The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, January 17, 1906, Image 2
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
%'