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,5?|l ^HSSHSHSHSH5ESHSHEE5HSH5HS I'themans ffi By EFFIE ADELA V$?5H52SH5H5H5ESE5Z5ESH5HS2 CHAPTER II. 3 11 f Continued. e "By all means," was the answer, t and Enid turned as he bent to speak i to her kindly, feeling a sensation of t admiration for this handsome man, I with his bronzed face and manly figure. ^ As they reached the ei^ranc^ to the garden, Dorothy stopped suddenly. h "Oh, my bangle!" she exclaimed; t "my diamond bangle! It is gone!" i nerriman looked to the 1 ground. s "I know," continued the girl, 1 quickly, "I must have dropped it by the chair. Oh, I hope it will not be j] lost; J prize it very highly!" c "I will return at once," said Lord h Derriman. b "Let me go," put in Enid, timidly; but she felt her cousin's fingers grip her arms, and Dorothy had accepted s the offer with many apologies, and c the young man had disappeared before her arm was released. s Dorothy looked about her swiftly; li then drew a letter out of her pocket. "Take this!" she commanded rath- r er than said, and holding Enid by the v shoulder. "Go down that path; you t will come to when, they call the wood; s go in through the gate?if it is shut r you must climb it; a little way in you o will meet a man; give him that letter, s f!nmc> hark as soon as you can?you e understand?" Enid lifted her pure, true eyes to n the other girl's face, flushed and agi- il tated, yet beautiful in its agitation. " "Is this something wrong?" she t whispered. j Dorothy stamped her foot, and a n smothered exclamation broke from her lips; then the knowledge that she } must diplomatize came to her. s "It is for charity. You know what d papa Is! This is a poor man I want u to help, and I don't want any one but t you to know! Now you see?" Enid did not quite see. A hundred g different thoughts rushed to her y mind, chief among them being why v Dorothy should not give this charity t to the poor man herself, but utterly bewildered and overwhelmed by Dor- t othy's energy, she turned and moved f away. Once she looked back, but her d cousin waved her on most angrily, and she walked quickly down the path. The way was rough and in- a clined a little, and Enid carefully held s the delicate lace of her frock from u the clinging embrace of the brambles;- s the music died away in the distance,- s and only the sound of the birds and h the occasional sigh of the trees in the h summer breeze disturbed the silence, h She walked on and on till she g reached the gate. It was unlocked; she pushed it open and advanced a s few yards into the shade of the t wody inclosure. Here she stopped C and looked round. At first she saw t nothing, but after a moment she li became aware of the presence of a P man leaning moodily against a tree, t smoking. Enid hesitated. Certainly this did * not look like a needy person or one u who should be the recipient of charity, but she felt that he was the one n Dorothy had meant, so she went tim- idly toward him. As her light footfall sounded on the ground he lifted I his head; for one instant a sharp, i almost triumphant look overspread his face, the next his brow clouded, h and he compressed his lips, on the y upper one of which a soft golden- a brown mustache grew, as he took in the girl before him. fl "If you please," Enid said, timidly, holding out the note, "Miss Knebwell o has sent you this." v He pushed himself from the tree tntn n etnnriinir nnsitinn t "Who are you?" he asked, sharply, I and Enid felt instinctively that he was not of refined origin, his voice was so common and coarse. to "I am her cousin, Enid Leslie." He took the note, and pushing his I hat hack on his head, opened it leis- h urely. Enid turned away, now her E errand was done, but he stopped her "Wait," he said; "I may wish to d send some reply." ? 1 She stood still, and as he opened the letter she had a good opportunity i to observe him. Rarely, even in her > dreamy moments alone with her painting, had she conjured up a more a strikingly handsome face; it was t more than this, the features were 1 purely Grecian, the brows noble-look- I ing, the eyes of deep, star-like blue, * fringed with lashes a woman might * have envied. Enid saw that the com- 1 plexion was as rarely fair as the coun- > tenance perfect, .though a faint shade 1 pf brown was spread over the pink- r finted skin, yet, despite all this, the t ?irl let an intuitive wave of dislike 8 and fear for this man. pass through s her mind. The face was beautiful * In shape and outline, but the eyes 1 were soulless, and the mouth bespoke * cruelty, weakness and deceit. While ' ehe wondered vaguely what charity \t could be this well-clad person could * J T -i. il.J 1 1 ^ ^ * * ueeu,.ue siaiueu ner oy uuering a c loud oath, crunching the paper in his * . hand, then throwing it on the ground 1 and stamping on it. t Enid's hand went to the tree near 1 which she stood; the brute passion on ( this man's face alarmed her. the * coarse words jarred her. As he i ground his heel on the latter he sud- 1 denly lifted his head, and his eyes I rested on the pair of pure ones opposite. J Something in their depths stopped him; he frowned. ? "Go back to yer cousin, miss," he said, shortly, "and tell her what you < have seen me do, how you have seen me treat her letter. Confound her!" "Is that all?" she asked, timidly. "All that you can do," was his answer, given in a dogged tone. "The rest I can manage. Enid bowed simply. "Good afternoon, sir," she said in her gentle, courteous manner. The man took no notice of her salu- j HSa5ESESHSH5HSHSESHSESST?