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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 <
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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