University of South Carolina Libraries
I! 2\ POIN I | J&J&\. if 'ANNIE j I SJ EDWARDS. ?Fr'. CHAPTER XI. 13 |B Continued. SBw\ . ggg Of tbe same temperament as liis 8B **(*, .Gilford had cut himself off from K the hunting and shftotint', the coarse, H athletic animal excitement which to H| Ws ancestors had t>een so blessed a a|I i ^Mlfety valve; and his hereditary crav tllg 4HIW Sirunfc Liiiyuuua ||P came to be appeased over greeu baize, not over green country fields?a subsB. ttfitute dearer in the end, and by no K ' means so full of zest in the enjoying. jgK As years- wore on (years which R brought Janfc Grand to the extreme |Sf .Terge., of her cold .and faded youth) 9 -Gifford Mohun, the model lieir once, ?S flvas spoken of by the men and wouicn Chesterfield parish as an outcast, a fl s?riat^?"the last of the Mohuus and the worst, .and that, my dear madarne, B is, I think, to say enough." Ana then Jane knew in her heart Ira that she elung to him more tenderly than in the palmiest- days of his lirst Sj popularity, and that, if he should re *?riv wnnld^?not wish to marry i?in>, for was not"the thame of lier parentage'i upon lver still? But be bis 4rtie, string friehd<?nd warmest counselor, E05V that: 11 the rest of tbe world ;were looking cold upon him. These intervening years, too barren of incident to bear more than a passing description, bad left Jane now [within two or three years of thirtyail -.age which Very youtfg girls look upoil, in ilmmarried women, in touch the same light as forty or fifty. Jan$ felt very old herself. All her contem5; jwarles?the Miss Tehnants, the Miss Gillets of the mill, the cottage girls iwfcp bad once been her monitors In the Sonday-school?were married long ago. The young girls and brides of to-day (bad been cnuciren wuen sue was euifaged to Mohunv: She -belonged to the past?dressed in gray, sad colors, or is black like Miss Lyncli (it was so Pressed that I first saw her in High treet of Chesterford St. Mary), and tnade no attempt whatever at rejuvenescence. She was very amiable iwith any young people across whom ahe chanced to come,1 but quite cold; ootild take none of the genial interest in ihe loves and hopes of the rising generation which very much older peo. v ?11.? 1, IV VfU-o T?r.?h fn,. IXlitU UCl Ol"U JJUl/l Jlil.-O MJJ IIV.U, ? VI -example?seemed always l-eatly to feel. She was in no way bitter or jealous ! of them, but her heart was sliut?shut, seated, frozen around her own disappointment; and she knew that it was bo, and that she could never alter its ' condition. She got through life altogether?rose and ate and walked and ^rent to church and listened to the conversation of others?in a very uniform frame of mind, one;' I believe, not unoommoD among thousands of well-educated unmanned women among our country women. And the only time : ?tte lived, really lived and felt and 4lrfew the breath of positive vivid life, ,iras- when sh^ w#s, alone in her .roonv ' at night and the thought of Gifford . was strong upon her, and the ring that jvas to baye made her his wife lay claspeu, in a feverish, passionate clasp, betwen her poor thin hands, so inert and cold and passionless in every duty they performed by day. Now,. I an> far from upholding Jane Grand in lier -weakness; indeed, viewed from, my own personal place of stand- ( ing her -want of right-mindedness under her trials seems to me to be something truly fearful. Fortunately, however, -we do not all form precisely the name opinion upon the shortcomings of our fellows. The Vicar of ChesterfoM was a man whose discernment and strength of mind I cannot seek to impeach, and yet?(I can only record, however'much in my judgment I may condemn)?and yet year by year the , iVltfar of Chesterfotd grew more and more infatuated with respect to Jane's perfections. He was ignorant for n : kvery long time, as to the real condition or bijs heart; and as long as he; continued so, and only spent two or three fcours out of every day in Jane's sobriety, he was* happy. But the bitter moment of awakening came to him at last. One summer morning?as "the poor man was quietly looking across the clover?the convic 4ion flashed before him, clear, strong, impossible of contradiction that the 0psthptir> hnil nrv Idiicpp nnv nl!ir>A whnt ?ver in his' feelings toward Miss (Grand; also that he regarded lier worn and faded face of eight and twenty (with a very different regard to that | - iwitb which he had use<l to call her his little love, his picture his angel, his Madonna, when she was seventeen! ' CHAPTER XII. . But Jane did not knew it. Under the influence of his surprise at his own new discoveries. Mr. Follett kept good ^uard upon his lips and eyes; and soon !~. tbe shadow of something rather more important than any human love or dis v appointment was cast over Jane's home, and in her grief the vicar fell 'it? her again as he liad done when he first saw her a little, hollow-eyed child, more than twenty years before in Chesterford Cliurch. Jane never knew how much worth Miss Lynch was to her until the day when a muffled sound ol" heavy steps came down the narrow cottage staircase?the day when, all excitement and newness of death over, she realized, ^ sharp and distinct, the fact that the armchair by the tire was really and for\ -ever vacant, and that to-night, and tomorrow nighr, and so on till she diet! she would be alone. 