jj^H555E5HS25H55S25H525H5H5 I'themahs I By EFF1E ADELA (U *;? iried, brightly. "Enid! Enid! Come ind sing!" But Enid had crept away; she :ould not bear to stay and bee the :omedy played out. Her head ached rom nervousness, and her heart from >ain and dread, and when she reached ler room she flung herself on her bed, md burying her face on the pillow, >he burst into a flood of passionate, ;orrowful tears. Two days passed. The episode of he .thief and his prompt capture had lisappeared as quickly as it came to ill but Virginie and Enid. On the morning of the third day, vhile Dare Broughton was in the picure gallery finishing one or two little )dds and ends, Enid came in with a elegram in her hand. "I met Parsons with this, Mr. 3roughton. She *as asking for you, ;o, as I was coming up here, I irought it." Dare opened the buff envelope, and is he read the telegram his brow :ontracted. "My sister is ill. I must be off at >nce," he said, hurriedly. Enid looked round, her eyes full of lympathy. "Oh, I am sorry!" Dare gazed at her eagerly, but his tagerness died as he reaa her face, or he saw nothing to give him the lope he longed for so earnestly. s "You will come back soon, Mr. Jroughton? We shall miss you very nuch." He came up to her and took her land. "And I shall miss you more than can say," he answered, with a grave, ender smile, that robbed the words if the meaning he put on them. "I am tonored and delighted to think I may all myself your friehd, Miss Leslie, md I want you to promise me one hing; will you?" "Tell me first what it is," she said. "That you will write or call upon e at any time if ever you should be n trouble or need a friend. It is not ouch to promise, is it?" "On my side, no; but on yours, how ouch?" and Enid'^ eyes grew lusrous with the gratitude she felt for his man. "But, if it pleases you, Mr. Sroughton, I will promise." He bent and touched her hand irith his lips, and then, making an xcuse about seeing the earl at once, eft her. She was still gazing nut of a winlow, the smile gone from her face nd the look of pain creeping round ler mouth again, when a servant ame into the gallery. "Her ladyship desires to speak to ouvmiss,'' he said; "she is in her ioudoir." Enid went at once, not without a light fluttering at her heart, and ound Dorothy in a loose gown of ale gray, seated at her writing table. "Oh," she said, looking round, Gervais wants me to drive Mr. Jroughton to the station; it is the essions, or something of the kind, .t Loxton, so of course Gervais has o be there. I don't feel quite well his morning. Will you go instead?" "Certainly." Enid waited. She seemed to think )orothy had a commission for her to o. But Lady Derriman did not make ,ny further remark, and after a monent's pause Enid went away, and ras seated behind the ponies when Jervais and Dare Broughton apteared. r "Dorothy does not feel equal to the Irive, but Miss Leslie will make a uost delightful je'nu," the earl said, ,s he clasped his friend's hand. Come back soon, Broughton; you [now how welcome you are, old felow, and I am anxious to see' my life's picture." He stood and watched the carriage owl swiftly away, then with a little igh, given he hardly knew wherefore >r why, Gervais got into the dogart waiting and drove in the oppoite direction to Loxton. Half way between Knebwell and joxton there was a small inn, and at i word from the groom the earl >ulled up and let ths man have a ook at one of the mare's shoes. "There's nothing wrong, is there, Jarch?" he called out, after a monent's pause, during which he had a :heery, kind word for the landlord. "A trifle loose, my lord; but I think he'll stay till we get to Loxton." "I hope so." Gervais looked round at the animal i little anxiously; then his eye caught iome one looking at him, and he rowned half unconsciously. This some one proved to be a man Iressed in showy, sporting-like fashon, with a huge cigar between his ij?s. "If his lordship would like the use )f my cart, he's very welcome," this nan said, swinging forward, and jointing with a stick to a smart horse ind trap close by. Gervais smiled, and his frown vanshed. "Many thanks. I think I shall be ible to manage?I am much obliged n vaii oil i Vi a eo m o n r* H _ H a \' Wat. ;on. Come along, March; we must lurry." The stranger pulled on his