> 11 heloved]!; IDE ROWLANDS. I S ^ UJ si SH5aSESHSH5H5HSH5H5HSHtli^V d s1 ation, but stood with a frowning L ace, and hands plunged in his pock- gj its, as she wended her steps out of he wood. She was half-way up the tj ncline when she heard her name ^ ireathed softly, and, looking up, saw d Dorothy. , "Well?" asked the girl. Her lips ^ vere white and pressed together. Enid hastily repeated what the man iad told her, and immediately she felt ler heart beat fast at the horrible exsession that came over her cousin's ^ ovely face. It was but for an in- r( tant, however; the next Dorothy was h lerself again; she took Enid's arm. "Come this way! Pretend to adaire the roses when Lord Derriman n omes back, and swear by all you tj told holy not to mention what you w lave done to a soul. Swear!" s< Enid trembled slightly. ^ "I can not swear, Dorothy, "she an- gj wered, "but promise you, and you an trust me." ? Tinrnthv Innkeri at her sharnlv. but aid nothing. The earnest eyes up- gl Lfted to her satisfied her. jr She pushed the slender, blackobed figure on before her into the g( rilderness of rose trees that scented t( he air for yards around, and as the sJ ound of a man's foot approaching b( eached her, she Immediately bent ver a cluster of deep red-hued bios- , oms in a splendid imitation of af cstasy. . "Oh, Enid," she cried, "are these ' iot beautiful? Look!" Then turn g her golden head, she went on: Dear Lord Derriman, what can I say ^ o you? See! I picked up my bangle ust two yards from where you left j ae. I am so sorry!" "Don't mention it, Miss Knebwell. rou know I am only too pleased to ^ erve you in any way, and I am in!eed glad you have found your treasire. I was just going to give orders o have the whole place scoured." ^ Dorothy repaid this speech with a ;entle look from her eyes, and the . oung man's bronzed face flushed * pith delight at the expression in hem. E "And Miss Leslie," he said, kindly, n rn i n ff Ia T?n?/1 'e cmoll rVi^inlrin rr uiuiu^ l,v/ o ouiaii, oui xuniug ^ orm, "how do you like the rose garen?" i tl "Very much," murmured the girl. jr She was aghast, wretched, confused t her cousin's easy falsehood and ^ trange ways. Deception was a thing ^ inknown to Enid. She felt the same d! ensation of pity pass through her as he gazed at the young man before ler as she had experienced when she b( iad watched Dorothy dismount from g ler tired horse without a sign of xatitude or thoughtfulness. "He looks so good, I like him," she eJ aid to herself, and forthwith she fell n o sketching a mental picture, with Jervais, Lord Derriman, as the cen- ^ ral object, while Dorothy chatted on aughingly, looking to her host the urest, sweetest and loveliest creaure he had ever beheld. "And now to find our chaperon, ^ 3nid," she observed, after a few mintes. "And have some tea. And you aust come and see my mother, please ?Bhe has been asking for you." w "Oh, how negligent I have been! ,ead me to her at once," cried Miss D [nebwell, regretfully. "I want to introduce Miss Leslie to ^ er also. If I mistake not, I knew our father well, Miss Leslie, years ^ go. What a grand artist he was!" s( Enid clasped her hands, and a color lushed to her cheeks as he said this. st "Poor Uncle Charles!" sighed Dorthy, before Enid could speak, "I always loved him." "I have .two sweet, delicate picures from his brush," continued Lord )errimans smiling. j "Oh! may I?" The girl stopped. . "May you see them? With all my .. ieart." "Another time; not now, darling," )orothy interrupted. "We must get gj lome, you know; we dine out totight." ti Enid kn^w Dothlne- of this and In. leed, it was only an excuse. Dorothy lad no other engagrment. "Come again, soon," Lord Derrinan said to Enid, "and you shall see our father's pictures." She lifted her eyes to him, and he f( ilmost uttered an exclamation as he leheld their full beauty; even Doro- t( hy's handsome orbs paled before the t, >atbetic depths and sweetness of ^ hese sapphire stars. The mention of ^ ier father's na^?e served as another tj ink to draw Enid's heart to this poung man. She was content to folow behind and listen, till they eached Lady Derriman's chair, and , hen, once more, her cheeks flushed, md pleasure pushed away the pain j md unhappiness that clamored in her ^ >reast from the strange events that . lad com<5 to her, as she received gen- c le words and further praise of her lead father. v She was silent as the carriage bore hem away; she longed to be alone md think. All the eavetv. the color. he life, seemed to die out of Dorothy ^ {nebwell's face as they drove swiftly ^ hrough the grounds of Bromley ^ tfanor. Enid noticed that she shiv?red every now and then; but Misa ^uthbert slumbered in a genteel fashon, and the change in her brilliant, j laughtv young charge was unnoticed jy her. As they reached Knebwell Hall, ? Snid waited. n "Shall I leave this dress at your?" ;he hegan. "Keep it?keep it!" was Dorothy's ibrupt answer. a She mounted the stairs to her ^ oom. and as she passed the bend s 2nid caught a glimpse of her face, s ;rown almost ghastly pale, with a p lark blue mark beneath her eyes and o ound her tightly compressed lips. n "Poor Dorothy!" thought Enid, t< hough why she could scarcely harve t( old. Then she. loo, toiled wearily n ip to her shabby room. She was I] ? red out; the afternoon had been so i cciting, so strange, it seemed to have ipped her strength entirely. When quite alone she took off ttia ress, carefully folded it, and placed with the hat, gloves and sunshade; le was not sure that her cousin had nderstood what she had said. At all rents, she had no use for such smart othes. Like Cinderella, she had merged from her corner?and now le must return to rags! When she was attired in her usual mple evening gown of black grenaIne she took her pencil, and in a few :rokes she drew the head of Gervais, ord Derriman; then, side by side, ae let her pencil work, almost inoluntarily, on another face?that of le man she had met in the woods for er Cousin Dorothy. When she had one both she gazed at them earnestly, wondering vaguely what could ave induced her to sketch them toether. Little did she think that a me would come when she would aze at that paper and understand le strange impulse that had guided er pencil, and that a shudder of horjr would come over her as she beeld the two faces as she had drawn lem this day. It was Sir Robert's desire that his iece should always take her place at le dinner table when no company as present, and so when the gong junded Enid woke up, and pushing er drawing into a box in her trunk le descended hastily. She found only Dorothy and Miss uthbert in the large dining room. Miss Knebwell wore a loose white own that clung to her graceful form 1 long folds and made her more lover than usual. She had bunched her olden hair into a curly mass on the )p of her head, and to Enid she was | mnly exauisite. full of poetry and eauty. "Papa has an extra twinge In his )ot or his temper," she said, curtly, 5 she saw Enid pause before taking er chair. "So sit down; he will not >me to-night." Enid obeyed. She noticed that her )usin ate nothing, and she herself ad little appetite this evening. When Enid came out from the dinig room and went to get her needleork she heard her uncle's voice lised, loud and deep, but she passed le door quickly and tried to forget lis as she sat alone in the huge salon aiting for Dorothy to come. It was rowing dark when Miss Knebwell ivept in, and Enid rose hastily from le piano, where she was singing soft to herself. Miss Cuthbert had gone > her own room. "Shall I ring for lamps?" asked nid, timidly. Dorothy made no answer, and the vo girls sat in the gloaming in comlete silence, save for the ticking of le clock and the cawing of the rooks I i the trees outside. Every now and then Enid shivered, j 1 all the long, wretched years she i ad passed she had never felt as sh? ! [d to-night. J./U1 UVUJ OUUUCUJJ IVOVi "I am going to bed. Tell Cuth*rt, if she comes down, I have gone, he need not sit up any?*' Before she got further the door as opened hurriedly and Simmonds j itered, the light from the hall lamp j ashing in with him. "Miss Dorothy! Miss Dorothy!" j e cried, in a voice that was thick i ith agitation, "for heaven's sake, >me at once! My?" "What is it?". Enid had risen, and she gazed at i er cousin, who stood with hands | asped before her, looking in the lm light like some beautiful statue, j Dorothy spoke almost in a whisper, j id before the man could take breath, , ent on: "Sir Robert is ill? Well, send for j r. Waters, Simmonds." Her voice jarred on Enid's ears, lit Simmonds turned to go. "Dr. Waters won't do no good, ,'iss Dorothy. I? Oh, don't you ;e, miss? Sir Robert is dead! He lying back in his chair, cold and zaciii ,iu; , To be Continued. Scarlet Fever. a mild case of scarlet fever is the | lost dangerous type of the disease j nat local boards and health officers i ave to contend with. It is generally irough carelessness in the managelent of these that whole communies become infected. An apparently imple case of so-called scarlet rash r scarletina unrestricted by quaranne, may be the means of infecting thers with the most malignant form f scarlet fever, hence the necessity )r strict