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I U/ v^vlAV/v}/\l/\'; vt/v.l/\(> v)y vli 0/ v!/ \!/i/ \!/\)>> I \l)\WK'/ vtAI/ v}> jl/ \ja?AW/? I w wwNl/vl/xt1 vt/ \t/?(/ \V> vj/\U\0> ! A FALLE 1 >irE5Ri5s5sE'3^^ I by freder CHAPTER XV. 10 Continued. Campion answered that he should not dream of asking Sybil to bind herself in any way, still less to sh.ve his present difficulties, but he hoped that a time would come when he should be justified in asking her to renew their engagement. "That's all very well," said the colonel; "still you will do me the favor not to hope for anything so?so unsuitable, by gad. From all I hear, sir, till yesterday?when I'm bound * ~ " *"? ? k^VtrttfA/1 11 r? mnnlv TX7C*1 ] tu say juu i/cua.?t? uuwwuiuui^ ?j'ou've not shown yourself very deserving of suc$ a girl as my Sybil. You'll not deny that, I suppose?" "I deny that I have ever consciously done anything to make me deserve lier less. If you will tell rae where you think I have acted unworthily, I think I shall je able to make you see you have done me an injustice." \ The colonel, however; after all Mrs. Staniland's fulminations against her former protege, only retained a general impression that he had taken an advantage of her by overcharging her for a worthless portrait of Sybil, which her father had not y^t been to see. "We won't go into that, sir," he said, softly, "there's no need. I dare say you could find excuses enough, if . that were all. But my sister gives me to understand that Sybil was taken by surprise yesterday afternoon,and said more than she really felt, and?and in short, as a gentleman, you wouldn't wish to press any advantage you may have had under such circumstances." "Does she, your daughter, make A*--* i o h , mat appeal; aaiu ^amyiuu, ui uu you?" "I am here to make it for her, sir; these are things a young girl can best say through her father." "If sne will write and tell me that it is as you say, or if you would let her speak to me, I would never trouble her again. And even as it is, I only ask leave to hope. I can't give that up, unless she orders me to." "Do you suppose I would tell you a lie?" demanded the colonel, hotly. "If Sybil had come with me, she would, I haven't the smallest doubt, tell you exactly what I tell you now, and that is " "Mrs. Staniland and Miss Helsworth," said Bales, opening the upper aoor, ana oyon, wnu a iuu& uj. uuustrained fear in her eyes, came down the steps and stood between the two men. "Let her speak for herself," said Campion, with a chill at'his heart. "Ha!" said the colonel, "Sybil, this is irregular, you know, irregular. You had no business to come here." "It's not my fault, Horace," said Mrs. Staniland, who had just made her appearance; "she found out that you had gone here, and nothing I could say would prevent her from coming, too?so of course I had to accompany her!" "Well, now she is here," said the innocent colonel, "let her tell Mr. Campion downright that she finds she mistook her feelings yesterday. Don't be frightened, my love; he has promised to take your word." "Are you mad, Horace?" said Mrs. Stanilaud, in an angry whisper; "it's for you to put a stop to this, and at once. The idea of leaving it to her." Sybil was looking from her father to Campion, with a puzzled contraction of her eyebrows. "I don't understand," she said. "Ronald, why do you look at me like that? What am I to tell him, papa?" "You told me she felt like that," the colonel was saying aside to his sister. "Would feel like that in time," ' she rejoined. "You are to tell him \ nothing," she said to Sybil; "leave him to your father and me." But Sybil had gone to her lover's side. "Nothing has happened to you, (then?" she s&d, softly; "tell me, why didn't you come last nighty I?I made so sure you would." He felt that he could not tell her the whole truth. "I was?unavoid ably detained," he said, cursing himself for the stiffness in both phrase and tone. . "I didn't think you would let anything detain you,1' she said, rather sadly. And just at that moment her eyes fell on the idol, which was on a chair by a window, with the palette knife, which had so nearly provided it with a grave, and which the inspector had returned to Campion, with other confiscated property. "Oh!" she cried, with an aweI on uv/iv icuctnun, it uad cu*ue ua.uK,. Was it that which detained you, Ronald?" "Yes," he said, "it is the old story, only worse?much worse." "Sybil," broke in Mrs. Staniland, "your father wishes you to go home t with me at once. How the most ordinary proper pride can allow you to speak to Mr. Campion at 411, after the manner in which he has thought fit to insult you, and the ingratitude (not that you would think anything