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The I ===== OF Richard ===== Of A VICTIM OF CIRCUM! 33. I-,. ITu CHAPTER XIV. Continued. No tears welled from my eyes; but, Nevertheless, I was as one who was fcfind. I left everything in the room' In confnsion, tlie safe TinJiqgJced, papers ?n the table. I took nethjtf^with me. (Feeling my way along the dark pasRages, and creeping so softly that I jeould not hear the sound of my foot teps, I caroe to the door of my dear Eunice's bedroom. I slid down, and pressed my Hps to the door, then rose, find felt my -way onward again. I paused at the door of my bedroom, in {which my darling wife lay, the dearest, pnrest, sweetest woman that ever shed Sight and peace upon a man's heart and souJ. Softly, softly to my knees 1 slid, and with folded hands rested my head against the panel. I did not wftv?I could not: bnt the mute voice fwithin me was bidding adieu to life, tto love. Softly I rose to ray feet, and. went out Into tue night, alone. CHAPTER XV. I doubt whether, if 1 tried, I could describe at length the weeks and months that followed. Like one who nras dead, but possessing still the power of motion, I pursued my lonely way. All through the first night of my departure I walked till the first faint TBtreak of light heralded the coming -day. I must have walked fast and mechanically in a direction in which : I siiouia not oe recognizuu, iur wucu . I looked about me I knew not where ^1 was. It suited me that I had reached ? place I did not know. An humble .wayside inn was near; I entered it, and asked for a room. There I remained during the day, and when night fell 1 went out again, and walked-on and ?n, through fields and villages, taking any track that promised to lead me farther and farther away from familiar i jacenes. I must have adopted some ' eunning method of concealment that bo one accosted me and inquired .whither I was going. When day dawned I was in a wood, and there I lay unobserved, .and pretended to be asleep when I heard footsteps approaching. At night again I continued my flight, and so, day after day, night latter night passed, until l leit tnai >1 was lost?and safe. I kept no count of the days, and only knew when it was Sunday by the ringing of the church hells. I entered no church; I did not pray; I strove not to think; all that I wished was that time would pas? swiftly. I spoke to no man unless I was spoken to; I never laid my hand . with tenderness upon the form of child or animal. My heart was turning into *tone, and I set myself steadfastly to the task of banishing from my mind every gentle sentiment that strove to lind lodgment there. Of my wife and daughter I would not think?I would not, I would not! There was between them and me a barrier which I believed *o be eternal. I never looked at newspaper or printed page; the world's doings interested me no longer. Not only wa3 my heart turning into etone, but I began to regard with aver imt -all living thinjrs. One Sabbath I was sitting in a churchyard; I was tirad and faint, and my feet -were blistered with walking over rough roads. It belonged to my mood to choose ever the stony paths. ? They were singing in the church?a fpiaint old church covered with ivy, in .what part of England I know not. I derived a savage pleasure in keeping myself purposely ignorant of the places through which I traveled. "Worn with fatigue, my eyelids closed, and a light slumber overtook me. It could have Hasted but a short time, for when I epened my eyes I heard the 6inging still within the church. What specially aroused me was the voice of one of the singers. My Wife had just such a voice; its note of familiar sweetness startled me. I listened in wonder. The singing ceased, and soon afterrward the congregation issued from the church. I scanned tlicm eagerly as they came forth; for a brief space my sterner spirit did not assert itself. ; I had no fear that I should be recogaized, supposing that voice which had Impressed mo was that of my wife. I had seen my face and form occasionally in clear water when I stooped to idrink, and I knew that I had grown out of all likeness of myself. From the night I left my home I had not shaved; my matted hair, my wild eyes, my ragged garments, placed me beyond the pale of recognition. So, without fear, I gazed at the faces of the -worshipers. ITtt Tuifo irnc -rvnf <imnr>?r In a little while tlie church was emptied of the throng, and I was, I thought, alone asain iu the churchyard. But I was mistaken. A man stood by my fikle. He was of middle age; his face was benignant, his voice was gentle. As be moved and spoke, Jir> seemed to be attended by a spirit of charity. "You seem to be in trouble," be said. "Can I help you in any way?" I rose, cast a wrathful glance at him, and walked away from him. I did not turn to see, but I kuew that he was 3ooking after me. Near