precautions in every case j otwithstanding its seeming mild- | ess. The various conditions frequently allowing scarlet fever are of such a jrious and permanent character as j demand the very strictest preventive measures. Even the mildest irms of the disease may, and often o result in some permanent afflic:on, perhaps unsuspected at the time 1 f apparent recovery. The physician r parent who fails or neglects to reort all such cases, no matter how light the attack, and the local offiials who are careless in enforcing ae prescribed regulations pertaining 5 quarantine and disinfection, are eserving of the condemnation of the Dmmunitv, and should be prosecuted a the full extent of the law.?Iowa [ealth Bulletin. An Alternative Suggested. It was at a theatre in Manchester, 'he KiDg, aged and infirm, was lessed with two sons. He was pacag up and down the stage with a ronrioH trrmhlpH look, exclaminc loud: "On which of these my sons shall bestow the crown?" Immediately came a voico from the allery: "Why not 'arf a crown apiece, gov'or?"?London Mail. When Coon's Good Eating. A few of those who know how paltable a well cooked coon is when rst frozen, then cooked and seaoned, have enjoyed a couple such uppers- recently. Plenty of sweet otatoes, big red peppers, a touch of nion and old fashioned cornbread luffins on the side cause your plato } be passed and repassed to the mas;r server, who dishes out the tender ieat with fork and ladle.?Mexico atellisencer. HOUSEHOLD IMTTO&I! Dainty Apron. A dainty little apron to wear when presiding at the chafing dish or the tea tray is made from white lawn cut in a large heart shape design and slightly gathered into the belt. It ie finished all around with a little frill. The bib is heart shaped, edged with a narrow colored trimming, as is the pocket. Both are set on perfectly plain, the narrow end of the heart overlapping the belt. i Some Proportions. These proportions are used by a cook who is invariably successful: One heaping tablespoonful of baking powder to two cupfuls of flour. One teaspoonful of cream tartar and a half teaspoonful of soda to two cupfuls of flour. One level tablespoonful of soda to two cupfuls of molasses. Four heaping tablespoonfuls of corn starch to one quart of milk. A little more than an ounce of gelatine to a quart of liquid.?New Haven Register. When Using Green Soap. One of the best cleansers for the skin and excellent for pimples and blackheads is green soap. This hae been long recognized as a healing agency, and is less well known than it should be. Occasionally women complain that the soap makes them worse, the reason is that they use It too vigorously. Delicate, sensitive skins should never have green soap put on it ful^ strength. It should be diluted with' hot water and not used every day; Experiment until the soap lather does not make the skin feel drawn. ^New York Press. Care and Quiet in Sick Rooms, When coal is needed to replenish the grate or stove in the room of a sick person it should be placed in paper bags and a bag laid gently on top of the fire. This will prevent any noise and save the patient's nerves. If a poker must be used it is well to have a stick of wood for that purpose, as it makes so much less racket. Of course, creaking shoes, silk petticoats and starched clothes that rustle are tabooed. Medicine should not oe lert in signi of the Invalid, and food must never be left around the room. If a tray Is supposed to be accessible for biscuits and a few simple things like that it should be placed in an adjacent room or on a table outside the sick room door. A *bed rest may not only be made out of a low-backed chair, but a wire fire guard well padded will answer very well.?New York World. Gathering. When using a chain stitcn machine gathering may be done without an oftonVimont if tho thread is WraDDed twice around the tension. This is a very good thing to know, and, while it will not make any deep gathering it will he quite effective for any ordinary ruffling. With a double-threaded machine the under bobbin may be threaded with a cotton ten numbers coarsert Loosen the tension until it is very, slack and then place your garment under the needle and proceed. When it is stitched you will find that you may draw up the material to the required fullness with the aid of the under thread. Jt will not be necessary to alter the stitch if it is ordinarily short, and the result will be amply satisfactory. With the aid of these two ideas it chould be easy to do very good gathering on any machine.?New Haven Register. xjycirss/' Pudding. ? Three slices wh!te bread, well buttered, one-half cup sugar, one-half cup molasses, one teaspoonful ginger, one o.uart milk. Bake two hours. Hungarian Sauerkraut. ? Boil sauerkraut with beef brisket for three hours. When brisket is done take out. To the kraut add four fried onions, half can tomatoes and some caraway seeds. Breakfast Banana?.?Bako large, firm bananas, slit