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i THE IAN S I By EFFIE ADELi CHAPTER VIII 0 i The Bargain. "Money ain't everything," repeated Laxon, as he shook out the halfsmoked tobacco from his pipe. "What do you want that money cannot give you?" she asked coldly. She was fast regaining her strength of mind and purpose; the shock had passed, her brain was working quietly and evenly, and her heart beat with scarcely a flutter. She knew the sort of man she had to deal with. He looked at her calmly; he was quick to note the change in her voice, and it did not please him; he preferred her in her terrified condition, and it had gratified him to see her crouch before him. , She felt as she stood there that she would willingly have struck him dead before her. Her thoughts must have dawned in her expression, fcr he drew back a little. "Don't try no hanky-panky tricks on me," he said, savagely; "for if you do I shall return 'em and make things nasty. No giving evidence on the sly and having me nabbed!" "You are a coward and a fool! t Hn this without harming JC1V/TT WUiU * myself??and that is out of the question. No; the matter is clear. We must come to a definite arrangement ?you keep my secret, and I keep yours. 7 "You're a cool hand, by Heaven!" he said, with a look of admiration at her impassive face; "and you're beginning to see things as I see them, why?so much the better." The clock struck one in its heavy, ponderous way. "I must go now, but will see you again. By the time we meet you will perhaps have come to some plans and will tell me what they are." Laxon nodded his head. "I ain't going to wait, neither. You must meet me to-morrow early, if not to-night." "I will meet you to-morrow night," Dorothy answered, with a quiet air of determination; "I want the matter settled. You know the lane near the lock where the stile is??well, be there at eight to-morrow evening, and I will join you. Think over everything well, and name your sum." "What if he grows jealous and asks awkward questions, eh?" She smiled a cold, disagreeable smile. "Leave that to me. I believe I am quite able to arrange matters to my own satisfaction. She moved to .the door, and stooped for her sunshade. The child was still playing on the step, and looked up as the girl came out. There was a grange expression on the pretty baby face. With her happiness still so great, 60 wonderful about her, this suddrfn upheaval of all that degrading past was too horrible. That she, Dorothy, Countess of Derriman, whose beauty ana gooa fortune were at that moment the theme of fashionable conversation, that she should be that girl who, after dragging out a miserable year with this man, eating her proud heart out with all the petty shame that ' went to make up the sum of his daily life, was suddenly hurled into the direst quagmire of horror and degradation! The thought maddened her. She clinched her hards till the delicate kid of her gloves cracked with the force and her nails pierced her flesh. What would be the thoughts of Gervais did such a truth come home to him? She stopped in her hurried walk. "Great Heaven!" she moaned; "what am I to do? If only I had some one to whom I could go for help, who would aid me now." The words had scarce been whispered by her lips when a thought came and brought a wave of great relief. "Enid! Why did I not think of her before? She will come, she must come; she will believe all I tell her, and if I am only kind to her she will do anything in the world for me, I know. Yes, yes, I will send for Enid." She hastened toward hei cottage. As she clicked the gate-latch Gervais came striding to meet her. He looked pale and disturbed. "Here you are, my darling, thank Heaven!" he exclaimed. "I have been so nervous. I have been walking up and down, looking to the right and left, and not liking to leave the cot- j tage for fear I should miss you." j He came to her side and took her hand. / "What is the matter, my dearest?" i he asked, hurriedly. "I have been a stupid idiot, that is all," she said, clinging to his arm. "Wandered into a strange country and hart tr> flps fr>r mv lifp- in nthep words, I lost my way, and was chased by a bull'' Gervais threw his arms around her, and pressed her to him suddenly. She shivered, and a pang went through her selfish heart; but it was fraught with as much fear as pain. Fear lest he should ever know the truth, and so she should lose his love. "And what have you done in my absence?" she asked, after awhile. "Wrote some letters, and immediately you had gone, this telegram came from my mother, saying Uncle Tfnsrpr is in Lnndnn tn-nis'ht pn rontp for India, and would like to tee me | and be presented to you." Dorothy sat up, and a slight color , dawned in her cheeks. Here was the very chance she needed. j "Why not?" she asked quickly. "I know mother will be disappointed if we won't do this." j "But you would not care to go up . to London?" "On the contrary, I shall like it ^Tirgiuie has been dying to purchase I 5H5a525a5S5ESH5H5aSH5E55R> >helo!ed1! ri -##-** jj UDE ROWLANDS. 