the churchyard wns n Tightly timbered wood. Thither I wandered, encompassed by silence, and threw myself npon the ground at the foot of a tree. Taking some broad from my pocket, I ate it to keep life within me. Ordinarily when I was accosted by a stranger my chief anxiety was to Cy from the neighborhood; but something chained me to this spot, it may have been the voice Hinging in the church, which I wished io hear again; it may iave been the manifest tio<ino?o of tbo 1 ^eril Pardon, =*= STANTIAL EVIDENCE. .CLCLQ Q Q Q. stranger -who bad accosted me; but had I questioned myself, I would have acknowledged neither of these as the cause of.my lingering near the ,house of .worship. "When, evening came I was | still there. I was not at so great a distance from the church that I could not hear the singing at the evening service; true, it came faintly to my ears, but my senses were abnormally sharpened. Amid all the voices I detected that which had stirred me In the morning, and was glad when I heard it and sorry when it ceased. They were the first humanizing sensations I had experienced in many months. The service ended, and all was again silent. It was a line evening, and I resolved to pass the night in the wood, and recommence my wanderings in the early morning. I reckoned upon complete solitude, but It was not to be mine. Three persons strolled in the direction of the spot upon which I was lying, and stopped within a sbort> distance of me. A clump of trees and the gathering darkness concealed me from their observation. One of the Rersons began to speak, and I recog nized his voice. It was that of the, man who had spoken so kindly to me in the churchyard. I raised myself into a sitting posture, and bent forward to see. In tie man's company were a woman and a young girl, whose face I could not distinguish, but whose form reminded me of Eunice. The father was telling them of his meeting with me, and the manner in which I had met his kind words. , "He is a stanger here," the man said; "I have never seen his face before. Indeed, I saw but little of it now, it was so covered with tangled hair. Poor fellow! Some deep trouble is weighing upon him!" "Perhaps, father," said the young girl, "he was. hungry." "I think not," was the father's answer, "or be would have behaved differently. Hunger is a sharp monitor, my dear. He was not hungry; he was defiant I thought at first he must be a beggar, but I was mistaken. He looked to me more like a hunted animal than a human being." "A man escaped from prison, perhaps," suggested the mother. "It may be; but, if so, a long time must'have elapsed since he made his escape; otherwise his hair would not have been so abundant. Before I spoke to him I noticed in his eyes (he was not awaTo that I was observing him) a look of singular refinement, and I am sure that at some period of his life he has moved in a good positiou. Perhaps he had a happy home, like our6; "??? >>*? trwl a urtfi. "U/hnTTl JJCMUUl^JO UC Alttu. U.. TT.JfiV M.?Vfc v?..? lie loved as I love you. To have enjoyed such happiness and to have lost it?ah, iny dears, it is a sad thought! If that poor man's heart were laid bare before us, we should see it throbbing with suffering?unmerited, mayhap, but likely, too, to have been created by error or sin. Should I meet him again I will strive to learn his story, and will help him if he will let me." They passed on, with further words of pity for me. I waited till the earth w?s shrouded in darkness, and then I fled from the wood. There was terror in the idea of meeting that kind heart again. From the gloomy months I could pluck other records, but they would hoc neip my story. j\iore uiiu xjiuie insensible (lid J become 'to influences of a humanizing nature; harder and harder grew my heart; and there came periods of savage delirium, when, in my desolation, I raised my clenched hand heavenward, and cried, "There is no God!" For the bitter question forced itself upon me, why should I be thus punished? The evil within me was not of my creating; the sleeping instinct of savagery which had led me to an unconscious committal of a deed of blood was not of my planting. In my waking hours I had lived a good life, and had held deservedly an honored and beloved position Ln my home. I was kind to the poor, and my heart was always open to the cull of charity. Why, then, should I be compelled to wander through the world "more like a hunted animal than a human being?" If there was a God, and He was good, would He have permitted it? In the peril of these thoughts lay a deeper danger than that which sprang from the sin which weighed upon my soul. CIIArTER XVI. The necessity of earning bread fotced me to seek labor. My money was all 6pent, awl a day arrived when I was r\an?