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.

IP' 3 O 0 O G ? "-3k f I H5E53S2S5aS5SaSSE"il5E5HSSf 9 ^55SH5HSHSH^S^iSHSH31iS?i # ISBJ ^L-SiV ri FS^TT TITS jj ggur^?iim ? fMUfillllftlfifll^; 9 5HSHSHS5SHSHSHSBSaSBSa OI A 5?5^SE5HEH5^5?SH5HS?S2S&! ? H TRACED I BY I A ^ $ Hflfiii B> P LADY 11"MAR( 9 5cL5HSHSHSHS?^HSHSHSH.:5'aS3J J ja5H5H5H5H5^5H5^5g5rHgSg?i CHAPTER VIII. 6 Continued. "For what should I stay?" Iio said, bitterly. "No, no! the disappointment is too great. I am not altogether without friends; in their society I will endeavor to forget that in my aged uncle I had hoped once more to find a parent." "Only stay," said old Battistc, imploringly. "Listen! My master is very old, he lias grown very nervous of late, so nervous that my good Nanon thinks he must have something on his mind. He is afraid of being murdered; but what good would it do to murder him, the poor dear old gentleman? Nevertheless, it grows upon h:?." "Is that why he keeps that villainous brute?" said Paul Leduc, with the air of one trying to master his impatience to listen to the old servant's garrulous talk. "Yes, yes; ana ae uas uau doors of new oak put to his room, and he spends hours there, and locks himself in there at night. You see, Monsieur, I say all this not without motive. Be persuaded, do not go away; perhaps in a day or two he may come to feel what a comfort it would be to him to have a young gentleman like yourself about the place." "It cannot be said to be an inviting ? place," said Monsieur Leduc. "No, no; but blood is thicker than water," said Battiste; "and there i: not a more friendless man on earth than my old master." "I will think about it," said Paul, turning on his heel, and with a short nod to the old servant he walked off rapidly toward Goucy. "What were you saying to that one?" said old Nanon, who was hanging out a couple of blouses on the strings in front of the house. "Who? To Monsieur Paul, and i Mademoiselle's only son?" "He in no way resembles his mother," said Nanon, sharply. "What were you saying to him?" "I was consoling him for the bad reception he met with from the only relative the poor lad has left in the world." "So the master received him badly?" said Nanon, with a chuckle. "Well, I'm not sorry. If he can't receive his own flesh and blood here what should he do with strangers?" Battiste knew that Nanon's heart was sore because she had allowed herself to dwell on the hope that this time Monsieur Rigaud would have brought home her precious darling, Mademoiselle Antoinette; so he held it a bad moment to tell her that he had been persuading the nephew not to go away, only he showed her the napoleon; but even the sight of the | .gold, rather to his discomfiture, did not restore her equanimity or give her a more favorable opinion of the donor. Monsieur Rigaud heard the retreating steps of his nephew, followed by the servant. He sat still, but was annoyed by the franctic displeasure of the dog. His appetite was small; he had hardly touched the roll of bread that lay by his plate. He took it peevishly and threw it to the dog. The half-famished brute leaped upon it with a snarl of enchantment and tore it to pieces. Nanon came in to clear away the breakfast. "Monsieur has finished?" she said. He nodded. "Nanon," he began, suddenly, "I think I want my daughter." Nanon gave a cry of delight. "Thanks to the good God!" she exclaimed. "At last He answers my prayer, ixaiure awaisss ai iasi, yuu recognize that you possess one that owes you all duty, and who will give you love." "You answer for it? She will love me, Nanon?" Nanon threw out her arms with a large gesture. "The love of a woman is as wide as the sea," she said. "Is she not the child of the sweetest woman that ever found her home too soon in heaven?" "I will send for her," said Monsieur Rigaud. "She will protect me, and " he went on muttering to himself so low that Nanon could not hear his words, "I feel the need of protection, if only from myself. All is safe, all is secure yet. Sapristi! What has come over me?" After Nanon had left the room he got out his writing case; the ink had grown thick and dry; he poured a little water into the bottle and shook it. The writing it produced was pale and weak. "My Dear Daughter?During the past year I have sacrificed my own feelings to your interests and kept you at school and away from me. Our circumstances are such that I felt that a good education might be of service to you in the future when I am no more, and you may find it the easiest mode of gaining your bread. But now I have