Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

r ^SEnELSESH5HSESES5SH5HSiaSE By MRS. . ^<5S-SS?SE5S5HSHSH5ESH5E5Hi CHAPTER XI. .19 Continued. Deering grew deadly white;- his sharp cruel-looking teeth pressed his under lip for a moment of silence before he burst out: "Infernal idiot! you have driven the last nail into your own coffin. Elsie, Glynn's wife! I'd strangle her with my own hands first! You have left me no alternative. I must in mere self-defense attack you. You have shattered your own safeguard! If you have told Glynn and that sharp-tongued old woman, I must not keep quiet any longer. I have but to be firm, and you go to a dishonored grave, followed by the horror and disgust of the creature on whom you spent your life!?ay! who, rejected by Glynn, wil yet be mine." Lambert had listened with a wild mingling of fury and despair. He gazed at Deering to see if there was any sign of faltering, of hesitation, but the leader of the rebel angels himself could not have looked more determined to "make evil his good." Contempt as well as hatred gleamed from his fierce light eyes. A sudden sense that all hope was over, that a dark cloud streaked with blood was already rising between him and his darling, his jewel, pressed with maddening force upon Lambert. Deering misunderstood his momentary stunned silence, and added with a sneer: "I am master of your fate! Find a way out of the dilemma If you can." "There is one way left!" cried Lambert, hoarsely; and snatching a Yevolver from his breast pocket, he fired almost before he ceased to speak. The ball nierced Deering's right temple. With a groan he fell to the ground, dead, helpless, harmless! Lambert stood quite still for an Instant. He then put up his weapon carefully, and bending over the prostrate form took out the pocket revolver to which Deering had alluded. Examining it, he found the six chambers loaded, then aiming low in the brushwood he discharged one of them, and laid the pistol at a short distance from the dead man's outstretched right arm, as though it had fallen from his hand. Then he turned' and walked briskly back to the little inn. A great deadly calm had fallen upon him. There was no more dan ger from Deering, nothing to fear from his vile projects; but he, Lambert, had died, too; he had done that of which he dreaded being falsely ac cused. He had done with life, and at least he had cleared a venomous beast out of his darling's path; nothing now remained but to efface himself. "None wtll ever know the exact truth, and my jewel will always believe the best of me; time will heal up her wounds, ay, soon enough." He had loved life, and enjoyed it, and done his best in his own rough way, and now he firmly believed he was doing his best still. No horror at his own act thrilled him; he had but executed wild justice. Reaching the little inn he called fcr his horse, and asked for a glass of ale. "You'll have to ride sharp," said the landlord, as Lambert paid his bill. "I thought you wouldn't be back In time; that's what you artist gentlemen don't think of. We've lots of 'em sketching aboutDenham woods 1U OUUIIUVt WUlVi "Ah! few have done so complete a bit of work as I have," returned Lam__ bert grimly, as he started at a quick trot. His horse was fresh and free, and did the distance to Earlshall within the time allowed by his rider. Meantime the first and second dressing bells rang in Denham House, but the master did not'come in from the walk he had evidently prolonged. The dinner hour was long past, and Lady Frances grew uneasy. Deering's valet was called, but could give no explanation of his master's absence. Night closed in while search was being made, and then a cold and rigid figure, that a few hours ago was the lord and master of Denham. was brought reverently back, carried by the gamekeepers and gardeners, and followed by the awestruck men who had assisted in the search. Tt: revolver, which had apparently falk"^ from his hand, was recognized by the valet as belonging to his master; indeed he saw it in its accustomed place Vflf T o/? v iuat vci j uuuiiiiug. a c uvibuvi juuuj Frances or Weldon could accept the idea of suicide. He was so active, so full of schemes, so instinct with life. But there was the incontrovertible fact?Deering of Denham was no more, and Bertie his son reigned in his stead. * # * ? * t * Away by the beautiful shores of Lake Leoan Elsie Lambert enjoyed a growing sense of security. With Lady Gethin she grew in favor day by day; her thoughtful softness, her delight in learning, and her delicious voice charmed the somewhat exigeant dowager. Again and again she vowed to herself that she would never rest till she had won back that dear girl's rights and exposed Deering. "I believe every word that good ~oul Lambert says," was the general climax of her meditations. Lady Gethin ttm pondering these things one day &s she sat, after luncheon, on the delightful balcony of their hotel overlooking the lake. The approach of a waiter disturbed her. He brought a telegram. It was from Glynn. "Keep all newspapers, especially English ones, from Elsie; will be with you on Wednesday." "There is something dreadfully wrong," said Lady Gethin to herself, "and the wrong is with Lambert. I trust the poor man's head hasn't turned with all his troubles." ?ut tbou'h carefully keeping the A. ?S55HSHSHSHSSSa5HSHSH5HS5>7' '"n .ambcrt 1 /lystery. 