*5 ',apo t?S r? n? ori/1 VVUVf* pviiuu^00< JLXIC A 1 LIUHU vvav* v? v i still in my possession. I do not know how it was that I "was tempted to ] keep tlieia about me; perhaps it was as a punishment which I obstinately inflicted npon myself?as though my i sufferings were not great enough with-< out these evidences of my guilt; but i the fact remains that I found it iui- j possible to part with them. When 1 was penniless I could have twisted the < diamond out of the ring and sold the gold for a few shillings, which really would have enabled me to live without labor for some considerable time; for during all this dolorous time I ate nothing but dry bread, and drank nothing but water. I did not, however, put it to this nse. It did not belong to me; it belonged to the dead. The labor I obtained was of the lowest and most menial kind, and thuffJ It was that, being far away north, I found myself working in the hop gardens. The pay wa? bad, but that mattered not; it sufficed for bread. Tha that T xxrac hai1^^ -aya+V? i^jggl - men and women of n degraded stamp, and tLat, like them. I was fast becoming brutalized. This enforced contact with degradation caused in me a kind of revulsion. Hitherto I had kept mostly to myeelf, and the gloomy thoughts in which I indulged were created by my own lack of moral strengp? fcut now that I was brought face to* face with! tilings I abhorred, I saw, as it were, the reflection of my own moral image, and the thoughts it engendered had a salutary ' effect upon me. It was this better phase of experience which led me into the companionship of a man of higher grade than the other hop-pickers. The name of this man was Stanmore. 1 was never made acquainted with hie Christian name. He must have recognized in me, as 1 recognized in him, a man of superior stamp, and he confided to me that he was not hop-picking from necessity. "The fact is, Gaskell," he said to me (I had to bear some name, and I chose that), "I am killing two birds with one stone. One bird is with me; the other 1 am waiting for." This, of course, was enigmatical to me, but I did not ask for an explanation. He gave me one of his- own prompting. "The bird that is here is in my portfolio; the bird that I am waiting for le a woman.?> I knew what he meant by this reference to his portfolio, which contained a number of sketches he had been making of the hon-Dickers, selecting for choice the most squalid and disreputable subjects. He had thrown out hints that I might look over these sketches, but I had not availed myself of the offer. The hop-picking was now over, and we were paid off. Upon Stanmore's invitation I accompanied him to a respectable hotel and agreed to TCiuain with him two or three days. It was the first time since my banishment that I had consented to lead a decent life, and I did so now chiefly out of a feeling of gratitude toward Stanmore for having provided me with a refuge from th'e indescribably coarse associations, which otherwise would have been my lot In the hotel at which we stopped miwonii (wft rooms?a Kit tins: room and another with two beds in it. Thus far lie had persuaded me, but ho could not induce me to join him at meals. I still adhered to my humble fare, of which I partook in secret. On the first night of our stopping at the hotel we were in the sitting room, which was lit with gas. Stanmore was busy with his sketches, which, when he first took them, had been merely sketched in rough outline; now, with paints and' brushes before him, he was engaged in perfecting them. "Gaskell," he said, "you are a strange fellow, and that, I dare, say, is the ; reason why I have taken to you. I .like everything that is stTange. Bat you^are, moreover, an enigma. Locked in your breast is a story it would entertain me to hear." Startled, I gazed at him, and half arose. "Pshaw!" he said. "Sit down again. I do not ask you to tell me your story, unless in a moment of confidence yoii choose to unbend. Now I am in the humor to be more frank and open. Let uie give you a piece of advice, though, properly, you should be the better able to give it to me, being the elder of the two. Don't take life too seriously; it is not "worth "Willie, unose enjoy mc most who accept it as a comedy. Tragedy or comedy, it is before you to take your choice. The same thing that will make you cry wifl make you laugh. It all depends upon the view you take. Some people are annoyed at being tickled; I enjoy it. If a man gives me a slap in the face I laugh and give him one in return. The laugh is an enjoyable condiment in the dish; the frown imparts an objectionable flavor to the meat." I could have argued "with him that It was a matter of temperament, but it was not my cue to say anything that might enlarge the field of conversation; and I therefore held my tongue. (To be Continued.) Tho ltecl Croia Foondnr. Henri Dunant, founder of the Red Cross movement, now seventy-six years of age, liv^s in ill-health near Lake Constance, in