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' 5ESES2SHS25E5H5E52SHSE-C ?hc*^ If^- B? mrs- fl ^5-2-^^25H5P5Pc;H5ESB5HSSSi CHAPTER VIII. 13 , Dawning Light. Glyna was true to his promise. He forced himself back to something of his old routine. Ho took a deeper interest in business than before, and found something of relief in the mental effort it oblipsd him to make. Men said Glynn was greatly changed since that bad fever he had had. Women thought him more interesting. The truth was hardly suspected. One of the chief interests in this new phase of Glynn's existence was to watch Deering, whom he frequently met. Glynn did not reject his advances, though never lapsing into intimacy. Deering often spoke of Lambert, and volunteered the information that the Mrvw V^*.Tr nnlina ho/1 thoir OVO linnn 1U11V pviivv UUM vuv?4 Vj, W | him, that he had arrived all right, landed, and gone away South almost Immediately. Gradually It dawned upon Glynn that Deering was watching him, that he suspected him of knowing more of Elsie's disappearance than any one else. He was careful not to let Deering see that he perceived this, and so, under the fair seeming of friendly acquaintanceship, the two men kept watch over each other with deadly pertinacity and keenness. Glynn keeping profoundest silence as to his conviction that he had heard Elsie's voice. Sometimes he felt that he would give all he possessed to shake himself clear of the haunting horror which -w - poisoned his life. On the whole, evil anticipations predominated. He had been greatly disappointed at Lambert's avoidance of him. He could not bear to think that the unhappy, bereaved father had withdrawn his confidence. In the last week of February Deer- , ing's land agent came to towB, bring- j ing with him maps, plans and calculations. To Glynn's great surprise ] he proved to be a certain Dick Wei- . don, formerly one of his school fellows. This recognition led to some intercourse. Glynn, without delib- , erate questioning, gathered a good deal of information, which threw a new light on Deering's character in \ some directions. His old acquaintance dined with . him, and they talked over bygone days and boyish escapades with zest, , at least on Weldon's side. One cold, dry, dark evening Glynn . had accepted an invitation to dine with Weldon at the hotel in Holborn where he usually stayed on his short visits to town. Dinner was over, and both men , were enjoying a cigar, when to the , great surprise of both Deering was ushered in. He apologized shortly t P for his intrusion, and explained that ] 'he had just had private intelligence j that the member for a borough town t near Denham was dangerously 111, and that he (Deering) wished to win the probably vacant seat. He therefore wished Weldom, who knew the local population, ana was well able to feel its pulse, to leave town next morning and put matters in train for an immediate canvass. As soon as he could withdraw without too rude a display of indifference, Glynn rose to say good night; when Deering, somewhat to his annoyance, proposed to go with him. | "I have no more to say now, Wei- ] don. As soon as the death or retirement is declared, I will go down to / (Denham." On reaching the entrance of the ( hotel, they stopped, intending to call a cab, and while waiting Glynn's at- . tention was attracted by two cloaked j and veiled women, who were standing j close together, just within the door .way. One was tail ana stout, tne , other barely of middle size; her ( shoulders, even though the rain cloak wrapped round her, showed unmis- , takabls grace?unmistakable and familiar; a small hat was entirely en- ^ veloped in a thick veil, which was , tied over her face, the ends being j brought loosely round the throat to the front. Glynn's eyes were riveted on this figure, while he seemed to be peering into the darkness, and felt nervously anxious not to direct Deer- J ing's notice to the object which at- ( tracted him. "If he could only hear her speak!" He listened intently. 1 "It is useless, we must try an orani bus, it is really safer," he overheard ] ihe taller lady say. The other murmured something, and turning her head, displayed, in spite of her muffling, a morsel of white neck, and j a glimpse of golden brown hair, i Glynn's heart beat.- At all risks, he i must keep that girl in view; any mistake was better than to lose the faint- i est chance. But Deering must not know his suspicions. 