'Very commonplace and uninteresting lives sometimes leave as wide a gap as brilliant and exceptional ones. Miss [ Lynch's feebleness of mind and excess of speech had been real, severe trials to Jane for years; and yet, before her jjf old companion had been dead ar week w' ?he felt?ah, with how sharp a pang!? r v <V.-/ \ \Ofc, I FOR HER I > FATHER'S \ T \ m f )F NfJ j HONOR.; \ | iOTeT^WT^'i^r>rTr'W^'*rTif'K that she would patiently, gladly put up with all such poor, small defects now, could she but get back the kindly, loving, unselfish soul she had lost. There was no longer the garrulous, bighpitched voice wandering, wandering on, lhat overflowing, discursive, uninterest' ???/?#! 4r> 4 tA V? DV IIJJLT I'UUilVl t u?i i uocir iu weak nerves so when she longed for rest and quiet: but ibere was no longer the kindly hand to press hers night and morning, no longer the poor little figure creeping in at night, with shaded lamp and stealthy step, to see if Jane wanted anything, or if Jane was watching, or if Jane thought it would make her sleep to have a cup of tea, or to be read to. or stayed with; the one human element, in short, the one human affection, had passed away from her life, and she knew, almost with astonishment at first, how fearfully great her loss was, how much worse the state she had used to think so dreary had now become! If Mr. Follett had understood such things better, he might have known that this was the time, if ever, for him to speak'to Jane of bis love. But he was too shy, too delicate, too reti * '? nnnn onv frrO.lt fTlpf VCill IU.IUUUUC ?"J Jane in her.deep black was not the Jane he had thought of with a beating heart that summer morning in the clover field; but the poor, pale-faced child of the years afar, the little child who had walked with him hand-inhand along the village street?the forsaken. nameless girl from whose parentage of shame all.had turned away, and whom it was his duty, as a pastor and priest, to befriend. .So as a priest, he visited ber during the dark weeks wlien tbe first revulsion of grief made her long-chilled feelings warm and open; and when, the following spring, be began to commune with himself as to whether he might dare to speak or not, Jane's heart was sealed again; and whatever fluttering words strove occasionally to pass the vicar's lips were frozen back in a second by the calm, unconscious friendliness with which she received them. Although still considering him as something wholly alien to herself and to her personal happiness?Jane yet felt tDat she had grown to like him far better of late than she had used to do when he paid her showy "compliments fis a very young girl. In poor Miss Lynch'S lingering last Illness he was constantly in attendance on her; and Jane had been often touched by his great patience and gentleness in ministering to the weak, fickle, exacting requirements of the dying woman. True to the creed of all her life, Miss Lynch was firm to the last in her faith in doctors and clergymen. When Mr. Huntley's worst drugs were exhausted and the hand of the great Healer was upon her, she still seemed to find consolation in being physicked' and blistered?"using every means," as she termed it?to the last; and as doctors keep tolerably correct accounts of such matters, Jane, of course, viewed Mr. Huntley's alacrity in obeying all calls upon his attention as natural. When Mr. Follett had heard her confession, and had given her ghostly consolation and read to her, and prayed with her in the forenoon, there was never any certainty that he would not be summoned through mud and rain, at 10 o'clock at night, to perform the same offices again. And knowing that spiritual medicine is unpaid for, and that the vicar was by nature averse to untimely exertion and night air, also that Miss Lynch's profuse requirements of familiar spiritual comfort were not strictly in unison with his own broad and rarefied oreed, knowing <hese things, Jane was forced to admit to hnvt'Alf hn/1 frnnoflr nn/lorrnfI Mr. Foljett in nearly all of the opinions that she' had once formed concerning bin.. After Miss Lyneh's death her new prepossessions in his favor were strengthened. She never thought him selfish now. She never thought, as she used to think, that he wasted his energies in his study or among his fields, while Mr. Bradley did the real hard work among the poor of the parish. Learning, as people do wben their youth is over, to see tbe reai inner core, not the mere coarse crust of character, she came gradually to think of Mr. Follett as a man placed altogether in the wrong groove of life, but allowing none'but himself to suffer from the angles that continually jarred upon him; a man made by nature for intellectual and artistic enjoyment, but living out, without complaint, the dreary, stagnant li:e of a little Devonshire village; a man who had made early shipwreck of his own household affections, yet who, without bitterness, even with kindly sympathy, could look on at the loves and hopes of others; a friend (and though I place them last, these wore, of course, his primary virtues to Jane) ?a friend who had been kind to poor Miss Lynch through all the long years since she first wearied him with her attentions down to the last hour when he had knelt by her deathbed?a friend had held her own, Jane Grand's, hand more closely and