Switzerlaud. He was first inspired by reading the story of Florence Nightingale,' and it occurred to him that some systematic arrangement might bo mado to provide similar help to the wountJc" iu battle? I an arrangement -which should be recognized by both opposing forces. Ac-; cordingly he went to the battle at Sol;n /iwinp flint- lio micht soo for himself what the results of warfare were, and he was convinced that if the terrors wer^ to he mitigated it {would he by a properly recognized body. Then ho spent some years lecturing in various portions of Eu| rope, attracting little attention at tivst I and being generally regarded as a crank and no more. The lirst sympatlietic help was frori Napoleon III., ( who at once determined that the ideas I of the "mere civilian" should be put into effect as regards his armies. Duriant lived to sea his triumph, when the nations of the world accepted his proposals in the Genevan Confercncc of 1SG-1.?Chicago News. The ltctort Triumphant. Sir Charles Ilamond, M. P., who was Tor Jong a Magistrate of Newcastle, had a curious habit, when sitting in court, of always wearing his silk hat. On one occasion, when before the constituency as a candidate, somebody interi-unted his speech by yelling, "Get your liair cut!" "Ah," said Mr. Hamond, "if I mistake r.ot. I have sent that gentleman to have his hair cut on more than one occasion." The retort, if the reverse of courteous, produced silence. "1 -would rather vote for the devil than you," said an elector. another time. "Well," said Sir Charles, "if your friend doesn't happen to go to the poll, will you give me your vote?"?London Daily Kews. Not Fast Black. Esther has very black eyes. One day she came in crying, her face all streaked with tears and dirt "Oh, Esther, dear," cried her mother, "-What a dirty face!" "Well," answered the tot between her sobs, "I dess your face would be dirty if you had to cry, 'tause yon has black eres. too."?Little Chronicle. ? ?? ^ a f sseaeooeeeee ^ : Droll Stori< I Passing i *? ~ ********?kx* THE ELEPHANT'S MILK. A schoolmaster had just finished a f lesson on "Food" when n Utile boy put up bis hand; on being asked what he s wanted, he replied, "Please, sir, Jones I said be knew a baby that was brought i up on elephant's milk, and it gained ' ten pounds in weight evfry day." "Jones ought not to tell you such rubbish," said tjbt> master; then addressing Jones, ho said, "Tell me whose i baby was brought up on elephant's < milk." < To which Jones hesitatingly replied, 1 "Please, sir, it was the elephant's baby."?The Tatler. < 1 MUCH ADO ABOU'-P NOTELfNG. An old woman who entered a eoun- j try savings bank not long ago was*'' asked whether she wanted to draw or deposit. " Vti-u< her n! vrnnfc to nnt some - -- - J money in," was tlio reply. , Tiio clerk entered the amount and pushed the slip toward her to sign. , "Sign on this line, please," lie said. "Above or below it?" "Just above it." "Me whole name?' , "Yes." "Before oi was married?" "No; just as it is now." "Oi can't write."?Harper's Weekly. HIS REVERENCE. 1 An English lord was- traveling { through this country with a small party , of friends. At a farmhouse the owner invited the party in to supper. The ( good housewife, while preparing the table, discovering that she was enter- 4 taining nobility, was overcome with- \ surnrise and elation. All seated at , the table, scarcely a moment's peace (lid she grant her distinguished guest in her endeavor to serve and please liim. It was "My lord, will you have some of this?" and "My lord, do try ' that," 'Take a piece of this, my lord," until the meal was nearly linished. The Uttle l'our-year-old son of the family, heretofore unnoticed, during a moment of supreme quiet saw his lord- 3 ship trying to reach the pickle-dish, which was just out of his reach, and turning tolii? mother, said: "Say, ma, God wants a pickle." A NEW ORGAN. . 1 A husband came home one evening to find a note left for him.by his wife. Carelessly he opened it, but as he read his face blanched. "My God!" he exclaimed, "how could this have.hap- ' pened so suddenly?" And snatching \ his bat and coat, be rushed to a hospi- j n n try nn n 7?!fi Tl A TV* n 4 * T ITT o I it 1 WUil'JU ? JiUUl i o numr. x ttuut i to see iny wife, Mrs. Brown, at once," < he said to the head nurse, "before she < goes under the ether. Please take my ; message to her at once." Mrs. Brown?" echoed the nurse; "there is no Mrs. Brown here." "Then to which hospital has she gone?" asked the distracted husband; "1 found this note from her when I came home," and he handed the note to the nurse, who road: "Dear Husband?I have gone to have my kimono cut out. BELLE." GRAPHIC. L. E. Riddle, of the Kansas City Engineering Company, used to live in Minnesota, and was talking the other day about the Twin City feud. "Minneapolis and St. Paul hate each other. Incredible 