The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, April 10, 1907, Image 6
eo d as o w> e aa ? as e e? 9 a e
g 9^ c? ocsaDe?BBa*?aaic
Si THE CANO:
! I S I OR A TALE OF I
%?OBS?
8 I
By JAMES
|?| ei eBHaeoaiaeeeeaBe
aiiMtavaicntniot
CHAPTER III. 3
Continued.
The eulogium was correct in more
than one sense, for Mr. Herbert Perry
h^ been far from successful in his
umversity examinations; but it was
curious, considering the rudeness
.with which the man' had been treated,
he should have been eulogistic at
all.
Scarcely had he left the hall, and
ere the attendant had closed the door
against the driving rain, when a second
young gentleman from the ballroom
demanded his cap and gown,
and, snatching them from the attendant's
hand, followed on the other's
Jbeels.
"Well, he is in a hurry!" ejaculated
the custodian. "Blest if he
ain't gone and left his great coat behind
him."
"Why," yes," replied the porter,
peering out into the storm; "and to
see the way in which he is cutting
after Mr. Perry yonder, one would
think he was his lady love. They
don't look much of a muchness neither,
do they? I should say that second
one never feathered an oar or
doubled his fist in his life."
"A mugger, that's what he is,"
said the other, contemptuously; "a
mugger" (a comprehens-ive term understood
to include all persons with
an ambition for university distinction).
Though Adair had pursued his
rival (for such, it was clear, whether
with good reason or not, he considered
him to be) with such precipitancy,
it was only to make sure that
he did not escape him at the outset.
Directly he caught sight of him striding
rapidly in the direction, as he
had anticipated, of Trumpington
street, he slackened his pace, contenting
himself with keeping him in
view. He was wet through, but,
though that was a somewhat novel
experience lor one 01 nis inaoor naoits,
it affected him not the least. The
.wind blew "shrill, chill," in his face,
and cut through his thin garments
to the bone; but that too he was
unconscious. The one thought in his
mind was, "Will she come to meet
him, and where?" That any assignation
could have been made between
these two seemed indeed most unlikely,
or Perry would have not have
been so disappointed (as he undoubtedly
had been) at not seeing Miss
Gilbert at the ball; but it was possible?for
anything seemed possible
to the young scholar's jealous soul?
that they had some means of meeting
whenever they pleased. If so, he
was resolved to find it out. That, he
had persuaded himself, was his sole
motive; but if he could have examined
his heart he could perhaps have
found another.
As to what should be the bearing
of a young gentleman bound upon a
clandestine interview with his beloved
object there may be different
opinions, but Mr. Herbert Perry's
manner was certainly unlike anything
one would have expected under ,
such- circumstances. At first he indulged
in very bad language, snatches
of which were borne upon the wind
to the ears of his pursuer; whereas
it is surely usual to husband one's
oaths for the .presence of the young
lady, and even then to use only those
of fealty and devotion. Instead of
cautiously keeping under the shadow
of the houses, he took the middle
of the pavement, and that with the
6wagger of a dragoon in spur. So
far from lookinir like an evil-doer.
his air gave the impression of one'
who suffers under a vehement sense
of wrongs and. who is resolved to take
the remedy in his own hands. Even
when the wind and rain had cooled
him a little, and these symptoms of !
indignation disappeared, there was
nothing in his behavior to suggest
passion or secrecy. Once, indeed, he
suddenly vanished from the eyes of
his purruer, who himself kept far
aloof and as much out of sight as
possible, .in case the other should
look behind him; but in a moment
(or two heremerged from his concealment
more conspicuous even than before;
he hadtonly taken advantage of
.a doorway to light up a huge cigar.
Suddenly the moon came out and
fihone .upon his face. The traces. of
wine and oLanger had vanished from
it, and a certain necessity for caution,
Trhirh hp "nnrl unw hrcnn tn nvnpri
?nce, gave it an .expression of
thoughtfulness. As his pursuer
shrank .into the hedge to avoid the
effulgence, his -.own keen face, full :"
of intelligence, but also of stealth and
hate, looked very poor beside it. It
was the case of Hyperion to a satyr,
and Adair felt the contrast. It was
no wonder., he confessed to himself,
between "his teeth, that the fancy of a
foolish girl, ignorant of the higher
mathematics, should have been taken
by such a man. And there was no
doubt that it had been so.
As he Tiad all along suspected, his
4a 4 U ~ T 1
rival gums iu tut: ivctureis, wuere
she would probabiy give bim a secret
interview; it should not, however, if
he could help It, be an unseen one.
Perry had stopped, and if or the first
time was looking suspiciously behind
him. Thea he left the road, and
passed through the gate that opened
upon the gravel-sweep before the
Jiouse. The moon was now obscured
again, and Adair, emerging from
the hedge, followed close upou his
footsteps. Tn his haste and excitement
the gate which the othtir had
caption, was torn from his less pow-!
erful fingers by the wind, and
clanged behind him.