warmly than ever since the dark history of her parentage had become publicly known. But respect, admiration, esteem, gratitude, do not constitute love?however tuni a foundation xuey may :ny ior love. Jane entertained every one of these excellent sentiments toward the Vicar of Cliesterford: and in secret her tears were si ill shed, her heart still cried out for the prodigal r.on who was wasting his substancc in riotous living ?the gambler who was wasting his substance in riotous living?the gambler whose life was spent without one higher aim tbnu the gratification of his own immediate despicable desires?the heartless man of the world who had so utterly forgotten her. and.lier love too! It would have heen Dimply a revelation \ A to her to have bwn toid that she was playing fast and loose "with Mr. Pol-, lett'e 'heart all this time?leading him on to tenderest hope by familiar tone or gesture at one moment, sinking him to despair by a sigh, a look, a distant < reference to Moliun and her burled love for him at the next. She was single-hearted and generous to a degree quite beyond the average of her sex?an exceptional feminine nature that would have felt real pain, not flattered, delicious triumph, at knowing that a good man's love was bring lavished upon her in vain. And this very lack of vanity, joined to the preoccupation of her own thoughts in all things pertaining to love, made her guilelessly play out a part which Monsieur de Balzoa's "Princess" herself could not have rivaled. The conclusion to one conversation, the last of many like to it, will show, upon what terms this man and woman fast approaching middle age now stood with regard to each other. Scene?the * * * J * -1 5 rrr\ fOQCATI Iltue gJirueii m JUHU s Wimgc, . ?early, summer; principal figures?Jane Grand, dressed in black, pale and listless as usual, training tlie roses in the the way they should go above the parlor window; exactly opposite hpr, at the distance of about three feet, the Vicar of Chesterford. And here I stop to say?what I ought to have said long ago?that Mr. Follptt's appearance was not an uncomely one. lie did not look his age (Indeed, at this moment there appeared very : slight difference between Jane and himself), his spare, broad chested, looseknit frame being of that order which retains all the lightness and elasticity of youth years after compact but i fleshy contemporaries have spread into j the Totundity of middle life. As he stood now, with his arms folded behind him?his accustomed attitude ?and looking intently at Miss grand's unconscious face?a stranger seeing only his figure nnd dark, thick, closecut hair, would have hesitated to call him a man still on what is conventionally termed the best side of thirty. Nor was his face old. Youth was, of course, gone from It. if by youth you mean freshness and rounded outline nnd vivid coloring; but these qualifications. the first points in a woman's beauty, are by no moans essential in a man's; and Mr. Follett's dark face, with clear-cut salient features, and deep-set iron-grey eyes was, I fancy, handsomer now tnan it was a ciozeu years before." Hie dress was always old-fashioned and the same; not very priestly, and seldom in first-rate condition, but suiting him in that indescribable manner which Messrs. Stulz or Buckmnster, do not always find It easy to make their well-ut clothes assume upon the wealthiest client's shoulders. On the morning in question he had on his head a wide-awake hat, which admirably became his somewhat foreign face, but which had already caused a great deal of mental disquietude In the parish. "Merely to shelter his eyes from the' son! My dear Miss Brown, all the world knows wide-awakes are the sign, the watchword, of the Broad Church principles." And as that dreadful heresy was new to the minds of Chesterforu sr. j Mary, its insignia or standard was naturally regarded with the terror men have for new and fell diseases by the eyes of parochial orthodoxy. "Do you think the yellow roses trail as well as they did last year, Mr. Follett? I fancy all the flowers have something wan and sickly about them this summer. Look, this cloth-of-gold will never be brought to hang as it used to do around the window." Exceeding grace is the. sole personal charm that years cannot take from a woman. As Jane, with one white bare wrist aloft,turned to glance across her shoulder at the vicar, her attitude might almost have vied with that immortal one of her who stood?" a sight to make an old man young." The Vicar of Chesterford felt very young and very foolish, indeed, as he looked at her; the more foolish, perhaps, as, for certain crafty reasons, he *- t- ! --I* purposed TVlUiiu iniusen iu &prui\ ucu- i nitely of his own passion upon this par- ! ticular morning. Young fellows of live-and-twenty, -without the slightest grain of diffidence in their nature, and who have been receiving overy legitimate encouragement for months past, feel a singular tingling in the soles of their feet, and a general indistinctness before their brain, when the actual morning of speaking definitely has arrived. (To be Continued.) Pennsylvania'!! Larjjeht Oak. Dr. U. S. G. Bieber is the owner.of the largest white oak tree in Pennsylvania. This beautiful specimen of a tree stands almost in the centre of a large field in Maxatawny township, about one mile and a half