1o all save Minnesotans is the mutual aversion that smoulders in these fair cities' lirarts. This aversion never lessens. On the contrary, it is being laily increased. Thus: "A St. Paul man was invited to Minneapolis to make a speech. It was hoped (hat in his speech he would say pleasant things of Minneapolis. It ivnff "hrmflrl thnf htf; snr>nr>h would. mav- 1 bp, bridge Uie breach between the two j citics. ] "But, nlas, this is the way the St. . Paul man's speech began: "'When a man from Minneapolis does a good deed, his townsmen erect a monument in his honor. There are i no monuments in Minneapolis.' "?The i Independent. r. 1 HE LEFT. J Robert Bonner, one day, was criti- ] eising human nature cynically. A cler- ' gyman .took up the cudgel in human nature's defense. ' "There is good in all of up," he said; "more good than bad. I believe fifty j per cent, of us have never done anything for which there is real cause to bo ashamed." "Nonsense," said Mr. Bonner. "Every mau lias a skeleton in his closet. You could shoot a gun anywhere and bring down a bad man. "Why," he continued, warmly, "I 1 once knew a Bishop who was consid- ( rrnl thn holiest man in America. A 1 friend of mine, by way of a joke, tele- ' graplieil one night to tbis Bishop: " 'All is discovered. Fly at once.: " J Mr. Bonner paused and chuckled. "Well?" said the clergyman impatiently. "Well, what happened?" "By morning," said Mr. Eonner, "the ( Bishop had disappeared, and he has ^ never been heard of since."?The Inde- j pendent. ] NOT A MASTERPIECE. } When Mr. and Mrs. Grant removed 1 from the city of New York and pur- < chased a home in a Maine village, one i of their first visits wa? to the ceine- i tery. "We want to sslect a burial lot," Mr. Grant remarked, "and life is < uncertain, so we had better attend to it < during this dry sp'j.11 while the walking < is good." ( It occurred to Mrs.- Grant that thin t was hardly a sutueient reason for so s prompt a decision, but she made no < objection to the plan, and their first walk was to the cemetery. "There seems to be a good deal of room on the high land," remarked Mrs. < Grant. "We can easily tied a good lot 1 there." 1 "It's too high." objected Mr. Grant; J "that's too inoch of a hill to climb. * Let's look down toward the lake." * The lots toward the lake pleased Mrs. Grant even better than the hill. 'There, Frederick." she said, ''let's de- 1 tide upon one of these." I ss of the | * foment. \ m * ^ Mr. Grant looked at his wife in surprise. "Why, Mildred," be replied, "1 lid think you had better judgment; 1 Wouldn't think of being buried in this ow, marshy place. It's the unhealthest spot in the whole cemetery."? Youth's Companion. SUSPICIOUS. "Russell Sage has a perspicuous nirid," Mid a New York broker. "He 'an sec through nearly everything. I lonbt if lie was ever duped on an investment yet. "They say that two promoters once jailed on Mr. Sage to try and interest iim in a certain scheme of theirs. They talked to tire great financieribout am.hour. Then they took their eave, having been told that Mr. Sage's iecisicn would be mailed to them in a 'ew days. " 'I believe we've got him,' said the irst promoter hopefully on the way uprow n. 'I don't know,' rejoined the other, lie seems very suspicious.' " 'Suspicious?' said the first. 'What unkea you think he was suspicious?* " 'Didn't you notice,' was the reply, how he countcd his fingers after Lhad diaken hands with him?'"?New Orenns Slates. A PE-RTINENT QUESTION. Hannibal Hamlin, for many years a United States Senator from Maine, md Vice-President during the Civil War, -was wont 1o tell the following story on himself: An Englishman by the name of Pearson, while passing along the main street in Bangor, stepped in a hole in the sidewalk, and,-, falling, broke bis leg. He brought suit igainst the city for $1000, and engaged Hamlin as counsel. Hamlin -won liis case, but the city xppealed to tne Supreme Court Here, llso, the decision was for Hamlin's slicnt. After settling up the claim, Hamlin sent lor his client and handed him a iollar. "What's this?" a6ked the Englishman. "That's your damages after taking Dut my fee, the cost of appeal and, several other expenses," said Hamlin. The Englishman looked at the dollar, and then at Hamlin. "What's the matter with this," he said; "is it oad?" -Tit-Bits. ' New Gladstone Anecdote* Some years ago,,writes Mr. RichardTangye, I was returning from'Australia, having as a fellow passenger Mr. Maltby, a member of Wyndham's company, who took n leading part in 'Betsy," a play which had a phenomenal run. In course of conversation Mr. Maltby found I was a warm admirer of Mr. Gladstone, upon which tie told me the following incident in bia own career. The part that he took in the play required that he should come on to the stage carrying a walking stick. After "Betsy" had been before the public for some time Mr. vfnithv observed a peculiar looking old jentleman in tlie stalls eyeing him with sreat interest, attendin.; nightly week after week. One night as he was leaving the theatre Mr. Maltby found the aid man at the door waiting for him. 