gloves. "Poor devil!" he thought to himself. "Pity ain't worth much, but I )ities him all the same. He's made i mistake what many a man's done it'ore; but somehow 1 think when he finds out his mistake he'll go to the ft-a 11 as clean as possible." He paid his bill, mounted his cart find drove away in ine airecuoa 01 3roombridge. CHAPTER XIX. More Money. On three thousand a year George [.axon found it easy to live in comfort, not to say luxury, and lie did not stini himselL At Groombridge he drove up to the principal hotel, or inn, as it proudlj called itself, and ordered some food j for himself and horse. There was a well to do air about 1 him, and he was waited on obsiv | A quiously. "I'll go and stroll about a bit tlli j my chop is done," he observed, light* I ing another cigar and swaggering out | with his hands in his pockets, highly i . delighted with his own importance ! ^ and the smartness of his attire. j t. At the doorway of the inn, how- ]_ ever, he came to a standstill, and his n swagger took another shape. C His eye rested on a grimy, dirty t: figure just lurching out of the public S bar, and he recognized it with an Joath. t( It was the man who three days g previously had been caught by the a French maid at Bromley Manor as a e thief. s Laxon went up to him and struck his hand heavily on the other's shoul- j 5 der. I a "What are you doing here, Jim c Coates?" he asked, in a short, angry, a way. o Jim Coates had taken juct enough t beer to be pugnacious. j: "Oh, it's you, is it, Mister Laxon? j !' Well, and what's it to do with you j . why I'm here?" j ^ "That ain't a -plain answer. You t know me, Coates; I ain't one to be i d fooled. Speak out; what are yer do- j d in' here, eh?" t The other looked at him with a , E drunken grin. .i ? "Suppose I'm here on the same ! t herrand as you is, Mister George ! r Laxon?" he said in a mysterious fash- ' l ion. ] f Laxon's grip closed on his shoul- j a der. j t "Now out witb it, you old snake; ' f confound you! If you don't speak, ! I'li break every bone in your body!" I 0 "Do it! Do it! I don't care! The a Annnfiicc nn nt tho lilp- hmiSP 'till Save i C me!" I E Laxon suddenly dragged him out of i t the hearing of the various men scat- j 6 tered about, and when they were j alone, he shook him like a dog. The action roused Coates, and he ' looked at his adversary with not a ! little fear in his dirty face; he knew | what Laxon's temper was; he had seen exhibitions of it before, and he shrunk from the angry glitter of those handsome blue eyes as from j some deadly weapon. "Now speak out! Tell me the ! truth, d'ye 'ear? I ain't goin' to j listen to no lies!" * With that grip on his shoulder, Jim ! Coates felt in no mood for telling lies, | and in a few seconds Laxon knew the j reason of his presence in Groom- | hHHco town sn rlofiG to the home of i / the Earl and the Countess of Derri- j t man. - j Laxon listened carefully. "I know you ain't no fool, Jim,'' J he said, planting his band;; deep in j the pockets of his loud looking coat J and clinching them to keep them from ' striking at the dirty wretch before j him; "and that's what makes a chap j wonder why you stay on here with i the chance of somebody sayin' some- ! thin' nasty about thievin' an' so on. A country place ain't like a town, yer gets a bad name in a minnit. Now, if I was you, I'd make a cut for the i borough; you're safe enough there." ! He plied the man with drink, und j so eager was he to get, what seemed j to him, the half-witted creature, back ! to his old haunts, that he went with j V 4+ Vi nn/1 annr Kim I ill I LI up LVJ uc oiatiuii, a.nvi aan iuiu safely into the London train, having ! first bought his ticket and given him ' a sovereign into the ^argain. j After her return from Groombridge i station, Enid went up to the gallery i and sat down to her painting, and as I she sat a sense of desolation crept over her. Most of tte party had gone to a meet of the hounds not very far away, but Dorothy, urged by Gervais, had promised to remain at home for this day at least. To Enid's surprise, however, she found Captain Leicester one of the luncheon party, and her surprise was not altogether touched with pleasure, for she did not like the young man, and resented the familiar air with which he appropriated her, as it were, arranging