from Kutztnwn. The rirrnmferpucp of this eiant at the level of the ground is thirty-one feet; circumfercnce four feet from the ground, nineteen feet ten inches; circumference six feet front the ground, eighteen feet four- inches; greatest spread of branches (and trunk), 104 feet; height of tree (estimated), seventy-three feet eight inches. Its small height as compared with its great spread of branches might indicate 1hat it always has been a field tree and that it either stood in an opening before the white oaks took possession of the soil or that it started since the civilized settlers cleared the ground. Though the trunk is hollow and there is an opening into it on the northern side near the ground, there appears to be no reason why this giant oak might not, with proper care, iast for centuries. Considering the vast spread of its branches there is no other Pennsylvania tree approaching it in size which is at once so symmetrical and so beautiful.?Philadelphia Press. The Hiimiiti Form Divine. The costumers and fashion writers tell us that the figure of this year* is not 1 lie same as (lie figure of last year, and the figure of next year will not be tiie same as 1he figure of this year. We are given to understand that the human form is not by any means fixed: that it is mere day in the hands of the "West End iK)ttcr, who can squeeze and punch it until it sticks out behind or bulges in front. Poor human form!?Rational Dress Reform. A recent census of the homeless poor of London showed that 1969 men and .. 312 women were in the streets. t .JK&, CAUSES OF OCEAN CURRENTS I Van den, the Explorer, I)is?entn From tb? Acceptcd Doctrine. Dr. Nansen was led to make Lis famous attempt to reach tte North Pole by drifting; in the ice pack north of Siberia and Europe by the discovery of a great current that was moving westward and northwestward. It did not lake him as far north as he hoped, but enabled him to make a record that remained unequalled for a long time. Since then the man has given a little thought to the influences which give rise to such currents. The majority of oceangraphers think that the winds are the chief cause. They believe, for instance, that the Gulf of Mexico becomes overcharged with water, and gives rise to the Gulf Stream, because the general direction of the winds near the equator is from the east. They also believe that the drift from the shores of New England and the Eastern Canadian provinces toward Europe is due to the prevailing westerly and southwesterly breezes on Athintir in hich latitudes. Dr. Nansen does not fully indorse this opinion. He says in a German periodical that as the effect of the earth's rotation brings about a deviation of the ocean's currents from ^ the direction of the wind, he believes tlifit this fact vitiates the conclusions of | those who hold'to the above theory.4 Except on the equator and in special cases due to the proximity of large land masses, he holds that it is impossible for a wind to produce a water current that coincides with its direction. | It ia his belief i-hat the potent agent, in the production of ocean currents is j the difference in temperature between . the equator and the poles. Winds, however, while not shaping the courses of currents, may influence to some extent their rate of motion. The main ocean currents, he believes, may be explained as due to influences introduced by the continents in their path. "The Bulletin of the American Geographical Society" editorially pronounces Dr. Nansen's paper "a search, ing and brilliant exposition of his in* vesications and deductions," but it adds that "in so complicated a subject, bristling with -disturbing factors, 'it may be long before a concluscion is reached that will be universally accepted."?Tribune Farmer. M. TVitte'e First D?y In Pari*. M. Witte, the Russian plenipotentiary, is once more in Paris. Apropos of the short sojourn he is making ai the present moment in the capital, one of the papers recalls the first visit he paid to this city. It was in 1879, when he was thirty year6 of age, and he had just finished his studies at the university. The day of his arrival he was sauntering along the quays of the Seine, and coming to the Palais Bourbon he said to himself: "I might as well see what is going on in the Chamber of Deputies." But he had no entrance card. That did not make much difference to him, however. He walked in, and when an usher stopped him and asked him lor his card, he replied, "I have none." "Then, monsieur, yuu i-<muui gu *n. "But I desire very much to go in." "Do you know any of the Deputies?" "No." i "Do you know the President?" "Yes," replied young Witte, although he had never seen him in his life, but imagined that the statement might procure him admittance to the Chamber. "Then," said the usher, "give me your card and I'll send it to the President of the Chamber." When Gambetta received the card he read "Serge Witte, St Petersburg," but that conveyed nothing to him. Thinking, however, that he might have met him' at some time, and since forgotten his name, Gambetta gave orders for the young Russian to be admitted to the gallery of the foreign press. At the close of the sitting he sent for M. Witte, and in the Minister's private apartments the great French statesman and the future plenipotentiary talKed of Russia and its politics for .two