He had but just time to throw himself
upon the ground among the
shrubs, when Perry, attracted by tfte
noise, ran back to the spot. Had liefound
hiro there would probably have
been murder done, though not necessarily
by the stronger man. Prone
as he was <on the wet earth, Adair
contrived to take out a well-sharpened
knife, with which he had deftly
mended many a pen in examinations,
pud opeu it, We was not a maa to
&S ... - ^ m
!?6o&i$c?ces?aB?aB*aD*
:2B99<18?53E3?GBSB9 |^8
N*S WARD
HONEY BADNESS. " ? I *j
?n %U?
== tflll
i PAYN.
HBMBOBBS O? g O 9
eonansaiiMoeBis*
submit to chastisement, however well
deserved. Tho other, however, after
a brief examination, appeared to ascribe
the matter to accident. He had
not, it seemed, shut the gate, as he
had intended to do, and cursing his
own carelessness in not having done
so, he passed on.
CHAPTER IV.
The Waiting-Maid.
Perry glanced up at the windows;
those of the sitting rooms were dark,
but a light still glimmered in the top
story. Ho moved rapidly to the back
of the house, and took a similar observation
of it; that side was dark.
Perry uttered his usual exclamation of
disappointment, a noun of three syllables,
generally understood to be the
copyright of divines. He was evidently
puzzled what to do. After a
moment's reflection, however, he
mounted 'some iron steps that led
from the garden to the drawing room
balcony, and also to a door which
gave egress to some smaller chamber,
probably a lady's boudoir; and taking
a half crown from his pocket, struck
with it the brass around the keyhole
twice. Amid the roaring of the wind,
the blow was unheard without, but
inside the house the noise was probably
diBtinct enough, especially to
ears that were accustomed to such a
signal. There was a considerable de
lay, during which Perry stood with
one ear at the keyhole, and his foot
on the step prepared for instant flight
should the expected footsteps sound
unfamiliar to him. Adair crouched
down behind him, shadowed by a
laurel bush, and watched his every
motion as a cat of tender years
watches a rat of dangerous dimensions.
For a wonder, Perry showed no
trace of impatience (which convinced
the other that he had been used to
wait under similar circumstances),
and remained in that statuesque
but somewhat strained position till
his signal was answered. A bolt was
quietly withdrawn, the door softly
opened, and after a word or two?as
it seemed by tbe tone?of objection
on the part of the person within, the
young man was admitted.
When the door had opened to Mr.
Perry's signal, it was at the touch of
a -female hand indeed, but it was not
Sophy's.
This woman was much taller, had
a somewhat coarse complexion, and
wore a cap on her head of that description
which is termed "fly-away,"
much affected *by lady's maids. She
was good looking, but her eyes were
rather too small for her face, and
had a cunning look, which, in one of
her position, suggested intrigue. On
the present occasion, however, the
expression of her face on catching
sight of her midnight visitor, was one
of mingled alarm and anger. She
made, indeed (though this was doubtless
but a feint) , as though she would
have closed the half-opened <door in
his face had he not thrust in his
strong fingers and prevented it.
"You must be mad, Mr. Perry, to
come here at such an hour as this,"
she exclaimed, indignantly.
"Why did not your mistress come
to the ball?" he inquired sternly and
without talrtng the least notice of her
inrHcnatlnn.
"And what is that to you, sir? I
mean," she added, alarmed by the
heavy frown that gathered on his
brow, "what was there in her not
going that can excuse your coming
here? You have no right
"I have a right," he interrupted,
with grim distinctness. "Let me in."
And ignoring the resistence of her
well knit and far from 'delicate arm
as though it were a cobweb, he
pushed his way in and closed the door
behind him.
"And now, Mis Jeannette Perkins,
where is your mistress?"
"Where everybody but a poor
lady's maid is, or ought to be at this
time o' night?asleep in her bed."
"She is not a very early bird in
general," observed the young man
incredulously, and "especially on ball
nights. Why didn't sne go 10 tne
ball?"
"That is the second time you have
asked that question, Mr. Perry,
though there's no one so fit to answer
it as yourself. How could she
go -after what happened this evening?"
"I did not hear of anything having
happened," returned the young man
sullenly.
"Ah, then, I did! What I heard
was .that while my mistress was sitting
at a window of the canon's
rooms and the procession was passing,
a young gentleman as ought to
have known better Btood up in a
boat and drank her health out of a
guar.t -pot."
"T nr? " rpmnrlrprt Mr
Perry, indignantly.
"Maybe because you couldn't,"
was the sharp rejoinder. "Indeed,
nobody ?who was in his right senses
could possibly have put such a disgrace
upon a young lady."
"I didn't mean to do anything ol
that kind, of course," said the other,
exchanging his injured tone for one
of apology.
"1 suppose you thought it was paying
her a compliment. Her friends,
however, did not think 30, at all
events; and they took care that she
should run no risk of another such
being paid her the same evening.
And that's why any poor dear young
lady was not at the bal.I this evening."
"She could have gone if she chose,
for all that, I'll bet a shilling," returned
the young fellow sulkily.