1 ALEXANDER. 5E5E5SSS5E555Z5Z5S5EESS3?.' papers from her young protege, no very difficult task, Lady Gethin searched them diligently herself, and soon found the word of the riddle, first in a column headed "Mysterious Death of Mr. Deering of Denham," followed by all particulars, and an account of the strange artist, who had been sketching in Denham woods, and had, according to the evidence of the hotel l eeper at Earlshall, received a letter with the Deering crest ^he day previous to the fatal event. In another column was an account of a robbery and murder in a railway carriage between York and London. On reaching an intermediate station, one of the carriages of the up-train " ? n ' ? J +Vl A AAt* was iouna open auu cuupv/, me uwi swingingto and fro, while the cushion beside it was smeared as if sqmething bleeding had knocked against it. The carpet was displaced, and some sovereigns and loose silver scattered about. On search being made, the body of a middle-aged man, well dressed, and apparently in good circumstances, was found lying beside the rails some miles back, his head and face shattered, his pockets turned inside out, and at a little distance lay an American revolver. His purse was gone, but a valuable watch was still in his pocket, and an old envelope, with an American stamp, addressed "M. Lambert, Rue de L'Eveque, Paris," waj the only clew to his identity. After reading these ghastly-details, Lady Gethin spent an anxious and miserable time unti} Glynn appeared. He had sent a hasty line to Elsie to say he was trying to clear away an accumulation of business in order to I be with her on Wednesday. "I suppose my father will cc*me with him? It is strange he does not mention him. Nor has my father written for several days," said Elsie. "Oh, Hugh will explain everything when he comes," replied Lady Gethin. Lady Gethin contrived to impress Elsie with the idea that Glynn would not arrive till late . 1 the evening, and so managed to secure a short interview with him before he went to break his sad news to the orphan. He looked ill and worn. "Oh, Hugh! what an awful busi- ' ness," exclaimed Lady Gethin. "A profound tragedy," he returned. "To you I may venture to confess my belief that Lambert first shot Deer-, ing and then blew his own brains out> It was the day after Deering's murder Lambert destroyed himself. I have been expecting every day to find that he has been identified in some way with the artist, who spent a couple of days sketching at Denham. Of course the watch and ring, and the man's figure generally, were enough for me. I knew who he was fast enough. I attended the examination and gave my evidence frankly. Nothing was said about Deering. Now let me go to Elsie! I both long and dread to see her." Lady Gethin led him up stairs to their private sitting room, and said: "Elsie, dear, here is Hugh sooner than we expected him," and discreetly closed the door. ' Glynn paused just within it, and gave himself one moment of delightful contemplation, as Elsie sprang forward to greet him. She wore a dress cf soft G~ay, and a deep rose, with its green leaves, at her throat. The evening sun lit up the gclden sheen of her hair; she had color in her cheek; the light of joy in her eyes, and he had come to darken all. "Oh, you have come at last!" she cried, forgetting for one brief moment even her father. "My Elsie, my love, my life!" he exclaimed, clasping her closely to I him. while his heart throbbed with sympathy and sorrow. At the sound of his voice she drew back and looked intently in his face. "Ah! you have brought bad news. My father?he is ill??he is dead?" A short, breathless pause between each question: "He is." returned Glynn, solemnly gathering her to his heart. "He is at peace, r.nd I must be husband and father both to you, my darling." "Oh, no, no! not dead!" she cried \ piteously. "I may see him once more, j He will speak to me again. Take me I to him, dear Hugh!" Breaking away j from him: "Let us go at once." "It would be of no avail, dearest? ! you could not even recognize him!" "How! why! Why did you not! send for me when he was ill?" "But he was not ill, darling! He was killed on the railway; he must have leant against the ^oor of the carriage, and it probably flew open. He fell, and it is supposed was instantaneously killed." "Shall I never, never see him again? It is too cruel!" She wrung j her hands and looked despairingly ; round her: then with a sharp cry threw herself into his arms, and an ugony of tears came to her relief. ******* With infinite care and tenderness Glynn soothed the poignancy of her first grief, and soon persuaded her she could show no Detter respect