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R%F-rr:,7- " ! ' i ' ' 4 " $ fSSaSESESElsaSESHSEEH^^S 9 ^^5aSHSESagS^^5Hi=25a5^ 2 ^^La5a5B5a5a555g55555g= 9 SaSHSHSESESESESESE^SE " A 5E5ESE52ES=^?fSESE5ESESEE ? | TRACED g BY H A j V ?S5S5HaE5E5ESESEaE5H5ESE? $ iSBm By H LADY f| MAKG a 5E5ESE5E5E5ESESE5H5ESEJEr?_E ^ SHSasagSfiaSBSHSaSSSESHSag o^o^e^Q^e'^-e^-s^s^o^ CHAPTER VI. E p v Continued. 1 It was all very well asking Arthur 1 to come and set them all to rights, ' but not till they were together did Tola realize the impossibility of her scheme. In her simplicity and utter j ignorance of all such matters, she fancied Arthur had only to go straight to Colonel Curtis and tell him that Janet loved him. and that he must come back and find their father in a favorable frame of mind; but when Arthur explained to her how * entirely out of the question such a proceeding would be, she shook her head sorrowfully and thought what an artificial world it was. The only thing Arthur thought he could do was to call on Colonel Curtis as if he knew nothing about anything, and then, if he wished to do so, he might take the initiative. Arthur's visit to the Grange turned out an unlooked-for success. Colonel Curtis received him not only with pleasure, but with eagerness; this one brother he had always cordially liked, and he was unfeignedly glad to see him. They talked of all sorts of indifferent subjects until, with rather a sinking heart, Arthur began to take leave, when Colonel Curtis caught down his hat to accompany him ^ homewards. The open air gave him courage, and quite suddenly he began showing, as he told the story of his j rejection, such an amount of trouble, pain and mortification, that Arthur * was compelled to perceive that his father had been even more hasty and c unceremonious than Tola had told v him; and he felt a little embarrassed as to what he should say. Then his frank and simple nature put it into ^ his head to place it all openly before t his companion. He spoke of his father's difficulties, of the irritability al-* most inevitably produced by cease- t less worries. Colonel Curtis, apparently, was too much hurt to respond t at once. At last, after a good deal of round- ^ about talking, Colonel Curtis came to the point. ' , s "Well, Benstone," he said, "you see I cannot help feeling mortified at having been sent about my business t in so summary a mauiier, juu see ? \that now, don't you?" * "Yes," said Arthur slowly, "of n course I see it. It was awfully un- b lucky, but " a "You have said quite enough," said it Colonel Curtis, rather loftily. "Of course, I can make allowances, and as you have given me this opportunity of talking it over with you I must con- " fess that my.feelings towards your J eister are in no way changed by what j &as occurred, and if you will guarantee me a more favorable reception u I should like to renew my suit." 5 "I am very sorry it should have SI Vinrmonort " cairi Arthur r>r*rrtia11v ."and I am sure that 110 one would be jt5 more sorry than my father to think . S that he had given you pain." "Really, people should be a little what sav," ci "Of course they should," assented Arthur, thinking how very difficult n it was to smooth such ruffled plumes. "Well, then, let us arrange a time.51 P Colonel Curtis looked at his watch. D "There is time now," he said, with the first eager look Arthur had seen s1 on his face. "I should like to be re- ^ lieved from my suspense." And these words reassured Arthur, b as he perceived that the gallant gentleman's self-confidence was shaken, and that he was not so perfectly sure ^ of Janet as he had been befOre. "Not now," he said, decidedly. "I c should like to speak to my father i? first. Come to-m6rrow." "I will be with you at 10. Thank F you, Arthur. Indeed, you Lave acted i the part of a true friend. e "I could not have stood repeating n what.