1 At last the taller of the two women said, "Come," and went forth into the street. At that moment an Islington omnibus drove up. She stepped for- ( ward under the nearest lamp, tried to stop it by waving her umbrella, i The vehicle was full, and the two < cloaked figures walked slowly away toward Oxford street. , "Excuse me," said Glynn, abruptly, i "I am anxious to get home; I will walk on and take my chance of a ] cab." j "Very well," returned Deering, i "I'll como with you." i Glynn was dismayed. Did Deering 1 suspect, as he did, that this cloaked i and veiled figure might be Elsie Lam- i bert? If so, what could he do to save 1 her from his recognition? ] ^ ni? hpart thrilled with nain and delight at the bare idea of standiug once raore face to face with his lost ' love. What secrets would that meet/ ing unveil? Meanwhile he never lost sight of the figures going on before them, and Decring spoke at inter- i .vals. i < V 3E?TES2SL1S2SZSCIS2SE5C2SE5^> ????????????? In ambert | lystery. j iLEXANDER. =SS5H5B5HSHSHSES2SH5HS3^ j "There's an empty hansom at last," he cried. "I am going on a little further," said Glynn. "But don't let me interfere with you." "Oh, I don't mind walking with you; I have no engagement I care to keep," he replied. "Why does he persist?" thought Glynn. "I am going to look in on an artist friend near Tottenham Court Road," he said aloud. "Oh, very well; queer places these fellows put up in. By the way, I have had another report of our mutual acquaintance, Lambert. He is at St. Louis, and has changed his name for the third or fourth time." "Indeed! then you must have had a telegram?" "Yes, that is, our friends, Claude and Co., have communicated theirs to me. If Lambert begins to try concealment we'll find out something." "I trust we shall," said Glynn, mechanically, his eyes greedily following the two figures, lamp after lamp shedding its light upon them as they passed. It was an extraordinary situation to be thus dogging the footsteps of the quarry you wished to preserve from your fellow hunter, and yet to be unavoidatjy leading that hunter on her track. "I fancy you don't want me," said Deering, at last. "If so " "Why should you think I do not?" interrupted Glynn. "I can't exactly tell why," said Deering, laughing, "but I am sure 1 am right." Glynn was almost beside himself with hope, dread and nervous tension. Another Islington omnibus drove past and stopped. The two ladies darted to it, exchanging a hasty hand pressure, and then the shorter of the two mounted swiftly, and vanished swiftly into the interior. "Good night!" cried Glynn abruptly; "the humble 'bus will suit me admirably." Before his astonished companion :ould replylie was beside the vehicle, which was still standing, as a stout md irritable elderly gentleman was painfully disentangling himself from imong the tightly packed passengers. 'If you had only let me out first," tie exclaimed angrily as he alighted. "Trouble you for threepence," interrupted the conductor. "Threepence! why, I only got in at Leather Lane." "All right!?Islington!" Another instant and Glynn occupied the stout man's place?-nearer :he door, but on the opposite side to ?e lady he was following?and they were rolling rapidly westward. "At first he would not let himself seem to see her, and by the light of :he omnibus lamp he could hardly make out her features, so thin was he lace which concealed them. Sudienly he saw her start and draw her ;loak closer tdðer with a nervous movement. Had she recognized him? Gradually, his eyes growing familar with the light and the texture of ;he veil, the conviction grew upon him hat he was not mistaken, that it was ndeed Elsie Lambert. At last he observed Elsie?yes, it was Elsie?murmur something to her aext neighbor, who immediately sailed out: "Conductor, Chapel street for this iady." The omnibus stopped. Glynn kept juietly in his place, but sprang out the moment she had passed him. The smnibus drove rapidly away. The slight figure was but a few gaces before him in a quiet street leading from the omnibus line. The longed-for, dreaded moment, had lome. He walked rapidly past her, :urned round suddenly and confronted her, exclaimed: "Mi?s Lambert?Elsie; you cannot wish to avoid me?" She stonned and put out both her hands with a repellent gesture of helpless terror that touched Glynn's heart with immense pity. "Is it possible you fear me?" he said, catching both her hands in his. She was silent, motionless; but as he almost unconsciously drew her nearer to him, he felt that she was trembling so violently that she could scarcely stand. "Do not fear, I will not betray you Lo any one. I will help you if I can. Will you not speak to me? Is it the Elsie I used to know?" With a long, quivering sigh she WUlfeJJei CU, 1L 13. "Let me look at your face once more," said Glynn in a low, intense tone. "Don't you know you may trust me?" "It is not for myself I fear," she said in the same hushed, frightened voice, as she yielded to the movement by which he drew her under a lamp; and loosening her veil, she lifted it, raising her eyes with their well remembered expression of thoughtful ;andor to his. How lovely they were! With what rapture Glynn read in them the confirmation of her assurance