of that) with which he has rewarded me, is one of those things I can't attempt to understand." "Papa," Sybil pleaded, "don't send me away?not just yet! You don't Irnnw hnw vr>n nnr? Aunf Hilarv hnth mi* understand Ronald. He has done nothing?at least, whatever he did do he never meant to do?it is all the ilol!" "All the idol!" repeated the colonel, blankly. "Do you know what you're talking about, my dear child?" "Yes, yes," she repeated, wildly, "look at it?that ugly thing on the chair. And it was I who gave it to him, that's the worst of it! Oh, I know I explain very badly, but then I don't in the least understand it myself." "Then I shouldn't try to explain it," said Mrs. Staniland, tartly. "I have very good reason to know that idol? unhappily, and the less Mr. Campion says about it the better. Any one el#- would have got rid of it long ago." "J don't know how any one else ,N IDOL ; IC ANSTEY. ? ??I IKI At/\)aIAI Al/^AtAtAww^w^ w^www^www I 1 would have managed," said Campioft; "no one could haye tried harder to get rid of it than I have; but the confounded thing won't go." "Won't go?" said the colonel, "that a curious way of speaking." "I have tried to sell it," said Campion, drearily, "but no one will buy or say 'thank you' for It. I even pawned it, and a knid friend redeemed it. I lose it, and it gets itself brought home somehow. I drop it into a canal,v but it doesn't stay there. I tried to bury it?weH, it wasn't buried." "Doesn't seem to me a bad sort of idol," said the colonel, critically, passing by these statements as willful exaggerations; "usual kind of Buddhist image, seen score of 'em in Burmah. Why should you be so anxious to get rid of it? What's wrong with it?" "I don't know," said Campion. "I can only say that ever since it came into this house nothing has been as it used to be. It began by killing Mrs. Staniland's dog for merely barking at it, as she will tell you herself." (Mrs. Staniland here intimated that she could give a very different version of that accident.) "In an evil hour I painted it into a portrait I was doing of your daughter, and in some abominable way, w^ien I saw it again, the idol had absorbed all her features and given her its own. I can't believe my Academy pictures would have been what they were if I bud not been in a sort of way bewitched. I splashed its face with paint on'Je, as a test?and I was perfectly color blind till I wiped' it ele$n again. There must be something the matter with it!" "With yourself, you should say," said Mrs. Staniland, "if you really believe all you're telling us. It lies between two things; either you are under a delusion, or?well, I leave the inference to you." "Then I am under a delusion, too," said Sybil, "for I believe it. And, ah! here is Mr. Nebelsen, he believes it, too?he will tell you so." The colonel was understood to say something about "confounded nonsense" as Nebelsen entered by thestudio door, and joined them with a look of mystic enthusiasm' and determination on his face. "That in that leedle idol there are maleficent properties resident?" he said in answer to Sybil, "certainly I beleaf him. More also I come hier now expressly to egsblain to Mr. Campion how and why, aggording to my latest solution-theory, this is scientifically possible, bribable even!" ? "Papa, you will listen, too?" cried Sybil. "Mr. Nebelsen?my father," she added, as the colonel gave a grudging acknowledgment of the introduction. "If Herr Nebelsen is going to try to persuade us that idolators are right and we are wrong," put in Mrs. Staniland, "I must really ask to be excused." "We had better hear anything Mr. Nebelsen may have to tell us," said the colonel, resignedly. And the Chela was by no means loath to detail his latest discovery to the larger audience. "First of all what I haf to tell you," he began, "is that your idol is most likely not a Buddhist emblem at all. He is, or so my goot friend the Brother Chowkydaree i-oll thinks, a Jain idol, and the Jains, as you know, are still a flourishing sect in India. You do not see what difference that makes? Well, I am going to tell you. Their images are all to commemorate some one who when alive was shust a very holy man?a 'tirthankar' he is titled. Now there is a tradition that, within the last hundert year, some one for a time got into the Saints' Galender without any business, and afterwards turns out to be not a true tirthankar at all,, but only an imposter. And what the Brother Loll beleafs, and I also, is that, not unlikely, that idol there on the chair is the very same which once was erected to him." "I see," said Campion, interested in spite of himself. "And that is how you would explain my putting the idol in that