-had occurred to any one but 1( yourself. Good-by till to-morrow at 10," and Colonel Curtis went off quite v lightly and gaily. * ATthur returned home in a similar state of mind and had a private consultation with Tola as to.how to ar- 1 range to-morrow's visit of the Colonel a so that there should be no hitches, ft It was of need that Mr. Denstone was I to be kept in good humor and the children hidden out of sight. This ft w?s so successfully done that by the e evening of the next day Janet was } betrothed to Colonel Curtis with her j d father's full consent. j e CHAPTER VII. It was early spring when old ft^on- j1 sieur Rigaud once more returned to | the longed-for repose of what he I t called his second life. The country ' ^ round about the little town of Goucy t was thickly wooded. There were c large forests in which even now men I hunt wolves, and charcoal burners' ^ huts were often for miles the only * signs of human habitation. Monsieur % Rigaud still clung to the belief that c Goucy remained altogether un- 2 changed by the waves of civilisation which passed over the world; but the * railway had reached it, and a new spark of life had rekindled in the little picturesque old town: but civ- J ilization had not yet destroyed its beauty. 1 Monsieur Rigaud gave a sigh of c satisfaction as he concluded his bar- i gain with a dilapidated old cart, the : poorest and consequently the cheapest he could find, and proceded to t drive out to Mon Repos. The distance was about three miles, the road : passing through the town aud finally ] plunging quite into the forest coun- < try. Monsieur Rigaud had certainly chosen a solitary spot for his repose. ' Mon Repos was a large house; a: ! some long-forgotten period it might >. have been a fine old chateau. There was a centre building, with two pro- ' jecting wiegs, the space forming a i cnr/sill caved courtyard, bounded by < ^trirS"PSHsfj59 I S^EMT? M * C."E1 ' 9^ 5*55H ? rdS^SSSHaSSHS^SHSHSELSE; ^ . 5E3"HSeS5SgSgS?SE5E55iE5 V ' sstf5H5a5H5HSasa5ESE5?53 ? i^5E5SI5H?rE5E5^^^5H5H5nl5H ^ ? DIVINING g? ROD. 5S ? ad 5d 5c /4 SSESHSaSHSHHaSHSHSHSHSH 9 lARET^MAJENDEE. iHHm $ rE5aETag=SHS3SHS3SHSSSHSe ? r5gB5a5a5B5B5B5BS35B5B5g ^ i stone parapet and Iron gates. It *as mossgrown and untidy, and dec)rated by strings on which flapped incient clothes to dry. The house lad slate roofs rising to an enormous leight. In front it faced the road, or ather cart track, which determined here, and a wide green or small ield. evidently a clearing, stretched o the edge of the forest, a distance )f perhaps a quarter of a mile. Belind the old chateau there was a garlen, surrounded by high stone walls, n no direction was there any sign )f other'habitation. "At home again! Safe again! " said he old miser as he crossed the hreshold. "Come, come, Battiste, ^anon, are you not glad to see your )ld master back again, safe from the langers of the evil world?" "Monsieur is welcome, doubly wel:ome!" said old Battiste, rubbing his itiff hands. "Monsieur has been a ong time away." "Yes, a long time; and no changes lave taken place, eh?" "What changes should there be?" ;aid the old servant. "Do stones :hange? The only change I see is n Monsieur himself." "I?" very hastily. "In what way?" "We all get older," said Nanon. Monsieur looks much older than ho lid." "Bah!" said Monsieur Rigaud. That is the wear and tear of life, come here to get young again; one ;oes back centuries here; one fossilze9. It is good to be a fossil." "Monsieur has but to consult his >wn wishes,'? said Battiste. "What vill he eat?" "Eggs, Battiste, eggs! Eggs cost lothing. they are nourishing, they aste of the sweet, fresh country, and he food that costs nothing nourishes 'ou doubly." "I go to prepare them," said Batiste, hurrying out. While he was preparing his maser's frugal supper, Nanon stood bout hesitatingly; then making up ier mind she said quickly: ; "Has Monsieur seen not demoielle?" "Not this time, Nanon. She lives ome way off. My business did not ake me there; but she is well, she rows up. Ha! What are you doing ritb that?" he shouted, as old Nanon aoved aside the black leather case e had under his feet. "Leave It lone, I say! How dare you touch ;?? His face was quite livid with anger, [anon looked at him with amazelent. "Dame! Monsieur quite ightened me!" she exclaimed. There, take the old box; but I lought Monsieur would like to draw p to the table." "Bring the table to me," he larled. She obeyed, and seeing it was no me to pursue