returned home, and Ml f I find that my health is not what it was. I have grown nervous. One can do well without women when one is strong, but when you are not well one wishes for them. Your mother jSgflp has been dead a great many years. Had she lived, I should doubtless | have recovered immediately in her L society the sense of security and E. peace that tas unaccountably desert|S t>d me. Therefore, I wish to recall 1 you. You can doubtless content your self with the peaceful pleasures and W reenpations of a country life which ' was sufficient for your mother, and i your presence will be both useful and I a consolation to your attached father. [ "PAUL RIGAUD." I "That will do," said the old inan, I reading it through. "And now I -mist |? write tr. Denstone to find me an esW c?.rt for her. La! la! how everything 7 costs money. But this time I will not hesitate. I desire the presence of mv daughter \ wish I ha J a stal JriErEiF H t~JJ-TrjJ51-Ls i^Li^ r?h I?JJ cLhi zlS n. ' ^HStl5HSSSESHSSS2SS.|ggg ? 1 SE. ? 5^1 ?' 3ci5^555c5cLETP_E!=UE^H5H5^SEHE A j -^=-= ? ????!mnnca k |? DIVINING gf ROD.^fl j > i?B?pp???M?ig???? I 1 5ARET H MAJENDIE. ??|??j|j|i $ 1 5H5P5HSH5HS^SES^SH5HH2SH 9 1 5HgS5g5HSHgB5H5?.SagS5a5H ^ , wart young fellow like that Arthur Denstone attached to my service. ' Bah! he would eat out of all reason; but he is honest?honest to stupid- ' ity." 1 He sealed the letter and then proceeded to indite another to Mr. Den- ! stone at Liverpool. Monsieur Rigaud felt better when 1 these duties were done. That night the wild March winds * arose and howled through the forest. The old house seemed to rock under its influence. Within his thick double doors old Rigaud lay, and recked little of the storm. Yet'he could not sleep. He sat up in his hard, narrow bed, clasping his bony hands round his knees, and drawing the old sheet round him closely, and he waited for the noise and clamor to cease. Suddenly, quite suddenly, came a sound through all the din of the tempest which drove the color from his haggard cheeks, leaving him livid. It was the report of a gun, followed by a loud, wild, inexpressibly piteous howl, and then silence. He scrambled out of bed and stood panting, listening, breathlessly at the door. He heard footsteps, some one opening the front door, a shout from Battiste, a shrill cry from Nanon, no other voice; and presently his old servant knocked at his door, exclaiming: "Let me in, Moniseur, it is all right; don't be afraid, the rascals are gone, whoverer they may be." "You are sure it is all right?" he cried, tremulously, undoing the door. "Peste! What do you mean by all right?" and he stepped back terrified at the spectacle which greeted his eyes. The body of the unfortunate '' dog extended in a hideous death at his feet. ' "Who has done this?" he exclaimed. "Who is the rascal? What does it mean?" "It means that we shall all be robbed and murdered in our beds!" cried old Nanon, who stood by in the most grotesque of night-gear. "Some one has shot the miserable animal!" "But how could they get in? Rascal! did you not lock the front door?" cried Monsieur Rigaud, turning upon his servant. "Dame! Yes, I locked it," he answered, scratching his head. "No one has been in, the shot was fired through the window," and he pointed to the broken glass that lay scattered on the ground. There was no more sleep for any of the three that night, and they were thankful when morning came. Their master's terror had at last infected A + i LUC LWU UIU acivauia, auu suited together what should be done. "The dog could not have been shot * for nothing," said Battiste, deliber- ' ately. "Some one has designs upon us." j Monsieur Rigaud's nerves were so completely shaken that he could only . look at them with a kind of pitable . look, as if asking for protection. "Monsieur," said old Battiste, at ] last, speaking in a kind of coaxing, J wheedling way. "If Monsieur would only hear reason. We are both old, she and I now, and though our courage is as good as ever, we are not as strong as we were thirty years ago. Will Monsieur not listen to the voice j of nature? Kis natural protector is at hand; Mademoiselle Louise's only . son, who asks leave to act the part 1 of a son to Monsieur, to help him ' even with money. Let me summon J mm. jveep nim wuu us, tii a.u eveuis for a time. Does it not seem as if , Heaven sent him to be our protector at this moment?" "Nanon," said Monsieur Rigaud, faintly, "what do you say?" "Do not ask me," she answered, j gruffly. "The world must be strange- , ly changed when thieves come after