himself as a cavalier at every turn. She went quickly to her room, put on a hat and cloak, and determined to make her way to the grounds. Her feet moved unconsciously on the path Gervais had led her in that first momentous riding lesson, and she was already a good distance, paving quickened her steps from the chilly nature of the air, when to her extreme vexation she heard some one following her, and was overtaken by Captain Leicester. To be Continued. Not Pierre Loti. Those who aspire to literary fame or who are in anywise puffed up with pride and vainglory because it has come to them may be surprised to find it is not a thing which is envied and coveted by all men, for in a certain French journal there appeared recently the following announcement inserted by a rat-trap maker of ; Lyons: "To All Whom It May Concern: M. Pierre Loti, of Lyons, sole j inventor Ul Lilt; auiuiuaui; i ctl u ajj, ? begs to state that he is not the same j person and that he has nothing in j common with one Pierre Loti, a writer of romances." We should have liked to have seen the face of "one Pierre Loti" when he read this notice, and hope that any tendency which he may have shown toward sinful pride i may since it appeared have been t chastened to a becoming humility.? J * The Tatler. . | j Handshaking. In the barbarous days of old. when c 1 every man had to watch carefully 1 f over his own safety, when two per- * ' sons met they offered each to the ! other the right hand, the hand thfrt wields the club, sword, knife or other ; weapon of war. Each did this to show that the hand was emntv. and r that, therefore, no trouble needed to c be feared. The handshake was the J treaty of peace?in a word, the way t they had of showing each other that they meant to be friendly.?The ! American. I While the Chinese do not care for alcoholic drinks, but are addicted tc i * opium, the Koreans like strong drink ? ' and do not care for opium. THE PULPIT. BRILLIANT SUNDAY SERMON THE REV. HOWARD C. IVES. Theme: Faith of God in Man< ' New York City.?The Rev. Kowan !. Ives, pastor of All Soul's Uni irian-Universalist Church, of Nei .ondon, Conn., preached Sunda loming in All Souls' Unitaria: !hurch, Fourth avenue and Twer ieth street, the Rev. Dr. Thomas B licer being the preacher at Corne! fniversity. Mr. Ives' subject wa The Faith of God in Man." Th ext was in these words: "God hat iven man dominion over the eart nd over every living thing that mo> th upon it" In the course of hi ermon Mr. Ives said: We cannot too often remind oui elves that man's idea or ideal c rod has constantly, though so slowl s .to be almost imperceptibh hanged aa the ages have rolle round. From a faith in God as thz f the savage who trusts Him to pr< ect him from plague, fight for hi] a battle and guide him in his hun og, through many upward steps ma las come to havo faith in a God c ove and Fatherhood. When to-da he leaders of scientific and religioi hought speak of a faith in God, the lo not mean any acceptance c* [eflnition of His attributes and fum ionB, nor any description of H towers or dwelling place. Both sc nee and religion accept the univert ,s the developing worK of a rations tower. Every intelligent man to-da egards the universe as an unfoldini iving organism. Every scientist a] iroaches the study of this life wit in awe and wonder exactly propo: ioned to the depth and sincerity < * --1- - ? J Vi nn f f 1 us cnaracier; auu cycjj iuuu^uui nind sees in it all the working out < .n immutable plan, the expression < .n indwelling God, the unfolding < i life which is material or spiritui inly as it is viewed from differei ides and by different grades of ii elligence. It is only by tracing .the: low developments of spiritual lif ?f an appreciation of the worthfu less of purity, honor and truth; < he constantly developing ideal < }od, that we are able to see that 1 vorship an arbitrary Being, ei hroned at the centre of the univers o whom prayers for selfish gratiflci ion may be addressed, is just as tru! dolatry as if we were to set up irazen image and pwj to that. T1 inly faith which a finite being ca * *- ? )OSslDiy nave 1x1 aii luimne uuu, win >ut being intellectually ridiculous, o accept the highest ideal of the af n which he lives as the God wortt >f worship. Now, is it not plain that all th turden