ner quesuons, sne uean to lay a clean napkin on the table >r his meal. "Will- Monsieur have wine or icier?" she said. "What is the price of the cider ow?" "Three sous, Monsieur; that is the rice," said Nanon, smoothing the apkin. "Then get ne a litre of cider. And tay. Were my directions about that oor carried out?" "Yes, Monsieur, to the letter. My rother-in-law himself did it, and tiey laughed over it, I can tell you." "Laughed? What did the fools nd to laugh at?" "Dame! Monsieur. At such preautions against thieves, when there 3 nothing to steal." "Ha! Ha!" chuckled old Monsieur >i a V^v? vnn Ll^auu. iXULLULig, iu iuac. ICO, jco, hey are right there; but, after all, veryone values his own life, and line is a valuable life. I would not Dse it lightly." "It would hardly be worth anyone's rhile to attempt it, Monsieur," said ."anon. "How? Not worth while?" "Not worth the galleys, eh? Bah! 'bese precautions have cost money, nd for what? Monsieur is as safe at Ion Repos as the tower of Notre )ame." . "They have cost money, eh?" said lonsieur Rigaud, uneasily. "How nuch?" "I cannct say; but one cannot have louble doors of the best wood, with iew locks, for nothing, to one's oom." "And the dog! Have you bought he dog?" "Battiste has seen a dog that he hinks would suit Monsieur, but it is lear, it is three francs; but Battiste hinks he could get it for two-fifty. )n the other hand, I can have a >uppy from Goucy for nothing. It vill grow big and fierce, but before t is grown Monsieur will be convinced that a man is safe with open !oors when poverty is as well known is it is with us." "How old is the puppy for nothng?" "It opens its eyes, Monsieur." "Bah! What is the use of that? ^nd tte ether?" "A villainous brute, Monsieur; arge. fierce, chep, as it has lost one ;ye, but savage as a wild beast, and iccustomed to starve; sd we need lot spend much on his keep." "Tell Battiste I will have him, at xvo-fifty. mind; not ?. centime more." "He will be the terror of our lives, Monsieur," saii Nanon. "I always lated dogs, a::d this one is danger jus, very." "Bur he will bs always fastened up. i'ou do not suppose that 1 should let iiim roam about loose? He will be chained 10 my door." X a 11 cm went away muttering, 'Monsieur thinks more af'out his previous old life than anybody else Icti. Va!" CHAPTER VIII. I One morning, a day or two aftet Monsieur Rigaud's arrival, as he was sitting over his scanty mid-day breakfast, eld Battiste brought him a card on which was written, !n pen and ink, "Paul Rigaud Leduc." The perspiration rose to his brow. What was this? Had this nephew, of whose existence he had only just heard, found him out and come to prey upon him? "Tell him to go away," he said, querulously. "I know nothing of him. He is a stranger, and I hate strangers." "He is Monsieur's own nephew," said Battiste, earnestly. "If only Monsieur would see him! Surely he would not send away Mademoiselle Louise's only child." "Mademoiselle Louise is dead, and Antoine Leduc is dead. They are all dead of my generation. Send him away, I say." At this moment, a fierce bark and snarl from the dog chained to the doors of Monsieur Rigaud's private room made itself heard. Monsieur Rigaud almost screamed with impatience. "He is tryinc to penetrate by force! Send him away, I say. I will have no strangers here." Battiste went away slowly. The young visitor who had sent in his name as Paul Leduc was leaning against the doorway, irritating with the point of his cane the snarling dog. He must have heard every word of tLe conversation from the dining room, but when Battiste told him that Monsieur Rigaud was indisposed, and did not receive, he made no remark, only thrust a napoleon into Battiste's hand and turned to go. Battiste looked at the gold and then at the departing figure with an air of stupefaction. Such a thing had never happened to him in his life before. It must be a mistake. The old man was honest. Monsieur Leduc was not yet out of sight. He was hobbling swiftly after him, his feeble cries of "Monsieur! But Monsieur, then!" drowned by the frantic barkJ ing of the dog, which flung itself backward and forward on its chain, grinding his teeth and