that she was the same Elsie he had loved and lost. But she was changed; the swee': eyes were unutterably sad, and the delicate cheek was less rounded. The soft lips were pale and quivered nervously, and the hand he still held was thinner. She seemed unable to suppress the excessive trembling that had seized her. m-unn'e \ohnlo crml ivorit nut tn hr>r VJ i J iJU v~ ..w. in love and trust; be could hardly resist the impulse to clasp her to his heart, to shelter her against all ill in his bosom. But might she not be the wife of another man? Anything light have happened during the terrible blank; and, above all, he must win her confidence. "Ah, yes, you are indeed the sair.e. Why?why have you given us all this sorrow, this fearful anxiety? Think 3f what your poor father has suffered. Do you know that, he has gone to America to search for you?" "My father!" she repeated, "my poor father!" "I must not keep you here in the cold, dark street. I cannot let you go alone. May 1 not come with you?" "Oh, no, no. 110," she repeated; "you must let me go. ] cannot, dare -1 TfT; Vi ty>?> T mil fit. iiui lt? I jruu niUi Wiv.. * not tell you anything." "Now that I have found you, do you think I will lose sight of you again?" "You will, I am sure, do what is best for me, and kindest," said Elsie. "Let us move on; we shall attract attention." She did not resist when he drew her arm through his own, and they slowly paced up the street in which he had overtaken her. "Do you think me capable of betraying you?" asked Glynn. "No," after a pause, as if to plan her speech; "but I have more than myself to think of. You must not ask me any questions." "Can you say nothing? Is there no way in which I can help you?" "I fear not?I do not know?I?" she stopped and drew a long, sobbing breath?"I dare not speak. Any word might betray more than I ought." "For your father's sake!?think of j all he must endure. Have you any auiy 10 come ueioir wuai juu unt him?" "Think of him! do I not think of him? My love and duty are his only. But"?she tried to withdraw her arm ?"you must let me go; I dare not stay." , "I cannot let you go unless you promise to meet me again, or tell me where I may see you. No, I will not release your arm. Elsie?Miss Lambert, I have been seeking you for seven months; my brain has reeled at the horror of its picture of your fate; I cannot let you go now. Why do you distrust me? Let me take you home. How could I leave you here in the dark alone?" "Oh, do not torment me!" she exclaimed, and her voice expressed such pain that Glynn almost hesitated to persevere in his efforts to detail! her. "In truth I long to take you with me; I am sure you are kind and true, and I fear to be alone; but I will brave anything, endure anything rather than say whence I came and whither I go. Do not be angry with me." She burst into an agony of tears, leaning against him as if from sheer inability to stand alone. "Good God! Elsie, what can I do to comfort and help you? I implore you to trust me. If I let you go now i without retaining some clew by which I can find you, I can never forgive ! myself." "I long to tell you much, all, but I must not. Yet I might get leave; I might write. Give me your address; I may write to you." "Will you promise tills solemnly, faithfully?" "If I do, will you let me go? I am late already. He will be so anxious!" "He! who?" a throb of fierce jealousy vibrating through Glynn's heart. "If you promise to see me once more, when and where you will, I will trust you and let you go. You see, I have mere faith in you than you have in me." "No; you are free, I am not. I will promise to write to you before Friday night, if you will promise not to make any attempt to discover me until after I have written." < < n ? ? ^ . *V>A?> nnnmieiA for nKAmicfi '' UUUU, IUCJJ yiuillioc i ?Jl viiuou. "I promise to write to you, and? and if possible, to see you." "There must be nothing about possibility," said Glynn, sternly. "Give me an unconditional promise, or I shall not leave you." She hesitated, and then said solemnly, "I promise." "And I trust your promise," said Glynn. "On my part I promise not to make any attempt to track you until I have received your letter, or rather until I have seen you." There was a moment'ssilence; then Elsie, who seemed to have recovered herself a little, said softly, "Then, good night!" "I cannot part with you yet!" cried Glynn, passionately; "I cannot bear to let you go alone. Tell me, did you recognize me in the omnibus?" "Not all at once; a little while after I had got in. At first, for some time, > I thought you did not know me?I hoped you did not.'