'Young man," he said, "you play your part very wcil, but your stick'is ridleu-i lous. This is the1-right kind of a stick' for you"?handing him a magnificent Malacca cane, having a splendid, chrysalite stone at top, iu wWch was engraved an excellent portrait of Mr. Sladsione, showing the spotted necktie i little awry, as It often was. "Now," said Mr. Maltby, "you are an admirer 3f Gladstone, and I am not, and 1 svould like you to accept it." "On one condition," I replied, "that I may give it to Mr. Gladstone when next I meet him." "As you like," said Mr. Maltby. -M. A. P. Leading on Colnmbug, It is probably a fact and not a legend that the odor of sassafras, wafted for miles and miles out to sea, convinced Columbus that he was approaching and. As Thoreau oncc remarked, "The ?recn leaves bruised, have the fragrance of lemons and a thousand* spices." Imagine Christopher in grim iisappointinent, his men threatening mutiny, 300 miles at sea, headed for cvh.it seemed to them the jumping off since. Should he listen to their grumblings and torn back? A westerly nrind springs up. wafting over the ship a most grateful odor. Columbus, tvhcse proboscis was as searching as that of an ant-eater, whiffed the fragrance. Mustering the crcw, ?he commanded thorn to imitate the victorous Japs and breathe deeply. They jbeyed. Their eyes were opened. Their ninds became receptive. "It comes from the land!" cried the great capain. "Sail on, sail on!" And in a few lays America was discovered.?New fork Press. Hospital For liifinn Animal. At Sodepur, some ten miles from Calcutta, is the animal's hospital, "ounded some teu years back, and supported alike by wealthy Hindus and British officials, says T. P.'s Weekly.' Only infirm animals are received as pensioners, and for the most part those hat have been invalided- while upon government service. At the present noment nearly 3000 animals are in csidencc, the majority being horses. OUier inmates include oxen, mules, ;lephants. do;rs and even sheep, all comfortably housed, and with a staff >f eighty native "nurses" under the , irrtprs of a British veterinary surgeon o care for them. If only all the human | soldiers "iiroke in our wars" were j >qua.lly vrell looked after! a?. <?iri "Wood Chopper. A Mexican who dwells in Acton, , Dal., lias been chopping and hauling ,vood for the past fifty years, and now hinks of retiring from business and jiving tiie young fellows a chance. His i;e is 112, and he thinks he is entitled o a rest. Documents have been discovered i:i Venice which are said to identify Jthello. . . y 'v.-TJr ?-"'-T THE SUNDAY SCHOOL INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS FOR OCTOBER 8. Subject: Daniel in the JJon;g Dan, Dan 1., 10-23? Golden Text, Pea. xxxIy., ? ?Memory Velvet, 21-23?Commentary ' on the Da)'* Leaf on. I. Daniel praying (v. 30). 10. "When Daniel knew," etc. DaD- j }el knew that the king's edicts were I irreversible. "Open?toward Jerusa- ' lem." This was not an act of superstition, but a recognition of God's ' promise to Solomon (1 Kings 8:35-44), ' who had in bis nrayer at the dedica- ] tion of the temple entreated God to hear the prayers of those who might be in strange lands or in captivity when they should turn their faces toward their own land and city and the ' temple. It was an aid to the spirit of devotion. "Kneeled." Compare 1 Kings 8:54; Ezra 9:5; Eph. 3:14. Kneeling is a fitting attitude for humble prayer. "Three times a day." See 'Psar. 55:17. The* three hours of prayer ?.jvere the same au the hours of sacrifice -in the temple. "As he did aforetime." :He did not swerve a hair's breadth. He could have prayed in secret and. been heard, but that course would have beep a public confession of want of faith in God and of j'ielding to, the enemy. Daniel simply went on his daljy path of life, as if no such order had been given. There was no thne when he needed to pray more than at this time. 11. Wicked men plotting (vs. 11-15). 11. "These men." The princes who had been plotting against Daniel. "Assembled." Ran hastily, so as to come upon Daniel suddenly and detect him in the act. They had heard his voice and now rushed in upon him. 12. "Law?which altereth not." It was quite common in ancient times to worship the king. To alter the law would be a confession of fallibility, ana an abrogation 01 gouueaa. 13. "That Daniel," etc. The accusers do not mention, the,high official sta- , tion of DanieJ and his intimate official relations with the king; but merely re- . fer to bis foreign birth in order that, j'they may thereby bring his conduct under the suspicion of being a political act of rebellion against the royal authority. 