tearing at the obstacle which prevented it from springing at the throat of the visitor. The young man heard nothing till he was some way along the road, when the panting old servant succeeded in overtaking him, and, to enforce his attention, held him tight Kt, Vi^ larval <->f Me An?t. while he re gained his breath. "Well?" said Monsieur Leduc, rather impatiently, "what is it all about?" . "Monsieur has made a mistake," said Battiste, holding out the napoleon. "Doubtless Monsieur thought it was a franc. It was a mistake." "It was no mistake," said Monsieur Leduc, leaning against a tree and folding his arms. "After all, I have no relations left in the wide world. This is a sad position, is it not? I am | aware from my mother's dying words j that she had a brother. I seek him out, I an repulsed, as you see; why, I cannot conceive. I ask nothing of him. A Leduc comes not as a beggar. On the contrary, the apparent want and poverty of my uncle's surroundings strike me so forcibly that I have even felt that I might claim the privilege of a son to help in money matters, my purse and my heart alike at his service; but I resign myself, and go hence as lonely as I came. At least I may offer a small gift to an old servant who has doubtless known J my mother." He spoke with a strange sort of open frankness. Battiste was touched : x a art yf t\J LUC V? "Know Mademoiselle Louise? Heaven rest her soul! Have not tbese arms carried her a hundred times, a prattling infant? Did I not teach her to ride and drive the old pony? Did I not tame rabbits for her, and feed her thickens, and wait on her till she went away and the old people died, and we entered upon a new state of thing3?" "Ah," said Paul Leduc, thoughtfully, "Bhe was a beautiful rider." "There," exclaimed the old man, "I knew she would become so! Here they laughed at me, for she never could keep her seat, and was too frightened'to trot; but it was all want of practice, see ?" "I must go," said the young man, suddenly, "for I must catch the evening train." "You leave already? Ah! Dame!" To be Continued. Why Railways Are Being Electrified The final arguments for the electrification of a steam railroad are reduction in operation costs and increase of earning capacity of the present tracks. There are, of course, several incidental advantages accruing from the use of electricity as motive power which are of considerable importance, although it is difficult to evaluate them in dollars and cents. In this category we may include three: First, the smaller wear and tear on the tracks, structures and roadbed, due to the absence of the lateral swaying and vertical hammering caused by partially reciprocating parts of steam locomotives. Second, the elimination of smoke, under cer Icllll CUIIUILIUIIS, BUtU CIS kuuoc uuui i the New York Central tunnel approach to the New York terminus, is a very compelling argument, and further reduces the maintenance of the rolling stock by making the necessity of car-body painting and cleaning less frequent. Third, the greater facility of train movement; which results from the simplicity of control; the greater readiness for service?no time neei1. be consumed in getting up steam, taking coal, or cleaning fires; and a greater factor of reliability in the locomotive unit, by the elimination of fire boiler, high pressure steam pipes, etc.?Engiueers' Magazine. A Young Mountain. The Kentish fat boy, Charles Law Watts, of Woodchurch, has just celebrated his sixteenth birthday. During the past year he has increased in size, and he now weighs 373 pounds. On his fifteenth birthday he weighed 850 pounds.?London Daily Mail. The eyeball of the mole can bo projected forward several times its diameter, and retracted. iwffi .la^a^ffsL?tr-j^T-^Tgi ^Tig^?T-%M New*" York City.?-Every new de' sign for a pretty blouse finds iti Rlace. No woman ever yet had 8 sufficient supply and there Is always room for the traditional "one more.' Mere is a very chamrmg ana nove model that is adapted to silk, t< flannel and washable materials ant that Is a bit more dressy than the Bevere tailored sort while at thf same time it is eminently practica! 