTOBER I; Subject: Daniel and Belshaizar. Dan. 17-30?Golden Text, Tsa. xxxlv., 16 Mfinory Verges, 29, 30 ? Commentary on ihe Day's Lesson. I. The handwriting on ihe wall. Belshazzar, only sixteen or seventeen years old. was the ruling king in the 1 city of Babylon. Secure within his p defenses, he felt confident of safety, ye,i and therefore engaged in revelry at a H feast which he made to a thousand of his lords. In his drunken folly and ? wickedness he called for the golden UA and silver vessels which had been taken from the temple at Jerusalem. jn , that he jpight drink from them as a T token that his gods had given victory over the God of the Jews. During Ths this profane revelry a hand appeared and wrote upon the wall. This filled the king with fears, and he declared that the wise man who should inter- jj pret the meaning should be clothed with scarlet and have a chain of gold. Mei and be third ruler in the kingdom. T When all had failed, the queen, moth- . . er of Belshazzar, came in and per- jj tmo/ln/l hop cnn fn cend fr>r Daniel to whom, when he came, the king repeat- ?6 ed his promise made to the wise men. II. Daniel reproving the king (vs. 17-24). 17. "Let thy gifts by to thy- A self." ^aniel as a pi-ophei of God wei cares nothing for any reward this apj: king can give, nor does be feor him. of i IS. "The most high God," Whom and Daniel proclaimed as the only God, and int< whose power Nebuchadnezzar had rec- T ognized in the deliverance of the He- abo brews out of the furnace. "Thy fath- No er.'f Grandfather. "Majesty." In the tha eyes of his subjects. "Glory." From He his victories. "Honor." From the en- moi largement and decoration of the city. to j 19. "Whom would he slew." In Th< dispensing punishments he condemned kn? or acquitted at picture, and in dis- It? pensing rewards hfApnted or denied 0 OA TTTO O ll I Q prtrit'iHitfJUS. ^u. XJitrai i nno iiiiw *-*? up." In pride and arrogance, wilful lies and obstinate. "Deposed." This oc- pre curred not by the rebellion of bis peo- He pie, but by the direct visitation of kin God. He became insane. mei 21. "He was driven." Tbe madness and that fell upon him induced him to for- nev sake society and to run to the woods bra and deserts, where he lived like a wild con beast. 22. "Thou?hast not humbled." car Thou hast sinned, not through iguor- E ance, but through deliberate contempt mo of God, regardless of all warning. 23. an< "Against the Lord." As if thou hadst hai been equal or even superior to Him in kef wisdom and power. "Vessels of his a i house." R-om' the templfc of Bel, Do: where they have been treasured up enc Since the conqueror had carried them exe from Jerusalem. The thirty chargers is 1 and thirty vases of gold whioh had chs been made for the temple of Solomon, goc and bad continued there till the cap- R?i tivity of Jehoiachin, and the thousand veil chargers and the four hundred basins ing of silver by .which Zedekiah had sup- eht plied their place, and which were cat- car ried away in the final deportation, am They profaned these vessels to show the their contempt for Jehovah. It was tha an open insnlt to the Almighty. 24. tro "Hand sent from Him." From God. dut III. Daniel interpreting the writing bet (vs. 25-28). 25. "The writing." The is t words were Aramaic, with letters like dyi the Hebrew. Why coufd not the wise pie. men read them? Perhaps they could A read the words, but were not able, or a t did not dare, to explain their meaning, he 2U. "Mene." This word is repeated to ne^ give emphasis. It comes from a word wh meaning to number, to count. ' The qu( days of the empire were counted out in wa full. The soldiers of the conqueror to < were awaiting outside and would de- to stroy it before morning. 