* "I knew you at the door of the hotel, and followed you." She started. "I must go no-^, I * J x? ? n-n - u r? nave siayeu iuu iuijb- u rau iui me and tell the driver to go to the Great Northern Station. I will iljp rect bim after." To be Continued. Fish Crop of Great iftltcs. The fish stories of the Great Lakes are both big and true. Practically every variety of fresh-water fish in common use as food is found in the Great Lake?. The principal yield is trout, whitefish and herring, but there are dozens of ofTier kinds that are taken in considerable quantities. Even the despised suckcr represents a value of $121,576 in the latest report by the National Bureau of Fisheries. Sturgeons were caught to the value of $39,394, yellow perch amounted to $12,9,070. pike perch or wall-eyed puce to uerman carp 10 $71,285, turtles to $2372.?Chicago Tribune. Electricity for Railroads. The Pennsylvania Railroad Company evidently has decided upon electrically equipping all its lines. It is now said that the company is about to equip the great stretch of main line between Philadelphia and Pittsburg witli electricity. A beginning has been made in electrical construction In the company's South Jersey system, and it may not be long be- j fore electricity will be the motive i power between Philadelphia and New York.?Newark (N. J.) Morning Star. The Beautiful. , Whatever is in any way beautiful hath its source of beauty in itself, and Is complete in itself; praise; forms no part of it. So it is none the worse nor the better for being praised.?Marcus Aurelius. Suit For Egg Spoons. I Egg spoons that are stained should ( he rubbed with damp salt before pol- ' ishing.? Philadelphia Record. ] Rug's Usefulness. The usefulness of a rug or ea.pet , depends almost, entirely upon the housekeeper and how she cleans it. It is the dust that gets into the j weave and wears out the threads and incidentally dulls the colors and J makes the floor covering look old.? ( New York Journal. Buffet Fashion. Refreshments for receptions, wed- ( ding or otherwise, may be served i buffet fashion. There should be . sandwiches and one or two salads, j then little cakes, and ices, with small | dishes of bonbons and salted nuts. For a wedding there should, of course, ( be a wedding cake.?Philadelphia Record. 3 I To Clean Woolen Garments. Make a strong suds by dissolving strong soap in a quart of boiling water. Lay the garment on a table or ironing board. Dip a small, stiff brush into the suds and scrub the garment until a stiff lather is formed. Then rub with a dry cloth until all the soap disappears. Clean only a small piece at a time.?Boston Post. To Repair Irish Point. If the edge and medallions of old Irish point curtains are in good condition, though the net is much broken, they can be transferred to new net without much trouble. Get enough bobbinette or Brussels net for the new curtains, cut the desired length, allowing for hems, and put into curtain stretchers. Baste the border of Irish point onto the net, then the medallions, and stich on by the machine, using the longest stitch and a loose tension. Cut away the net close to the stitching.?New York Journal. Cleaning Light Suits. It is not always necessary to send light cloth coats or cloaks to the cleaner's whenever they appear a little soiled by smoke and dust. A successful method of removing surface dirt consists in rubbing the material with equal parts of oatmeal J A A J ? V* A AAA Af <111U WiiiLlllg Appiicu Yvua a picv^c v/JL flannel. The coat should be well shaken and the same application repeated once or twice, until the cloth looks perfectly clean. After shaking it once more it should be pressed on the wrong side with a warm iron. An old authority recommends the following chalk "pencils" as an effectual means of removing grease stains from silk, woolen or linen dresses: Reduce an ounce of French chalk to a powder, and mix with five ounces of spirits of. wine. Work well into a paste, and then make into balls and shape fnto rolls the length and breadth of the lirst finger. Let the rolls dry, and they will be ready for use. The stains should be rubbed gently with the "pencils,"' and afterward washed with cold water.? American Cultivator. "<^3Se? . Espagncl.?Prepare half a pound of mushrooms and cook in cupful of clear stock with two teaspoonfuls of chopped parsley; thicken with two teaspoonfuls of flour worked in two of butter. Add a dozen oysters, and let the mixture just come to a boil, j Dish on diamonds of fried bread, ( squeeze the juice of half a lemon . over them and serve. English Tomato Chutney.?One pint sliced green tomatoes, six small i green peppers, four small onions j chopped together. Shake over them a i handful of salt and le^ive all night, j Drain off the water, add a teacup of j sugar, the same of scraped horse- i radish and a tablespoon each of ( ground cloves and cinnamon. Cover ? with best vinegar and stew gently t eight hours. ] Cheese and Eggs.?This is very 1 like a rarebit, but more easily pre- 1 pared and more readily digested. Cut fine or grate a