1 and serviceable. In the illustratlor it is made of the fashionable plaid taffeta with frill of ribbon, and wltk turn-over portions of collar and cuffj it velvet. The frill, however, could be either of the material or of silk W of something still -thinner and Dttore dainty while the turn-over portions would he pretty in any contrasting material, or of white lawn or >ther dainty fabrics with scalloped tdges la lingerie style. The big buttons make a feature and are always kffeotlve, and the waist is altogether me certain to win approval. When bade of allk or flannel the lining is Iften desirable but is not obligatory, rhUe Inexpensive wash fabrics are always left unlined. The waist Is made with fronts and - back. The fronts are tucked to pro Vide becoming fulness and the back: to give the tapering lines essentia to correct style. The sleeves are o1 the regulation shirt waist sort wltt straight cuffs and a stock collar finishes. the neck. The quantity of material required for the medium size is three and fiveeighth yards twenty-one or twentyf V? mo on/1 f)iran_ni(rhth VflXflS iUUI , tuicc UUU bUl VW ?thirty-two or two yards forty-foui Inches wide with one-eighth yard oi velvet and one ai:d one-eighth yards of ribbon for the frill. "Greek" Gowning. Greek gowns are what the fashior makers are seeking, and few woroer there are who can carry off the style. The models sent here froir foremost French houses, notably frorr one famous house, are styled "clasBical," but the fact is they are modern in every sense of the word. Th( skirts have high waistbands on Empire lines, but are fitted as closelj as they can be, and still allow foi any movement of joints under them auu mis js not niuipnc aim utnuti I Is it Greek; it is distinctly moderr 1 French. Many of the skirts are untrimmed, but a large number of them have tunics, which always have Ion/: lines falling in with the scanty folds of the skirt. The fashion is for ultra dressers, women who can afford tc wear an expensive costume a fen times and then abandon it, and the} must have perfect figures. tm. Two-toned Cloths. J The two-toned cloths are new and 1 considered very smart for street) \ wear. Smocking Used Again. . Smocking is greatly favored again, . and to be effective it must be ex* j quisltely done. Many odd designs I are to be seen, some of them lntri{ cate and entirely unlike the conven-. I tlonal design, which is the only ond L known to many as smocking. Smart Motor Coats. A smart motor coat worn by a young woman who is her own chauf-j feur was of dark red rubberized silk with a deep slopping yoke in front) from which fall box pleats. Ther? was a high storm collar and the coat was fastened with huge buttons and loops. Ruffles on Skirts. Last season we had a fashion o| arranging ruffles cn the bottom o< skirts that were raised on the two sides; now we are setting them on high in the front, In a point, some; reaching as far as the knee, wherq they gradually descend to the hem, coverjng It in the back. Large drop ornaments or handsome bows of rib' bon hold down the point in a pretty way. The arrangement Is a graces ful one, but should only be attempted by a slight and tall girlish figure. Breakfast Jacket. The need for a pretty, tasteful anc| becoming-breakfast Jacket always ei? lsts, and each new one Is therefore certain of Its welcome. Here Is a very charming model that is tucked afte? a most satisfactory manner, that had the roll-over collar which Is so com? fortable and the three-quarter sleevea that are the best of all for garments of the sort. In the Illustration it i^ shown made of dotted challis anq held by a ribbon belt, but cashmere^ veiling, all similar light weight ma<( terlals, the pretty India silks and tha inexpensive wash fabrics that many women like at all seasons of the year, are appropriate. The jacket is made with fronts 3 and back. The back is tucked from. I the neck to the waist line and the f fronts to yoke depth only. Hems, i finish the front edges and the turn over collar is attached to the neck. The sleeves are of moderate and [ graceful fulness and are finished with . turn-over cuffs. 