of progress,'of developmen >f faith- in himself, of faith in Go las be?n thrown upon man's shou lers? This infinite God, this powi hat works for righteousness, th iternal energy from which all thinj iroceed, has literally said to me hrough all history, "Go forth at iave dominion over the earth at >ver every moving thing which mo ith upon it. Plow into the ocea vlth your ships; girdle the wor! vith the electric spark; trace tl nighty sweep of worlds and sum unnel mountains, water arid plain raverse the air like the bird, swi he ocean deeps like the fish, separa n your laboratories the elemen * * ' +y rom wnicn i nave cuiupui uucu n vorlds. Do all this and a thousam old more, for, lo! I am with you 1 ;uide and uphold." And men hai lone It simply because God has trus id them with the edged tools of tt vorld. But He has trusted us with sti jreater power. How did we evi :ome to replace the idol of a wrat! ul, vengeful God with the spiritu :onception of God as love? Simp hrough God's faith In us as His spi tual children. In the fullness < ime a great soul?the first of thoi rue sons of God for whom the ere ion had leen in travail through tl iges, enunciated the simple, tr nendous truth that all this galaxy i ;arth and sky; all the meaning < listory; all the lessons of nature ai ;h? voice in the hearts of men, co ferge toward the proof that God )lans involve nothing but the ull nate happiness and goodness of H ihildren; that He is not pleased wii ;he death of the wicked; that He so owe over the prodigal and that the s joy in heaven over one sinner th epenteth. In a word, that God ully, completely, scientifically d scribed in the words, "God is Love But this tremendous truth had a vays been in the world. God did n .uddenty become a God of love. M< lad been slowly learning the lessc hrough the sufferings consequei lpon ignoring it, and they learned jy experience, simply because G( .rusted them to learn it and h? 'aith In them. That after it wi earned they would turn with joy ai lope to the new ideal of Him and i u ui? nhlldran .UCIIIDCIVCD ao 11119 vunuivw. When God gave us the earth to po >ess, He also gave us ourselves, ar ;rusted us to learn that the only wi o really possess our own souls is )refer others before ourselves; tl rnly way to be first Is to be the eg rant of all; the only way to conqm s to love. This is the whole messaj )f Christianity. We are no longi old we must be good in order to ga leaven after death. We have learn< hat we must live purely and u lelfishly in order to make a heav< lere and now for our brothers; ar n learning that we have, learned ill. We have only to adopt th iimple rule to the involved conditio] )f modern life; only to make it effe ,ive in shop and home, Senate char ler and school, in street and farm ar )ress, and, lo! God's age-long faith : 3is children has been justified ar lis kingdom has come on earth as s in heaven. A Supplication. Give me, 0 Lord, a mild, a peac ible, a meek, and an humble spiri hat, remembering my own infirm ies, I may bear with those of otl irs; that, considering my characte may rebuke with all long-sufferir md gravity; that I may think low >f myself, and not be angry whc >thers also think lowly of me; that nay be patient toward all men, gei le and easy to be entreated. Ame: ?Bishop Wilson (1722). To Find Peace. Give me good work to do, that nay forget myself and find peace i loing it for Thee. Though I a: ioor, send me to carry some gift I hose who are poorer, some cheer 1 hose who are more lonely.?Hem ,:an Dyke. God'y Habitation. A quiet state of mind, a state ( nind free from its own troubled in iginings and operations, is God's hal tation. His inward kingdom and tea ile.?Ituvsbroke. I Religious Truths\ j From the Writings of Great] j I Preachers. |! REST FROM THE BURDEN. J For Thou hast been a strength to th? v poor, a strength to the needy in his disy tress, a refuge from the storm, a shadow j q from the heat?Isa. 25:4. i- | God sends sometimes a stillness in our i t. life? II The bivouac, the sleep, s When on the silent battlefield the strife > Is hushed in slumber deep. ' ? When wearied hearts exhausted sink t(J | jj rest, ' h Remembering not the struggle nor th? r- quest. is We know such hours, when the dim, dew> | r. night, * Bids day s hot turmoil cease; When star by star steals