the peeling when done, and spread in boat shape; sprinkle with powdered sugar and nutmeg; pour boat full nf cream and serve hot. You will never eat another cold banina for breakfast. Coffee Mousse.?To one-half pint of strong coffee add one-half cup of ' -1 sugar, tiny grain 01 sail u.uu j-ums ui three eggs; heat this till it ber:omcs a little thick, then cool and add one pint of whipped cream; pour into mould and pack same as ice cream; let stand four or five hours. Egg Rolls.?One cup of scaldcd milk and coolcd, add two eggs well beaten, three tablespoons butter, one tablespoon sugar, one teaspoon salt and one-half yeast cake dissolved in water; make a sponge, let rise till it looks light and foams, then stir in enough flour to kn^ad. Knead thoroughly and let rise again; bake in moderate oven. Angel Cake.?One cupful and a half of sugar, two-thirds of a cupful of butter, whites of lave eggs, onehalf cupful cornstarch, one cupful of sweet milk, two and a half cupfuls of flour, two teaspoonfuls of baking powder, one teaspoonful of vanilla. Cream butter and sugar, add whites of eggs beaten to a foam, and beat until light as froth. Then stir in tho cornstarch; wet with a little of the milk; add the rest of the milk, the flour sifted with the baking powder and the extract. I3';at again and bake in layers. !| iTfe ^ S{.i^ai|-S>cf?ooT' INTERNATIONAL LESSON CO! MENTS FOR MAY 30. | Subject: Believing and Doing, .Tan: 2:14:26?Golden Text: Jan 2:20?Commit Verse 20?Co mentary. TIME.?A. D. 60. PLACE.?Jei salem. EXPOSITION. ? I. Living Fai and Dead Faith, 14-19. There is profit in a man's saying that he 1 faith unless he proves it by such ct duct as necessarily results from livi faith. Real faith is not mere opini< it is not mere belief of the truth. R< faith, the faith that saves, is hei faith (Rom. 10:9, 10), faith tl governs our thoughts, our feelin our choices and our conduct, fa that leads to action along the line that which we believe. The fa which a man says that he has t which does not prove itself by wor! "that" faith (v. 14 R. V.) cam 6ave a man. We are saved by fai but we are saved by real faith. "Fa is the assurance of things hoped, 1 ' conviction of things not seen" (Hi 11:1, A. R. V.). The foundatl upon which this assurance of thir hoped for rests is God's Word. , 1 reality of the faith shows itself conduct along the line of that whi is believed (Heb. 11:7, 17-19, I 30). This is not only the doctrl that the Holy Spirit teaches throu James, but it is also the doctrine tl He teaches through Paul (Gal. 5: 1 Cor. 16:22; 1 Thess. 1:3; Tit. 16; 3:8). There were those James' day who were abusing 1 doctrine of salvation by faith. Tt interpreted faith as merely mean! theological opinion and they w< holding that whoever held the ri| theological opinion was thereby sa\ irrespective of his conduct. The 1c that tells a needy man to depart peace without giving him what needs for his comfort is a sham lo a dead love (v. 16; cf. Matt. 14:! 16; 25:42-45; Rom. 12:9; 1 John 16-18), and just so the faith tl I does not lead to action is a shi faith?a dead faith. There is no 1 nor profit in the one nor in the oth A man may be a true Christian a ' be destitute of the necessities of 1 (v. 15; Heb. 11:37). Their necess is a call to us to prove our faith ministering, to it. Obedience to G is the only real proof of faith ( Heb. 11:3, 7, 8, 17, 24, 25, 30). R faith is the migtiest thing there among men (Heb. 11:33, 38); dc faith is a disgusting corpse. Do i merely say you have faith, prove by your conduct (cf. Tit. 2:7, 11-1 - ~- . - . n.m. o k . i I 1 Tim., j.: o; ivxtiLi. i.xi, * vui. ?/... 7:1). It is well to believe the tru but merely believing the truth w the head alone will not Bave a man IT. How Abraham and Rahab w< Justified, 20-26. Paul appeals to 1 Old Testament Scriptures to pr( that a man is justified by faith ale apart from the works of the 1 (Rom. 4:1-12; cf. 3:28,R.V.). Jan emphasizes the other side of t truth, that the faith that leads to j tiflcation is a faith that proves its by works. We are justified by fa without works, but we are not jus fied by a faith that is without wor The faith which God sees and up which He justifies a man leads inei ably to works which men can s God saw the faith of Abraham a counted it to him for righteousn (Gen. 15:6; Rom. 4:3-6, 10, 11, ! 