0 / u 3 ESE525H5H5ESE5E5E525i!SEe!2some velvets and things, and this wi] be a good opportunity. Gervais bent and kissed her. "I never told you Uncle Roger' history, did I, darling? It is a ver simple one, yet it changed his whol life. He married early in life a worn an whom he adored?my mother say his love was something passin; words!?and after two years of hap piness it ended abruptly; his wife de ceived him, and it broke his heart." "Deceived him?" repeated Dorothj mechanically. "How, Gervais?" "c"v>-v V*?noimr InuoH Viim hilt, hai OUC uau auTVk w?v^ ?. ? married him for his m^ney; and whei she met the man Bhe di? love, she for got her wifely vows, and^fled from th husband whose tender care and good ness she had never valued. Fror that day to thio Uncle Roger has bee: a wanderer. He makes his hom nowhere; he will not even stay wit! us for more than two or three day at a time, and those at rare intervals. "And?his wife?" said Dorothy, i; quiet, low tones. "His wife repented all too late, an< crawled back to him one day, just a he was starting on a fresh journej and begged him on her knees to for give her." "And he did?" Dorothy's face wr.s strange! eager. Gervais shook his head. "How could a man forgive tha ~9 as T chnnld d ?refused even to acknowledge he very existence. She had dragged hi honor in the dust, degraded an ol name, broken his heart, and ruine his life. How could he forgive her? Dorothy shuddered. CHAPTER IX. Enid is Trapped. The last streak of daylight tha forced its way in through the skyligh found Enid still at her work. "Only two more and then the are all done," she exclaimed, wearily as she was forced at length to pu down her brush and leaned back i: her chair for a few moments; "am then I must ask for more." She sighed a little and passed he hand over her brow, that ached froc so much stooping, then rose, washei her hands, and refreshed her fac by dipping it in cold water. "It washes away the cobwebs," sh said to herself; "but all the same, am very tired." Just as she was putting on her old est hat and gloves, sounds of hast; footsteps were heard on the. stairs and Mrs. Lawson appeared, breath less. "Oh! Jf you please, Miss Enid there's a lady come to see you; she' a orful swell, and she won't be sai< nay, and she's in a hurry, too!" "To see me?" repeated Enid, blank ly. "There must be a mistake You?" "No, there is no mistake," said ; voice at the door, and a slender fori] in a long black coat, with a bonne and veil, came into the room. Mrs. Lawson stared to think th visitor had walked after her in thi way. t Enid stood motionless for a mo ment, then her surprise found speech "Dorothy! You here?" "Yes. I have come the very in stant I arrived in town. I want t talk to you. Is this your room?" Mrs. Lawson took the hint an? went quickly out of it, while Eni stood still, too much surprised to b conscious of what she was doing. "Fnew! wnat an atmospnere How can you live in such a den? Dorothy flung back her veil, and pull ing a chair toward her, sat dowr "You are looking miserably ill," sh added abruptly, for Enid had jus lighted two candles, and her tired pale face looked even more wear than it really was. "I am quite well," she said, with quick flush. She felt there was something be hind this sudden, unexpected visit c her cousin to her humble home. "What are you doing?" Doroth glanced round the room and saw th cards. "Painting, as usual?" "I have all but completed an orde for menu cards that I was fortunat enough to get." uoroiny iooKea at ner. "Fortunate! Do you like wori then?" "Yes," replied Enid, simply, "I iik it." "Tastes differ," and Lady Derrima shrugged her lovely shoulders; ther remembering that time was precious she changed her voice; "but I don mean to let you lead' this sort of lif< Enid," she said, with all the warmt and affection she could put into he voice. "It is impossible." "I prefer poverty and independenc to dependence and wealth," Enid r? plied, the color deepening in he cheeks. "Please don't bother abou me. Dorothy; I shall manage ver well." Dorothy smiled. She was siler only two or three seconds, but he mind was busy in that time. "I must not push her, but lea tie'- ' cho thmip-ht Out lniu! shp sai gently: . "I have no wish to interfere wit your life, dear, but I have come to er treat you in person to let me persuad you to come and slay with me for little while, just to get some healt and strength. After that you sha do exactly as you like." Enid gazed at the exquisite fac opposite, seeming to her so doubl lovely "\ith the tenderness and affei tion written so clearly on it. "Stay >Yuh you!" she repeate( slowly. "Do you really mean thi: Dorothy?" "Silly cl"!i 1 d! As if I should corn all this wav simply to indulge i jokes! Mvan it? Of course I do i am so remorseful for the disgrac< ful way in which I am afraid yo must have thought I treated you when | you were ill. 1 scarcely know how to I explain or excuse myself, save that I j do not think I was sane just then. ' My poor father's death made me al- ! j most a mad woman." I There was a ring of sincerity and : J truth in these words. Enid's quick, j j generous mind went back to the ag- l ] ony Dorothy had certainly endf.red, ! J and all was forgotten and forgiven. "Don't say another word about it," l she said, gently. "I was ill for a little J while, but I am all right now." "Now promise me," said Dorothy, ^ who read Enid's face as easily as a book, "promise me you will show me your forgiveness for my unkindness by coming down to Weir Cottage to? morrow and spending' a short time y with us." e Enid hesitated, and colored again. l" . "But Lord Derriman?" she began. ' "Gervais always likes what I like; B besides, he is quite henpecked already. Remember, we have been married nearly three weeks! And he was asking about you only this mornr' ing." "It is very good of you," Enid said, in her low, sweet voice, "but:?" Q "But me no buts. Now I will take no denial. You return with me toe morrow." "I can't go till the afternoon," Enid D said, quickly. "I must finish this a work." ? "The afternoon will suit me. You a TJvJofnl snail (JUlJUt' IU UUI uuici mc wnsvui s ?about three o'clock, and we will all go dowfl together, and"?Dorothy D rose and pulled her cloak round her ?"you will let me give you some presents, won't you, Enid? You must 8 not be angry with me; there is some '' money .to get anything you may want. No; I don't give it, I only lend It^ you shall repay me as soon as ever you cani" y Enid went up to her cousin and kissed her.-.. "How can I thank you, dear?" she said, gratefully. \ Every scrap of her 0 pride or doubt was disarmed. She r saw in Dorothy only a warm-hearted 8 girl, whose love-marriage had given J? her the very thing she had lacked? ? sympathy and womanly affection, "you are too good to me." "Pooh! Nonsense! I can not live in luxury myself, and know you are toiling, and perhaps starving." Virginie was waiting in her room t when Dorothy reached the hotel. t "Has the earl returned?" Dorothy , asked, hurriedly. "No, my iaay." p Sir Roger Courtley had dined with ^ them, and then, after falling at once Q a victim to the beauty and apparent ^ charm of- his nephew's young wife, had insisted on going back to his lodgings to fetch some jewelry that 1 he had brought expressly from Egypt i j for Dorothy and which he had forgot- 1 ten to carry with him when he ar- 1 rived for dinner. When Gervais and Sir Roger came j back they found a lovely form asleep in .the twilight, which could only be ] aroused by a tender kiss. ; ' "Oh, Gervais; the most surprising i thing has happened since you went!" ' 'I Dorothy cried after she had expended 1 all the superlative adjectives in her I * possession over the quaint jewels, and , g gratified the old manj)y her simplic- | ^ ity and charm of manner. "While Virginie was buying the celebrated velvets she needed she met Enid, who ~ was in rather an anxious state. It appears her friend, Mrs. Lawson, has 1 to leave London immediately, and j a Enid, of course, would have to return 1 t all alone to Knebwell. Virginie told 1 me all this, and I at once wrote oir to i ] Enid and told her she must come to i G ius. You see, we can't leave her \ alone, can we?" "My darling!" he murmured, ten- < derly; "how sweet and good you are!" ] '* "You don't mind?do you, dear?" | she asked, paling just a little?even . in her sublime indifference to self-re0 proach at the sin and deception she < was practicing?beneath his caress/ I .j and the look of trustful love he cast '< on her. < "Of course I mind in one sense, be- j , cause I like to have you all to myself; ( but Miss Leslie must be considered; , 1 and therefore, my pretty wife, I think ] you have acted with your usual sweet- I ' ness and innate goodness." i ? Dorothy lifted her beautiful lips 1 J for him to kiss, then turned to liir ' Roger Courtle-y. "Please forgive us, unclc," she said, with a laugh and a blush; "we won't offe'id again, will we, Gervais?" "1 make no rash promises," Gervais smiled. The old man, tanned and rougliy ened by many a buffet with wind and e wave, sat silent, watching them. (To be continued.) r ??? > Doprs Help Blacksmith. A hlfirlrsmifli hi nn untown East j Side street employs three Newfound, J land dogs to work the bellows o? the '* j forges of his shop. In one corner of e I tht place is a wooden, wheel about eight feet in diameter and wide enough for a dog to stand in. When the \\hcel is at rest the dog stands in ' much the same position hs the horse in a child's rocker, with its head toward the forge, awaiting orders. When told to "go ahead," the beast on duty at once starts 011 a brisk trot, which makes the wheel turn around rapidly, and by means of a crank and lever the power is convoyed to the bellows. The -dogs work willingly |t and with such intelligence that pedestrians are never weary of watching y the efforts of the animals to keep the smith's fires brignt. iiiaon oog worKs '* in the wheel one hour and then rests ir for two.?New York Correspondence in Pittsburg Dispatch, d d A Statesman's Reply. Wisdom and wit are about evenly h balanced in an utterance of the Chancellor of tho Exchequer, which lately e went the rounds in imgianc. a Mr. Asquith was recently speaking h in a Welsh town, when he was some11 what rudely interrupted by a voice in the audience, which demanded to :e know his position as to woman's sufy frage. > "That," Mr. Asquith renliod, blandly, "!n :t subject I prefer to dis1. cuss when ladies -ire not present."