noiselessly in j y sight. " With silent smiles of peace; d When we lay down our load, and half it forget, j. The morrow comes and we must bear it a yet. We know such hourc, when after days of ? pain ? And nights when 6leep was not, y God gives us ease, and peace and calm j is a8ain>. sy Till, all the past forgot, a We sa.v, in rest and thankfulness most i e. deep E'en so "He giveth His beloved sleep." j i* When some strong chain that bound us, ie by God's strength ll Is loosed or torn apart; iv Or when, beloved and longed for, comc at / length, ^ Some friend makes dad our heart; v We know the calm that follows on such b bliss, r- That looks no farther, satisfied with this. )1 . j il God does not always loose the chain, nor | 3l give jj _ The loved ones back to us; ,? Sometimes 'mid strife and tumult we must ' ! live, 11 ! Learning His silence thus: it : Ihere is a rest for those who bear His will, i l- j A peacefulness, than freedom sweeter still. ; 56 | o i He mveth fest. more nerfect. Dure and i l' true. J While -we His burden bear; Jj It springeth not from parted pain, but | through -0 The accepted blessing there; 1- The lesson pondered o'er with tearfui eyes, ' e, Ihe faith that sees in all a meaning wise. I EL* Deep in the heart of pain God's hand hath ! * set a A hidden rest and bliss; 16 Take as His gift the pain, the gift brings > ID yet tl- A truer happiness; ic God's voice sneaks, thrnuch it all flip ViitrTi ,g behest ' That bids His people enter into rest. * ?Lucy Fletcher, in London S. S. Times, is ^ Say the Right Thing at the Right i I. Time. When you come to the choice of a is profession or trade, how important it Z* is for you to say the right word and { to do the right thing. If you make a ' id mistake it is often very difficult to ^ right it. And the issues may be most v* serious. More serious still is it when in pou come to make your choice of a :ife partner. 16 If you are a parent, there is a j 31 message to be delivered to children s< it every stage as long as they are m with you. .If you miss giving them te what they need up to the age of ten, ts I rou can never give it later on. Many ie j parents give the devil too many years J itart, and they never quite overtake t0 i ais work. ,e j Never was better counsel given [ than this: "As ye go, preach;" don't 1 ie ! pass a station in the hop? of coming j back to it. "Redeem the time." or. i ^ is Luther translates, "Buy up the opI portunity;" an opportunity lost never k* precisely recurs. This line of reflecp tion has to most of us its gloomy ly side. We look back, and, oh, how r: many blunders we have made! Well, 01 go back we cannot; we cannot be se i now as if those mistakes had not a" ! been made. What then? Shall we 10 j despair? No; we must rise to a e! | manly and brave life, to make the | best of the present, and turn the fuD'I ture to good account. If now we I have learned a message, let us de- j ,* j liver it with fidelity. ;.? I And surely we have not come so ! ; far without learning something, and tV| I something of importance. We have j failed much; but from failures, too, ! I if we take them rightly, we may learn ] ^ much?much of man and life and I jQ God. Upon' what wp have learned, ' let us live; turn it into practical wis- j , dom, and give the good of it to those j about us.?T. Rhondda Williams, in ; pj the Divine Artist. ;d ' Business and the Cross. at it The law of the cross, by the sweet i )d and strong compulsion of love, will I id compel captains of industry to con- j is duct business, not simply for gain, i id but for the good of those who practi- ; of cally are their partners in the labor j of life. The talent for organization s- and for the conduct of a great busiid ness will be regarded as a talent to iy be used in human service quite as tc much as the talent for teaching or for ie the practice of medicine is now ref. garded. er Hitherto in the sphere of business je, tjie talent necessary for eminent suc5i cess therein has been regarded as enin tirely free to be used wholly for the jd gain of its possessor; henceforth the | n- talent for business leadership must i ;n be regarded as a natural qualification | id for serving other men by combining it and directing them to do what they is could not do for themselves. And the is man inspired by the heart of love and , c- dominated by the law of the cross, 0- will take as much interest in his busiid ness and in its success when he feels In himself to be the leader of men for id their good as ever the man who it worked wholly for himself has done. ?Homiletic Review. The Source of Spiritual Power. The sympathy which opens up e- fountains of penitent tears, the burn-, i t, ing love which wins and constrains ! 