Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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?<0iH2SH5HSH5S52S2Sa52SHSH5S I THE MAN [ vi | . By EFFIE ADEL (5 * N^jS5HSBSSSHSHSHS5SHS5S5SEE CHATTER XXIV. 1 o Confirm p<1. "It is my dear lady, especially Mich a case as this. ' On my life, I don't wonder your friends are flying from Bromley while the villain is still 'unfound; but we must surely trace him to-morrow...- Suspicion points to that man who was seen with Laxon earlier / in the day at the Groomsbridge Arms. Several people say they were heard having a quarrel; hut then the landlord declares that Laxon walked with this man afterward to the railway station, saw him into the London train and parted from him most amicably." "What sort of a man?" questioned Dorothy, nervously. Gervais drew her closer to him; they were alone in the drawing room, except for Enid?who sat gazing into j the fire, longing to be alone, yet I dreading the night before her?and Sir Gregory Martin. _V-. "It is the old proverb, 'give a dog 'a bad name and hang him,' " he said, speaking lightly, yet net without some vexation; "'it seems there is a general opinion about that the murderer is one and the same person as your old friend, the man whom Virginie called a thief the other night." Dorothy's breath almost stopped. She had feared this, but when "the fact came it overwhelmed her. ) "Ridiculous!'* she gasped, painfully. "Poor old man?why " she broke off suddenly?"but I can't bear to, hear more about it to-night. Come, Enid, let us go to bed and leave these gentlemen to indulge in horrors to their hearts' content." Enid rose at once and Dorothy, after they had shaken hands with Sir Gregory, put her arm round- her cousin and went away. As they went up the stairs Enid saw that the perspiration was standing qn Dorothy's brow like beads* yet her hand was as cold as ice. At the door they parted, but as Enid was moving on Dorothy stopped her. f "Enid, I have one request to make;. If I should be taken 111 I wish you to nurse me, alone! Do you understand?" "Yes," said Enid wearily. "And you promise?" Dorothy's white face looked terribly worn and wretched. Without a thought to herself Enid promised, then the door was closed and she walked slowly on to her own room. Here she found Maria waiting for her, shivering. "Oh, Miss Enid, I'm too frightened to sleep all alone to-night. You know, miss, I'm up in the tower? May I sleep on the sofa in your studio, Miss, but I daren't sleep alone." Enid gave a gentle consent and even helped the girl to make a comfortable bed; then as she was quite filnnp Qho hlirioH hor fnon in hor hands and fell on her knees by her bed. Twice had she intended to leave Bromley Manor, and each time she had been thwarted! Was it Fate that kept her near, to be with Gervais at this time of trouble? CHAPTER XXV. Tracing the Crime. Bromley Manor was busy the next morning with the departure of all the guests. Gervais was in the hall to wish each one farewell, and make excuses for Dorothy, who was not well enough to leave her room. There was an air of suppressed excitement about} the household; the servants were to be seen in knots of twos and threes, eagerly discussing the murder?for that it was a murder there was now no doubt whatever. The de?.d man had been attacked from behind, and stabbed in nearly a dozen places. Dr. Waters was of opinion that he must have fainted and fallen from loss of blood, and that the murderer had then struck the final and fatal blow that had r" pierced the heart. The fact that a silk scarf was tied around tho Ipf f- arm nf *" % was puzzling to the medical man, as ! It argued that there must have been some pause between the attacks, or that the murderer had himself bound up the arm, which last supposition seemed absurd on the face of it. There was no mark of any sort on the scarf, ro that the theory that it had been used to throw the scent in any particular direction fell to the ground, though Dr. Waters had some Ideas on the subject which he kept to himself. On a sectfnd examination of the body toe confirmed the impression he nad come to at first, namely, that ther wound in the arm was' in all probability struck some little time before tBe others, as the strapping of the handkerchief tightly around had not only caused the flow of blood to cease, but had pressed the sides of the wound?which was a clean, deep flesh cut?close together. uervais, after she had seen the last of the guests depart, turned with a sigh to go to the library, where Dr. Waters and the local police were . waiting for him. "Have you found any trace of the man you suspect, Mr. Reynolds?" was his first question to the inspector. "No, my lord; but it's early yet., He can't be gone far, for, according to Mr. Lawler, the landlord of the Groombridge Arms,1 he/was a tramp, my lord, with no money or nothink." "But by this time, remember, in I all probability he has what would be to him a perfect treasure," said Dr. I Waters, sharply; "the dead man has been rob')ed, of that there is no doubt, and his murderer has gone off "Very true, sir." replied the inspector, civilly, "you're quite light; with the money and the watch." but all the same, sir. T don't count on that doing him much good By thisi time every person in the county has cis description by heart, and ? : 1 l5H5ESE5E5H5H5"a5H5H5H5"2?5T5> >he loved! ft AIDE ROWLANDS. 1 ; "9 . H5H5a5E5HSHSHSH5E5H5S5H?.^!