"Then to come here at this time
Of night, in your sober senses, with a
reckless disregard of all consequences
to my dear young mistress, is most
yile and abominable."
"I wanted to know why she was
not at the bsi.l."
"Well now you do know?go."
Aud jennnette?though the
name given to her at the baptismal fg
font had in fact been Susan, which 'H
suited better perhaps with her pat- H
ronymic, Perkins pointed to the
door with a dramatic gesture worthy
| of a French melodrama. Her vigori
ous onslaught had been too much for
| Mr. Perry; men of his class can seldom
stand against a woman's right
eous indignation, unless she happens
to be his wife. He had come to the y<
Laurels under a vague sense of ill- ol
treatment, he was indignant at hi
Sophy's absence from the ball, and ir
wanted to know the "reason why," tt
partly, perhaps, because he suspected ol
the reason; he knew that he had tl
earned her reproaches by drinking tt
| her health on the river, and, there- w
1 fore, wished to establish a grievance k<
on his own account But Jeannette tl
had routed him. He took up his bat- c<
tered college cap, and muttering a u
grudging apology about "not knowing
it was quite so late," and an ungracious
hope that the young lady's head
would not be so bad but that she
could be seen the next day, he passed oi
out into the night.
With a swift hand Jeannette locked tc
the door behind him, and stood lis!'
tening for his heavy step upon the tl
iron stairs.
i "Thank Heaven, that's over!" she ti
exclaimed, with a great sigh of relief.
, "Drat the man, I wish he was g-,
i drowned!" -ei
The aspiratiofa ^as a pretty strong
one, but there was little doubt of its 01
genuineness. Her eyes had still the w
fire of indignation 1r them, her
cheeks were still flushed with it; her a]
bosom still palpitated with it quite as is
much as with her late passionate elo- bi
quence. "How Miss Sophy can stand
it," she went on, "amazes me. It
would wear me to smn ana Done, un,
Jemimaram, if he hasn't come back
, again!" ^
The interjection was caused by the qi
same tapping on the door lock with- 01
, out, that had already summoned m
, Jeannette from her duties about her 01
young mistress. She had little doubt
that she had heard aright, but she 01
, was very willing to believe herself
deceived. The wind was still roar- ^
ing and raging, and it was just possible
that what she had just heard 01
was but the swinging of the iron gate Si
of the balcony. Surely, surely., *fter 01
that piece of her mind had been given ^
i him, not apparently, with such ex- ^
, cellent effect, .Mr. Herbert Perry w
i could not desire admittance a -second Ci
[ time. Yet, as she listened with pain- ^
t ful intentness, with her ear at the w
keyhole, there came again the well;
known summons. "It is him, drat
him!" she murmured; and -with the ol
i same precautions as before, but ren- b(
dered more difficult by the angry 111
trembling of her limbs, she -opened
the door a little space, when, without
making it any wider, to her horror 111
and amazement there slipped in, like
a serpent, the attenuated .frame of
Mr. John Adair.
To he Continued. si
dj
"What She Remembered. m
Husband?"Many people*:at church sc
this forenoon, dear?" fc
Wife?"Yes, a large number.'* in
"Good sermon?" li
"Delightful." b<
"What was the text?" ai
"It was?it was?well", really, I ir
have forgotten." b<
"Humph! W^ Mrs. Purling tl
there?" * ?1
"She was." fr
"What had she on?" ti
"Well, she had on a fall wrap of us
very dark Pompeiian red cloth, with tc
narrow insertions of black velvet in bl
the sides of the skirt. A small yoke 6i
trimming of the vflvet covered the al
upper par{ of the chest, and was out- ti
lined with mixed tinsel braid. A nar- b]
row braiding girdled the waist, and tc
the cuffs were ornamented in the ti
sam'e way. It had a cape attachment ol
pleated upon the shoulders, and at- T
tached by other pleats at the waist b]
line, giving a dolman appearance to oi
the back. She " ol
"That'll do. I don't wonder that a:
you forgot the text!"?Daily Pica- n:
yune. tt
h
The Cement Age. S?
a:
A man has invented a cement shin- w
gle. It is a metal shingle covered t?
with cement, and is really a tile as C]
lasting as stone. As cement becomes w
more known, and it is learned that e,
every man can make his own cement,
there will be a boom in cement building.
The great cost of building has
been the increased cost for material
and the high price of skilled labor.
With cement there need be only one
skilled man and plenty of common
labor, even in building houses.
The price of cement is quite high
HOW, UUi lutiie sue vast du^ijucs ?uu
no possible monopoly. Cheap machines
for making the blocks and'
plenty of sand and a little knowledge
is the foundation, and the price out- 0J
side the cities will be cheaper. We C]
are beginning the cement age, and c,
concrete houses will #be the houses
of the future. Building lumber of Sl
good quality is almost impossible and
brick and stone are out of reach, so
cement is the reliance.?Birmingham
Ledger.
fc
Generating Electricity at Pit's Mouth.