for the dear dead than by fulfilling engagements to which he had agreed. Some months later, therefore, a very quiet .wedding took place at Lady Getbin's residence. Glynn's clerical cousin from Clapham and the faithful Mrs. Kellett were the only guests, and gradually time and tranquillity healed the wound which death had inflicted. But Lambert lived ever tenderly cherished in his daughter's memory. and Glynn found that the best comfort he could give his young wife was by describing the cheerfulness and returning sense of enjoyment displayed by her father during the time he spent with his intended son-inlaw. The mortal agony that darkened his last hours she never knew, j Even when in the course of time I she ..was obliged to believe she was ' Lot bis daughter, her sense of loving i UUlOw lo J UUll^ A/ iUQ) wv ? ??? such beautiful poetry." "Who is that distinguished looking woman, the smaller of the two talking to Admiral Verner? She has such a sweet, pensive face, and great blu6 eyes." hi "Oh, you mean Mrs. Glynn. She ai is greatly admired by artists and te those sort of people. Her father qi was murdered by the Indians, or the E; Kaffirs; she was saved by a Yankee ' cr gold digger. He brought her up in ac the Rocky Mountains among an aw- lij fully lawless set of men. Then he in took her to Paris, and I believe she tb was to come out as the daughter of so the Incas, in a ballot or some-such ti] tMng. when Glynn saw her and mar- ai ried her, which seemed rather idiotic, be However, old Lady Gethin recognized ? her remarkable likeness to a dear friend who married Gilbert Deering, and whose daughter she proved to be. Then they found the nurse to whom a the Yankee had given her, so the ni Deerings thought it best to come to er an amicable settlement. Lady bf Frances keeps her dower, and young w: Deering his estates, for his life; but ni this charming Mrs. Glynn, or her son, M will succeed him. They are great cu friends. What splendid diamonds a she has!" , PI "Well!"- exclaimed the Indian ro nephew, "truth really is stranger th than fiction." eo THE END. th Bi Poet of Mushrooms. ov Corneille is known as the poet of bi many things, but it has required the bi finding of a hitherto unknown MS. cr at the Bibliotheque Nationale to re- cI veal him as the poet of cooked mush- te rooms, which he apostrophizes as "glorious in their end if their origins are obscure." He compares "its white body and stem" to a parasol, pc relates its "life," its "struggle with 6E the sun," suggests its relish with th cream or mutton ragout, and declares in its savory excellence as compared R with asparagus, truffles or artichokes, to The verse is not exactly that of the ce "Cid" or of "Polyeucte," but it is th Corneille.?London Globe. ai ' D( Detecting Crime in Ethiopia. m The Ethiopian method of detecting er crime is quick and effective, and has bu the grept. advantage of always catch- m mg some one. A priest is called, and ! w: by his exhortation, prayers, sorceries j th ?and drugs?a youth is sent to sleep j th with the command to dream. The Ts person he dreams of is the criminal, ai No further proof is sought or needed. W The sanction of the church is quite se enough. W If by chance the boy fails to dream tv he is promptly put 1?o sleep again by j d< the same process until he does, so J te that he usually manages the affair in m a short time.?Pall Mall Gazette. a Not Yet, But Soon. * The definition of popularity as giv- i en by a salesman in a large music j store is one that may be applied to ;{ other things besides songs. 3 "Is this a popular song?" asked a Lyoung woman, holding up a sheet of music brilliantly decorated in red and IL green. "Well, no, miss," said the salesman, assuming a judicial air, "I can't say it is, as yet. Of course, lots of w people are singing it and everybody | *r likes it, but nobody's got tired w enough of it yet for it to be what you'd call a popular song, miss."? bt Youth's Companion. cc tt Worsted by an Owl. pi Hiram Helier, of Williamsport, was badly, lacerated and. bruised in b( a battle with a great horned owl w which he wounded while gunning d? near Fairfield Centre. bi He shot at-the owl as It flew by him, but only broke its wing. Not wishing to disfigure the bird, Heller b< attempted to kill it with a club. The I B wounded owl, which measured near- g8 ly four feet from tip to tip, pounced upon him, and before lie was able to free himself he was badly wounded. ?Punxsutawney Spirit. ^ Justice Deaf as Well as Blind. a? A member of the Philadelphia Bar tells of a queer old character In AI- m toona who for a long time was the n< judge of a police court in that town. On one occasion during a session t0 of his court there was such an amount of conversation and laughter in the court room that his Honor th became very angry and confused, ai Suddenly, in greatwratb, he shouted: Si "Silence here! We have decided ai above a dozen cases this morning te and I haven't heard a word of one of them!"