portrait, and gainting that fakir?why, it may even account for the barbaric coloring in those unlucky Academy pictures of mine!" "Perhaps, either vanity, or malice, or jealousy, I cannot say. But all the time a stronger purpose than all is siowiy snaping mmsen; Dy nis uraiiKIsh tricks he is striving, more and more, to make himself disliked." "With some success," remarked Campion; "I don't like him." "But why? Ach!. even I myself could not till quite lately cuess. At last he has found out that, hier, in this land, his idol is not abreciated ?he now desires to go away where it will be at home. So that my dear Mahatma was so right to say as he did, for I must now tell you I have no doubt, and so also Mr. Chowkydaree Loll, that what he meant to write was: 'Return the idol to the land, not hand, from which he came.' "Then to aggomplish this result, the imitation tirthankar spirit puts all the bressure he can upon Mr. Campion, and Mr. Campion can only respond to his wish to go by trying himself to part with him?but no, that is not what he wants at all, and every time he is taken out, he comes back, always a leedle more angry." "And where does he want to go to?" said Campion, "because I've no desire to detain him." "To India, of course?but over all India there are Jains, and Mr. LcM does not even knt#v to which part the legend belongs. But there at least you haf an explanation. I gif it you for wjmt it is vurt." And Nebelsen, having finished his lecture, looked about him with much innocent satisfaction. His hearers received it, as might be expected, in various manners. The colonel, who did not happen to hav- had any previous acquaintance with theosophical doctrines, seemed considerably taken aback, and gasped where he had begun by gaping. "Well, this Indian magic's a curious thing. I've seen something or it in my time; makes you doubt your own censes, by gad! And then, wnen you come to look at it, it is rather too* bad to put these native gods about our houses as ornaments. We shouldn't like it if a Parsee stuck up ?well, say one of our eagle lecjterns," said the colonel casting about for an illustration, "and made a hatstand of it. We should call it bad taste on his part now." "Oh, tnere's no question about Mr. Campion's taste in this matter. But I can see youi half-believe already. Thank goodness, here comes a rational person?how did you find out we werevhere, Lionel?" "They told me at Sussex place," he replied. "I wanted to explain my absence last night. I must say, Campion," he added, looking him meaningly in the face, "I didn't expect to find you here!" "Mnt in hte own studio!" cried Sybil, resenting an indefinable something in his tone; "he's not you, Lionel." , The unhappy Campion was dumb. He suddenly remembered when and how he had met him the night before, and the misunderstanding that Yarker's well-meant evasion must have occasioned; worse still, he saw that Babcock remembered,-too, and meant mischief. "And Nebelsen, too?" said Babcock; "dear me; two unexpected pleasures! " On reflection he concluded not to make any allusion to the Ch^V-i'B electro-biological performance. "I suppose, Campion," he went on, "the magistrate thought a fine ^rould meet your case, eh?" "What magistrate?" cried Mrs. Staniland, scenting a special providence. ^ "Hasn't he told you?" said the amiable Babcock, who had realized from Sybil's expression that extreme measures were necessary. "After all, though, I don't suppose you would be here like this if he had. But it's his story, I won't spoil it." "And I," said Campion, "see no occasion to tell it." "Pardon me," said Mrs. Staniland, acidly, "there is every occasion." "It's unfair to press him," said Babcock, "for, really, now, judging from what I saw I doubt if he can remember it himself. And every one has his own ideas about how to spend an evening with combined profit and pleasure." "Ronald was with me yesterday afternoon," said Sybil, proudly; "I'm not afraid to hear what he did afterward! " "You have that quality, my ch.id," said Babcock, suavely, "which the poet tells us is superior to a Norman extraction; take my advice and ask no questions." "Ronald," said Sybil, with a sweet imperiousness, "tell me!" The hoplessness of telling such a story then and there came upon him with a crushing force. By what evidence could he support it? Who would believe him against Babcock? He turned away with a stifled groan. "Everything's against me!" he said, "I can't even tell you, Sybil." And at this moment the door above opened and Bales' stolid walnut face looked down upon them. "Some one called and says he must see you at once, sir," he announced, "from the police station." Was this infernal idol about to bring