an empty cupboard." "But it is not quite empty," said , Monsieur Rigaud. "See, you are my 5 oldest friends"?he spoke tremulous- , ly?"in that black box are my little ] economies. Not much, my friends, ^ very little; but I preserve them with j care. It is a dot for Antoinette." "Ha! ha!" said old Nanon, "now I understand. Yes, yes," she exclaimed, < becoming as eager as her husband, "at all hazards that must be pre- j served. It altogether changes my , t opinions. Courage, Monsieur; let us . send for this "lonsieur Leduc. As , Battiste says, we may be Cying in ] the face of Heaven." . "To-morrcw, then, j'ou may summon him," said the old man, faintly. ( After Battiste had served his mas- j ter's breakfast he walked cverv to , Goucy. He was only just in time, for ] the landlady in whose house Paul 1 Leduc was lodging informed him that ] he was going away that afternoon; . but Battiste was taken up- to his , apartment and found him seated be- . fore a bureau writing a letter. "Apropos! " he said. "You can take , my letter. I was this moment writing a letter of farewell tr your master. You need not hesitate; it ccn- ( tains no reproach," he added, holding it out. j Battiste answered by pouring out the story of the terrors of the past night. Monsieur Leduc listened at- j tentively. 1 "So your master wishes me to re- ; main with him?" "At all events till Mademoiselle ar rives. Y ju will not refuse him, will you. Monsieur?" "No, no," saiJ the young man, lightly. "Did I not say that I had already the feelings of a son toward the only relative I have in the world? 1 c?.n conic, at all events, for a few i days. Perhaps stay till Mademoiselle, , my crusin, arrives; but 1 will continue to leave ny luggage here and i retain this apartment. That is under- < stocd." i ' He must be very rich." thought Battiste to himself, as he went home to prepara his master for the speedy arrival of his nephew. "He thlnK* nothing of money. Thank Heaven, ae will dine daily in Goucy. We could not feed him properly; that would ruin us all." Monsieur Rigaud had been sitting all day crouched in his chair. He neither read nor wrote, only kept watching the door; his mind had fastened now on the advent of his nephew as a kind of refuge from himself. "I shall find it at last," he muttered, "the repose of the second life. [ have miBsed it hitherto, but it will :ome back, with youth, into the bouse." Presently Paul Leduc arrived. He walked in past old Nanon, nodding inncijy to ner, ana causea cauiBic iu conduct him, Into the presence of his master. Paul did not hesitate; he went straight up to the old man and* held DUt both his hands. "Come, my ancle," he said, in a clear, strong iroice, "welcome the only child of pour sister, who henceforth vows himself to be altogether at your sercice." "So you are my sister's son?" said Monsieur Rigaud, peering up at him from under his eyebrows. "Then I aave some claim on you, eh?" "Body and soul, my uncle! Eody md soul!" answered Paul, seating tiimself. "I am altogether at your service. Treat me with confidence md I will be your son and your pro.ector." Meanwhile Battiste, going heavily sack to his wife, was struck by the sight of his old Nanon standing motionless by the garden gate, with her nands hanging idle at her side. "Come, Nanon," he exclaimed, ' what ails you?" "Pouf!" she exclaimed, throwing jut her arms. "I breathe again. What is it about him, the man you ;all Paul Leduc, that gives me the shivers like this? Dame! As he passed by with his light, quick step md his smije for everyone, I felt as f the Evil Eye had fallen upon me!" "Dame! What an old fool you are ;rowiDg. I felt as if my own youth ived again, and thought what a comfort it would bo if Monsieur would sake over to him dot and daughter, md let us live in peace again." "Heaven forbid!" said old Nanon, crossing herself. CHAPTER IX. On the Monday on which Arthur Denstone had promised to return to Liverpool, he heard from his uncle, extending his leave of absence for mother week, as he and his wife had ietermined upon accepting an inviation to stay with some friends durng the interval. Arthur was very glad of the time, .here was so much to do and settle at aome. He lost no time aDoui lommy, md being fortunate enough to find a vacancy in a good naval school, he ;ook him there and entered him at ?nce, to the boy's great delight, for ;he idleness at home had never been' ;o his taste. The affairs of the statey pair of lovers continued to prosier, and it was decided, to the great elief of the Denstone family, at all events, that there was no reason whatever for delaying the marriage, ind that it should take place within i month. Towards the $pd of the week, one corning, Mr. Denstone came into the breakfast room with the postbag, as usual, in his hand, and began handing out the contents to those present, rhere was one for Arthur, which he 1 ? ? *- vio m atyi an f SCcirUfcJiy IUU11CU <x l 1U1 bUC ixavjxawui,; ind one from Mr. Alfred Denstone to himself. Mr. Denstone opened the letter from his brother and began :o re.