?Harper's Weekly. in o-\ The Demijohn's Fate. m "John," said the Colonel to the old cc family servant, "do you know what ai became f that demijohn I threw out ihe window New Year's morning?" "I sho' does, Kunne). I kotchf*l *? dat jimmyjohn fo' it hit de groun', j* but de cork wuz out en what whisky gj. didn't spill down my throat splattered y all over me en like ter a drownded. me. Hit wuz a dispensary er Providence dat I lived ter tell de tale!"? Atlanta Constitution. ^ The St. Paul Board of Education haa approved the suggestion of Su- w perinteudent Heeter in favor of cor- ei uoral punishment to be administered only by the 'principal of the school, ri after permission in writing has been w obtained from parent or guardian. sc tt According to 1905 figures, the to- ri tal number of industrial workers in w Belgium was 1,265,000, of which le 205,000 were women. \\ m The sea-level canal from Marseilles to the Rhv'ne River is to be completed in seven years at a cost m of $13,730,000. gratitude was only deepened and ?f? I" alted. _ ******* ? Ten years later. Scene: a reception at Lady Frances Verner's. Speakers: a well known dowager * and a nephew just returned from India, whom she is lionizing: te "Yes, Lady Frances is very hand- j ^ some, and has a good deal of quiet , si animation. She was the widow of I that poor Deering of Denham, who i w shot himself some years ago. That sc stout, broad-shouldered man with the j r* blue ribbon is Admiral verner, ana j ?" the pale, delicate looking lad?talk- | *n ing to Madame. Ronika, the great vio- P* ie vnntio- Floorin<r tuhn writPS I fil iousehoid Matters. ' Rye Bread. For one loaf of rye bread use two acups of the rye to one of bread 3ur; teaspoon of salt, tablespoon of tortening, two of molasses, quarter a yeast cake dissolved in little arm water, with half teaspoon of ida. Mix soft with warm water, se over night, and in morniag add lother half-teaspoon of bo la. Pour larded pan and let rise to top of in. Put In rather quick oven at st, then cover with paper and reice heat. Bake about an hour.? ew York World. Fudge Cake. One cup sugar, two-thirds cup ltter, three eggs, one cup milk, two id one-half cups flour, two heaping aspoonfuls of baking powder; onelarter cup chocolate, one-half cup of nglish walnuts, broken up coarsely; earn the butter and sugar together, id the cup of milk, and stir in ;htly the flour, into which the bakg powder has been sifted. Stir in e chocolate, which has been disilved by placing in a cup and setag in hot water. Add the nuts, id, last, the eggs, which should be taten whites and yolks, separately. -New York World. Peanut Wafers. For peanut jumbles or wafers grind cupful of roasted and shelled pea- , its until nne. uream a ratuer nual fourth of a cup of butter, add tlf a cupful of sugar, using likeise a liberal measure. Add the peaits and a cupful of sifted flour, oisten the mixture with a scant ipful of milk, or enough to make stiff dough, about like pie crust, lour a board and rolling pin, then 11 out the dough until of waferlike lnness. These jumbles should be thin after rolling and cutting out, at one can almost see througl them, ake on buttered pans in t brisk ren, taking care that they do not irn. They should bake until a nice own and should when serred be isp like "snaps." They are dellous with a cup of fresh "brewed" a and a slice of cream cheese. Tomato Figs. Six pounds of tomatoes and three >unds of granulated sugar; select noli voiinw nr rod tomatoflB: nut em In a colander and plunge them to boiling water for a moment, emove the skins; do not break the matoes; cover the bottom of a porlain-lined kettle with a portion of ej3ugar; put in a layer of tonatoes id the remainder of the sugir; do >t have more than two layers of to-. atoes. Place the kettle on a modate fire and cook alowly uniil the gar penetrates the centre of (he toato; lift each tomato caiefully ith a large fork or spoon, qpread em on a granite dish and stand em in A.he sun for a day 01 two. ike them in at night before tte dew^ id put them out in the morning. rhile they are drying sprinkle them veral times with granulated tusaar.! rhen perfectly dry place them be-' /een layers of waxed paper. If >ne properly they will keep all -vinr and are one of the daintiest sweteats.?New York World. Hints fqr. the ITO O S E'KEEPEBi! Close up all bread and cruras ght so that mice cannot get ito iem. Use tin cans and boxes whaler possible. Cut warm bread and cake witha arm knife, which will keep thm om crumbling in the disagreeate ay hot bread and cakes have. Do not fail to close the piano whn veeping the room. The keys b>me gritty when left exposed, ad 19 dust gets in the interior of tb ano otherwise. Clean the glass on pictures wi? jnzine, alcohol, or naphtha, t ater goes through it will leave i inh nr stain. The others eive i I ight, clear polish. One Should always wash lemoi jfore using them.' What appear 1 3 tiny scales are the eggs of an ii :ct. A vegetable brush is indispei ible for such purposes. Flowers can be beautifully ai mged by 'filling a shallow tin pa ith wet earth