Of recent years a good deal has t(
been said about generating electricity g(
at thn nit's month. and transmitting:
it to various industrial centres. But v,
; it would be considerably cheaper to
manufacture producer gas at the pit's
mouth and transmit it through pipes
to the industrial centres, there to use 01
It for driving gas engines for generat1
ing electricity and also for heating u
purposes and furnace work. The 1:0
question of the distribution and trans- 01
mission of power must not be con- ai
I fused. For the former it is agreed p<
i that there is no agent to compare ai
with electricity. For the latter pur- *?
pose it is suggested that it is more
economical to employ producer gas fc
and piping than electricity and cables, ci
{ ?Scientific American.
la
He Lost Nothing. fi<
""Harry's-mother had given him an
apple and told him to peel it before cl
. he ate it. Returning to the room w
; afte ra few moments' absence, and
seeing no peeling, she asked:.
"Did you peel your apple, Harry?" ai
"Yes," answered Harry.
"What did you do with the peel- a
ings?" she asked. 6P
"Ate them.'".?Harper's Weekly. 01
- ~'9
*
household
: ^ patters
Device to Cool a Sick Room.
T would like to suggest through
3ur paper to the thousands who are
3liged to remain in town during the
at weather?especially to those carig
for the sick?my plan for cooling
le sick room. I place a pad made
E a folded piece of old blanket, on
ie stone ledge of the window (which
?e sun keeps very hot), and keep it
et all day. The rapid evaporation
eeps the stone perfectly cold, and
ie air passing over it is perceptibly
joled, and gives much relief to the
ivalid.?A Nurse.
Facts About Eggs.
A good egg will sink in water.
Stale eggs are glassy and smooth
E shell.
A fresh egg has a lime-like surface
) its shell.
The boiled eggs which adhere to
ie shell are freshly laid.
Eggs packed in bran for a long
me smell and taste nasty.
Thin shells are caused by a lack of
ravel, etc., among the hens laying
?gs.
After an egg has been laid a day
r more. the shell comes off easily
hen boiled.
If an egg is clean and golden in
ppearance when held to the light it
good; if too dark or spotted, it is
id.
Western New York Washing Fluid."
A friend, giving no name, sends
le following in answer to E. F. M.'s
uery in regard to washing greasy
/eralls: "Take one pound of comion
washing soda (sal soda) and
ae-half pound of fresh, unslacked
me (slacked lime will not do); pour
rer it five gallons of water. Set on
ie stove and stir until thoroughly
issolved; set off and let settle, and
Dttle the clear solution; or use jars
p jugs, labeling and corking, and
it out of the reach of children or
ireless persons. This is a splendid
e, and will remove dirt or grease,
se one scant teacupful to a boiler of
ater; bring to a boil with half a
ike of laundry soap cut up in it.
he greasy clothes must first be
rung out of water in which th^y
ave been put to soak for a short
me, then washed in this boilerful
: water- This solution is a great lair
saver, and will make washing alost
a pleasure."
If this could be used with a washig
machine, much time and strength
jght be saved.?The Commoner.
To Remedy Damp Walls.
The following simple process is
tid to effectually do away with all
impness of walls. Applications are
ade alternately of dissolved castile
)ap and dissolved alum. Threernrths
of a pound of soap is melted
i one gallon of boiling water. The
quid thus obtained is thoroughly
?aten to cause a' stiff froth. This
ad the water are then completely
icorQorated by stirring and made
Diling hot. The time for preparing
te wall should be after a long dry
jell, and as the wall must be as free
om moisture as possible this condion
can be assisted by the judicious
5e of fires. Then brush the surface
t be covered until as clean as possile.
With a wide flat brush coat the
lrface with the boiling soap prepar:ion,
working it back and forth un1
the wall is covered with small bub- j
les. Let it remain twenty-four hours
? dry out, then apply an alum solu- |
on made by dissolving half a pound
l alum in four gallons of water,
he alum coating may be nearly at
lood heat. This should stand a day 1
two to dry and harden; then an:her
application of soap, the same i
3 tne nrst, must oe put on. now
;any coats are needed depends on
le condition of the wall; sometimes
alf a- dozen would he necessary,
tys Woman's Life. The soap and
lum form a coating insoluble in
ater, and this unites with the ma>rial
in the wall, filling all of the
evices and making a thoroughly
aterproof surface.?KTew York Teljram.
, 7S*?-\
uaiiueai iviuuiub?uue i;up luuacu
itmeal, one-half teaspoonful salt.,
ae and one-half cups flour, one-half
lp milk, three teaspoonfuls baking
owder, one egg, two tablespoonfuls
jgar and one tablespoonful melted
utter.
Grandmothers' Seed Cakes?Use
alf a cupful of butter, two of sugar,
>ur tablespoonfuls of milk, two tablejoonfuls
of caraway seeds, and
bout two cupfuls of flour or enough
> roll out, adding to every cupful ol
our a scant teaspoonful of baking
Dwder. Flavor with either lemon or
inilla.