^d it aloud: "My Dear Brother?Since Arthur left us, a slight- change has taken place in our plans. Mr. John Evans, svhose place your boy was eventually to fill, has recovered from his illness. Eut he will never be the same man igain, and must give up work altogether and go abroad. Fortunately, lie has good private means syid was aot dependent on his salary. Ue wishes to remain at his desk another ^ouple of months to wind up everything and leave no unnecessary confusion to his successor; therefore I iiave agreed that Arthur should not begin his new duties for that time. !t is our wish to show Mr. Evans Qn/1 T"T? Q T'lr ivery pusiuic i,uuoiuuanuu a.uu 3f respect. Nevertheless, I do not wish Arthur to waste two valuable months in idleness, and for this reason I think it highly desirable that tic should in this interval endeavor to perfect himself in speaking and siting French. To be Continued. { IVIijr Saddle-Horses Arc Potr Drivers. In harness only shall wo finu the thoroughly trained high-school horse not likely to be useful. His balance, acquired with much effort after diligent rehearsal, and maintained by constant practice, has always been accomplished with the bits in his mouth which forced response to the efforts of the hind quarters guided by the indications of the rider's legs and heels. When now he is thus bridled and finds no demands upon the hind legs by any signal which ie has already been taught he is quite at sea and fails to answer pleasantly to his driver's demands. When furthermore he is required to overbalance himself by pulling from his shoulders at from 600 to 1200 pounds of weight in the shape of vehicle and occupants, he is further confused, and makes usually a most inferior beast for the purpose, while, through missing the guidance of the rider's legs, he wanders about in the most awkward fashion once he is be.ween the shafts.?From "Controlling the Hind Quarters of Your Horse," !;y Jt*\ M. ware, in uie uiuius iuaSasine. Cat Better Than the Clock. A Brunswick lady received a telephone call one morning last week from a Bath lady friend, asking her the time of day. The Brunswick lady, surprised, telephoned hack it was 10 a. m., v/hereat the Bath lady explained that her clocks were all at 9.30, which she said she knew was wrong, as her pet cat l ad just washed its face, which it did every morning at precisely 10. Hereafter the Bath lady proposes to regulate her clocks by the cat's ablutions.?Kennebec Journal. THE COUNTRY DCM Country Doctor'9 Coachman (to h former patient)?"Go on, you fool. H< Novel Cooking Fork. ? This Invention is designed for turn(ng and lifting large pieces of meat during the process of cooking. The r' fork consists of the usual handle, t! with a tube, or sleeve, fitted therein, 0 the tines mounted on the outer end e of the tube, and a rod passing n through the tube and handle and ^ oarrying at one end the spiral screw and the other end secured by a nut I * . El. I1 " 11 to cause the screw to revolve with the handle. In operation the tines are driven (nto the meat to the proper distance, and the handle is then turned to ;ause the spiral screw to engage or twist into the meat, giving a firm and reliable connection between the ' fork and the meat, and permitting the removal of the meat bodily with- _ Dut danger of spilling or detachment d Df the meat from the fork, and to e remove the fork it is simply newss- r tary to release the screw by turning r< the handle in the reverse direction, J SIAM'S KING A Bricklayers' Mitt. j t Now that base ball players hava 11 taken to wearing sliding gloves and j a I shin guards, with a good prospect of adopting headgear for protection against the swift inshoots of pitch- A ers, bricklayers have also demanded ii [TTOR'S HORSE. orse that has stopped at house of i's dead."