hours.?Paris Correspondence of the London Globe, i A Rnnsiaii Chief al Police. "The Night that Made Me a Revolutionist," in Everybody's, is the tale of a young Russian peasant. Speaking through the mouth of Ernest Poole, the writer, the young revolutionist tells the following incident: > "Toward evening both of us were called to the police station. We were taken in before the Chief of Police. "He was a man of fifty. He was not at all like the priest, but short and burly, with a thick sole neck and a lace all red and puffed out; his fingers trembled from vodka. He had been in the army, and had now been.given this easy place; tie nau never letuueu to read or write till after he was thirty. He always had trouble to speak, for his breath came short, his brain was clouded, and you could see by his eyes that he was always trying to gTab his thoughts and hold them together. He showed all the signs of a vodka drunkard. Every morning he was Bad; every afternoon he was cross; ewrry evening he got more and more stupid. "We found him in a cross period. He lay on the sofa wrapped in a long gray cloak. The cloak was unbuttoned in front, and you could see his black, hairy chest. He held a cigar* very tight in his teeth; a white cat lay in Lis lap, and his fnt red lianas Kept trembling over the cat's back." Female Contractor. The Pilgrim says that the only electrical contractor in the United States of feminine persuasion is a demure young woman in Syracuse, N. Y.?Miss Rose B. Richardson?who began her business life as a telephone operator. Becoming interested in things electrical, she soon became bookkeeper and, assistant for a brother-in-law who was an electrical contractor. Since his| death, some three years ago, Missi Richardson has Lad entire charge otf the business, and has established a tine reputation. By personally inspecting all the contracts after the work-' men lave finished, she keeps a high! standard. At the recent meeting of! the National Association of Electrical Contractors, the 2000 men members * gave an enthusiastic greeting to Missi Richardson. She is very domestic,however, in hec,inclinations, and is-aii accomplished housekeeper. ~ '< ^ .- grgs THE GREAT DESTROYER ] SOME STARTLINC FACTS ABOUT ,, THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE.The Broken Botlle~ThIe Mechanic Paid g Seven Hundred Dollars For Some Shattered GIr?*, Bnt His Wife Wm Thankfnl When He Bionght It Home "Come on. boys, let ub go and take a drink." y j The speaker'wtfs William Scott/ a, ? hard-working' mechanic "who, with-. T three of his shopmates, 7,*as on his way home at the close of the weetfs c labors. All of them had taken several j driitks and had begun to sho^ the < effects of them, especially Scott who , staggered as he -walked. i The four went in and stood before g the bar of the saloon, which was but c a short distance from Scott's home and j had for years been patronized by him. e Drunken men seldom drink and leave a saloou when there are two or more r 4 r\4vr\+ hv\n avwl a? rflvLn A^nQcinn i and bis friends stood at the bar and j conversed rs one after 1 be. other treated in turn. ? . Suddenly their conversation was in- . terrupted by Scott. accidentally -drop-; ; ping from his unsteady grasp the bfrttle from which he was about to pour J a dram. < . "Hello!" said the, "tiat was an acei- . dent." "Accident or not, yon'll pay for that liquor and bottle," retorted .the saloonkeeper. whose attention was called to ^ Scott by the crasli. t "You don't mean that. Lawrence," sattl Scdtt; "it was an accident." . , "That's all right," replied the saloonkeeper. "but the price of that bottle and liquor will take the profit off many a drink- I can't afford to lose it, ^ and you'll have to pay for It" ; "But," pleaded the mechanic, "I've j but a dollar of my wages left and I t must take it home." . The saloon-keeper, however, was inexorable. and Scott handed over the , dollar note which was to have given ^ his wife and little ones a Sunday din-- j f^'When he got his change he turned 'J to the saloon-keeper and said: 1 "J didn't think you would do that,. s Lawrenoe, after, I've been spending a. good part of my wages here for the past ten years." "Well, if you have,'I gtiesS you've ? got the equivalent of every cent ytfft 1 spent/' gruffly responded Lawrence: * * < "Did I?" said Scott quietly, and * picking up the pieces he started from * the saloon. * mere was Boineimug ui his wuiiuei i that Lawrence did not like, and tak- I ing the amount he had received from the mechanic from the drawer, he threw it noisily on the counter and callcd Scott to come back; but the latter had reached the door and went an out. . ' . He procee<le<l to his home, and m.eetIng his wife he placed the pieces of broken bottle in her hand, saying: . "There. Betty, I paid seven hundred dollars for that, and I think you'll consider it cheap." For a moment Mrs.. S<jott did not. understand him; but looking at the pieces of the bottle and inhaling the fumes of the liquor she intuitively ' grasped his meaning and with a glad feeling in her heart she said: "What do you mean, William?" "I mean," said Scott, "that for ten ! rears that bottle has been swallowing my earnings; but now I've bought it, find I am going to see if the broken bottle is not better than the whole 0 bottle."