14. "Sore displeased." Vexed at thus being overreached; for he saw that it was enmity toward Daniel and not anxiety for the maintenance of his authority which had led to the plot. . "Labored." Endeavoring to find some way to evade the execution of the sentence. 15. "Know, O king." Their ' tone was masterful now, for they felt able to compel the king to work their wilf. Kings are the slaves of their Batterers, ^aese wicked men were determined to get rid of the holy Daniel. They hated him. III. Daniel among the lions (vs. 1018). 16. "They brought Daniel." According to Oriental custom the sen rence was carneu oat on xne evening of the'same day in which the accusation was made. "Thy God?will deliver." The heathen believed in the interposition of the gods in times of calamity. While Darius did not recognize Daniel's God as the true God, jret he was "a god," and Daniel'6 character was such that the king believed his God would deliver him. 17. "Sealed it." In the days when very few could read or write signets were nsed instead of writing the name. 38. 'Passed the night fasting." The soul of the pleasure-loving king was so stirred that he had no care for food or sleep. His grief was greatly increased by his consciousness that this evil came from his own weakness and sin. IV. Daniel's deliverance (vs. 19-23). 10. "Went in haste." A strange spectacle for a monarch of the world thus to be attending upon a condemned servant of God. Yet the king had never appeared to such a good advantage. 20. "Lamentable voice." Deeply distressed and in an agony of anxiety. He cried out bptween hope and fear. "Servant of the living God." Darius borrowed this phrase from Daniel. God extorted from an idolattr a confession of the truth. "Is thy Godable." Full of concern, he trembles to isic tue question, learing to ue answered with the roaring of the lions after more prey. 21. "0 king, live /orever." The common salutation in addressing a king. Daniel might have indulged in anger at the king, but did not. His sole thought was that God's glory had been set forth in his deliverance. 22. "Sent His angel." Daniel bad company in the den of lions. There was no music nor gladness in the palace, but celestial joy in the intercourse between Daniel and the angel in the don. Daniel takes care to ascribe his deliverance to the living God, that He may not be confounded with the false gods of the heathen. He speaks of the angel as God's instrument, not the author of his deliverance. "Shut the lions' mouths."* Angels had held the lions' jaws and paws and made them peaceable companions and harmless as doves. This was a new and wonderful experience for Daniel. He delighted to relate it to the king, whose voice betrayed his agony. "Innocency was found." By this wonderful deliverance Daniel learned how God estimated faithfulness and how He is pleased to reward it. God had shown Daniel that his disobedience to a heathen king was not sin. He had beeu faithful in what he believed to be right, and in the test God declared him innocent by his wonderful deliverance. "No hurt." Daniel had been misrepresented before the king as having evil designs against his authority, but to the king himself Daniel deiT-s ho could not be guilty of such designs when lie was faithful to his (Jo J. lifi. "Exceedins glad." That the evil consequences of his folly had been warded off; that his best counselor was left to stand at the head of his government. Brjs Have Slclit Llho Otrl?. Physicians and eye specialists are baffled by tbo cases of tiirce East Hartford (Conn.) boys, whose sense of 6ight is strangely perverted. Two of the boys, Hyman and Abie White, six and fonr years old. respectively, are practically blind in the daytime, but at night see as well us the ordinary person sees by day. The third boy, Frank Colin, fifteen years old, can see only in the brightest light. ? ? w illllll BETTER THAN WE PRAY.Bette> than we can ask, 0 God, Thou wilt, in love bestow. Withholding oft some cherished good. Hedging the way we go: But loving arras surround us still,; And wisdom all Thy chastenings filL I Better than we can ask, O God, Thy Jove outspeeds the prayer; Returning day but proves anew,' A constant, watchful care. And that our steps may never stray Where love illumines not the way. Better than we can ask, dear Lord # As children oft we cry For dazzling toys that nurt and bra Nor doubt they satisfy;. But-love divine'withholds the prize, And, loving, pitying, denies. Better than we can ask, dear Lord Far better tban we pray; For in the dark we grope along, Thou seest clear the way. Where we are blind be Tnoi our si) In doubt and darkness be t! e ligWjl *. v ... .