?The Throne. rhich permits the withdrawal of the ark. The advantages, of the fork will be eadily apparent, and It will be noIced that a piece of meat or a fowl f any size can be handled with great ase without fear of tearing th? leat or of dropping the same.? Washington Star. A Remarkable Athlete. A one-legged man who has won hampionships (especially in tennis) a many parts of the world. He haa MATT SAFERA, of San Francisco. efeated State and national tennis hampions, has broken the world's ecord for rope climbing and holds ecords for muscle expansion.?Louis . Stellmann, In Leslie's Weekly. - . . ? lND queen. hat some contrivance be provided hem for protecting the hands gainst mortar and the sharp edges f bricks. A Florida man has arisen i the occasion and designed the bricklayers' mitt," as he calls it, hown here. It comprises a leather and which encircles the wrist, traps extending from this band to liimbles, or finger protectors". A and also extends around the hand arward of the thumb, affording proaction to the knuckles and palm of tie hand. The bricklayer in using his mitt will have the free use of lie fingers and hand at all times, !ie open spaces providing sufficient entilation.?Washington Star. While the Sandwich Islands were ominally Christian territory in 1862. hey have since reverted to heathen5m through the influx of Chinese, apanese and Koreans, as well as lany Mexicans. With the exception of Britain and imerica, there are no two countries i which the mile is of equal length. * THE SUNDAY SCHOOL, INTERNATIONAL LESSON COM WENTS FOR FEBRUARY 23. i ; j Subject: Jesus at the Pool of Beth* esda, John 5:1-18? Golden Text, Matt. 8:17 ? Commit verses ?, > > i_,uili?iit:iiiui-jr. TIME.?April, A. D. 28. PLACE. ?Pool of Bethesda. Jerusalem. EXPOSITION.?I. In Need of the Great Physician, 1-5. It was an oc I casion of great rejoicing that took ! Jesus un to Jerusalem, but there was | no joy in it for those whom the open- \ \ ing of the chapter pictures to us. ; There is not much real joy in any i feast without Christ in it. The com! ing of Christ brought joy to at least ! one miserable man.. Jesus went up to | the feast because this was the rej crairement of the Jewish law (Ex. 34:23; cf. Gal. 4:4). It was a wretched company that was gathered around this pool, this "multitude of them that were blind,halt, withered," I a picture of the multitudes of this j world. Men soju found out that the i best place to bring the3e afflicted ones j was to Jesus Himself (Matt. 15:30). I Wretched men sought the pool, but * .Tesus first seeks the men. Apparently the most miserable and helpless and hopeless case present was the one that Jesus specially noticed and helped. He had been there often (v. 7), and his case seemed to be beyond all hnnp- hut it was not bevnnd hone I because there is nothing too hard for | the Lord (Gen. 18:14; Jer. 32:17). I II. Made Whole by the Great Phyi sician, 6-9. Jesus saw this man in . his wretched and hopeless condition, j He always sees men in their wretchj edness, helplessness and hopelessness. : He was at once moved with compasj sion (cf. Matt. 14:14). Jesus al; ways has that feeling as He looks ! upon the sufferings and misfortunes , Df man (Heb. 13:8; 4:15, 16; Isa. ! 63:9). The fact that he had been a j long time in his wretchedness espei Mally awakened the sympathy of j Jesus. The fact that any sinner has oeen in his present evil case for a ' long time is no reason for supposing ! lesus will not take an interest in him. ! -ave, or help, or heal him, but a | reason for supposing that He will j :ake a special interest in him (Mark i 9:21; Luke 8:43; Acts 3:2; cf. 4:22; : 9:43; 14:8). Jesus apparently se! lected this man from all the sad cases j it the pool because it was the saddest . rod most hopeless case of all. He de[ lights in the hopeless cases. The question that Jesus put to the man (v. 6) implies that our being made whole depends upon our will. Jesus is ever willing and able. The only I auestion is, are we willing (Rev. ; 22:17), The only reason why any I man does not obtain life in Christ is ; oecause He will not come to Him !(John 5:40). To every one of us I Jesus puts the question to-day, "Wilt | :hou be made whole?" Jesus does aot ask the man if he would be made j aetter but if he would be made whole. ! The trouble with the average sinner ; is that he wishes to be made better, i Dut is not willing to be made whole. ; This man could not make himself ; whole. The man must first recognize now dire was his need; so it is with | ;he sinner. The only way of being ; made whole of which this man had I iny thought was through the efficacy I of the healing waters of the pool, but' i Jesus spoke a word and by the power I jf that word he was healed. He must j oe divine In whose word there Is so ! much power (Ps. 107:20). There is j power in the