24; Gal. 3-6), but the faith God 8 was real and led Abraham to woi that all could see and which pro^ his faith. The proof to us of 1 faith is works, and we know that who does not work has no justify) faith. There is no contradiction tween Paul and James. They sta for opposite sides of the same tru Abraham proved his faith by dol what God bade him do, even to 1 i extent of laying his son, his only si upon the altar. We must not lose sight of the tri which Paul emphasizes against leg Ism on the one side?that we are j tified on the simple condition oi real faith in Christ; and we must i lose Bight of the truth which Jan emphasizes against anti-nominiani on the other side?that it is only 1 faith that proves its genuineness works that justifies. To the legal who is seeking to do something merit salvation we must say, "SI working and believe on Him that j tifleth the ungodly" (Rom. 4:5). the anti-nominian who is boasti that he has faith and is justified bj but who does not show his faith his works we must say, "What d< it profit if a man say he hath fai but have not works, can that fa save him?" (James 2:14. R. V We are justified by faith alone, 1 we are justified by that faith ale that workr, (cf. Matt. 12:37; 25:1 40). Real faith stops at no sacrif (v. 21). Abraham's i^al faith, wh: Btopped at no sacrifice, won him 1 highest title ever bestowed upon man. "The Friend of God" (2 Chri ! 20:7; Is. 41:8). we may an ni the same title (John 15:13-1! There will be at least one forn harlot in heaven?Rahab. We hi the Word of God for it that she justified. She became the ancestr of our Lord (Matt. 1:5). And to-d publicans and harlots are enteri the kingdom before the Pharisi (Matt: 21:31). Of all the people 1 ing in Jericho the only name that 1 come down to this present day is tl of a harlot. Others perished, but s I perished not. She was saved by j faith that led to works (y. 25; I Heb. 11:31). Power For Nitrate Factories. Representatives of European jerests manufacturing air nitrates nydro-electric power for fertiliz< ire in the United States to see wl *an be done in the way of securi large water powers for establishi ;uch factories in this country. An iustrv of this kind is needed, as t ,'mports of Chilean nitrate of so now amounts to $14,000,000 a ye I Difficulty is being experienced, ho . ?ver in spcuriner suitable water no jrs at reasonable cost. ~~ I'rinrer s Krror Costly. One of the printers who set t) for the Congressional directory. Washington, D. C., got Choice B well Randell, Representative fri Texas, as a member of the Comm tee on Ways and Means from "Tei essee." Eight thousand volumes cc taining the error were recalled. Th sell in the Capitol document roo: at fifty cents a codv. Motor caDs Displace Hansoms. Motor cabs are displacing the li toric hansoms in LontJon. Thi was only one motor cab in the city 1903, but last year nearly 3000 w< licensed. 1 BITTER WAR ON INTEMPERANCE SOLDIERS FIGHTING THIS CURSE GREATLY CHEERED. What Caused the Hard Times? VI. Financial panics and business depressions are chargeable to the liquor interests more than to all other j causes combined. From 1862, when , I the Government of the United States tes J first put tax upon the manufacture | ies ! and sale of alcohol and beer, down m. to the present time, there has never 'been a panic in business that has not been largely due to the actual u- waste of money spent for whisky, l spirits, beer and other alcoholic 11 ith drinks. It is apparent, therefore, ( nc that the United States Government ias and the liquor aod beer manufactur>n. ers and dealers form the greatest ' ng vrust, or combination, that this counin, try, or the world, has ever known, jal j Compared with it, those three great art j combines?the Standard Oil Comiat pany, the United States Steel Corporgs, ation, and the Harriman railroad inIth terests?are insignificant. of This assertion cannot be success[tb fully contradicted. It can be proven jut through the Internal Revenue Deks, partment that the taxes paid upon iot beer and alcoholic liquors represent th, a product value to the manufactur- J Itb ers of $1,500,000,000 annually?an ;he amount almost beyond the compreeb. henslon of the ordinary mind. It ion represents an amount equal to the igs debt of the Government at its highest 'ho point during the Civil War. by I It can no longer be questioned lch | from an economic point of view," thaf 22, this fabulous sum of money ex[ne | pended for liquor is worse than gh | wasted. If spent in the regular lines iat of business?the production of food, g; clothing, and furniture for the I- homes; in fact, for the-development in [ and uplift of the people in all walks he | of life?it would bring about Buch a tey | prosperity as this country has never ng | Been. It would not only give em?re \ ployment to every man, woman and ' youth in the country needing work, 'e(| 1 but would make necessary the imml)Ve I gration of millions annually to supin ! ply the demand for workmen of the he | mills, mines, spindles, and the hunve j dreds of Industries operated only ^5* J In times of proseprity. Panics, aso.' j cribed to over-production, inflation i 3' values, and speculation in Wall im j Street (the real cause is rarely spoken sfe : oi oy press or peupie/, wuuiu ue imer possible. The sale of liquors produces, it has been stated upon good authority, lty i a million'drunkards annually and is kV I responsible for an annual death rate ,0Jj j of 100,000 men. And these figures cj are conservative. eaj What an incalculable loss in wages jg is