some new disaster upon him? when, too, he had thought to have xiMth nnlirpmpn for a while! Campion's heart seemed to reverse its action; he stood helpless, speechless, in the track of this unknown advancing calamity. "What police station?" Mrs. Staniland inquired in an awful voice. "I don't know, of course," said Babcock, "but I should imagine it was the establishment which had tho honor oi receiving him last night!" "This is too disgraceful!" cried Mrs. Staniland, indignantly. But Sybil nad come nearer to her lover's side. "Papa?Aunt Hilary!" she cried, "he has done nothing disgraceful; it is that idol again! Ronald, was it not?" "You know I would never deceive vou. darline." he said. "It was." "Bah!" cried the colonel, in a violent revolt, "there are limits, really, Mr. Campion! You can't make that ridiculous image the scapegoat for everything, you know." To be Continued. Tragedy of Fish Life. "Fish never die a natural death," said an old fisherman who has observed as he fished. "If they did, bodies of dead fish would be floating on the surface of the water all the while, because such bodies, if unmolested, would have to float. "If fich in their native element were never molested I bciievc they would never die. If they had sufficient food, Which would be impossible if they no longer preyed on one another, there would be no reason for their dying. It was to prevent such uninterrupted tenure of life that all fish were made fiercely nredatory. if not remorselessly cannibalistic, as many kinds are. "A fish's life is a constantly strenuous one and one entirely selfish. A fish live, only to'ea^and to avoid being eaten."?Los Angeles Times. Queerly Bi-Partisan Newspaper. One of the oddest newspapers in the world is one named the Wochenblatt, which is published in Gruningen, a small town of some 1200 in Jlciui Iclli L?> ill U1C uailtuii Ul Cj LI 1 l v^i J | 1U Switzerland. It is the only newspaper in the place, and is at one and the same time the organ of the Liberal Conservatives and the Social Democrats. Pages one and two belong to the Liberals and pages three and four to the Sociulists, and the two abuse one another heartily in its pages.?New York World. An average of sixty words a mlnuta over a period of four hours was attained by M. Oudet in the first national typewriting endurance championship of France, and he has now been declared the winner of the championship.?London Chronicle. In some countries the rabbit produces seven famili?c :n the course of a year. A ??, I iNew iore uuy:?me vogue in uie I sleeveless coat appears to be an ever i growing one, and nothing prettier t or better suited to the warm weather cculd be found. This one is simplicity itself, yet drapes the figure with ' graceful lines and folds aud can be utilized for almost every seasonable material. In the Illustration It makes part of a costume and is mad'e of 1 buff linen braided with white sou- g t / / i tache combined with embroidery. 'In f place of the soutache and the em- c broidery applied trimming can be 1 used if 'it is desirable to lessen the p labor of making. 1 'PVi/a Ic niQrln In nno nlppp t.llfi t I only seam being that at the centre e , back. It is held beneath the arms f by means of straps and can be closed \ vith ornamental buttons and cord as s illustrated or in any way that may be fc liked. I Matching Waists. 5 There are waists made of guipure c lace in dull colorings, either broad in- . sertions being employed or the allover lace. They are mounted usually 1 upon matching taffeta, and are worn ^ with self-colored skirts of voile or other lightweight materials used in the construction of suits. The idea Is not a new one, but the perfection reached in coloring laces to match the various fabrica which enter into . the makeup of suits makes these lace | w aioio wvy clllictxti vt* dujuutts iu iu< semi-colored costume. Embroidered Coats. The newest coats are cut with the long panels down each side of the front and each side of the back, which are heavily embroidered with braid and handwork. A remarkable thing about these is that they extend almost to the knees, while the middle of the sides and the back are quite short, the slit extending above the waist. An c TTurr * 1 The boa is dainty as possible, very small but very ruffly, with pleated 1 butter-coloied lace mounting to the v ears and chin in a thick ruche, a c smaller frill pleated about the base of o the throat, and a ribbon tied between t bowed either in front or behind. t |S5pri|% Hand-Made Trimming. It is the gown with the hand-made rimming that is considered smart. Silk Gloves. Kid and silk gloves, while beauiful, cannot possibly be worn every iay, and the only things that take heir place