word of Christ to-day | to save all who will believe it (Rom. > 1:16). All one has to do to live is to I hear and believe (John 5:24). The jure was not only complete but lnI stjsitaneous (cf. Mark 1^1, 42; 5:29, 41, 42; 10:52; Acts 3:7, 8). HI. Confessing the Great Physician, 10-15. The man used his Christ-given strength by doing what the Lord Jesus told him to do, but he found apposition in doing, as Jesus bade him. So will every one that obeys Jesus (2 Tim. 3:12). The ob(ection raised was that he was transgressing the Jewish law. His all, sufficient answer was,- "He that hath 1 made me whole, the same saith unto me, etc." It is a sufficient answer to : my objection. The strength that | Jesus gives us should be used in obedience to Him. The man did not ! tell them yet who had made him | whole, because he did not know himi self, but as soon as he found out who i it was he told them without fear. He i 3id not wait for them even to ask j him. He himself sought an opporj tunity for witnessing. As soon as we i know who it is that has blessed us, j we ought to confess Him (Rom. 10:10; Matt. 10:32, 33). It took courage to confess Jesus to these men. Th? man did it because Ms heart was so full that his mouth must I speak (Matt. 12:34); One truly i saved cannot keep it to himself, i Jesus found the man after He had j healed him in the temple. Jesus . ought often to find us in the house of | God, after He has blessed us. Jesus' j counsel to the man, and to all whom i He heals, is worthy of earnest meditaj tion, "Sin no more." Evidently sin ! was the cause of this man's p -ovious j suffering, and Jesus to-day is ready to heal the misfortunes which are the ! result of our own sinning. If after j He has healed us of the sorrows i which are the result of our sinning we go back to our sinning again a ! worse thing will befall us (v. 14). . The Jews gave more thought to Jesus' ! disregard of their traditions than j they did to His goodness toward an : unfortunate man. Many to-day so j disregard their traditions that they ; quite overlook the beneficent work I God does through him. The hatred ] of the Jews toward Jesus for His disi regard of their tradition in perform! ing a good deed to the impotent man on the Sabbath went co far that they j sought to bill Him (v. 18). flew nine Kecord. I What is said to be a new world's rifle record was established at Lincoln, Neb., by Captain A. H. Hardy when he hit 992 marble targets out of a possible 1000. The marbles were seven-eighths of an inch in diameter, and were thrown at the regulation distance. The previous best known record was made by Adolphus Topperwein, of San Antonio, who hit 96S marble targets. Stole ftllnd Man's Dog. 1 The meanest man in Warren, Ohio, turned his meanest trick when John Tompkins, blind and dependent on | others to guide him about the city, was robbed of a collie dog he had just succeeded in training to lead him. The door of the shed in which I the dog was housed was broken open I. and the dog stolen. City's Fay Kol! $7(5,000,000. I The city of New York paid out in salaries in 1907 $76,21 5.066.99, according to the report of City Paymaster John H. Timmerman. It cost I $83,323.62 to make these payments. Doctors Die of Heart Disease. In Austria no less than forty-four out of every 100 doctors die of heart disease. **v -\M? ? .f 1 ^rhercd jor rhe fi I r\iMvrr Uniin II ^ I wyiLj AM I READY? . VTJi'en I pray that God will use me _,J As an instrument of grace, "i-l. Urging that I wait His bidding? < Any work and any place? Is it so? If to do His work He sends me Far from love and friends and bome, To a life of toil, where comforts, Ease and nlenty never come? j Will I go? When the causes scorned by others Earnest advocates demand, Or a soiled and sunken sister . Needs a kind, uplifting hand, Xs mine one? When a duty calls for labor In some pathway, leading through Neither recompense nor honor, If 'tis left for me to do, ' ' ' Is it done? When some service of the Master Calls for willing volunteer . To a sacrifice in secret, Am I ready, then, to hear I ' i And reply? When, by worldly glamour blinded. I am winning wealth and fame, If His service claims ray talents, Do I see it and exclaim, "Here ami!" ?Emma Wyman, in Zion's Herald. Character Building For the Future. We were sent into this world to build up characters which will be blessed and useful In that great future for which we are being trained. There is a niche which only we can fill, a crown which only we can wear, music which only we can waken, service which only we can render. God knows