The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, August 19, 1908, Image 6
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! 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.
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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