Meat Croquettes?One and onealf
cups of cold meat chopped fine,
ae-half cup of minced fresh celery,
vo hard cooked eggs chopped fine,
vo tablespoons of gravy. Mix all
igether, bind with half a cup, or less,
' rukifA f?o??r.A
L lUll^A UltC oauv.^ luauv nil" liJWiij ;
ad season to taste with salt and
spper. Make into croquettes, egg
ad crumb them, and fry in hot, deep
it.
Corn Slappers?On the night be- |
ire needed pat one and one-half
lpfuls cf cornmeal, half a teaspoonil
of salt and two tablespoonfuls of
rd into a bowl, turning over it suf:ient
boiling water to make a stiff
itter. Stir thoroughly and cover
osely. In the morning add three
ell beaten eggs, half a cupful of
)ur with which a heaping teaspoonil
of baking powder has been sifted,
id sufficient sweet milk to make a
iek batter. Drop by spoonfuls onto
hot greased skillet, shape with the
oob, cook slowly, and browo well
i both sid?s,??Pllfrrira
THE GREAT DESTROYER 1
SOME STARTLING FACTS ABOUT
THE VICE OP INTEMPERANCE. 1
"The Horse is Not Clean Escaped
That Drags the Halter"?Mod- g
erate Drinking the Chain That
Binds Strong Liquor's Victims.
Somewhere, quite a number of
years ago, when a good deal younger
than now, the writer heard the expression
at the head of this article,
and it made a deep and lasting impression
upon his mind. There is a
world of meaning in that short sentence,
"That horse is not clean escaped
that drags the halter." Picture
to the mind a grand, noble
horse; he has. been tied up for days
and weeks in his stall and is ready
for a run. By some means his halter
becomes loosened from where it is
tied, he finds himself loose, the door
of his stable is open and out he
bounds, and up and down, all over
the field, he races. How free he
feels himself, and how he scorns the
puny efforts of his master to catch
him. He realizes his strength and
his speed. How weak and slow is
human strength and motion compared
to his! Is he to be caught and
confined again? Not much! If he
could speak, how he would.boast of
his freedom and of his strength and
agility to keep forever free. But he
drags a halter. That halter will
eventually lead to his capture. Either
the owner will steal up gently
when he iB off his watch and grasp
the dragging end, or it may get
tangled around his legs and fetter
him. Could that halter have been
left In the manger; could he contrive
to slip it off Entirely, then he would
be indeed free; but, poor fellow, he
drags that which, sooner or later,
leads to bis capture. So, true It is,
"That horse is not clean escaped that
drags the halter." Now, what is
there in this simple btxt true picture
from life for us all to learn? Simply
this: There is no middle ground be- g
tween bad habits and absolute free- i
dom and safety. Yet how many peo- g
pie think they are perfectly safe to (
take a drink once in a while. They 6
know that (irink can never catch and t
conquer them. They know when to ^
stop and how much they can stand. r
They can quit at any time. This con- r
fidence, this once in a while, is the B
dragging halter that by and by will B
lead to capture. Changing the words, j
that man is not clean escaped froiq B
the powers and chains of strong drink t
that drags the halter pf moderate j
drinking. Two young men stood on s
the sidewalk and saw a. man in mid- (
die life go staggering past. They r
looked at him for a moment and then c
at each other, when one remarked, fc
"What a fool that man is to make d
such a beast of himself; he ought to t
know enough to stop when- he has r
enough!" A few minutes afterward t
I saw those two young men go past a
me In the hotel and go to the bar t
and drink. Oh yes, they know when c
to stop. My observation is that no v
man is so positive that he knows
where to stop and that he will do so s
before he gets full, as the man that o
has two or three glasses in him ai- y
ready. Before he takes any he is *
very doubtful whether he dare take c
one glass; by the time he has two c
he begins to feel strong and knows o
he can take another and not show it; 11
can stop there; but, when, three are 3
down he is stronger yet, he can drink t:
three or four times and stop right I
there, but he doesn't do it. The s
dragging halter captures him. No, s
brothers, slip the halter entirely over v
the head; leave it, drag it no more, c
and then you are free; you can't get s
caught. How many bright young t
men I have seen dragging this halter! t.
Talk with them and they flush up at ?
once: "What! You think I will
ever let liquor get the best of me? &
No. never: I can' stOD anv time." H
Why didn't they? That halter caught t]
them; they got tangled up in it.? r
Home Herald. e
v
Whisky Demoralizing. c
"I have defended forty-one men #
and women for murder in my life, t
and nineteen out of twenty of the
crimes were caused by whisky; I have
defended lots of other criminal cases
in my life, and. I am safe in saying 3
that nineteen out of twenty of them
were caused by liquor. Whisky is the d
most demoralizing thing in the world. ?
Men do not usually drink it to get ?
into a condition to rob and kill, but ?
.when they get it in them they are ?
ready for any sort of deviltry that ?
comes to hand." This is the declara- '
tion of Colonel I. W. Boulware, the ,
eminent jurist, in Fulton (Mo.) Ga- r
zette.