5 > The quantity of material required. l for the medium size is three anc1 scv-" > J en-eighth yards twenty-one or twen* ' i ty-four, three and one-quarter yard4 ' | thirty-two or two and one-half yardi j forty-four inches wide. i THE SUNDAY SCHOOL INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS FOR FEBRUARY 1G. Subject: Jesus Heals the Nobleman'* a ^ 1 r.nlilnn Tnvt I ni/ii, UUU3I 'JT IVUn- UVIUVJJ AVAV. ? John 4:50?Commit Verses 40. 50?Commentary. TIME. ? December, A. D. 27 ? PLACE.?Cana. EXPOSITION". ? I. The Noble- ' man's Appeal to Jesus, 43-49. Jesus had had a hearty welcome and re- sponsive hearing in Samaria (vs. , 4-42). There had been a glorious revival there, but His heart yearned for . His own people in Nazareth where He had grown up, and He returned tc Galilee. It would have been of little use to go to them before He had established a reputation elsewhere; foi j "a prophet hath no honor in his own ; country." Human nature is so petty It will not forgive a neighbor for surpassing his fellows, until he has been well received elsewhere. But Jesus ' had now demonstrated His power at 1 the Capital, and Gaulee will now < listen. Indeed Galilee will be the 3 great scene of His victories. The one who came was a king's offic,er. Npt a likely, person to come to Jesus, but ? his deep need overcame his prejudice. " There is nothing like a sense of need 1 to drive men to Jesuc (Matt. 9:18; 15:22; 17:14, 15; Luke 7:2, 37, 38). < Blessed are the afflictions that bring us to Jesus. Many a man who has ] had nothing but contempt for Christ and Christianity, has been found as a suppliant at His' feet when the houi ] of trial has come. The most effective way to induce men to overcome the 1 obstacles that lie between tbem and 1 Jesus, is to bring them to a recogni- 1 tion of those needs in themselves , which He alone can supply. This nobleman's son was very sick, "at the point of death." No human skill could reach him, but there is noth- ] ing too hard for the Lord (Gen. i 18:14; Luke 8:49, 50). Cfcten in our ' own day does the Lord conie in with His healing when all earthly physicians have failed. Indeed, man's extremity is ever God's opportunity. And it Is not only extreme cases of sickness that can be taken to Him, but extreme cases of sin, as well (1 .Tim. 1:15; Heb. 7:25). He can heal < not only those who are "at the point i of death." but those who are already J "dead" (Eph. 2:1). This man caino 1 to Jesus because there was no one < else to whom he could go, no one else I who could help. For the same reason i men come to Jesus now (Jno. 6:68). i If we would induce men to come to 1 Jesus, we must make clear to them i that there is no one else who can I save (Acts 4:12). Jesus wishes us to i nnmn f/-> T-Tim with nil mir trrmhlAS < (Matt.^11:28; Ps. 50:15j. ""There j was no haste on Jesus' part in grant- 1 Ing the nobleman's request. The case was, indeed, urgent, but there was something njore urgent than the healing of the nobleman's boy; that was the development of the nobleman's faith. He had a faith that rested upon the sight of signs and wonders;! Jesus would lead him out into a faith that rested upon His naked word (comp. ch. 20:29; 1 Jno. 5:10, 11; 2 Pet. 1:17-19). When'Jesus said, "except ye see signs and wonders, ye will not believe," He was seemingly contrasting the Jews with the Samaritans, who believed Him on simply 'hearing Him (vs. 29, 42), though they saw no miracles at all. The Samaritans regarded Him and sought Him as a Saviour; the nobleman regarded Him and sought Him as a Healer. II. Tlie Nobleman's Faith and Its ] Reward, 50-54. At last Jesus said: | \ 'Go thy way, thy son nvem. i>eyer ^ had that nobleman heard such sweet j music. And Jesus is ready to say the same thing to many to-day whose hearts are breaking over their sins, if they will only seek Him as this nobleman did. The man's faith rose to the occasion. He "believed the word that Jesus spake." That word did not seem at all probable. The sole ground . he had for faith was Jesus' word. 1 'His son was miles away; the man ( I could see no change that had taken , | place, but he had Jesus' word and rested upon that. That was faith. He proved that "he believed the word that Jesus had spoken unto him," by ( doing as Jesus had