represented by these drunkard9 >ad through loss of time and inability to 10t do a reasonable day's work-. Thia item of labor lost by incapacity 4. reaches an appalling figure, as every r..' employer of labor knows. And what, may we ask, is the loss to the Nation in keeping up the ( courts, jails, orphans' asylums, in* ' sane asylums, homes for the destine tute, etc., the necessity for which is " directly chargeable to the curse of drink? It may be safely said, I be'? lieve, that $500,000,000 will not be more than sufficient to cover the loss h in wages and the maintaining of the ohnve-nampH Institutions, makine a ' ejj total of $2,000,000,000 chargeable against this monster trust composed of the liquor interests and the United kg~ States Government. * Does the sane man question that, If the facts are as stated, this worse than waste of billions is responsible j for business depression, and is the ' promoter of panics and hard times? 22 If the money now spent to pauper' ize the people and make a nation of .g irunkards were spent in building up red tbe an(* Prosperity of th(1 the home, would it be possible to "h ' produce a panic? If an example Is needed, take the h 5 I town of Portage, in this county (and ? j ! it is no worse than the average min[ ing town in Pennsylvania), where ' ten coal mines are operated. Of the '?f wages annually expended in producing coal, fully $150,000 is paid for ' | liquors and beer to the seven saloons th j in the town or to the breweries and 1 ? . wholesale dealers whose wagons de1 I liver it to the homes of those in the , " I mining camps. ? A ?4 -1m tiAf + Vio frtfol effort A j -rt-uu ma l JO nut i 1 though it is the cause. Because of j drunkenness among the workmen engaged at the mines not less than b 200,000 days' labor was lost during ? j the past year, the loss in wages 5; 1 amounting to $400,000, making a ton total loss ?' over a million dol" p lars. And this upon a 5000-acre ~r" tract in a small corner of Cambria I County. The same conditions prevail ^ in every coal, coke, iron and steel , producing community in the country, Jl? excepting, of course, in Prohibition | j States. ith ^ave touched only upon the }\ money side of the question. What iut 's to sa^ of a National Government that permits the misery that is heaped upon the weak, innocent sufferers from this diabolical traffic? .v* This suffering is beyond the power of man to conceive.?From an au? thorized interview with John C. Mar? tin, of New York City and Portage, Pa., in the Johnstown (Pa.) Tribune. ive 5). Others Had Tried It. is The police court magistrate of a esa town in southern Kentucky was walklay ing down the street one November ng evening with his friend John Mark5e9 ham, a distiller. "iv. "Judge, said Mr. Markham, "have ias y?? ever tried my Number One brand iat of Old Markham?" ;he 1 "No, John." admitted the judge, a "but I tried three men in court this cf, j morning who had tried it."?EveryI body's Magaizne. Temperance Notes. ^ I The man who "hits one" usually ujr I strikes tnose most aear iu mm. ars " t I Rum has made the head of a man j meet all the requirements insisted | I upon by the War Department for a : dirigible balloon. he I The physicians of Hancock Couni<3a 1 ty, Ohio, wishing to assist in the ar | maintaining of the prohibition law w_ i there, the county medical association w_ has determined to issue no prescriptions for whisky except at the bedside ' of patients. Poets have sung in praise of Booze rpe ?and Booze has taken toll of the at poets. os* The country is awakening to the 3.m fact that reckless expenditure of money upon strong drink is having in" | in the affairs of the nation tne same )n" impoverishing effect which is so faiey | miliar in connection with individual fortunes. Here, ladies and gentlemen, says Town Topics, you see that marvelous ,js. and fascinating monster. Booze; it sre lives on the Great White Way; burns in money, swallows reputations?hence ,rp the Raines Law and the Prohibition Party. i figj-betrdjorrbe, f. loyiErHoo^li IF I CAN LIVE. .y If I can live To make some pale face brighter, and to give . _ . ' i second lustre to some tear-dimmed eye, Or e'en impart )ne throb of comfort to an aching heart, )r cheer 6ome wayworn soul in passing by; If I can lend . ? i strong hand to the fallen or defend The right against a single envious strain. My life, though bare, Perhaps of much that seemeth dear and fair To us of earth, will not have been in vain. The purest joy, Host near to Heaven, far from earth's alloy, !s bidding cloud give way to sun and shine; And 'twill be well, if on that day of days the angels tell Df me, She did her best for one of Thine. ?Helen Hunt Jackson. One of God's Noblemen. ^ There is now in this count.