Liquor Not Necessary. jj
Lord Charles Beesford is a stanch ;
teetotaler. "I am now sixty years b
old," P.* said recently, "and since I t
have entirely given up wine, spirits t
and beer I find I can do as much t
work, physically and mentally, as I t
could do when I was thirty, if not t
more. I am always well, always c
cheery, laugh at the downs of life t
equally with the ups, and always feel i
fit and in condition. If only some of b
the young men would try going with- f
out liquor for three months I do not y
believe they would think liquor at all t
necessary again." t
a
The High Dive Cure. ^
In Revere, Minn., they take drunk- a
ards and give them what is locally t
called the "high dive cure" by duck- f
ing them in a large tank of water sit- r
uated in a convenient location in ^
town. A couple of dips is all that has E
been required in any case yet, and p
one chronic offender from Walnut y
Grove who was immersed one even- s
fng has never shown up in Revere c
Bince.?St. Paul Dispatch. E
A SJgnincant -v tieraucc.
Sir William Gull, M. D., is credited
with the following significant utter- *3^
ance: "A very large number of peopie
in society are dying day by day, jc
poisoned by alcoholic drinks, without ^
knowing it, without being supposed ^
to be poisoned by them. I hardly ;o
know any more powerful source of jf
disease than alcoholic drinks. I do ?e
not think it is known, but I know al- p?
cohol to be a most destructive )v
poison." Je
j~3i
Crime Follows Open Saloons. I le
The reign of crime in San Fran- j ^
I the* oolnAnc uforo ronnonod I ^^
I tlOLU OlUVt Hit ??**WVfc?W TT V? V ?
I is almost unparalelled. The city is 5r
well nigh as wicked and lawless as in
.the vigilance committee days. The
ruined city is at the mercy of thugs,
and the government is in almost open
sympathy with them.
j ^
An Invitation. to Consumption. ti<
The excessive drinker of spirits, bi
whose breath gives evidence of alco- Di
noi tnrown on, is permanenuy mjur- '?
1ng ijte Juugs and invitiDg consumpr
tion. ,1(
!o
V - : .
' V ' '* " i' .*? "
. ' '* '.* . ' " '* ' ;
HE SUNDAY SCHOOL.
INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS
FOR APRIL 14, BY
THE REV. I. XV. HENDERSON.
object: God Gives Jacob a Sew
Name, Gen. 32:9-12, 22-30?
Golden Text: Luke 10:20?Memory
Verses, 26-28.
The picture of Jacob at the .Tabbok \
s the picture of a man in distress,
i'irst he is distressed in mind because '
?f tS* fear that is in his heart that J
lis brother Esau, whom he so griev- 1
usly cheated, will wreak a vengeance 3
ipon him that Jacob evidently recog- J
lizes to be founded on good and sufIcient
cause. Jacob has escaned
rom the household and the control
if Laban, a wealthy and self-sufficient ]
nan. He desires to enter into the
and that God had promised to him. <
Jut the sin of years ago coming into "
lis immediate thought Alls him with 1
error lest Esau should despoil and
lumiliate and perhaps slay him. Secmdly,
Jacob is in distressbecause God
lets His power against him to hum>le
him. ,
In the midst of his worry over the
>ossibility of defeat by Esau Jacob
jrostrates himself before God. He j
>ours out his soul in agony, calling ,
ipon God as the giver of the might- ,
est promise of his life to protect him
rom Esau, the brother whom he had
;o wronged. There is no mistaking
he terror of his mind. Jacob is abect.
"I am not worthy of the least
if Thy mercies," he says. That is !
he confession of his' unworthiness
ind of his dire need.
Hna thine that in n/rHponhle in thin
hat God answers this prayer of Jacob
n a different manner than Jacob evilently
expected. Jacob wished to be
[ellvered from his brother. That was
he burden and the motive of his
)rayer. He doesn't make an open j
>reast of his own conception of his
>wn perfidy toward his brother to, |
rehovah. He doesn't ask God's forgiveness
because of the sin against i
tis brother. Hs simply desires to be ?
aved from his brother's wrath. But
}od answers the prayer of this de- i
pairing man with distress. He sees
hat Jacob has no real conception of . <
he enormity of sin, that he has no ]
ealizing sense of his utter helpless- :
tess. He sees that Jacob's terror is <
imply momentary, that if Esau had
lot been reported ahead there would
lave been no prayer. God undertands
that if Esau can be propiiated
by gifts Jacob will lay his deiverance
in some measure to the
hrewdness for which he is famous.
Jod perceives that the one thing
tecessary above all others in the life
if Jacob is proof of his helplessness,
Lis actual inefficiency, of his ultimate
lependence on God. And so alone in
he darkness of the middle of the
light until the dawn of day Jacob is
ested and tried of God. He emerges
. different man, with a new name and
he divine blessing. But only after a
Light of trial and of earnest endeavor .
rith God.
This lesson teaches us many lesons.
It teaches us first that the rec- |
llection of sin remains after many >
ears to rise^ up and overwhelm us |
rith fear. It teaches us also that we
an have no respite until we have
onfessed to God our own abhorrence '
f our own wickedness. . It teaches
s in the third place that we must ask
rod for strength from some other mo- .