are chamois and silk. The ormer become stiff and shrink when cashed, so the latter are now more enerally worn. This year they come q all colors, all lengths, and are emroidered in many pretty ways; emnamafar? In oolf.tnnoc thpv nro in lUlUCl^U iU UVil bVUVU) v-v,, w w | ood taste. Separate Hat Trimmir.gs. Oive cf the novelties of the day is 0 have half a dozen trimmings for ne hat. Long ago, when economy pent hand in hand with variety, romen often did this trick, just as hey furbished up a black frock with ows of different colored ribbon and fore it over different colored slips, 'he thing was done differently then. 1 hat was swept of one kind of trimling and another kind substituted, ifferent in idea and fabric, as well s in color. The way.they obtain ifferent trimming now is to make rown bands, with octopus bows of arying colors of taffeta and satin lbbon. * These they attach to the at with strong pins that have colred glass heads to match in color. Five-Gored Under Petticoat. Close fitting underwear* is absoutely essential to the smart fitting own at the present time and the 3f ive-gored under petticoat makes a lesirable feature of the wardrobe. This one can be laid in inverted ileats at the back or gathered as iked, although the former method is o be preferred unless the figure is :xceptionally slight. It can be made rom lingerie materials and trimmed | vith embroidery or lace and it is also uited to flannel skirts. Also it can ie finished at the upper edge with a ielt or under-faced as liked. The skirt is made in five gores and vhen the frill is used it is arranged >ver the lower edge. The side gores fitted bv means of hip darts, so loing away with all fulness at that I >olnt. The quantity of material required , or the medium size is three and one- i lghth yards of material twenty-sev- j n or two and three-quarters thirtylx inches wide with three and orh- J lalf yards of embroidery seven inches vide and two and three-eighth yards if insertion to trim as illustrated; or ne yard of additional material thiry-six inches wide if the frill is made 0 match. f 1 I Tht i 6unbatj-&cT7o6f INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS FOR AUGUST 23. Subject: Friendship of David and Jonathan, 1 Sam. 20?Golden Text, Prov. 17:17?Commit Verse 42? Read 1 Sam. 18:1-5, 19:1-7. TIME.?1062 B. C. PLACE.? Gibeahc EXPOSITION.?I. Saul's rage a< David and Jonathan, vs. 30-35. There is something singularly beautiful in the mutual love of David and Jonathan. The worldly interests of the two were opposed (v. 31). Jonathan was heir-apparent to the throne, but David was the divinely chosen king, yet each quite lost sight of selfish ambition in his love for the other. Jonathan loved David as his own soul (v. 17; ch. 18:3) and at the peril of hig own life protected him from the anger of Saul (vs. 32, 33). In doing this he voluntarily renounced his own aspirations to the throne. David on his part bitterly lamented the deatl^ of Jonathan, though that death clears his own way to the throne (2 Sam. 1:17-27). David had been perfectly safe in Naioth. Saul had sent three companies to take him, but the Spirit of God had come upon them and hindered them from carrying out Saul's awful designs. Then Saul himself had been humbled (ch. 19:2024). There seems to have been little need for David's fleeing from such a place of security as that (v. 1; cf. Ps. 91:1). Jonathan, it is true, was a true and mighty friend, but it was better to lean upon the arm of God than upon any arm of flesh. Jonathan covenanted to find out for David just what his father's attitude toward him might be. He was to tell him the exact facts, whether they were good or evil. How often we pee moral or spiritual peril confronting those to whom we profess to be friends and yet do not warn them. Jonathan had been very confident at first that his father plotted no evil (v. 2), but David had shown him that he might be mistaken. Evidently his confidence in his father was not very deep. It is an appalling thing when a father's character is such that even his own son, a son of so trustful a nature as Jonathan, is forced to distrust him. Jonathan soon discovered how deep his father's hatred of David was (v. 30). Saul, in his wrath at Jonathan because of his friendship to David, insults Jonathan's mother. Ho no longer regards Jonathan as his own son (v. 30). His wrath at David will be satisfied with nothing short of David's death. At any cost David must die. Jonathan sought to arouse his father to the baselessness of his wrath at David (v. 32). This only Intensifies Saul's anger. He will even murder his own son who seeks to defend the one he so intensely hates (v. 33). There iiad ueen a time when