bidden him, "he went his way." He asked for no sign; he no longer asked Jesus to "come down;" he counted that it was , all done because Jesus said so. From ' Cana to Capernaum he walked by faith. Jesus often demands of us to walk in the same way. He gives us, 1 bare promise?nothing else?and demands that we walk by that. That is enough. Happy is the man who counts it enough. The nobleman's ?' * J ~ J faith proved to De wen luuuueu. Faith that rests upon the sure word ' of Christ always proves to be well founded. Christ's word3 cannot fail (Matt. 24:35). Everything had turned out as Jesus said it would, and everything will turn out every time just as God says it will (Acts 27:25; Josh. 23:14). The boy's improvement had begun at the moment Jesus i had spoken the word. "He spake and it was done:" "He sent His word and healed him." Surely the one who had such power wa3 the Son of God (comp. Ps. 33:9; 107:20). No wonder that it is Written that the noble- 1 man "himself believed and his whole house." How could he do otherwise if he was an honest man? How can any honest man read what is recorded in the various chapters of John with- ! out being convinced that the stories ; related are true, and that the chief actor in them, Jesus, "is the Christ, , the Son of God?" The growth of the ; nobleman's faith is an interesting and suggestive study. In verse 4 7 wo see j him believing in Jesus' power, in ] verse 5 0 believing in Jesus' word, and : in verse 53 believing in Jesus His; Self. < Indiana Prog Killed Him. Logan Suddith, seventy-six years nld, and a Civil War veteran, died at ' Lincoln, Neb., from having a live ' frog in his stomach. Suddith swal- 1 lowed the frog while drinking from j a spring during a visit in Indiana ' during the summer of 1907, since '< (vhich date he has suffered untold ' agony. Suddith expelled the frog * by vomiting, but died during the night from shock. Meteor Fragments Found. j A large meteor was seen over Plymouth, Mass., and when just beyond the estate of Henry H. Litchfield it 1 ' i . ?HI- ilri hp | expioaeu wun u ruar mai ? . | heard all over the village. Pieces I of the molten mass plunged hissing into the bay. The beach was searched and particles of the meteor were found in several places. f.Vorjv'a Clubmen Must Not Trent. The Superior Court at .Atlanta, ruled (.hat. under the State prohibition law members of clubs may j drink intoxicating liquors, but must I not treat cach ether. ' ;* ' ^ ' ' > I* Religious Reading . I FOR THE QJJIET HOUR. 1 ~HT~ ' THE REVEILLE. /. ' % Light. on the morning hills; the reveille rhrills. like an echo of eternity l^long the silent slopes and Jistening lake Crying, "Awake!" j 'Awake!" .The sentient bugle breathed the word, Thfe sleeping soldier, instant waking, heard: ' I . I \nd no one Lnoweth what dear facefr there. What winning battles, what unspoken prayer Slipped from his dreaming sense reluctant 1 v. When sounded reveille. ' t \wake! Upon the balance of to-day Swings, tremulous, a nation's destiny. To-day and men will drink the cause of right, \nd, rods to Fear, will marshal fof the fight. v- .Ihi.v: To-day and Love will write her- name in blood. f)n holy ground, where late a hero stood. But some will wake-in joy to victory, ... When next sounds reveille. . . v4 To-morrow?nnd upon his comrade's face \ shadow. In the ranks a vacant place; : . iff 3is colors wrapped about him?the"Amen" 3f sounding "taps"?a sob, perhaps?and then Beyond our ken, sweet Christ, for Thy . dear sake At dawn bid him awake. Light on the morning hills; we cannot know 'Vbnt horp* his life, reluctant to forego. ; ' > ^elded be^re that call?what blinded eves Bj l^eep for his fall. (God show them in the \ skies ' The et"rnpl dawn!) But this we knowthat he Woke, glad, at reveille. r.ieht <-n the eternal hills! Th?? reveille ' A'. F?inr?< from the borders of eternity To bless the heart's rejoicing, soothe it? v ach*1? Ovinp". "Awake!" -Phila Butler Bowman, in Youth's .Gem- . v panion. ** Diamonds in Mad. / ' & A little while ago I stood In a wonlerful mine in Kimberly?a diamond mine. I was taken -jown 2520 feeC ' 1">? ind they gave me a pick, and T jrought down some of that bine mold /J carrying the diamonds to my feet: . Some of it crumbled, and I searched-' ^ with the electric light, but I could' see no diamond. Yet in that ground there are diamonds of counties? ' //' ? ralue. and God nut them there. 