?feappy Home. ? A Drnnk Is n Joke. Rev. Charles M. Sheldon, who spent r (lis vacation the past summer in the 11 I'imnitv Spnttlp Wnsh in sneakinc 11 of the saloon evil, says: "I saw more a drunken men in those cities dnring itfre six weeks I was there than I have seen < In Kansas in sixteen years. There is no public sentiment there, against it. 1 A drunken man is looked upon as a t joke and laughed at. The saloon iji,en h Df "Washington State violate more laws I than the jointists of Kansas. There t is a law on the statute books saying t hat there the salmon shall close on t Sunday all day. Yet they never think s of obeying it. The places never close, v They are operated twenty-four hours 1 every day, and the best paying season a of the day is said to be the hours be- f tween midnight and four o'clock, r Seattle has 257 saloons." s \ Rmi;ciuf HlrooR Drink. J] At the twentieth anniversary of the 'German Society Against the Abuse 1 3f Alcoholic Drinks" there were pre- a sented some telling statistics of the o ravages -of strong drink in- uermany, u where the use of alcohol is said to be s responsible for 54 per cent, of the di- e vorce, 50 per cent, of the railroad acci- f dents, 70 per cent, of the accidents on I the sea, 87 per cent, of the offenders ? gent to houses of 'correction, 55 per n :ent. of the disturbances of domestic e peace, and so on through a long list a t Beer Statistics. 'I The beer which is consumed through- t. out the world in a single year would d make a lake six feet deep, <hree and b three-quarter miles long, a mile wide, p or 2319 acres in area. In this vast e lake of beer we could easily drown all 1 'the English-speaking people to the number of 120,000,000 throughout the 5 entire world; or we could give a beer E bath to every man, woman and child v nt the same time in the entire continent 1< of America. . ? v ProRTess.of a High Orddr. n The University of Virginia has ex- t pressed through its president a desire f (hat no wine should be served at the j< nlumni dinners, giving as a reason \i that the use of wine is incompatible 11 with culture and intelligence, and no a scholar should take the risk or be ex- e posed to the peril of injury from this h source. This is progress and evolu- h tion of the highest class. fi Temperance NotesIn France scientific temperance is tc regularly.tauglit and examined in all P the State schools. b: Let the women of the land keep on w praying for temperance and the men ci irn+lnc fc'nith' nild works p< i\ccj; v? ?vi...d. - ? ? ? linked together will bring about sue- ei cess. In Victoria (Australia) teaching on bealili and 011 the nature and effects ot' alcohol is placed on (he list of compulsory subjects taught in all the public elementary schools. Lord Charles Beresford has taken a seat on the water wagon, and is en- E,1 thusiastic in liis declarations concerning the benefits of to I'll abstinence. The most active temperance campaign iu the country is that which the ^ Church Federation is conducting in ^ Indian Territory for constitutional prohibition. The W. C. T. U. is also doing its part bravely. In Canada, with the exception of two provinces, hygiene and science instruc- I tion on the effects of alcohol are com- ii pulsory subjects in all public elemen- v tary schools throughout the Dominion., lit the two excepted provinces teaching ii on temperance is given. y i HE SUNDAY SCHOOL ' i YTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS FOR JANUARY 21. nbjcct: The Boy Jeans, Lake lfM *0-52? Golden Text. Luke II., 02?Memory Verge, 51 ? Topic: The Boy J?>u Pattern For Youth?Commentary. I. The growth aud advancement of 'esus (vs. 40, 52). 40. "The child ;rew." From this verse and verse. 52 ve learn that Jesns ha<f a human body, nd soul. He was a genuine boy and rrew like other boys, but He was siness. Evil bad no pla<;e in Hiip. 'Waxed." An old English word for ,rrew. "Strong in spirit." "In spirit" s omitted ii^ the Revised Version, but piritual strength, is meant He beame strong in mind and understandng. "Filled with wisdom." He was minent for wisdom even when a child. 'Grace of * God." Grace commonly neans favor. God was-pleased with 3im and showed Him favor and Jlessed Him. 52.- "Increased in wisdom." This erers to Jtus spiritual ana mteneciuai levelopment. Some one has said that 'wisdom is1 knowledge made our own tnd properly applied." "And stature." rhere could be no increase in the perection of Hie divine nature, but this s spoken of His human nature. His >ody increased in stature and His soul lereloped in divine things. "Favor vith God." Though His entire being vas in the favor of God, yet as that >elng increased in amount tbe amount >f favor increased proportionately. 'And man." His character and life vere beautiful and the better He beame known the more He was admired II. Jesus at the Passover (vs. 41, 2). 41. "Went?every year." The ?assover was one of the three great fewish feasts which all males over welve years of age were required to ittend. 42. "Twelve years old." To a boy vho had never been outside the hills ?f Nazareth, the journey to Jerusalem, he appearance of the city at this time, l sight of the temple, the preparations or toe ieasr ana especially me least tself, must have been au imposing f^Et: III. jesus lost and found (vs. 43-40). 