* v jS Better than we can ask, O God, Then may we calmly rest, As trustfully, when skies are drear, As when gold paints the west. But whisper, -with submission still, Not mine, 0 Father, but Thy will.. Better than we can ask, dear Lord, When in death's valley drear The cold, dark shadows round us May we not shrink or fear. We shall not walk the vale alone, But rest aur hands within Thine 01 -Marietta M.. Elliott, in the Chi Register. , The Kingdom of God* I say unto yon, Among them th bom of women there is none gi than John; yet" he that is but!lit tbe kingdom of G6d is greater tlw -St Luke, vli., 28. Our Lord ottce said of John th undertook to take the kingdom o: ven by violence. He was the e: sion of that method of makinj world holy which our Lord con<: In the parable of the wheat and where the master is made to te servants that it will not do to t take to pull up the tares when t! ing so is sure to destroy the ' also. Lift them both grow toj and at the harvest they can read separated. John was one of those who pull up tares and wheat together eagerness to get rid of the evil 1 world. He saw wickedness abou in the ordinary everyday life o people, jn their business life, in wnimHnn nf mpn In thA airansi of society as a whole. Thereto separated himself from them ai tired into the wilderness, engag no occupation and'having no soc lations with his; fellow men. H that men indulged their appetl excessive drinking, in the indu In or over-enjOyment of good and the like. He accordingly be an anchorite, giving up all those which we call the natural Joys < istence, abstaining from wine pletely, eating only what was abi ly necessary to sustain life. B< evil has grown out of the abuse these things therefore he will a these things. As over against this positioi Lord lives in social intercoms Uiose about Him, eating and dr and making merry, blessing and tifying all the family, social anc aess relations of life. He goes marriage feast at Cana of GallU provides the guests with wine; H to dinner parties at the houses o licans and Pharisees alike. He t oil- fhn^A fhi'nco <Jro flIV Ud 1UUI au lUCCC ^ Ml, v in the kingdom of God, and tbH kingdom of God does not con^B banishing these things from theH but in the proper use of them; H man cannot be perfectly and tiH the statnre of God unless he ca:H temperance and sobriety use a^B joy all the good things which Gfl crcatcd, and that pleasure is necH to the perfection of the nature ol John was indeed a prophet and^B senger sent to prepare the way^M coming of the kingdom of GH arousing men.to see what was H and stirring their souls to reper^B but the kingdom of God eouId^B come by such methods, but only^B natural, 6weet living of the life c^B making use of the good things H and learning and exemplifying t^B of God by living in love with low men.?Rev. Dr. John P. Pet^B Michael's Church, New York, H New York Herald. _ 9 Bad Thoughts Poison tbe BloH Professor Gates claims to ha^| Covered more than forty injurioi^H acts which are produced in th^| by "bad emotions," such ae Hfl hatred, etc. These elements, serfs,' are "life depressing aad ous," but. on the other hand, th^H site feelings, which are evide^H goodness and kindness, arc prolific in p/iysicaJ eiemenrs tsh to health. The professor has tated to affirm that the physica^H quences and penalties of sin a^H demonstrated by chemical sciei^H It Is very interesting to science is thus able to dsmonst^H only the physical hut also tli^H ravages of sin. Penetrating Wm there are divine laws which the hidden springs of life an<^H It remains and ever will romi^M ibat the man who "desireth l^H loveth many days tbat ho n^H good," must "depart from erilH| stood." Psalm 24:12-14.?Londo^H | I know of nothing to give uHl moral energy to the mind but-^H foiih in n liuintr nf infinite ner^^l and who is niways with strengthen, reward, reprove, nnd snide to immortality.?Wi^H Channing. 9H The soul Is mad? for Go3, ni^H finds rest tiil it returns to When God and the soul inct^^D will follow contentment. Gnd^H considered, is not all our lir^JH hut God trusted in. and f.brh^M are made one wii.li Him.? Stretched Himielf Onf. ^HS Luther Welsh, of Kansas C^H wanted to enter Annapolis, butHJ two inches below the mlnlmun^M He went to work dc-liberateiyMM himself out to the required len^H stretching machine, and now nounced that he has been adm^H A Huge Fiab. A hago sturgeon was caugb^^H River Tay in Scotland rccoi^HJ weighed 378 pounds, was ten^H length and its girth was four laches. _ \r-iJ -a TftffA Tliavd A cat, which had brcn orivcn int< .1 sliado tree by Llie dops at Nashua, N H.f was rescued tlio other day after li had remained in this position for lliret whole days. An Old Turtle Found. A turtle bearing the initials of J. W Garrison, with date of ISIS, was found by Frank Parvin, a miller at Muddy j Knn, jiear Vincland. N. J. Garrison has been dead twenty-flvo years, j ~ ? Ute ripe Use Flnlihed. The Standard Oil Company has completed its big pipe line from Kansas City., Mo., to Bayonue, N. J.