? s, Youth'r Companion. x? I A '- cord npule harvest is expected n j In Devon ani Sc.morset, England, i! There Is every possibility of K'OSj proving the greatest nr:'-2 yep.r ' u I Un.OTru in thc3c counties. ' THE TEMPERANCE PROPAGANDA CONCERTED ATTACK ON DRINK WINNING ALL ALONG LINE. Wise Teddy O'Shinn. "Just a wee drop," said the man in the store. He knew little Teddy, who'd been there before. * "A little won't hurt you. at least not this once, Just take it now,, sonny, and don't be a dunce. See here. I will put. this nice sugar-lump in, And here's to the health of young Teddy O'Shinn." But Teddy looked up with his honest blue eyes, And hi6 brave little face was most thoughful and wise. "I'm tep'rance," he said,"and I can't taste the stuff. And how should I know when I'd taken enough? A taste mightn't hurt me. but maybe it might, And I know a way that is sure to be right. It never will hurt me." said Teddy O'Shinn, "it never can hurt?if I never begm!" ?Julia H. Johnston, Peoria, 111 Medical Science and Alcohol. Perhaps the most startling indictment of alcohol and alcoholic drinks ever made was that registered against them by a convention of eminent docon/1 oMiantta + c? cr f n WQch. bvio uuu ociv>u?.iak.g ui\?vb<uQ ?? M.JMlngton City a few days ago as "The American Society For the Study of Alcohol and Other Drug Narcotics." These men came not as temperance advocates, but as physicians and scientists reporting the actual results of scientific and medical investigations in hospitals, laboratories, and pick rooms. With remarkable unanimity they declared that the old ideas of whisky as a medicine have been exploded; that its use in the treatment of disease must be wholly abandoned. It brings out hidden weaknesses and develops latent maladies; it is especially dangerous when used by persons suffering from any nervous weakness, "and by lowering the vitality and destroying the combative forces of the blood" it maki&s it harder to resist all kinds of disease, Superintendent Burton, of the Sterl* ing-Wo'rth Sanitarium, declared that "the use of spirits is followed by shortened life, increasing (premature) age, and diminished vitality; alcohol in any form can never prolong life," while Dr. B. C. Keister, of the Roanoke Home Sanitarium, declared : "Theories held a few years ago as correct are now found to be erroneous. Alcohol, like every other drug in common use, is found by science to be useless exceot as a narcotic. * Alcohol as a beverage is a relic of barbarous time's. Dr. Henry 0. Marcy, ex-president of the American Medical Association, laid especial emphasis on the use of whisky as a cause of degeneracy "among the colored and Illiterate classes of the South," and a number of eminent doctors joined in urging the necessity of providing hospitals for the especial treatment of inebriates and dfunkards. Dr. H. J. Achard, a tuberculosis specialist, especially attacked the old idea of whisky being useful in lung trouble, and reported statistics showing that of suspected consumptives treated with alcohol, ninety per cent, died, and of those treated without alcohol, only twenty-five per cent. "In some cases the direct action of alcohol predisposes and encourages tuberculosis/' tie declared.?Progressive Farmer. Children and Alcohol. If there is one subject more tnan mother within the entire scope of the liquor problem upon which all observers are in gratifying accord, it is in regard to the dangers of allowing ilcohol in any quantity to cbildrfen ind adolescents. During youth the tiabits of the body are formed, and the growing organism has peculiar susceptibility to narcotic poisons. Dr. \lexander Lambert made a study of i certain number of alcohol cases in Bellevue Hospital, with reference to ;he age at which the use of the drug began. Here are the rather startling ind highly sugestive facts: "Of 259 instances where the age 3f beginning to drink was known, four began before six years of age; thirteen between six and twelve years; sixteen between twelve and sixteen; 102 between sixteen and twenty-one; seventy-one between twenty-one and thirty, and eight only after thirty years of age. Thus, nearly seven per cent, began before twelve years of age, or the seventh school year; thirty per cent, began before the age of sixteen, and over two-thirds?that is, sixty-eight per sent.?began before^ twenty-one years af age.?McClure's. Let AH Intoxicants Alone. No. man who begins drinking is sure that he can keep from drinking immoderately; while the latest medical researchs have proved that even, the most moderate drinking ihjures *ne's nervous and mental powers, lessens one's ability to resist disease, ind also aids in develonine anv latent Sisease or weakness. Surgeon-Gen,3ral