half pound of cheese. Put in a saucepan with a cupful of rich milk or thin cream, a tablespoonful of white pepper. Stir over a moderate fire until the cheese is melted; then add four well-beaten eggs. Stir until like a thick custard, then turn into a hot dish and serve quickly with toasted crackers. Fig or Date Whip.?One pound 1 dates o; figs, half pound English walnuts, half cup water or enough to stew the dates, quarter cup sugar. Boil fifteen minutes. Remove from j fire and add whites of three eggs heaten stiff; stir well; add flavoring and hake in moderate oven fifteen minutes. Serve cold with whipped l cream. Very rich and good. The dates should be stoned and chopped and meat nuts added after the dates are stewed. Sausages.?Scald two dozen oysters in their own liquor, cool and chop fine; mix with them five ounces of bread crumbs und three ounces of finely chopped suet. Season with salt, pepper and a grating of nutmeg. ^ Bind with a beaten egs. and set away ? lor two nours to cooi nna get nnn. Flour the hands, make up into little sausage cakes and fry in butter or 1 hot olive oil. Serve with thein 1 shredded celery and brown bread 1 and butter. * r How linbhits Swim. While not fond of the water, rabbits can swim if they are forced to. j They have a swimming position all t their own and look queer enough in f the water. They keep their heads a and tails high and dry, while the f front part of the body >;nks deep in s the water. t "Money Madness." By the Editor of Price Current. Who is to blame for the craze for money, for the wealth which has brought about the present ill-feeling i- -i AT? tii ik/x jeiweeii me IJJUILI-iiiiiiiuijcwit; un uiu one hand and the masses on the other? The answer must be that the masses themselves are to blame. Why? A little consideration will make that clear. To begin with, nearly all the great millionaires, the rery wealthy men who. are actively engaged in business, were either poor boys or the sons of men who began life poor. Their constant aim ha3 been to acquire wealth, not only to acquire plenty of wealth but more than anybody else had acquired before them, the more the better. Why? What has made such men money, mad? Let. that question be answered by asking another: In the United States, everywhere, among all classes in all conditions of life, in the cities, towns and in the country, what is the standard of success? What men and women are pointed out as having been most successful? Among all the retired business men you know, which one do you JUUIil li&viug uetrn iiiusi 0UV/V.C00ful? The man who has piled up the biggest heap of wealth and at the same time kept out of the penitentiary. Which active business man Is the most successful? The fellow with the biggest pile or who is likely Lo get the biggest pile. Who is the most successful lawyer or doctor? The one who gets the biggest fee. Who is the most successful preacher? The fellow who builds the costliest ;hurch or gets the biggest salary. Who is the most successful clerk or teacher? He who gets the most per week. What farmer is counted the most successful? He of the most lcres or biggest bank account. Who is counted the most successful by iis fellow workmen? The mechanic who gets the biggest wages. Why Joes one leave one trade, profession Dr business to enter another except n the hope of being more successful. Successful in what? In getting more money. When he succeeds in adding more :o his pile, however big or little that t may be, he gets the applause of ais fellows. Those who don't applaud him envy him. Throughout :he whole of your life, who has always been pointed out as the successful man or woman in any and every walk of life? Has it not been he or she who has been getting the better srice for what they had to give? By constant example and teaching by parents and teachers, and by the practice of the world, the young are taught from childhood that uoney is the standard of success. They are taught to believe that peoDle with money are better than people without it, that people with much money are better than those who have less. The rich and the poor and those in moderate circumstances act upon this principle. It becomes and has long since become a part of the very nature of the American people, and it will ake the teaching of generations to eradicate from the minds of the American that the size of one's pockjtbook is not the real criterion by vhich to judge of success. This vrong standard by which to judge )f success. This wrong standard py which the degree of success is neasured is the cause of the present noney madness and the American people themselves are to blame for his false standard. Each is deter ninea to win as mucn 01 success as possible. The desire in life to win iucceas is a commendable one, but :he definition of the word is by no neans what it 9hould be, and until ;he conception of that standard is adically changed there is not likely ;o be any change in the swollen for- j .unes. Dooley on Domestic Discipline. Mr. Dooley, in his recently pubished "Dissertions," discusses domesic discipline in his own inimitable vay: "No gintleman shud wallop his wife, an' no gintleman wud. I'm in avor iv havin' wifebeaters whipped, in' I'll go further an' say that 'twud )e a good thing to have ivry marrid nan scoorged about wanst a month. \.s a bachelor man, who rules entirely >y love, I've spint fifty years investi;atin" what Hogan calls th' martial ! itate, an' I've come to th' con-clusion hat ivry man uses vilence to his wife. 3e may not beat her with a tableeg, but he coerces her with his mind. 3e can put a savage remark to th' lint iv th' jaw with more lastin' effect ,hin a right hook. He may not dhrag * 1 - ' *- ? 1 "U J ler arouna De in uair iv uer ueau, >ut he dhrags her be her sympathies, ler fears an' her anxieties. As a last aycoorse he beats her be doin' things hat make her pity him. An' th' adies, Gawd bless thim, like it. In ler heart ivry ivoman likes th' ithrong arm. Ye ?ery sildom see th' ,vife iv an habitcliool wifebeater lavn' him. Th' husband that gives his viie a vilet bokay is as apt to lose her j is th' husband that gives her a vilet | ;ye. Th' man that breaks th' furniure, tips over th' table, kicks th' log an' pegs th* lamp at th' lady of lis choice is seen no more often in >ur justly popylar divoorce coorts hin th' man v/ho comes home arly to eed th' canary. Manny a skillful nandolin-player has been onable to ircvint his wife fr'm elopin* with a irize-fighter." Mislnkcs We Make. Moths do not eat furs or cloths. They lay tneir eggs in in est: nun ;tuffs, and it is the worms from the ggs that do the mating. There arc no shooting stars. Stars ire immense bodies, many times arger than the earth, and they do not nove. The so-called shooting stars hat glide so splendidly across the loctimial sky arc meteors?fragncnts weighing, as a rule, but a few jonnds. Sunstroke is roa'ly heat apoplexy, t is the moisture in the air, rather lian the actual rays of the sun, that lausos sunstroke. In dry climates, uch as Cairo's, with a summer ternleratnre of 122 degrees in the shade, I unstroko is much rarer than with I is.?Los Angeles Times. I THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS FOR NOV. 24 BY THE REV. I. \V. HENDERSONSubjcct: World's Temperance Sun? <lay, Roin. 14:12-23 ? Golden Text, Rom. 14:17 ? Memory Verses, 19-21. The nub of the lesson is to be found in the stumbling block and the judgment seat. We are to be scrupulous in all things as well as in the use of intoxicating liquors lest we shall be stumbling blocks. And we are further to be very careful because we are to render account before the judgment seat of the Almighty according to our deeds in this life. It is usual to apply this scripture to the man or woman who uses intoxicants. Especially Is it applied to the Christian man or woman who uses liquor. And it is well. Drink is a good thing to dispense with regardless of our rights. It is a waste of money. Its pleasure :'s fallacious. Its consequences are too uncertain and may be definitely vicious. Its Influence may be worse than we ever dream it could become through us. Taking all things into consideration it is no unwisdom to say that every man ought to leave liquor entirely alone as a beverage. But while it is the custom to re wKof ivo onfrht tn rin with lUCIUUVi nuav " V ? ? liquor or ought not to do with it in its personal relations to us it is quite as largely the fashion to forget that the most of us, especially those of us who are given the suffrage of a free manhood in this land, deliberately place liquor as a stumbling block in the way of men. And we do it by permitting the business to exist at all. We do it by granting it the right by and with the consent of the Government, which in fact we are, to create as well as to supply a demand, to bring sorrow and misery and destruction and death into the homes of our fellow-men. It is not enough that a man shall refrain from drinking intoxicating liquor himself. He must see to it that so far as his consent at least is concerned the Government will not be allowed to grant a license to a business which the whole Southland for economic and moral reasons is getting rid of, which the courts of the country have?declared to be a nuisance and to have no constitutional right to exist, which is admitted to be a chief agent of the forces of wickedness wherever it is found, which debauches government and destroys theopportunity for multitudes of men, women and children to possess that peace and contentment and chance in life to which under the Constitution of this country as under the laws of Almighty God they are entitled. Furthermore it is illogical for a Christian