The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, May 19, 1909, Image 2
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^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.