Ive save fear of the consequences,
t tells us that shrewdness and selfufficiency
and talent cannot avt.il to j
ave us from sin. It impresses us
rith the truth that a vision of God j
an come only after earnest and inistent
prayer. Finally it assures us
hat the prayer and earnest desire of |;
he sinner to be blessed will be '
ranted an answer by God Himself.
Men need to be taught that sin .
aunts the mind and heart long after f
t is committed. There is nothing '
hat has greater longevity than the ;
emembrance of a heinous sin. And '
veil as the memory of sin remains
rith us, so equally is it true that we ]
an have no respite from the awful-* '
ess of its memory until we have con
essed it to God and humbly and conritely
asked His pardon. And we ;
lust ask for pardon from some other :
lotive save that we fear the conse- 1
uences. The sinner who comes to ]
he Almighty merely because he is
cared is not likely to receive an en- 1
uring vision. A godly fear is a good 1
hing, but far better is it for us to
oniess our sm ut:i;a.use wc <ue
shamed of ourselves and recognize
yr unfaithfulness to God. Jacob
iras as shrewd a man as history reofds.
He was sharp and tricky and
alculating and cunning, but all his
alent and self-sufficiency were not of
ufficient value for him to tie to when
ie considered his life to be at stake,
ind if Jacob found his wits insuffiient
to save him from the retribute
if Esau how shall we in the mere J
trengtJr of our shrewdness escape in <
he day of reckoning with sin. Cer- 1
ainly that man is a fool who thinks <
hat he can outwit the laws of God. 1
i.nd even as we cannot escape the 1
onsequences of sin and its penalties 1
iy our wits alone, so we cannot enter i
nto a vision of Jehovah and of His i
alvation ntil we "have striven with >
iim for the blessing. This vision
ve all need. This struggle must be 1
he portion of every man who desires <
o escape rrom tne ions 01 sin. me c
.dversary will not let us go lightly, t
;od will not bless us until we are 1
arnest in our desire and intention c
nd determination to serve Him. But s
o no earnest man has He ever reused
a blessing. We may, if we will, i
eceive, as Jacob, the benediction of <
he Lord. Whatever may be cui t
aeasure of iniquity and guiltiness tl? i
"ather stands ready to bless if w< t
/ill but turn to Him in earnest, in- '
istent petition. Each of us may re i
eive a new name, each of us'maj t
aeet God face to face at Penuel.
Secret Stairway in Palace.
Workmen engaged in renovating ]
r\ Ort /?o 11 A/1 Ulnfflnaarc' Polopp at 4
o isu'^aucu 0 * ???
. Petersburg, Russia, constructed i
' Emperor Paul, discovered a secret (
>or and a stairway leading to a cell i
the basement, where they found a i
eleton chained to the wall. His- i
ry does not offer any explanation *
the presence of the skeleton in the <
11. This palace, in which Emperor j
lul was assassinated, is a mysteri- i
is building, containing a number of <
cret passages, constructed by th:
nperor. There is one leading unrground
to the Fontanka Canal,
lere, according to tradition, a boat c
is kept in readiness for the Emper- h
to escape to the fortress on the t
posite bank of the Neva. g
0
P
Ride in Washington Relic. p
An nlrl nun? in which fteorze t il
rastiington rode when his Revolu- a
anary headquarters were at New- P
irg, was shown on the streets of
anbury, Conn., by Albert Rich, of
idgefield. Scores of people sought
e privilege of riding in it. The
sigh has been kept as an heirloom c
r generation. w _ . 1
^SS^V' i'
Tl\o^L HLtP5f
cohered >r the, f,
J!oyH'He^(| I
The
Law of the Word. .
A vivid picture of the true Blb^H
Is efven In the vision of fis^H
del (2 end 3). The' prophet, d<SI
scribing 1 call to his sacred offla^Bj
3peaks of a roll being sent x> hii^H
:ontaining the words of the Lorq^fl
\nd in four words there te set fort
lot only the secret of Ezekiel's con?
mission and power, but the cojniiilH^H
;ion and power for all the children <?
3od. The word was "sent" .to him^l|
tie was bidden to *'find" It, to "eat^B
It, and then to "speak" it to tifl|
This is the eternal law of the Worfl|
Df God. It cannot first be disco**ere?|
It must be "sent" to us. The diffet^H
ence between these two things marfc^E
the difference between reason &n?^N
revelation. It shows that man doeB
not grope up to God's truth; he'fca^H
to receive what a loving God sends t^H
him; but he must receive it with eailB
nestness and eagerness?he musIM
"find" it. It must not lle, howeVei^H
outside his life, to be admired* ofl
even understood, It is to be eatenyw]
that-is, assimilated with his naturi^H
rhe iruth must not only.be possessed*
It must possess it; must become oufl
own. A man who finds and eats
word sent to him can confident*^?