Wyman in his recent address on Southern health conditions sounded a special note of warning concerning :he injurious effects of alcoholic Irinks in. warm climates. A Silly Deed. In the endeavor to ape the medieval custom of christening ships with wine certain parties acting under the uisnices of the Aeronautical Society, if New York, went through the whole :eremony in connection with an aerojlane constructed by Wilbur R. Kimoall. A bottle of wine was gravelj Droken on one of the bars of the machine. Temperance Notes. , No line of manufacture gives employment to so few men in proportion to the capital invested as does the iiquor traffic. The cigar manufacturers and dealers of New York City have banded together to wage war against the prohibition movement. E. B. Westhafer recently closed a successful meeting at Noblesville, Ind. One of the results was to help banish the saloons from the county by a majority of over two thousand. Not only is the liquor traffic a breeder of criminals, but it is itself largely composed of men who do not hesitate to violate the law. The great majority of retail liquor sellers are open and notorious law breakers. The moral classes must have a great issue of some kind, and temperance is about the only one that is permanently in sight. The liquor business breeds criminals. The testimony of prison chaplains, or wardens, sheriffs and judges of the criminal courts warrant the assertion that from eighty to ninety per cent, of crime is directly or indirectly traceable to the use of intoxicating liquors Stfie Sundaij^choc# INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS FOR JUNE 27. Temperance Lesson, Romans 13:814?Commit Verses 8, 10?Golden Text: "Put Ye on the Lord Jesus Christ," Rom. 13:14. TIME.?Spring, 58 A. D. PLACE ?Corinth. EXPOSITION.?I. Love the Fulfill. 1 (ng of the Law, 8-10. Every Christiar j would do well to let the. opening | words of this passage sink deep intc i his heart, "owe no man anything.' j it is a plain command, and as whole some as it is plain. Debt is disobe flience to God. Debt is also slavery (Prov. 22:7). But "owe no mar anything" means more than "paj four debts." It means "nevei go into debt." It means more yet, ii means render to every man what ii 3ue to him, whether it be tribute, cus torn, fear, honor, obedience (v. 7) The whole law of God can be put int< one word, and God has put it into on< word in this passage, "love." Lov< Is the fulfilling (or filling full) of th< law. He that really loves his neigh Dor will perform toward his neighboi ill that the law requires. Love works ao ill. So it is not necessary to saj to one who really loves, "thou shal not steal," for he won't steal, he can', be hired to steal. It is not necessarj to say to him "thou shalt not kill,' for nothing would induce him to kill j It is not necessary to say, "thou snai not commit adultery," he would rath er die than commit adultery. It ii not necessary to say "thou shalt rto covet," for he would rather the othei should have than to have him self. Love is the secret of all righ doing. When love really reigns ii the heart even the ten commandment! become unnecessary, because the mai will keep them all without being com i manded. What love will not do anc what love will do is described in { wonderful way in 1 Cor. 13:4-7, ant again in 1 Jno. 3:16-18. Love Is th< secret of true temperance principles The man who loves his brother ab i stains from all use of intoxicating f liquors as a beverage because suet use tends to work ill to our neighbor I The ways in which it may work II ; are countless. It may work ill b] : my becoming a drunkard myself, anc 1 a drunkard is a curse not only to him self but to all who love him and t< the whole community. How man: hearts one drunkard breaks. Th< only man who is entirely safe fron ever becoming a drunkard is the mai who never drinks liquors at all. II. The Day Is at Hand, Cast Of the Works of Darkness, 11-14. Th< ' Day Is Coming. Christianity is a re | iigion of perennial hope. "Evil mei ! and seducers may wax worse" (2 Ti j 3:13). Iniquity may abound and th< | love of the many wax cold (Matt 1 24:12). Some may depart from th< faith and give heed to seducing spir I its (1 Ti. 4:1), perilous times ma: j come (2 Ti. 3:1-5), but ahead then J is "the day-star" and the sunris< j (Mai. 4:2) and it is darkest just be [ fore day. As the day is coming it ii ' time to awaken out of sleep. Let ui ; wake up and be ready to greet th< I morn. Salvation was near when w< j first believed (Luke 19:9), it is near i er now (R. V.). By salvation hen i Paul means not salvation in the lim : ited sense of pardon of sin, but th< ! full salvation that shall be ours at th< Coming of our Lord (Phil. 3:20, 21 R. V.; Heb. 9:29; 1 Pet. 1:5, R. V.; 1 Jno. 3:2). The Coming of our Lore ' so near at hand is one of the might j iest motives for true temperance prac I tices (Luke 21:34-36). As the nighi is so far spent it is time to put off al ,"the works of darkness" (all practice; that have their origin in this preseni evil world, that arise from moral and