3. "Fulfilled the days." The Pa'es-' ?ver Week (Exod. 12:10;. "Tarried beiind." Jesus was so intensely interred in the teaching of the rabbis that ie failed to start with the caravan on he homeward journey. "Knew not >f it." This shows the perfect conflleuce they had in the boy. 44. "In the company." The people raveled in caravans. Jesus evidently lad been allowed a more than usual ;mount of liberty of action, as a child, >y parents who had never known Him o transgress their commandments or >e guilty of a sinful or foolish deed. 5. "Found Him not." They had irobably left in the night to avoid the leat of the day, and in the confusion e&us was lost. Ait " A +"hrAA ilavc An -frii/ivrt iui . allu lui vv uu;?i avmw?. or "on the third day;" one day for heir departure, oiie for their return ind one for the search. . "They found iim." Jerusalem was overcrowded rith millions of people packed into a mall area, and they had none of the aeans to which we would at orfce look or assistance in searching for a lost hild in a great city. "In the temple." oseph and Mary evidently knew vhere they would be most likely to-f . ind Him. Jesus was probably in one f the porches of the court of the wornra, where the-schools of the rabbis, vere held. "In .the midst of the docors." Teachers of the law, Jewish abbis. "Hearing?asking." But it is lot said teaching or disputing'. He sat iot as a doctor, but as an inquirer mong the doctors. IV. Jesus astonishes His hearers :>3. 47-50). 47. "Astonished." The Greek word 9 very forcible. The Import is that hey were in a transport of astoni6hnent and struck with admiration. "At lis understanding." He brought dth Him a clear knowledge of God's Ford. 48. "Amazed." To see such tonor given to their boy. and to see uch boldness in holding a discussion elth these learned men. "Why," etc. ?his was the mildest sort of a reproof nd probably given privately. "Thy ather." This form of speech was iece86ary, for how else could she \ peak? "Sought Thee sorrowing." The , cord here rendered sorrowing is ex- | ressive of great anguish. 49. "How is it that ye sought Me?" ?bis is no reproachful question. It Is ; sked in all the simplicity and boldness , " ITa <e nnnnrontlv Jl liviy UUIUSWU. JULV url>?.?_., stoniehed that He should have been ought, or even thought of, anywhere lse than in the only place which He elt to be properly His home. "Wist" Inow. "About Ttfy Father's1 business." lee R. V. "In My Father's house" unecessarily narrows the fulness of the xpression. Better; in the things or ffairs of My Father, in that which relongs to His honor and glory, ^ese bear with them the stamp of aubenticity in their perfect mixture of, Igriity and humility. It is remarka-, >le, too, that He does not accept the hrase "Thy Father" which Mary had mployed. 50. "Understood not" 'hey did not understand His mission. V. Jesus subject to His parents (v, 1). 01. "Went down with them " If: 1 lis heart drew Him to the temple, the f oice of duty called Him back to Gali- J je; and, perfect, even in childhood," J le yielded implicit obedience to this ' oice. "To Nazareth." Here He rejained eighteen years longer. These ' - ere years of growth and preparation ( or His great life work. "Was sub-! { jet unto them." There is something ' wonderful beyond measure in the, J bought of Him unto whom all things 1 re subject submitting to earthly part 1 nts. "In her heart." Expecting that; s ereafter they would be explained to * er aud she would understand them ? ally. 1 Crow a Houaetop Chanticleer. Three years ago a crow, barely able t fly. was caught by Mrs. Newkirk, of t alenville, N. J., and placed with a i rood of chickens, and has since lived j ith the fowls. The other day the t *ow astonished the neighborhood by j erching himself on the housetop and 0 rowing as lustily as any rooster in t le place. In the morning the crow s ied with the roosters in crowing at aybreaic e A Novel Contest. ' A thousnnd dollars' worth of gold j,,.o honn rrivpn tho Denver lilliUJJ AJCIO vvv*. 0 - res? Club by Fred G. Shaffer, a minig man, as a prize for the best story i Colorado, written by any one at- 1 inding the annual meeting of tlie Na- 1 onal Association of Press Clubs, to j p lield in Denver in August, 1906. j . < ] Iiived Fears "With a Broken N?ck> ] Charles Pettingill, a rich man, ot } Evermore Falls, Me., is dead, after } avlng lived for more than five years j tdth a broken neci. His case ds ^ ijique in the annals,of surgery. His 1 ojury was sustained in August, 1900, ] rhep he fell from an apple tree. j A NICHT PRAYERi, ??. * . 1 ' 0 God, 0 Perfect Love, I pray Thee caret) v > / For hiim because it is forDidatn me. ' /J Grant that his Bleep may soft and haJ? lowed be, tj ; v" Because these prayer-clasped lands m&jj never dare To smooth nor blees hia bed. Close witK Thy rare, ' Caressing peace his weary star-eyes. Free From other -ward some angel-guard, that h< \ May keep the dark watch that I may not share. , . > !1 Greet with Thy new day's joy his waking soul. . Inspire him lest in weariness he slip Upon the day's a*cent. Grant me the bKatf * Of praying "for him?Lord, take ? Thou ? / ' coal, |; From out Thy altar-fire, and on the lin ! That I may never touch lay Thou its *ia4 ?Elizabeth Hale Gilman, in Scribner's.,, " ; 1 & Soart of Belf-Plty. Sympathy Js a beautiful thing whe? kept where it belongs. We cannot have too much sympathy with theefe who need it. But there i? one per" son whose need it is more than doubtfnl and that, nprunn ift nnp's individual self. Pity is akin to love, and self-pity, is so close a relative of self-love that we are wise if we definitely refuse' id let it enter the doons of our souls. ' : Yet at some time in every life it seeks entrance. There is no. lot wiere, in youth even, there is not some opportunity for self-pity. "I am poor,"; "I am discouraged," "I am misunderstood," "I am slighted,'' "I am overworked"?there is no end to "the willed per that self-pity makes in our ear?.! If we yield to these suggestions, h<rvr ever, we soou uegin xo Bee xnai situation grows worse every day. "VYe find, our corn-age waning, oar despoil ency growing, and all possibility of cheeT and victory receding in the dis-: tance. Sympathy for self is a paraly*- 1 '? 