what these are; and He is giving us opportunities to* prepare for them. Life is our schoolhouse. Its rooms may be bare, but they are littered with opportunities of becoming fit for our great inheritance. The Incidents of dally life may be commonplace In the extreme, but on them as the material foundation we may build the unseen but everlast- 1 ing fabric of a noble and beautiful character. It does not no much mafc x ter whit we do, but the way in which we do it matters greatly. What we do may not live; but the way in which 1 we perform our common tasks becomes an indestructible part of our character, for better c?r worse, and forever. Suppose we do the little duties of life faithfully, punctually, thoughtfully, reverently?not for the praise of man, but for the "Well done" of Christ?not for the pavment we may receive, but because God has given lis o llHla nlo/in nt ttnrV trt /1ft til TTifi. UO Cb llktiw yAWVV VI. nv?u ?V wv great world?not because we most,, but because we choose?not as the* slaves of circumstances, bat as Christ's freed ones?then far down beneath the surge of common life ' the foundations of a character are laid, more beautiful and enduring than coral, which shall presently rear Itself before the eyes of men and an- ] gels, and become an emerald isle, green with perennial beauty, and vocal with the songs of Paradise. We ought, therefore, to be very careful how we fulfill the common tasks of daily life. We are making the character in which we have to spend eternity. We are either buildlng into ourselves wood, hay and Btubble, which will have to be burnt out at great cost; or the gold,, silver and precious stones, that shall bettings of beauty and joy forever.?-? J. B. Meyer. ??? \ , a Truth Incarnate. . i Incarnation is -the supreme law of *| all progress. Qod incarnates Himself in Jesus Christ, and the result Is a new revelation. Jesus Christ in-, carnates Himself in man, and the product is a new manhood. Man incarnates himself in sentiments, laws and institutions, and a new civilization appears in the world. This law: of incarnation is the phlloaophy of all history. It accounts for the mighty movements of the past. It explainsthe institutions of the present It points the way of progress In the future. History shows that personality is the moving and moulding power of the world?that all the great currents in life have flowed from personsi Organization is powerful, but no organization has ?* ever accomplished anything until some person has stood. at its centre and filled it with his ftrt/1 Ufa Truth ig mlchtv. and must prevail, but it never does prevail actually until It gets itself embodied, incarnated in a personality.?Home Herald. Happiness. The secret of happiness is not the size of one's purse, or the style of one's house, or the number of one's butterfly friends; the fountain of peace and joy is in the heart. Some professed Christians pinch and starve themselves into walking skeletons, say3 Dr. Cuyler, and then try to ex-, cuse themselves on the plea of illhealth or "constitutional" ailments. The medicines they need are from. Christ's pharmacy. A large draught of Bible, taken every morning,' a throwing open of the heart's windows to the promises of the Master, a fewwords of honest prayer, a deed or two of kindness to the next person whom you meet, will do more u> brighten your countenance and help your digestion than all the drugs of the doctors. If you want to get your aches and trials out of sight, hide them under your mercies.?Home Herald. Purely Personal. The conscience wmcn cannoi tnrow its burdens off is essentially personal. Remorse and penitence and all th& better aspirations of the soul are personal. The mount of prayer, the Cethsemane of agony, were solitary. One need not go to the desert nor to the cell; the profoundest spiritual experiences will create a solitude of their own.?Ephraim Peabody. Winvc nnd Feet Needed. Christianity ne.p.ds nol wings merelj. b;t feet. Triumph Over Consumption. An operation performed on a woman in a London hospital gives new hope to tuberculosis fighters. The woman, who was suffering from consumption in an advanced stage, was not expected to live more than a couple of days. The surgeons who performed the operation opened her back, cut away the ribs and removed' all portions of the lungs affected by; tuberculosis. Heretofore the difficulty about this operation has been to prevent the flow of blood from th? lungs, which always causcd almost immediate death The surgeon used; a special instrument for stanching the flow o? blood. ' ? J