Jehovah had been with Saul (v. 13). But He was with him no l&nger (cf. ch. 18:12). The change in Saul's experience was apparent to all who knew him at all intimately. So mucn of the Bible record of Saul's history is taken up with the dark picture of his last days, the days of his disobedience and apostacy, that we forget there was a better time Jn hl's history when God was with him (ch. 10:7), when the Spirit of God was upon him (ch. 11:6), when he went out to do battle for Jehovah, when he was humble, brave, generous, large-hearted and obedient to God. It is this bright beginning of his public life that makes the dark ending so unspeakably sad. This awful change all came because he rejected the Word I of the Lord (ch. 15:23"). The saddest men on earth are those who are forced to say, "I once knew what it meant to have the Lord with me, but He is not with me now." There are many of whom this is true. Jonathan gave up at last his attempt to reconcile Saul to David (v. 34). His auger and grief were not so much for his father's treatment of himself as for his treatment o? David whom he loved. II. The Parting of David and Jon* atlian, vs. 35-42. It would not do for anyone to see Jonathan with David, for that would imperil his own life; bo they had arranged a very simple nlan bo that Jonathan could let David f ? - know whethei^it was safe for him to come out of hiding and at the same time not let anyone else know there had been any communication between David and Jonathan (vs. 18-21). Whatever the perils might be, they must meet at least once more. Dlavid did not for a moment distrust Jonathan's fidelity. Jonathan might hava good reason to play him false, but he knew he would not do it. Jonathan ought to have gone a step further and have come out of the camp of David's enemies and cast in his lot with him he knew was God's chosen man (cf. ch. 23:16-18).. There are many today who are ^willing to help David but who are not willing to go to Him without the camp bearing His reproach (Heb. 13:13). The parting cf David and Jonathan was exceedingly touching. There were demonstrations of aifection on the side of each such T*lo*rt/3 eoome f r\ as was rai'eijr oecu. ua?in have been the one who was most overcome (v. 41). Though they went different ways they were to be united by an everlasting covenant (v. 42; cf. vs. 13-17). David remembered the covenant when he came into power (2 Sara. 9:3). As it "was an everlasting covenant that Jonathan wished David to make with him. so it is an evarlist| ing covenant that our David makes ! with us, and our David also makes a covenant, not with us alone, but with our s?*ed as well (Acts,1 6:31: 2-23). Chorus Girl Famine. London theatres are suffering from a scarcity of chorua girls?that is, chorus girls who are good both to see and hear. A peculiar feature of the famine of feminine beauties for the stage is the fact that more girls are applying for jobs than for years. The scarcity of girls who can sing is particularly noticeable. One London manager says he examined 200 appli cants without finding one wno met all the requirements. "Too many of them are trying to educate their emotions," explained one manager; -whereas they should pay attention to their feet, figure and voice." Russians to Quit Manchuria. Tho Russo-Chinese Bank, at Mukden, in spite of the protest of the Russian legation at Pekin, derided to I immediately withdraw its branches from that portion of Manchuria over which Japan exercises influence. The bank's withdrawal from Southern Manchuria promotes the Russo-Japanese entente by further demarking the spheres of influence of the two countries in Manchuria. ' v ' ' / 7%.' ! * - /-r^v-:- ' v " ' . - ; . 1 '7 jfla/e/m rjwml . ' I ,^^1wmmmmamm?mmMM I From fAe Writings of Great Preachers. ABIDE WITH US, O LORD. In fiery chariots of the west ascending, The aay hath passed in triumph, Lord, to Thee! Its fallen mantle glows with twilight blend*, ing J :-J On the far shadowy spaces of the sea. It is toward evening. Oft at noontide roaming Our hearts have met with Thee in sweet , accord; Now in the peace and leisure of the gloaiar ing, Abide with us, 0 Lord! J The ocean like a dreamless child is sleeping, Hushed in the hollow of Thy mighty hand; One star a-tremble in the west is keeping Lone watch on all night's silent borderland. Enter, dear Lord- our loaf is vet unbroken. Our water shall be wine by Thee outpoured! We yearn to hear Thy "Peace be with you," spoken. Abide with us, 0 Lord! Low murmurs through the seaward bough? ' QPfl TToffo^ > I A breath of roses steals along the shore; More calm, more sweet, Thy loving word? engrafted In our responsive hearts for evermore. Vet more we crave. Oh, tarry in