man who has done his duty in the premises so far as his civic relations to his own community or commonwealth is concerned to refuse tc wage the fight relentlessly against the national forces of this organized iniquity. For we are not simply a confederation of States, we are a nation. And Massachusetts helps to make the laws that regulate the public policy of the State of Oregon. The South makes law for the North as well as for itself. And if it is wise for a man to refuse the sanction of his suffrage to the allied forces of the liquor business in the State of Georgia it is no less wise for him to protest against a governmental acquiescence to its national existence. A man who is an abolitionist so far as the saloon is concerned in the city of Boston has no business to be anything else than that as a citizen of this United States. The liquor business will go when the church ceases to allow it to be a stumbling block in the way of a nation. And it will not go before. But whether it go for economic or for moral reasons its end is in sight and sure. For it is as unscientific as it is immoral to allow it to exist. Tc perpetuate it is to perpetuate a plague and a national disgrace. And we will not do it. We ought to refuse to sanction it at all because of the fact that we shall give an account before the judgment seat of Christ according to our deeds done in the flesh. It is doubtful that any Christian man will upon sober second thought care tc admit in the presence of Almighty i God that by and with his personal consent as a citizen of America the curse of the American saloon, ruined iinmps hliehted lives, sank precious souls for whom Jesus died in the mire of unspeakable Iniquity. It is doubtful if any of us if we thought of it carefully would care to have upon our souls at the judgment day any portion whatsoever of the blood that has been wrung from innocent hearts by the viciousness of the liquor business. But so long as we perpetuate it we are responsible in no unreal fashion for it, for its crimes, for its attendant misery. God grant that soon we shall all see that to grant a license to the liquor business is no better than licensing a brothel or incest or murder or all the crimes upon the code. God ??as\f\Y\ o />hnrrh will RPP grain Luai cuuu iu? vuut.T... ? the blood that is upon her hands. For we have stood so idly by and given our consent. Like Paul when the church awakes to a consciousness of her wickedness there will be an exhibition of religious consecration that will revolutionize the world. Eternal Life. Eternal life is not a quantity?it is quality. It is not something we receive when the pilgrimage is over; it is something we have at this present moment.?Rev. G. C. Morgan, Presbvterian New York City. Wild Beasts Killed 2081. Wild beasts are responsible for an increasing number of deaths among the natives of India. Official statistics just issued at Calcutta show that in 1006 the number of persons killed by tigers, wolves, elephants, etc., was 2081?thirty-three more than in the previous year. Snakes are a much greater curse to the natives even than tieers and wolves. No fewer than 22,854 persons died from snake-bite in 1906, compared with 21,797 in 1905. Rotterdam a Great Port. The port of Rotterdam is becoming the most important on the continent of Europe, for its traffic continues to increase at an astonishing rate. Whereas in 185 0 only 1940 vessels called there, in 1900 it was visited by 726S and in 1905 by 8305. In the same time the corresponding tonuage has progressed from 346,186 tons t~> 6,326,000 and to 8,365,000. New Naphtha Lake Pound. On the Island of Sakhalin, a nrw naphtha spring am? a large naphtha lake have been tllsoccrod near Xahiiiv fcay Bay, accessible to large steamers. * Wficty WmW iiuv^^ t?r- "P ^12* j 1 \\\?X&mono rhtf pteajanf fields ^r?) f/Oty ttojy WrirlmifthJ- desffejftvy ^~T?n?yy>n^ g > &OvK -'*W4 OLD-FASHIONED BELIEVER. I'm a up an' down believer?never had a bit of doubt, Or tried to take the Gospel an' turn it wrong side out! ? I never ax no questions, or feel that .? faith'll fail, I'm han' in han with Jonah, an' on good terms with the whale! I'm a up an' down believer?for they raised me that away, Sad fam'ly pra'r fer breakfast an' dinner every day! Kaze Solomon had all them wives 1 never do condemn, Though I will admit I wonder how he got along with them! It don't hurt me that Job had'boils, an' axed fer his release: [ kin bear his great afflictions with the most amazin' peace! An' as fer .Joshua keepin' of the sun this * side the line. He knowed what he wuz doin'l an' it'sjio affair of mine. ~ I alius take the Gospel as I find it?low an' i never had a quarrel with a rainbow in the sky: Fer what am I??A creetur that is mighty weak an' small, * So I jea' strike ban's with Jonah, an' 1 ' a wallers whale an' all! ?Atlanta Constitution. %i< The Christian's Vocation. -j, I. therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you that ye walk ? ? it.. i..'