27. "Tekel." sch Which means weighed (hence a shekel, me which was originally a certain weight). He It resembles a word which signifies ma "light," light of weight, like a coun- hel terfeit coin. The application is that can Belshazzar had been weighed as to his tha moral character and actions, and had ga* been found wanting, of light weight, wh He had not come up to the standard wo: required. God had tested him aud he ure had failed. > ma 28. "Peres." This is the singular, he while upharsin' is the plural of the fac same word with, "u," which means ofti - -- + ? "and,"' prefixed, it is given 111 verse i"<* 25 in the plural, for emphasis, just as sho "mene" is doubled. It means divided," G but has tha same consonants as Per- exi sians, and suggests them. "Is divid.- 'fh< ed." Not divided into two parts, but jab broken into pieces, destroyed. "Medes." ver Media was a large country lying east a?a of the Caspian Sea. he IV. "Daniel rewarded (v. 20), 29. stn "With scarlet." etc. These carried ieni with them rank and power. "Third to ' ruler." Next to Belshazzar, who was wa! second. Nabonidus. the king, was first, had V. The king slain (v. 30). 30. "In that Hir night." It must be understood that the w0] River Euphrates flowed through the wlli midst of P.abylon. Cyrus for some Exj time had been planning to draw away to 1 the water of tho river and enter the rem city through the bed of the river. When all was prepared he waited for 1 the great feast. When it came all the leaders were reveling in tha palace. er,d Elsewhere the population was occupied ed 1 with feasting and dancing (Jor. 51: tut 39). Drunken riot and mad excitement held possession of the town; the siege Wh was forgotten: ordinary precautions, as the closing: of the river gates (Isa. 45: Eiij 3). wtYe neglected. The undefended wa^ gateways weft.* seized; a war shout was raised; the alarm was spread. ^e! The drunken revelers could make no bJ"t< resistance. The kin?. paralyzed with Nev fear at the handwriting which had warned him of his peril, could do nothing to chock the progress of the assail- P1 ants, who carried all before them everywhere. Bursting into the palace r a band of Persians made their way the. into the presence of the king and slew our him. fhai J ert Tiro Hit bv One Bullet. H. 0. Bulyley, a prominent resident 7] uf Cleveland, Ohio, and Robert N f0 ^ l'renham, a bellboy at the Butterficld (0 House, in Utica, N. Y.. were injured in t|]0r a Utica garage in a peculiar manner jn both being wounded by the same bid wor let. accidentally discharged from a revolver. Bulkley took several parcel? from his machine, handing them to the jf bellboy. As he drew a canvas case {1( )] from under the forward scat the case jng iropped to the door in such a manner ]j?, is to cause two shots to be discharged nJV 'roui tlie pistol it contained. One ol ;U.,. :he bullets went through Bulkley's leg ind hit the bellboy in the hand. T; Volcano In Nevada. Pitl A volcano throwing off molten lava left has been discovered in Nevada by real MeCIure, Wheeler and Sommers, cattle- of men, of Lovelock. The volcano is in can Rye Patch, Humboldt County. AI- will though that section has been traversed or <3 for years, the crater has just been found. The men were in search ot cattle when they came on the stream of lava, and tracing it to its source W found the volcano. The rocks for some twe distance were so hot that they could of i not touch them with their bare hands. He H PRA^R IN DARKNESS; I s much, 0 heavens?if I should brj^B or rave, mB ity me not; hut let the world . in my madness if I strike me '>ad. H eed you the frass that grows tipon jgrave. B dare snarl between this sua and sod^H Whimper and . clamor, give me grace^H own. , H run and rain and fruit in season-shovi^B he chining silence of the scam of nk God the stars ore set beyond power, 1 I must travail in a night of wratb .nk God my tears will never vei moth, r any curse of mine cut down a flow i say the sun was darkened; yet I b kought it beat brightly, even <n CalvaryI He that hung,npoo the Torturing.;Ti eard all the crickets singing, ana * glad.. K.Chesterton,in "Occasional Paper Bom?