and sticking th ams in the sand. They will kee > well this way as in the water. Hang all the kitchen utensils a uch as possible in the air, and d< it put them up damp. They shoul* i set for a moment on the stovi ? thoroughly dry, even after the: ive been wiped. Arrange the tray for the sick witt le daintiest of china and glassware, id Have the linen absolutely clean, ck people are apt to be querulous id a fickle appetite may often be mpted by dainty dishes. Ants may be got rid of by coverig a plate with lard and leaving it rernight where they abound. By orning the plate will be entirely >vered, and it is easy to kill the its by immersing in hot water. Meat should never be put away in le paper in which it was wrapped, ; the paper will absorb much of the lice. Agate or earthen dishes lould be used, as tin injures the fla>r of the meat. A teaspoon of household ammonia i warm suds will clean silver thorjghly, and make it very brilliant. the silver is chased, use a small 'ush. Rinse in hot water and dry itll a linen towel. Ammonia is also cr.ellent for polishing glassware. The most satisfactory way to wash bbon is to put it in a basin of warm ater and rub it well with white >ap, then wash as you would anyling else. While wet iron it on the ght side, and when dry rub it ns if ashing it until all the stiffness has ft it, then iron out the wrinkles, hashed in this way, it will look like jw ribbon.?New York Globe. Hamburg holds the record for the imliar n? ifc Pros Jj ! 1 j THE SUNDAY SCHOOL, INTERNATIONAL LESSON COM. MENTS FOR JANUARY o. Subject: The Word Made Flesh, John 1:1-18?Golden Text, John 1:14?Commit Verse 3?Commentary. TIME.?A. D. 95. PLACE.?Eph* GSUS. EXPOSITION.?I. The Eternal Word, 1-5. The deepest and richest hook in the Bible is John's gospel. Any exposition of these words seems so tame and so inadequate. John carries us back to the dawn, not of man's history, but the history of tbe universe, and way back there we behold a Being who then, not began to be, but "was" (cf. Gen. 1:1), the Word "was." And why is this One, who then was, called "the Word?" The word is that in which the speaker reveals himself, and Jesus Christ is tbe perfect revelation of God's inmost being (Heb. 1:3?; 1 Jno. 1:2; Jno. 1:14; 14:9). But that in which God reveals Himself is a person., This person here called "the Word" "was with God," in His presence, in close intimacy with Him. And this person "was God." From all eternity that person who became flesh in Jesus of Nazareth was God (cf. Phil. 2:6). There could not be a more definite and explicit statement of the true deity of Him who tabernacled among us in the person of Jesus Christ. He was uuu icomp. isa. ?:o; xvuiu. 9:5; Titus 2:13, R. V.; 2 Pet. 1:1, R. V.; Heb. 1:6, 8; 1 Jno. 6:20). The entire gospel of John is given to a proof of this statement. Everything in the gospel revolves about this centrei(Jno. 20:31). This verse brings out the fact that there are at least two persons in the God-head. "The Word was with Godt" there is one divine person in company with whom the Word was; but the Word was Himself also a divine person, "was God." Having learned His eternal divine nature, we next turn to His divine work. He is the one through whom all things became to be. God has executed all His creative plans through Him. He who by His incarnation became our brother, and our Saviour was first our creator anr" the creator of all things. Apart from Him came not one thing into existence (comp. Eph. 3:9; Col. 1:16; Heb. 1:2; Ps. 33:6; Heb. 11:3). There was life in Him before His incarnation. He is the eternal source of life. All life has come forth from Him. Eternal life is in Him (1 Jno. 5:11). The?only way to get eternal life is by taking Him in whom it is (1 Jno. 5:12). Not only was life in Him, but He was Himself the life (1 Jno. 1:2). And He who was the Life was also "the light of men" (Jno. 8:12; 9:5; 12:35, 36). "The Word" did not become "the light of men" by His incarnation in Jesus of Nazareth. He ever was "the light of men." No ray of light has ever shone upon man except from Him. The light ?iat shone in Old Testament times s\^?ne from Him,, yes, even the glimpses of light the heathen have had are from Him. When sin came, night came. The condition of the whole world aince the fall has been one of Djioral, spiritual, intellectual darkness. But in the midst of this universal darkness there has ever been a light shining. No matter how deep the darkness, He has shone. The light shone, but the world did not, indeed, would not, lay hold of it (1 Cor. 2:14; Jno. o;i?, 4u;. inai is way ine worm continues in darkness still. The world would not lay hold of the light in His unincarnate form, so God gives the Word in a form more easily apprehensible, an incarnate form. ! II. John the Witness, 6-9. But God's condescension to man's infirmity does not stop even at that, He sends a witness to this incarnate light. To. men who can see, light needs no witness but itself, but men j are blind and so need one who can see to bear witness to light. God sent such a witness in John the Baptist. "A man sent from God." That Is a glorious title. No earthly patent to nobility so glorious as that. But mark the clear line of demarcation between John and Jesus. John is "a man sent from God;" John was a wonderful man, a man whom God delighted to honor, but he was "a man." Jesus was God become flesh. John came to be a witness and the purpose of his testimony was that all j men mieht believe through him. Men I are not asked to believe blindly, but upon sufficient and abundant testimony. III. The Word Becomes Flesh, 10? 