/ there is a great feeling agin him, sir; he would find it 'ard to get help from anywhere, now." "Yes, yes; of cdurse now he would"?Dr. Waters was always inclined to be testy when he was bothered?"but he may not be in the county at all, Reynolds; in fact, I should not be surprised if he wasn't out of England by this time." The inspector looked a trifle disconcerted. There was no pleasing Dr. Waters, he said to himself. "One moment." Gervais followed the fussy little man into the hall. "I suppose you can have formed no idea what weapon was used?" "I can only conjecture that it must have been a large claspknife," Dr. Waters answered, thoughtfully; "the wounds are narrow and deep as if struck by a knife or a dagger. I have concluded it was the first, as ." om the description I have gathered of the man, he would hardly be likely to have a dagger about with him." "Unless it were a premeditated thing." , * "Exactly; but as-to ttrSt&f course we can say nothing. I suppose you found evidences of a struggle in tne plantations, Lord Derriman?" "Yes, for a few yards the bushes were beaten down, and the earth and bracken disturbed, as- though the dead man had been dragged along and then dropped; we could find no I sign of a knife or any weapon, though I had men searching there all day yesterday, and they are at it still." | Gervais watched the doctor drive away, stood for a moment in silence, and then went back to the library. He had several things yet to say to th6 inspector and his men. No one could tell how this business worried the earl; it was so horrible to him to think that a life had been taken so near to his house; that while all within had been probably laughing and enjoying themselves, the poor creature had lain bleeding to death so ''close to them, yet so far away. It was not the disagreeable duties forced upon him as lord of the manor and as magistrate from which Gervais shrank; he recognized that this was expected from him, but it pained him to think what a shadow this murder had suddenly cast over his peaceful existence and happy contentment. He had vowed to himself,' when Dorothy became his wife, that he would ever make her life beautiful, a perpetual sunshine; and now she was plunged into all the horrors of a most ghastly murder committed in the very precincts of her home! It was of her he thought first, and her white face the previous night at dinner had made him beside himself with uneasiness and pain. . The police did not remain long at the Manor House, but they were distributed about the grounds in case any scent should be found and their services be needed. Groves, the gardener, was a person of much- importance in the kitchen by reason of having been the discoverer of the body; he was never tired of detailing the whole story over and over aeain to his eager audience, and most of the men servants, it must be confessed, were inclined to envy him his unique position. As is often the case with ignorant minds, the domestics were thrilled and not altogether displeased at the dreadful thing that had happened in their quiet, smooth lives; and they could not quite understand why all the grand folk should have hurried away so quickly, nor why Miss Leslie and my lady should be so very much upset by it. "My lady, she moan and moan and seem so ill; she 'ave the white cheek," Virginie said, shrugging her shoulders *&nd puffing away at a cigarette which she had" stolen from Gervais' dressing-room. "And for Mademoiselle Enid, she so tranquille, she, what you say, she vil not utter word!" i "Miss Enid's got such a good eari, was Juan a. s viguiuus icpxj, "iook 'ow kind she is if there's any of us ill." "Ay, that she be, to be sure," agreed a stout kitchen girl. Virginie took no notice of these remarks, but turning her back began to gesticulate and chat lightly with the chef, who at that moment made his appearance. "You ask Mr. Simmonds from the 'All, what he thinks of Miss Enid, and you'll soon find out if she ain't all I've said," Maria went on; them in a stage whisper to Eliza, "I can't abide 'earing people spoke bad of, but I suppose furriners can't help being nasty." The entrance of the policemen who had been sent by Gervais to have what refreshments they wanted, was a welcome interruption, and very soon Groves was made to stand up and go over his story again and again. x . And up in her room Enid was walking to and fro weary with her lrng sleepless night?Weary with the ceaseless flow of agitated thought through her brain, and the agony of doubt, fear and pain in her tender young heart. She tried to dismiss from her mind the suspicions that rifrt' Kiif f niief Koliof i Tt Gervais were too strong. She knew the tale Dorothy had told her was a lie. She knew it, for she had fathomed his nature so well. He a criminal? He commit some deep and wicked sin, and yet bear so frank and fearless a face? No, a thousand times no! Were he to tell her himself that it was true, Enid felt that she should not believe it; thnt i* would be suid to screen some one else, whose guilt was only equaled by their cowardice. "How could Dorothy say such a hlng?" Enid cried passionately to herself, as the memory of her cousin's blanched face rose beside the vision of Gervais' straightforward, honest one, and strengthened liie v jubt that had sprung, indeed, even while listening to the plausible story. Suppose, after all, it were true, should she have spoken of it to me? And I know It is not true?it is false! False and cjuel! She forgot that I have seen tils man; that I took that message from her, and there was no thought of Gervais in his anger; it was