?. ?t..... a wormy 01 me vocation wuerewuu yv are called.?Ephesians, 4:1. The greatest hindrance to the spread of the Christian religion is not the attacks of its open enemies, but the lax and often vicious lives of Its professional adherents. The Christian religion is a call' to life, not to ;he mere intellectual acceptance of a system of philosophy, however beautiful and inspiring its teachings may be. The faith of the Christian in Jesus Christ must be shown by his living in a Christian manner. In the very early days of His ministry.our blessed Lord laid down certain fupdamental principles which were to govern the lives of His disciples. They are to live in the world, yet not to be of the world; earthlymindedness Is to be far from them; they are to seek "first the kingdom of heaven and H1b righteousntss." Their religion is to permeate the whole life, not to be put on for certain days and seasons and then laid aside. It should make itself felt In the house, the workshop, the office, the factory, the school. Every relation of life must feel the sanctifying touch. They are to be "the light of the world" by their example to guide men's feet aright. They are to be "tjie salt of the earth," whose function is to purify and sweeten society. When thoso without Bee many who profess and call themselves Christians living in apparent disregard of their vocations, is it wonderful that they turn away? Surely never more than to-day havo men needed the exhortation of tho apostle, "I beseech you that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith yeare called." In another place St. Paul expresses in a word the whole meaning of the Christian's vocation? they are "called to be saints;" that is, they are devoted to God. This calling is not received for the comparatively few who in every age of the church stand out conspicuously, towering above their fellows like lofty mountain peaks; it is for every Christian, however humble and simple he may be. Only here and there one attains to the height reached by those rare souls to whom the church delights to give the title "saint," but all are obligated to make the efTort to do so. The Example after which they patterned their lives is the pattern for all. He who gave them strength to gain the height stands ready to strengthen all who will receive and use the grace He offers. If we would walk worthy of our vocation we will not wait for opportunity to do some great thing, but wo will endeavor to do our duty each day as it comes to us. Those homely, everyday duties that so often seem irksome may be glorified if they are looked upon, as in reality they are, as stepping stones to heaven. We will "Artflnf fVia frlolo +V> O f hnqpf pdLlCUlljr buv, v^.v.%. Vww us. We will endeavor steadfastly overcome the temptations of the world, the flesh and the devil. We " will seek to live always as in the sight of the Lord and do all things for His glory.?Rev. J. O. Davis, Church of St. Joseph of Arimathea, Elmsford, N. Y., in New York Herald. The Bottom of the Well. It Is good to be driven into a cor* ner. The bottom of a well is not a coveted position, but it has its advantages. If we look up from it we can see the starry heavens at midday. A young man who was very near the end of his life said, "I feelas though I were at the bottom of a well and cannot get out." How easy 4 to turn the gaze of such a one to Jesus, who lifts men out of the deepest pits and sets their feet on sure ground! To have all our own resources fail is not pleasant; it will be a blessing if 11: turns us to Him whose r^wer is limitless.?S. S. Times. SmalJ Temptations. The young man who is bound to go to the devil is going there anyway, but ther?? are many who are led from the straight path by small temptations.?Rev. F. A. Stiougb, Congregationalism Pawtucket, R. I. Dishonesty. Some men think that the condi- ! tions of business are such as to prevent a man living a Christian life. This is a great mistake, and it is a wonder that any dishonest man can succeed in business at all.?Rev. S. M. Dick, Methodist, Worcester, Mass. Pray Everlastingly. We seek a renewed interest in your ? ?on/1 a r? h/shalf | prayers on our ucuau, auu uu wv^uc***, , of the work in this stony corner of * His vineyard. Killings by Sportsmen. Half a million sportsmen in Germany kill annually 40,000 head of red and fallow deer, 200,000 roebuck, 4,000,000 hares, 4,000,000 partridges and 400,000 wild duck, in all some 25,000,000 kilograms of wild game of a value of 25,000,000 marks, or $5,000,000, forming nearly one per cent, of the total meat supply of Germany. Cold Storage Valuos. Tho rviiri storace comnany of Lon I don has charge of S7">0,000 worth of furs belonging to its patrons.