18. Here the hostility of man to the light and to God appears in still darker aspect. Not only did the darkness not apprehend the light (v. 5), not only did the world which He was 1 in and which was made by Him, not know Him (v. 10), but Hia oWn homo and people (or household'servants), * even they "received Him not" to themselves. How complete is the 1 alienation of man from \Jod and 1 light! While the world, and even His j own, as a whole, rejected, there were I an elect few who "received Him." And who are they who thus receive ! Him? Those "which were born, not ' of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, 1 nor of the will of man, but of God." ( It is not of man's natural heart to re- j ceivo Jesus Christ. What is natural to man iH seen In verses 5,10 and 11. i But. God by His grace begets men anew, and those who are thus begot- i ten receive .leaus Christ and thus be- ' come "children flf God" (Jno. 3:3-15; 1 J{is. 1:18; 1 Pot. 1:23: 2 Cor. 5:17). i The Eternal Word became a real hu- 1 man being- Dolly clot hed it soil* with 1 real humanity. Ills divine glory be- j came a matter of sensible perception (cf. 1 Jno. 1:1-8). Of tho divine ful- I ness that, is in the incarnato God every believer receives. | i ~ I Professor Wood's New Koonternng. Professor Robert W. Wood, head of tho Department o' Experimental * Physics at Johns Hopkins University, t has a new invention, It is a boomerang, and tho professor stood iu the j soggy athletic field, with the rain pouring on him, going through the j motions of a baseball pitcher as he ;ent the erratic weapon through tho ilr. It would fly horizontally for * ibout forty feot and then rlso In tho ' ilr, sometimes to a great distance. ' "he boomerang, which is constructed } ccordlng to somo complicated scien- ' Ific principle, several times fell like meteor among spectators behind ( nrofe.Rtw'* ( Toltea uwn Mineral ivnen. ? Ivnnocti fnr ninnv von re env- II VjUi * J VWIW OVAh of the Presbyterian Church, diod lj ( Chippewa Falls, Wis., while tiging the church boll. The bell 1 \s heard to toll as if for a funeral, . It then suddenly stopped. One of ! t? members of the congregation. , rjhed into the church to learn the c^se, and found the sexton lying dd on the floor, his hand grasping , t itly the bell rope. Kopeski was s ,v years old. \ J - ? > ???1^ TS^KREATDESTROYER SOMEjTARTLTNO FACTS ABOUI tre cvice of intempekakce. 1 ?? . Moral Suasion or Prohibition, Which Sftafll It Be??The ToncMng Siar? rati ve That Changed the Mind of Or.(. Young Man. A yot ng man once advised me to advocatc moral suasion. At a meeting whe re this young man was present I sai d to the audience, pointing to him: "Some say we ought to advocate mo ral suasion exclusively. Now I will gi ve you a fact. Thirteen miles from this place there lived a woman who wa 3 a good wife, a good mother, a good woman." I then related her story as she told it: "My husband is a drunkard; I have worked, and hoped, and prayed, hut I almost ;ave up in despair. He went away a nd was gone ten days. He came bs ,ck ill with the smallpox. Two of the ihildren took it, and both of them c led. I nursed my husband through his long sickness?watched over hi: n night and day, feeling that he coul d not drink again, nor ever again a buse me. I thought he would rememlier all this terrible experience. Mr. Leonard kept a liquor shop about three d jors from my house, and Boon after my husband was well enough to get < ut Mr. Leonard Invited him in and gave him some drink. He was then w arse than ever. He now beats and bruises me. * " I went into ?ir. ijeonara'ti snop one day, nerved almost to madness, and said, 'Mr. L ;onard, I wish you would not sell mj husband any more drink." " '" 3et out of this," said he, "away with 3 ou. This is no place Tor a woman; clear out." " '" But I don't want you to sell him any more drink." " 4 " Set out, will you? If you wasn't a woman, I'd knock you into the middle of the street." " ' "But, Mr. Leonard, please don't sell my husband any more drink." " '" Mind your own business, I say." !, ' v " ' " But my husband's business is mine,1 I pleaded. " ' " Get out! If you don't I wili put yqu out."' "I i^an out and the^man was very angry. Three days after a neighbor came in and said, 'Mrs. Tuttle, your Ned's just been sent out of Leonard's shop so drunk that he can hardly stand! ' " '"What! my child, who is only ten years old?" f ' "Yes." " 'The child was picked up in the streetj and brought home, and it was four (days before he got out again. I theih went into Leonard's shop and said, rYou gave my boy, N&d, drink." " ' rGet out of this, I tellyou," said the niab. - '1 said, "I don't want you to give my boy drink any more.