"speak" it to his fellows. He is ni^H
echo, he speaks with authority, ahS
people recognize the true note.'.;:}-*, flj
The aim of all Bible-teacbing ^^H
reading should be.to fulfil this Ut^H
of the Word.?London Christian. I
Rest! How sweet tne sound! iM
Is melody to my ears. It lies as
viving cordial at my heart, and froi^H
thence sends forth lively spirits whlcflBI
beat through alL the pulses of sfl
soul. Rest, not as the stone that res^BI
on the earth, nor as thW flesh shafl
rest in the grave, nor euctt a rest A
the carnal world desires. MB
O blessed rest! when we rest ndH
day and-night, saying, "Holy, tohfl
holy, Lord God Almighty," when
3ffall rest from sin, bat not frosH
worship; from suffering ana sorrowM
but not from joy! O blessed day
when I shall rest with God; whto
perfect soul and body shall togethesMB
perfectly enjcy the most perfect <Jod^B
when God is love itself, shall perfect?
ly love me, and rest in this lore,t<S
me, as I shall rest in my love to Hpn
and rejoice over me with joy, and jojM
over me with singing, as I shall reH
joice in Him! H
1NO more, my boui, snail iooa ib?
ment the sufferings of the eainte, <?M
the church's ruins, nor numrn thjfl
suffering friends, nor weep over thelifl
dying beds or their graves. ThcnM
shalt never sailer thy old temp&H
tions from Satan, the world, or thsH
3wn flesh. Thy pains and slckneaiH
ire all cured; thy body shall.no
jurden the? with weakness and wear*
ndss; thy aching head and heart,
aunger and thirst, thy sleep and la-flH
sor are all gone. O what a mightyH
ih an ge is this! ?Baxter's Saint's ReetHfl
T/iva liHiviofh Vrtf 1
"Love envieth not." Nobpdy en^S
ries below himself; everybody envIeaM
hose that are above lilm; therefore,*
jnvying is covetousness or worse; ltH
s the recognition of good fortune orfl
)f attainment or of power or of some^S
hlng else in those that are above,
ind the man is angry at their good-H
less because it rebukes his meanness?
)r his littleness, v B
But love, never. Ton cannot be-B
ttow too mnch upon that which youW
ove. A mother is sooner liable toH
iestow too much upon the babe of berH
josom than a true heart to envy the?
rifts of those that are about him.
What It they are better and more
jopular than you? Thank God that
;here is some one better and more
jopular than ypu. ' What If they ate
wiser than you? ' Thank God that
;here is one more Btar in the flrmanent
above yourself. What If they
lave the commendation of men, whitei
fou have the dry, bitter root to chew
rhank God that somewhere there to
tomebody that is not getting troubled
is you are.
There are tears enough and misfor:une
enough, and there age burdens
md cares laid on those that are. eminent
quite enough to keep them down
in their own estate. Lore never en.'ies
anybody. And, judged by the
- * -I~.l MIMai, ta
?'35t note, a grctll* uuai vi *vuyyu w
spurious.?Henry Ward Beecher.
Will You Get to Heaven Alone? .
Christ came to minister, not to be
ministered unto. The follower of
Christ who is willing to enjoy his reigion
all by himself has failed to
:atch the significance of Christ's eximple.
A Christian man's plain duty,
s not so much to answer the ques:ion,
"How can I get the most out of
ny religion?" as "How can I conduct
myself so that others may get the
nost out of my religion?" '%
Many Christians, in a very import
lant sense, will go to heaven alone.
ho thoro aiirrrmnrlpd. hv
.ymcia YT 111 uv w MW*? V WM.VW. ^V|
icores whom they have pointed to
.he Saviour. The first class will have
>een saved, but without having saved
)thers. The second class will bring'
.heaves with them.
But Christ ministered daily while
lpon the earth. So may we. Tho
:omforts of our religion may be made;
;he solace of another's sorrow. In
nany very practical ways others may,
>njoy the benefits of our religion.
Thus, whether it is for time or eterlity,
Christ may come to other?
hrough us.?Young Men's Era.
The Christian. 'if
Christianity is something definite.
:t is the divinely reveailed religion
hat comes to us through the personility,
works and words of Jesus
Christ, it is not what some nice and
veil behaved people may happen to
- -1 Ana
iavocaie. 1U UC t- vui?vtau, vuv h
nust fall in line with Jesus Christ, I
iccepting Kim personally as the true B
Saviour, and believing His doctrines
is they come to us through the di?
rine.'y inspired page;; of the Wo;:d of
Trade of South Africa. B
The returns of the South African.
ustoms statistical bureau, which. I
lave just been published, show that fl
he imports in 1906 into Britishffl
iouth Africa amounted to *156,946,-jM
00, while the exports for the samejH
eriod were $212,910,000. The lm-H
ores via Portuguese ports, which are W
acluded in the above figures,?
mounted to $20,683,000. The ex-H
orts via Portuguese ports were onlftH
1,676,700. J
Population of
The nouulation of Pn^E^HHtt^l
reased by about five
is now near:HH|^HHH
M