3omebody was riding through your streets one day with Rusktn. and . said: "What disgusting stuff thhr Licndon mud is!" Ruskin said: "In that mud there are the sand and soot ?. md water and lime out of which God makes.opals and sapphires and diamonds." S And if God can make opalrf and A.,t sapphires and diamonds out of Lon- k Ion mud, He can make something out " y 3f the poor cripple who lives next Wk loor to you, if you will only help God m .o save him; and that is your business 1 md mine now. l Fasten your eyes on somebody. If ' they are crippled, yon know not what is there. Give it a chance. Smile or? it, love It, help It: it will surprise- ; pou. There may be a lump of humanity all dwarfed, twisted, cfrooked:. never had a chance yet, remember: jursed in its birth, made drunk in its mother's milk, born with the blood sf the harlot, the drupkard and thethief in its veins. In God's name* have pity on such! Christ died for the worst. If you believe it, live aft though you do, and help them back to God.?Gipsy Smith. v ] The Drone. The Bible is almost as severe against the idler as.against the sinner. Its dictum is that, "If a man. .y. will not work, neither shaft he eat." The popular idea not long ago war that manual labor was not only un?> dignified, but, in a sense, disgraceful* One who aspired to extreme respectability must belong to one of the pro* tessional estates?law, clergy, medl* d cine or literature. In some of the countries of Europe to-day tradesmen '/ are tabooed and restricted and prohibited from entrance to what ir called polite society. On this continent that notion never prevailed, bat popular sentiment once decided thai wealth, idleness and ease were the conditions of social refinement. Let us rejoice that that false sentiment no longer prevails. We have come to the time wben it is generally acceyi?t* that idleness, whether amongst the rich, or poor, or the middle class, is a . disgrace. We have come to believe- ' that the man or woman who workshonorably and earnestly is deserving of respect in whatever field th6 w&rk lies. Industry, sobriety, Intelligence and reverence are the tests of character,, not indolence nor. supine indifference, nor trifling, when the great bat ties of life are being waged and world issues are at stake. The social drone; the business drone, the church drone? . v! takes rank with the drunkard aa a parasite, and should be cast out of the social hive.?Home Herald. . ^ What is Needed. \Y nat we neeu must, iiuw ib a clui dier and mors resolute belief In theinspiration of the Bible. The outcry 'hat arises every now and thea against historical criticism seems to< indicate a strange timidity and die* trust of the power of the Holy Spirit. A book that claims to be Inspired,, protected against honest criticism and Inquiry, will inevitably degenerate into a sort of fetish. We never need be ifraid of bringing God's work Into thedaylight.?J. H. B. Masterman. Blessed Gift of Life. If we have not lost our moral freedom, if character is untainted, then sach year will bring its tale of new revelations, wider horizons, deeper LLl?>lgilt.S? SliUUgCi &%rA\JAAOp A 1VUV* !esling3, enlarged capacities for *..'ork?. and each day will disclose new reasons why we should thank God for the blessed gift of life.?L. P. Jacks. Soarch Your Heart. Take the candle of God's word and. search the corners of your heart.? ioha Mason. Bequest of $150,000 Rejected. A peculiar situation exists In Salem, Mass., because of the refusal' Df Essex Institute to accept a beluest of $150,000, including an historic mansion, stocks and cash funds, Misses Eliza O. and Mary P. Ropealeft the Ropes mansion, on Essex ;treet, to the institute to found a free school of botany, to serve as a perpetual memorial to the family name. The terms are so peculiar \nd the restrictions are so closely Irawn that acceptance of the gift is* lelrt by the trustees 0$. the institute. r, irvmncsihlp , ,\J fcj-w * 4-4-4 JV W ~ . d V