spiritual darkness and lead to eterna darkness). These are too numeroui | .to specify, but one can safely pui I liquor drinking, tobacco using and j raising and selling, the theatre, card ; table and dance under this head. Bu it is not enough to put off, we mus' also put on (Matt. 12:44, 45). Whai must be put on? "the armor of light.' What is "the armor of light?" Eph j 6:11-18 describes it in full. We musi walk in a seemly manner as in th( day. The word "honestly" is a total ly misleading translation. It means "in good form." Society people an greatly concerned about what ii "good form" by .the standards of "th< best society." Citizens of heaver (Phil. 3:20, R. V.) should be con cerned as to what is good form ac cording to court etiquette of thaf country. What "good form" is ac cording to heavenly standards ap pears from the words that follow "Reveling and drunkenness; chamber ing (sexual sin) and wantonness (li centiousness), strife and jealousy' ! cannot be tolerated. Drunkenness and licentiousness are commonly as sociated together, for experience shows that they are rarely if ever sep arated. The use of alcoholic liquors even in what is called moderatior stirs up all that is basest in men anc women. We do not usually put jeal ousy in the same catalogue witt drunkenness and licentiousness, bul i God does (v. 13, R. V.). The whole secret of "good form," or walking becomingly, is to "put on the Lore Jesus," to have our lives clothed witt Him (cf. Gal. 3:27; Eph. 4:24). The figure Paul uses here is that of putting on a garment. The clothes we wear should be Jesus Himself. Wher we meet a man pretty much all we see is his clothes, and when people meet us all they should see should be the Lord Jesus Christ (cf. 1 Pet. 3: 3-5). The way to have Christ upor us is to have Christ in us (Col. 1:27: Eph. 3:17). Hoarded Pension in Prison. At Fort Madison, Iowa, James R Saunders, alias William B. Glyndon was released from the penitentiary b; pardon of the Governor, after servinj thirty-one years for the alleged raur tier of a fourteen-year-old girl ii Grundy County. Saunders is nov 'hale and hearty at seventy-one years He was a snarpsnooier in an unit regiment during the Civil War, anc was granted a soldier's pension sinc< his incarceration, during which tinn he saved $1800. He came of a prom inent. Eastern Ohio family, and hai all these years hidden his famil; name behind that of Glyndon, thi family not knowinc his whereabouts School of Press Abolished. By a vote of the Senate at Jeffersoi City, Mo., on an amendment to th. Educational Appropriation bill thi School of Journalism at the Stat University is practically abolished The amendment forbids that any o the money appropriated be used fo | the support of any newspaper whicl i solicits either advertisements or sub scriptions. Senator McAllister de clared that the State ought not to bi in competition with private news papers of the State. .... _. V 9 ' * THE PULPlt! ^ ' kN ELOQUENT SUNDAY SERMON BY A. H. LEWIS, D. D. flieme: The Sacrednessof Fatherhood God alone has absolute power to ;reate. He might have retained this ' sower forever. He chose rather to Confer infinite honor and Infinite re[ sponsibility on man by delegating to L lim the power to recreate. This power to perpetuate the race, as a sub:reator, and to be a direct factor ic letermining its character and destiny, . fs divine. Its exercise in fs^therhood 's among the most sacred functions of 3xistence. In this life alone its re- t iults for good or evil ar'e beyond computation. Considered by the standxrd of an endless life, they are overwhelming. Were there not unknown . possibilities for good results, in each ixperience of parenthood, no man un- i ierstanding what it means could venture to assume fatherhood. ; Much the larger share of human mffering comes through impaired ^ physical health. Weakness and disease make men a burden on society, :ead to poverty, drunkenness, social rmpurlty, larceny and kindred evils. Mo man is free from guilt who transsits a single element of physical weakness or disease which he can ' avoid. The habitual use of stimulants and j aarcotics destroys nerve force and t uental balance. Their effects are oft j :en more prominent In the second and j ihe third generations than in those who first indulge. Purity in thought \ md act is an imperative demand ! I; wmcn tne sacreaness 01 actual or pos--< . ?ible fatherhood places on all men. 3 In assuming , fatherhood you are j t ; acting for God; exercising the holiest j ; Junction ever given you. If a man I , goes out as the agent of a business i j Irm, or the representative of a great. 3 j aation, he must be loyal to the power i f | which commissions him; and In whose 1 . I name he acts. How much more when ; , i man assumes fatherhood, in ,behalf j of the Infinite and Eternal Father! ! J ; He who does not love God cannot j J j transmit the tendency to love Him. j i 3uch a man must rather transmit the j ' j :endency to hate and disobey'God, for I ! which he, not his child, is responsi- j.' ble. This stupendous fact lies at the , ' 2ore of all true religion. The husband has to bear little of i j the passive service and continuous j ' f burdens 'which attend parenthood. I . ] The wife has an absolute tight to all; ] | the help which pure love, exhaustless j ! I patience and tenderest sympathy can ! 