* You have ruined my husband; for God's sake spare my child!" and I Went down upon my knees and tears Iran down my cieeks. He then took me hy the shoulders and kicked me out of doors:' " "Then," said I, pointing directly to my friend, "young man, you talk of moral suasion? Suppose that woman was your mother, what woqld you, do to the man who kicked hjer?" tHe jumped right off his seat and said, "I'd kill him. That's moral suasion, is it? Yes, I'd kill him, just'as I'd till a woodchuck that had eaten my beans." Now, we do not go as tar as that; we do not believe in killing or persecution, but we believe In prevention and jprohibition.?National Advocate. The Earliest Prohibition Law. Tte first civil law against the manufacture of intoxicating liquor, of which there is any record, was promulgated in China, 1100 B. C. It was (an imperial edict called "The Announcement AgainBt Drunkenness," and it directed that "the people," who drank, should be put to death, A littl i of the spirit of it abides in one of the existing Chinese enactments, whi'ih says, "A man, who, intoxicated witl i liquor, commits outrages against the law, shall be exiled to a desert country, there to remain in servitud<. P mong the ancient Mexicans in temlperance was accounted a grievous crii ie, and was punished with the sev< jrest penalties. Charlemagne tried by imperial edicts to stop the drii iking habits of the early Germans. Act ording to Lecky, one of the safegua rds established to preserve female pui ity in Rome was an enactment for jidding women even to taste the jui :e of the grape; and this law, in grs fting itself upon early domestic edi cation, became, by habit of traditioi i, so incorporated with the sense of the people, that its violation was cor sidered monstrous. Got Drunk and Stole a Horse. ! iorse stealing is rarely heard of !at >Iy in this section, but a ease occui red only a few miles west of this cit f on Friday night, the 24th, when Gu y Krable took a valuable animal frc m the stable of J. M. Foltz, near Br idgeport, and rode him to his home soi ith of Terre Haute. The farmers wc re aroused and pursued the thief, ca jturing him after thirty-six hours' ch *se. The man says he v. as drunk, an i no doubt he was, or he would hafve known better than to try such a (hopeless thing as to make away wqth a horse in a sectiori where telegraph and telephone lines cross the wiy every half mile. But now the pqor fellow must go to the penitentiary for a term of years' for a crime thjat he no doubt would not have Lb ought of committing, had he not |>( tisoned his brain with liquor, which .h e people of the State have authorIz sd to be sold to him, knowing the :r ime and danger of so doing.?Indi11 ia" Farmer. Tomperance Notes. The pledge has not Deen made the iveapon of temperance evangelism in A nierica so much as in England. There seems to be a larger emphasis n this country upon legislation and ) rohibitory measures than upon the l i jclamation of the individual. The Great Northern has instructed fie agents m jxurui uukuui uut i.u se the depots for warehouses for quor. or as a distributing place, and .0 deliver the liquor only to the orignal consignee. The Rev. Dr. Paget, the Bishop of >xford, has just made a great sensaion in England by his stinging reuke of the habit of drinking toasts t banuqets with wine, and calls upon he clergy and laity to cure the bad labit. The Bishop of Oxford suggests that oasts of church and king, of bishop kud clergy, of theological school or [Missionary college, or any such Insti tution, jar on him when used in connection with drinking at all. The Bishop's views and fearless expression ot them have pleased the tem-? jerance people of Great Britain very* uuch. L_ ' " | Religious Truths| From the Writings of Great Preachers. RECREATION. * (Sapere Aude.) ___ 6ing me a song of idleness, Of drifting with the tide, Of lolling in scented orchards' Or backing in meadows wide; For God is m His sunshine t i As well as the storm-wind's Dride. Sing roe a song of blessedness, \ Of dreaming the hoars away, Of hearing mystical measures Float through the chambers of day; For Qod is in day-dream and music As well as lifdfe battle array. r * i , f I rest in the lap of His goodness ' And cast off every care. y Mv portion is not to labor, But His own joy t&. share. To bask in the smile of His beauty And wait in silent prayer. . ?. ,V,* Oh. gently the emerald sorrng-time Creeps out of the death of snows, And out of her thorny timber Bursts forth the full-blown rose, And out from the throat of the song-bird His perfect love-song flows. * U Then IH open jnr spirit's highways, a Its by-ways and hedgerows, too. And let His visitant angels Saunter at random through. Knowing full well their footsteps Are blessings