4ng and fatal sympathy. 'Unlike sympathy of a wise friend, it brings Ifc'u - . new point of . view and suggests xm fresh plan of campaign. . . ' /J A man who sympathizes with him-* self always has an overproduction o?. grievances. If we undertook to explaitf some of his minor miseries to ev<en bis best friend they might seem small, but self treat? them respectfully and syaP pathizes unfailiugiy. Let tie. habit of self-pity be orce established and hajvpiness is gone forever apd a day. Tb?= tiniest irouble becomes a thing H brood upon. Health and soul is gonei and soreness of spirit has taken it&J place, until! at last the self-sympathi- / zer becomes one. of those miserable! persons who proclaim, "Nobody haa such hard times as I have." When we get to saying that we are' J down, in the pit of folly and selfishness r 1 indeed. No soul that makes that wall. | is brave or noble or deserving of'muchj sympathy. When we once truly loot. about us and see or guess the crushing burdens other souls are bearing vrftto patience and without complaint, wei shall be ashamed of such coward)# whining. Whatever lat we may have in lifer we do not know wliat its possibilities really are until we. have cheerful ly? and qourageously tried them. Self-pity, blinds us, to th? silver lining of the" cloud, to the discipline hid under hard" ship, to the strength by burden-bearing. "Blessed is he that over cometh."" Shall we sigh because we have a chance to win a blessing? Shall we be caught in the snare that tangles many young feet? The sooner we 'earn to avoid it the better. . The bl'ave life never sit* down W. brood. It pushes ahead, sharing its crust with another's need, shifting its . burden as well as it can, so as to lentf v a hand to a comrade's load, trudging * steadfastly forward through rain or shine, and sure to get to the goal 'in /' the end. It tabes self-denial, not'sety-/*pity, as a guide, and for him wfy> makes that choice there is no suetf word as failure though all fate seems against him.?Youne Pennte. u Doubly Kebn&ed. ? - ' Is she a Christian?" asked a celebrated missionary in the East, of one of the converts who was speaking ufc-* kindly of a third party. t 1 "Yes, I think she is," was the reply.. .1 "Well, then, since Jesus loves, her J in spite of that, why is it that yob. :an't?" The rebuke was felt, and the factfinder instantly withdrew. Some days later, the same party was Breaking to the missionary in a similar spirit about mother person. 'The same question was put?"Is she a Christian?' In a half-triumphant tone, "as if the speaker Were beyond the reach of gunshot this time, it was answered,'"! loubt if she truly is." "Oh! then." rejoined the missionary,' 'I think that you and I should feel * such tender pity for her soul as.1? nake any harsher feeling about her luite impossible." , The Plodder Vim. An Alpine tourist 6et out at earlyi 5 nomine to climb the Matterhorn. The lir was bracing, and he passed a peasint going on with steady strides, ami o himself he said, "Slow fellows these, , jereabouts," and on he" hastened. * \ But the path was steep and rugged. J 2re noon his steps lagged, and he re-. J 'lined to rest under an overhanging rag. Then along came the peasant' vith that steady, swinging gait, and >assed on before him. It is but anither version of the hare and the toroise, a lesson which holds true in jpiritual as in secular life. It pays to )e patient. It pays to plod. Faith ip mr alpenstock, beloved. Let us lean lard upon it.?Dr. D. J. Burrell. Faith of the Heart. ^B8 It is as true that penitence, purity, lumility, goodness, self-sacrifice in the JhB| leart is the divinest joy and glory, as f all the treasures and splendors he universe drew near and-gathered iround to pay it homage. The fnitfc^^^H f the heart is a stronger assurance^^^H han all the visions of the outward ense.?Orville Dewey. The City Council of Leeds, England, recie<l baths especially for Jewish flH vomeiL U| Guinea Hens In Vemnztd* y The Department of Agriculture all Washington, D. C., announces that} there .is a growing market in this corau trv for Guinea hens as table birds, anfl suggests that they might well be brecl In the United States more extensively^ either -with other poultry or in larger lumbers by themselves. "Very yotin$ broilers bring good prices early in the| season in city markets," says the bat* letin, "while the older ones are easHy] sold throughout/he autumn and wkn ter. They may be prepared for th0 table like ordinary fowl or like gaqtti... birds and . have very much the earn# food value as chicken." ji %'