our leis- s ure! And to the longing of our souls afford Ihy love and joy in overflowing measure: Abide with us, 0 Lord! It is toward evening. Soon from out the * shadows .'ijff,. A deeper shadow on our brows must fall; So soon across the dim familiar meadows The hour will come when we must leave 'i them all. Ah, leave us not with Death alone to ? wander, Let Thine own hand unloose the silver > cord; Though night fall here, until the day dawn, yonder. . , Abide with us, 0 Lord! ?Pittsburg Christian Advocate. ' ' ' .. . The Operations of the Spirit. Perhaps there was never a time Itt the history of the church when therewas a greater need for a discerningspirit. Much has been written con- A cerning *he work of the Holy Spirit, J and yet the mode of His operations and the variety of His manifestations are but feebly realized by many. Towalk in the Spirit is to have all our activities in Him. We become themouthpiece through which He- ) breatnes his prayer ana an instru- ; ment through which He performs, '?' His work. The many-sidedness- of the Spirit'sministry is an inexhaustible study. A. '< B. Simpson, commenting on the necessary feature of the Comforter's work,. ; says: m "The Holy Spirit when He takes; possession of a yielded heart, becomes pre-eminently the Spirit of intercession. The newly baptized [ soul is often perpleied about its lead- ? /: ings and burdens of prayer. They are not always manifested through joyful experiences, but are often: painful and perplexing burdens. Until we come to understand His voice i-\ we are apt to sometimes think that we are under the temptation or cloud of the adversary's presence. Thebrain will become oppressed, and theheart distressed, and we may be-' tempted to think that there is somecloud between us and our Lord. "At such times let us'simply roll over our burden on mm wunout iry- . lag to understand it, and simply pray for what He means for us to ask. As we do so we shall And our heartdrawn out in intense intercession and rest will come to the burdened soul. Sometimes particular persons or things will be suggested to us, and we shall find great liberty in pleading for them. After such seasons of waiting upon God our spirit will become rested, refreshed and greatly quickened. "We may not always learn directly of the rfesult of our intercession for others, but we will know God has accepted our service, and often we shall find in the course of Hi- providence, that some evil was averted, or some blessing bestowed through our prayer. in some other life. "As we follow on to know the Lord 99 we shall find this spirit of interces- I sion mingling with all our spiritual ,' ,* 1M| Hfo nnrl rnnnine as an undertone1 H I even in the midst of the busiest ac- H tivities of our bands and brain. It is possible to 'pray without ceasing' and yet be intensely occupied in the prao I tical duties of life, carrying music in H our hearts, while our busy feet the- H holy strain repeat."?Living Waters. M Patience Glorifies God. *9 One of the grandest ways of prais- H Ing God is not by singing psalms and H hymns; that is a very sweet way of H praising Him, but a grander way is H by being' quite calm in time of -H trouble, quite happy in the hour of K| distress; just dwelling with God, and ' finding all your grief assuaged in H His blessed presence. How really HE and truly a child praise Ms father when he just bears anything from --H Him? "It must be right for my R| Father does it." And I believe that H when a child of God says, "It is the Lord let Him do what seemeth Him Wj good," he is praising God more than H he could with the cornet or the high H j sounding cymbal.?rsewnnss 01 me, n The Only Prize. i| | I daily feel sin remaining In thl? H I corrupt nature, which was and is so odious and detestable in the presence H of our Heavenly Father that by no OH other sacrifice could or might the H same be purged, except by the blood OH and death of the only and innocent Son of God.?John Knox. eh The Spirit of War. 59 The crying shame of Christendom^^? mntinnanrp nf the war snic^HEH , JO 1U I ..?? ?? - . and its increasng armaments, I while professing loudly its allesJ^^HNS to a prince of peace and its to a God of love.?Rabbi Fleischer, Boston. Best That the best all which leads a man to say to is he leaves the church, Xov^HBBHH can be a better man. Jamaica's First Strike. ^R9H The first strike in Jamaij^^^^^^^H Inaugurated at Kingston when the cisarmakers empl^^HaM^^H the Jamaica Tobacco branch of the American Company, quit work beca^H^^Hg|H company withdrew the ancie^^^HHHH lege of the men to make clg^H^BWH Historic Mansion Pcstroy^^^^^^^H Stonehaven Court, Stroud. land, where Queen Elizabeth slept, has been destroyed by