(ot?c of H.flood Mm. jid it came to pass, as they st at on and talked, that, behold, the >eared a chariot of fire and bore Rha 'ffivi/7 r?n w+a/1 f Ji nm VkA+h hf>nn/1. la i c, <iuu icu uiciu. uulu aouuu^n I Elijah went up by a whirlwiBj > heaven.?II. Kings, ii, 11. here is something very suggest^? >ut the homegoing of this good one would suspect from his man^H t he knew the change was so no^H was never more natural?ne\^H re calm. Was this because he go in such an easy and safe waH| jre is nothing to indicate that <H| sw about the way. Why, then, vw| ?e thing that did much for hitn record for faithfulness. The efl| t view given of Elijah is In'^H sence of the hardest kind of a is called to stand before a wic^B g and deliver.'' a most uirwel&^H ssage. Other tasks equally "hs^H [ dangerous were given him, but er said no to any. The reme^H nee of this must have been a gr^B afort when the hour of transHI M 'uty is an important thing. An<L-^B re faitbfnl roen are in its perfo^H 6 the more confidence will tlHS re when the end comes. Tbe,ra^H >t every day in one's own bosorcfl ecord that always tells the trt^H ing has the largest kind of an in^H :e npon being. It is the arm xcised that grows large muscle. :he life well lived that brings lafl| iracter. The only way to get id that comes from doing is to pentance for duty slighted may it the memory of such failure briHI distress, but it cannot put a difl^H memory in its place. The spo^H i eraee from the blackboard the^H pie that is wrong, but it eannot^H crayon's work "and put there t is right. Faithfulness is a' gifl uble saver. He who so does y as to have no shame over wha^H ilnd him need have no fear of wH| tefofe him. Right living makes efl ng. Larger views of lif? m^H asanter views of death. Hj nother thing that helped give leautlful close to life was the uad prepared tue way ior. it rer a question -with Elijah as^H at Lis ahare was, Dot alwaySH ?stion as to what the opportu^H s. He was very careful, theref|M do all he could for those who come after him. He establis^H ools, into which he gathered yo^H d, whom he prepared lor serv^M called to his side one wbem^H tie rpady to take ?p liis work w^H laid it down. "When, then, the^H ae he knew he had done somet^Sff t would last. And this ki*)wl<^H re a different look to his going. o does not lejrve something her^H fk for good when he goes is , no matter how much attenfial^M y have excited or how much ha^H may have received. The sad^^f t of life is not the fact that na^^| ?n makes it so short in years,^EB t we ourselves often, make rt in influence. IBB ood must have come also fromj^H lerience had with divine thj^^H ? circumstances under whichHHj had lived were such as made^^B y dependent upon God. Tim^^H in Ti-tiuTi hie hoarf- lxrflft gone to Him for guiduucJ^^M >ngtb. This gave him large^^^H :e in a realm which made j^HHj relieve in a future. He knei^^^^H 5 a God because witb bis h^pBHj L come into personal toucMBH . He knew there was a Id because he had gotte^HJ^H ich he was sure liad come xrienee at one point becara^H^^M "aitb at another. The best iove doubts about a future ' them away. If we live a IflflHD vortby to endure forever 1 it easier to beiieve that ure forever. The mystery ^^DjH tvitb death cannot be gotte^^^BHB it can be lived into a fo^H^^H t we shall not be trcuble^^^^D en the time conies to so e to go by a different all, but it will b? just^^HHH| There isn't anytf-j^HH^^H child ofATi isant Hunteiv^astor . ?rian Churfh. New ? York IJ^rald. j What Prater nr.'rf ic the* no.qpo r\ f m:ri i<Q*s of our thoughts, tlile etollecting. Ilie seat of rest of our cares, and tempest. It Ilie the of ;my rcac For the TJnhnpn^m^^^B lere are hearts to whom nomise one long. liopcle.-S^^^HI endure an incurable e he-peace for such unhi^^H^^^g such human hearts^^^^^^J its spoken. "Peace I le;i vc^^N^RHfl peace I unto you."? yon aro paticiiH^fl^H lie of life thatH^H^H the great^^^^fl^J <l::\viis upon you. n ^ little temptatioi^m^^Hj stronger.?ri)iliiH^BB| Beqaeat For Bor*~.^^H^^H be will of Robert D. McGoHj^^^H tsburg, Fa., has been probH^HH $30,000 in personalty an^^^^M ;tv. Among bis bequests money sufficient to maii^^n^H 2 for" his favorite liorse^^BHH leh be directs shall never BBH Iriveu except for neccssar Killed by s Wnap'c SrinsrH^^H rest Strather, of Gnterprifl^^H nty years old, died from i wasp's sting, which was stung on tlie left