-r a man who has been for more than \ Ifty years a missionary on a remote aland in the ecuatorlal Pacific. His aameis Hiram Bingham, and when he went, in 1856, to the Gilbert Islands he was the only white man there. The mail came once a year In the Morning Star, and the first mall rr&B stolen by the natives, who thought it was food of a new, strange lort. s Bingham went to work to construct i grammar and create a written lan ? s? ? J-? ? v. SUtlge lur me lbittuueis. men, wueu ; ae was fifty years old, he studied Heorew and translated the Bible Into allbertese. Ten years ago he com? pleted a dictionary of the language* * ind loaned the, manuscript to a Mend, who succeeded in losing it, ' much as the manuscript of Carlyle's "French, Revolution" was destroyed through a servant's carelessness. With exemplary patience, he set to work again, and has just recompleted . the book Which links his Insulated people with the rest of the human race. Such a career, like that of Judsen: or Paton or Schereschewsky or Hep- j burn or a hundred other men, unat- ij. tended by the "drums and tramplings" of triumphant conquest, mar not seem so great or so glorious as the career of an Iron Duke or a Little Corporal. But In the chronicles' of peace that hath her victories bo less than war, indelibly inscribed are the names of these men who effaced? themselves and lived for others. For they were men of the sort of whom it Is written, "They that turn many to 0V10II nViIno oc IVCk offllHl. I lgiiLCUUDiioaa ouan ouiu? %*o uvM.v forever and ever:"?Philadelphia J Public Ledger. j The Sin of Belittling Sin. The way In which the ordinary "man of the world" regards the most serious truths of religion Is well illustrated by a flippant article in a weekly Journal on the subject of "Sin.'* For sheer ignorance and superficiality it is a lamentable display, but the unfortunate thing is that it undoubtedly represents popular opinion upon thltf subject. We can hardly be surprised, however, at men of the world entering the lists and making light of sin by wilfully suppressing its chief guilt, when the example is set them by people bearing the Christian name who nevertheless deny all the Christian verities. It may seem to them a brave thing to ascend a pulpit and hold up to ridicule that evangelical teaching which in the past has created the strongest men in the world;i H but the effects are bound to "be disastrous, and are shown to be so. for the man in the street, who finds In this an additional reason for his unbelief. Profound ignorance of God and of the human soul, together with a desire to take the easiest path in life, combine to create a frame of mind In which the terrible fact of sin?as distinguished from revolting sins which all can see?is obliterated or hidden. And hidden diseases, which unseen ravage the vitals, are always the most deadly.?London Christian. Starting Point in Life. Youth is beautiful in it? illusions, aspirations and dreams, but when It awakens to .life's stern realities it finds a sphere for Its noblest and truest energies. For a while it may live in fairyland and con over Ideals, but when it emerges upon the stage of action fancy gives place to facts and 'J ?1 The awaken IH6 jueai iu iuu i cui. *mw ing comes sooner In some cases than in others, hut when It occurs the turning period in one's career is reached. Character is tested, and the future is shaped according to the dominating principles developed and accomplished. This is a truth worthy of careful consideration on part of parents and teachers, or of those who are honored with being guides or molding factors over the rising generation. Let the mind and heart be opened lo the best influences, and the starting point in life be along the lines that tend to the highest and worthies'-: exertions and realizations. ?Presbyterian. Divorce. Divorce tears up the roots and pulls away the foundation of the family and family life. Differ as we may about the ground on which divorce may be allowed, there is a consensus of opinion in all churches that divorce is a menace to society and threatens ruin to the home.?Bishop William < C. Doane. A Means to the End. The church is not the last word in Christianity. The church is a means to the end. It is to do its work so well that after awhile it will be unnecessary. In the holy city John saw there was no temple.?Rev. James I. Vance. Causes Humbleness. It is not the sight of our sinful heart that humbles us; it is the sight -? t "T am iinrtnne fnr OI Jt'SUS ViiliOi. x mine eyes have soen the King.'? Andrew Bonar. Free Fish For the Poor. A long cherished wish of the lato Andrew H. Green, known as the fa:her of Greater New York, is to bo carried out in Worcester, Mass., ao lording to an announcement by Edwin P. Curtis, chairman of the Parks Commission. Mr. Green once said he would like to see his large pond jverrun with fish that he might give ;hem to the poor. Since he left his ?state to the city for a park fishing las been prohibited. Now the pond is overrun with carp, and Chairman Curtis stated that city employes could fish there daily, and their catch would oe distributed free to the poor.