1- the soul, the unwearying patience J ti- I with the slow or neart.to Deneve,1 uur, I tiring diligence in seeking the lost ig I and ruined of the world, constant ly hopefulness in the face of sin and in I despair, unflinching courage in the I | presence of arrogant opposition?all a- these are found in Jesus, the highest u. revelation of gift as well as of grace. ?Rev. J. D. Robertson. The up-to-date butcher shop is now j j 'provided with an electric meat saw, In and the old handsaw is relegated to m the junk 'pile. In its place is a small to handsaw, driven by an electric mo0 tor, which severs all bones in a neat y. and expeditious manner. Trouble ATteaAT' v "Isn't it too bad!" sighed Mrf. >r Lapsling. "I snan mave to go 10 iue i dentist's again. I find I have anothJm er vicarious tooth in niv upper jaw!" lm ?Chicago Tribune. THE WARFARE AGAINST DRINK TEMPERANCE BATTLE GATHERS STRENGTH EVERY DAY. The Wrong Face in the Rogue's Gallery. Prohibition is coming. Already half the territory of the United States is dry, and the gains in recent years have been rapid. And yet we muft i admit that certain parts of our country (notably the large cities) will have saloons for many years to come. As long as these saloons remain, the questions of saloon regulation and responsibility will be important. To an outsider It would seem as if the keeper of the saloon had no rir sponsibilities except paying his license, closing his front door at X o'clock and (this in a whisper) keeping the police captain sweetened. Tsey seem to be above the law, or perhaps, below the law. For instance, suppose you own a little fox terrier whose canine soul is stirred by the sight of the moon to such a pitch that he just cannot restrain his voice. You find that you are maintaining a nuisance and that you and your pocketbook are responsible. But you can hear the strident piano thumping and the maudlin shouts from the saloon four blocks away long after midnight. Is this a nuisance? It is still going on at any j rate. Some day a neighbor's child tor- | ments your terrier until it nips him j with his teeth. Then a fat police- j man calls upon you to shoot the dog and the tongue-twisted lawyers serve j notice that you are guilty of trespass, ' although you had always supposed j that trespass was invading someone# i else's land. And yet the same night [ the saloonkeeper may let loose a wild- f ly drunken maniac with a revolver to I make night hideous and, incidentally, to put a bullet through the shoulder I of a passerby. Is the saloonkeeper i responsible? Why, he isn't even men- j tioned in the case. Perhaps you left a small wooden , oox out in front of your store. Some- ; one stumbled over it and you were I responsible for neglect. But do you : know what "kind of pictures they ; have in saloons, what sort of games they play in the back rooms, what i kind of-places they keep above them? \ If stumbling blocks are actionable, j why not these? You have read of drunken assaults; j drunken flghta and drunken murders. ! Your morning paper tells you of the j trials of the drunkards. What do j you hear of the responsibilities of the ; arunicara maKerr?nome neraiu. Noble Response of Illinois. Illinois has responded nobly to the sail of temperance. With a large foreign population, she has difficulties in the way of prohibiting that many j States, whose populations are more aative, do not meet. Of great encouragement to her workers should be the I ringing address which Abraham Lin? j coin delivered in 1842, February 22, i on the occasion ofWashington's birth- j day. First of all, he naturally spoke of the glorious Revolution of '76. j Then, with the tongue of prophecy, i tie spoke of a still greater revolution, j "Turn now to the temperance revo- I (ution. In it we shall find a stronger ( Jondage broken, a viler slavery manu- j mitted, a greater tyrant deposed; in j it more of want supplied, more