1 ! ifford. This is due to the child also, I j who must suffer loss fn proportion as ; 1 these are withheld from the mother, j 1 [f any husband denies these, or worse 1 ' still, gives, in place of them, indifter- ; ! I ence, neglect, harshness or abuse, he i fiornmoo n ahamn tn tViA name f)t ' ' , ? " ?' ? - ? -- . . fatherhood, a disgrace to his sex, aD i , snemy to his own child, and a sinner 1 before God. ' ' 'I Healing of the Mind. I know a man who, though busil> j f ind extensively engaged in Christian i service, was for long defeated in his J i ' thought life. The evil word and act i i were checked, but he could not pre- !| ! fent his thoughts from ranging over ' , '< forbidden fields, and consequently h? i j was brought into Inward bondage ant ; < f despair. One night, at the close of i : service, as the congregation sang thi I , ' j well known words: j : . i "Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind, i Sight, riches, healing of the mind, ] Yea, all I need in Thee to find, 0 Lamb of God, I come?" j che thought broke upon him, and b? ' ' ' saw that what he needed most of all j was such "healing of the mind" at that unto which Christ pledges Him. I 1 self. Falling upon his knees he cried 1 ; as he had never done before: j , I "O Lamb of God, I come!" ! i | i And his testimony is that Chris! ' 1 ; j Drought him that night into an atti? ! "ho nf tipw surrender and enabled I j j him to exercise new faith, claiming , ! I this promise which has constants ; i j I been fulfilled to him: "The peace ci i I 3od shall guard your heart and youi j j | i thoughts."?J. Stuart Holden. j I ! 1 ' Herald Blasts. j I j Never borrow money?the chances 1 ; ire you can't. v j ! ?! Never run your neighbor down? \ I ! : he may beat you at the game. ; ! If you are living in the Lord youi : | neighbors will rejoice in your life. J ' : i Some men never pay any compli* j : i ' ments. They are too stingy even fof j that. i A gentleman is never more polite ! < I ; to another woman than to his owr , ' j wife. The way of nature is the survival f > I of the strong; the way of grace 53 ! 1 J the salvation of the weak. There is little to choose between ' those who blow themselves in ancf ? those who blow themselves out. The man who practices what he 3 preaches before he preaches it shall' experience no difficulty in gettins | ' others to practice what he preaches ; i Birds sing, flowers bloom, zephyrs i I blow?all nature smiles?for the sole! | purpose of keeping in good humor, i 1 and still some old rascals refuse to , t j be happy.?Home Herald. I [ j Glorious Gift of Life. i I Life, despite of all that cynics 01 j i sentimentalists say, is a great and glorious gift! There is good for th< I ) good; there is virtue for the faith j i ful; there is victory for the valiant J s There is spirituality for the spiritual | > i and there is, even in this humble life j > j an infinity for the boundless in desire I : ! There are blessings upon its birth; i there is hope in its death, and thereis?to consummate all?there is eter- I nity in its prospect.?Orville Dewey. Bind Yourself to God. I thank Thee, O God, that I ma$ , i strive to do Thy work in the world y even when my heart is dry. I thanlt I Thee that I may bind myself to Thee; - even while I am crushed by my sinj 3 and shortcomings; that, even when tr doubt whether the love of God is iu . me, I may yet press nearer to The? 3 where only the heart can find rest. I 3 Rest in the Lord. 3 lp,w"' r\ Viact- oraate>r\ lis fOT - Thyself, and our heart is restless uns til it rests in Thee.?St. Augustine. 3 Yield Up Your Will. It is not by constraint or by pain? ful effort that we make real progress* On the contrary, it is simply a ques< 1 tion of yielding up our will, of going s from day to day withersoever God s may lead us, discouraged by nothing, ? satisfied with the present moment. thankful to let Him do all who has 1 made all, and to leave our own wili ? immovable within His will.?Fenelou ) Lightens the Trials. ? With an habitual sense of the di. vine presence, the trials of life are , lightened.?E. Peabodv*. i Aw for my doily range J1 UiVHlttnwn^ rhe fjlcajanr fields ,+S?' Mojy Wrif I myjhr dejpairW/ ^-T""yynj*V. Ov^ :?-sw, THE FATHER'S PART. i day or two ago it seems to me, I said within my prayers?"Dear GodC above, Bless Thou our baby with abundant love: veep her from pestilence and close t#Thee." i day or two ago?and yet to-night I'm asked to give her up to love's demand. A just request, Christ-sanctioned, ana. my hand [ cannot raise to wrestle with the blight. i day or two ago?I begged God's grace Because she was so little and so dear. The Master, kind and gracious, calmed' my fear: straight-limbed and strong she grew before my face. i.nd yet?my night's petition was the same. I did not seem to know it when shegrew. But "Bless our little one and keep hertrue" tacended from my lips each night that came. ro-night one spoke?I know him clean and* strong? Told of nis love, and then of love returned. i I must say "Yea?," but how my hurt . heart yearned! 