strange and new. v: - -? And to-morrow, ah. yes! to-morrow, 111 take up the burden again, And tasks will be sweet and .solemn For hand and heart and brain, But to-day, to-day in His silence, 1 Pure idleness is gain. > : _ . ?John William Soholl, in Chrafcian Reg- .' < ister. ' m ' .V? . - 7 ifflM Huxley on the Bible. In 1871, Professor Huxley, the great English agnostic, wrote one the most glowing tributes that I have on the Bible. It Is said that hfllH Influenced his children to read It, ad^^HH admitted ttyat.it was a good mennBBB9Q stimulus to any children. Here flBH three sentences from* the pen of master with 250 words of glowi^^HDMH praise for the Bible: HH9 "Take the Bible1 as a whole; maJHDnHa the severest deductions which if^HRKH criticism can, dictate for shortcominlH^HH and positive errors; eliminate as^H^^H sensible lay teacher wcfild do if lef^BBfl to himself, all that is not'desirable^B^H for children to occupy themselves. with; and there still remains in thife, literature a vast residuum of moral ^^9 beauty and grandeur. fl "And then consider that, for three centuries, this book has been woven Into the life of all that is best and " H| noblest in English history; that it fl has become the national epic of Brit* H ain, and is familiar to noble and sim- V pie from John O'Groat'e House to- BE Land's End as Dante and Tasso once were to the Italians; that it Is written in the noblest and purest English, J| ind abounds in exquisite beauties of :!; ! mere literary form; and, finally/that ^r^H| it forbids the veriest hind who neveri MB (eft his village to be ignorant of the ' existence of other countries and other civilizations, and \of a great past VH fttretrhinfr hank to the fnrthMt limits uH of the oldest nations of the world. . W "By the study of what other book . could children be so much humanized < V and made to feel that each figure in. 1 that grand historical procession fills, .? like themselves, but a momentary; ^ space in the interval between two * \ eternities; and earns the blessings or the curses of all time, according to its s effort to do good and hate evil, even as they also are earning their payment for their works?" This beautiful eulogy df the Bible was written for the Contemporary i;^.. Review and published in 1871 for thet flrst time. What Christian coiild do better? All truly grtat minds con- # fess the beauty and sublimity of the ' Bible, as well as its civilizing and humanizing effects. URon* mankind at large. Only the narrow refect It', and the bad despise and cast contempt upon it.?Pacific Baptist. ?. / The FAtaL Defect. For whqsoever'shftll keep the whole. law, and yet "offend In one point, he is guilty of ?11.?James ? 2:10. One neglected or cherished sin is the fatal defect in many a lifel We seem to think there are certain grades of perfection, all alike acceptable before God, and we are at liberty to cnoose our own cnaracter. ne demands a complete forsaking of every sin. j "If I have a vessel full of hbles, and stop only part of them, the vessel ? -will sink as surely as if I did not stop any; we must break off from all sin and turn unto God.??D. L. Moody. The Tyranny of the Secret Sin. One of the most terrible results of secret indulgence in sin is the way in which it enslaves and degrades the imagination: The thoughts are grad- h ually surrendered to the blasting in- 'A fluence of evil suggestion. Somfe one V M has likened this conquest of the imagination to the invasion of a beanti- ? ful civilized province by a horde of rude barbarians, who overrun it, torch in hand, destroying everything . ... that is in advance of their own stage of development, and who reduce It once mo.e to a semi-savage state, Homing ll ucick lur geuerauuus irom civilization's march of progress Worth a Struggle. There is something worth your struggling for; there are suckers which you can never touch till your supreme need drives its artesian well down far beneath the desert land in which you find yourself; but the waters of divine healing which God has stored there will surely rise to quench your thirst.?Henry Wilder' Foote. Opportunity. God will not force anyone Jieaveu. neavcu impacts a righteousness, and dragging there against his will will not him for the state. Personal cannot be secured without cent of the individual. Godj^KEttBDH^RB all men to be happy, but are not. God desires all m^HS^H^^^9| wise, but many men are fooHHH^^^^^Q desires all men to be saved, men Something needed than God's desire.? B. Mitchell, Methodist, CleveBBgHBH^B Indian Famine Fearcd.HHH^^^H It is believed that a evitable in the Delhi, India, dflMBBflflHnSH ana tnrougnout a wide area united provinces of Agra and^^m^9H|H An official statement issued at SHHS^^9 estimates the present drouth Ing In some respects much than that which prevailed in ^HwQ|HM8 Arrangements nave ueen relieving the stricken districtsT^^^^^^^^fl aides sending provisions, fodder ing supplied to save the cattla. Great Exposition Japan will have a great intflM|^^BH exposition at Tokio.