1 A.nd all the yfcars ahead, how long?bow long! ?Edwin Carlile Litaey. The Cruelty of Thoughtlessness. Most of the cruelty of the world ir thoughtless cruelty. Very few people would intentionally add to anDther's load or make his burden ia life heavier or his path rougher. Most of the great heart-wounds areInfllntaH >iv tVirmcrVitlooo thrnata firing Dut often in a moment of angers wnen, perhaps, we were too proud to .apologize or to try to heal the grievous woundp we had made. Can anything be more cruel than t<* liscourage a soul who has been strugr;ling to do the best he can, to throw stumbling-blocks in the path of those who are trying to get on in the world igainst great odds? No life is just the same after you iiave once touched it; will you leavifr i ray of hope or one of despair, a flash Df light or a souiber cloud across some dark life each day; will you by :houghtles8 cruelty deepen the shar iow whiwh hangs over the life, or will you by kindness dispel It altogether? No matter how you feel or what- is disturbing your peace of mind, never allow yourself to send jut a discouraging, a cruel, or an unkind word or thought. The gloom caster, the shadow thrower, the fault-flnder, the sarcastic man. the man who is always giving you a thrust spmewhere. does a past amount of harm in a community. Men who throw gloomy shadows wherever they go, who depress everyktttV?s\ ern olnrova Innlrinc on thft 3ark side of everything, who see lit-1 tie good or beauty in life, are bad neighbors, and, as a rule, unsuccess-l rm. unpopular, and little mourned when they die. S It is the inspirer, the man who! cheers and gives you hope and I .-.ouragemeut, the sunshine bearer,the I man who always has a kind word fori vou. who is ever ready to cive you hisl hand and his help, that is loved dur-l Ing life and missed after death.? Northwestern Christian Advocate. I We Shall See Him. I Stephen, in the hour of his mar-l tyrdom, looked up into heaven and.fl saw Jesus, and he sank down amidfl thetpelting stones like a child hushed I to softest slumber. Jesus will always I break out into view if we look toward I Him with 1 onging and expectant trust, and though we be in the very valley I of the shadow of death we will fear I no evil. To see Jesus will soothe one I In pain, will comfort one in sorrow*.H will bring calm in tumult, will allay doubt, give hope in discouragement;? and in every way invigorate and up* I lift the soul as no other experience I can do. When hearts are breaking,! and tears are falling, and the light isl gone, to see Jesus is to find true com-H foft; it is like the breaking forth ofH the stars to the traveler lost in theH depths of a wilderness. We can deH nothing better to mitigate the sor-H rows and lighten the burdens of theH world than to help people to seeH Jesus. John, writing to the churchesH In the days when persecutions wereH fierce and sorrows and sufferings H were well nigh IntoleraDie, cneerea them In words that stand out In liv-H Ing light In his epistle, the words H that all the ages have clung to andH rejoiced In bevpnd all else there writ-H ten: "We shall see Him as He is." *1 The Old Manly Faith. 9 May the courage, may the insight, I mav the deep confidence in truth andH in the search for it which made ourH fathers in the faith strong, come toH us. New questions meet us in1 ourH own ,ay, new forms of thought. MayH we have the old courageous and mag-H nanimous spirit, the manly faith qfH those willing to do, to dare, if needH be to di? for truth.?S. M. Crothers. H The Path of Safety. H We yield ourselves up to erllH thoughts and suggestions, take coun-H sel of them, listen, and then wonderH that we become their victims. OurH safety is not chiefly in strength ofH will, but in cleaving to a holier com-H panionship which shall arouse theH better elementsof the soul.?EphraimH Peabody. / H Only Fleeting "Words. Take it not grievously if some think ill of thee, and speak that thou wouldst not willingly hear. Thou oughtest to be the hardest judge of thyself, and to think no one weaker than thyself. If thou dost walk spiritually, thou wilt not much weigh fleeting words. Compensation. It is some compensation for great evils that they enforce great lessons. ?Scottish Reformer. Standard Oil Ties Up Town. Public business at Tilton, 111., was at a standstill because three members of its Board of Affairs, necessary to a quorum, have had to choose between resigning public office or their places as employes of the Standard Oil Company, and decided to stay with the oil company. The company informed its employes that they must have nc part In public administrative business, Carrier Pigeons Abolished. * Last year the British Admiralty abolished the use of carrier pigeons,! as the result of the demonstrated success of wirfiless teleeranhv.