all against her. I shall never forget it, never; and Dorothy has lied to me, as she has lied to her feus, band. Oh, I cannot remain here; the misery of it will be too much for me." She clasped her hands together so tightly as almost to hurt them. "To live day by day, and see him so deceived, wasting his great love, for j Dorothy does not really love him; she could not love him and treat him as slie does; yet, can I go when there is such trouble around? Perhaps before to-day is out, Dorothy's name will have been dragged into this! The shame would almost kill him! What shall I do? I am so helpless, so powerless to avert this danger!" It was thus she had gone on all the morning, she had touched no food; her head swam and her limbs ! trembled; but her brain lived keenly | and acutely through her bodily weakness, working and struggling with the mass of troubled "thoughts that seemed to gather in multitude each minute. The day dragged slowly away. Dorothy and Enid met at luncheon, hut neither sooke. and each was [ grateful that Gervais had been called away, and could not be present. Enid's eyes wandered every now and thea to her cousin's face. She was astonished to see it so calm, considering the share Dorothy had had in the affair. There was annoyance and selfish fear expressed in the steel-gray orbs, I and round the cold mouth, but be- ! yond that Enid could trace nothing; j self . Was the one strong feeling in j Dorothy's breast, and she betrayed I that feeling in her face. , "Has?has anything happened?" J she asked, abruptly, as the meal ! endeJ. I "I have not heard; but I have been > Upstairs all the morning." , They relapsed into silence again, j and the afternoon wore away in the same painful fashion.' Dorothy broijght her books into the dra-ving room and Enid pretended to do some work; but the books were not onened. and Enid's needle lay untouched in the embroidery. Perhaps Gervais' wife divined that the girl did not believe that ready lie she had invented; at all events, strange though it may seem, Dorothy, grew uncomfortable alone with Enid. She was not wont to let conscience trouble her as a rule, but Enid's great, truthful eyes always seemed to gaze into her heart. Gervais came in about five o'clock. Dorothy was too frightened to speak as the door opened and he came in. What if they had found the map, and it was proved that he had seeh her? His first words dispelled thsft fear. "The search is positively hopeless," he said, as he took her In his arms and kissed her; "they can find no trace. Myself, I am beginning to question whether they have not been [ on the wrong scent altogether, and that your poor old pensioner has been terribly maligned. By the way, my darling, what is he called? You never told me." Dorothy moistened her lips, and thought wildily for some answer. She had never heard this man's name. "I have always called him old? old Joe, dear; I don*t know what his other, name ijr" "Old Joe! "'That is not very distinct. And where does he Jive? Was he one of your poor people when you were at Knebwell?" "Oh, no! He?he was a poor old man I helped at Weif Cottage." Dorothy laid her head ?n his shoulder to hide her pale, vexed face. I "At Weir Cottage. Then, doubtless. he has gone back to that neighborhood. I suppose I ought to give Information of this to Reynolds." "Oh, don't!" Dorothy pleaded, clinging to him with what he thought was tenderness, but which in reality was sudden fear. "Poor creature, I am certain be had nothing to do with it. Don't you remember how thin and miserable he looked when he was caught by Virginie; he could not have killed a spider, much less a man." "With you as his defender he must be guiltless," Gervais said, with a faint smile; then he sat down in a ohair as she loosed her hold and passed his hand over his brow. (To be continued.) ; lioys Kill Monster Snake. As Eddie L. Bates, of Youngstown, twelve years old, was picking berries on the mountain a blacksnake swung from a low tree and twined about the boy's body. The boy fought* in terror, but fell to the ground, and one of the folds of the snake slipped around his throat. The three mates of the boy fled when the snake attacked him, but returned, and Eddie Greely, with a fence stake, attacked the snake. The first blow missed the snake, and, landing on the Bates boy's head, almost finished him, but Greely persevered, and with his two companions finally beat off the blacksnake, which then attacked the other I boys. Bates, who had been more scared than hurt, filled his lungs with air a few times, then grabbing a club, assisted his companions in their battle. The snake was finally killed, and when the lads dragged it triumphantly into Youngstown it was measured and found to be nine feet ten inches long. Many parties of berry pickers have been attacked in the foothills here by snakes.?Latrobe (Pa.) Correspondence Philadelphia Record. An Explanation. "How long has this restaurant been open?" asked the would-be diner. "Two years," said the proprietor. "I am sorry did not know ft," said the guest. "I should bo better off if I bad come * -re then." "Yes?" smiled the proprietor, very, much pleased. "How Is that?" "I should probably have been served by this time if I had," said the guest, and the entente cordiale vanished.?Harper s Weekly. Windmills were invented and first used by the Saracens. ( THE PULPIT AN ELOQUENT SUNDAY SERMON SY THE REV. SYDNEY H. COX. . f Theme: What is It to Lice? Brooklyn, N. Y.?Sunday morning the Rev. Sydney Herbert Cox, pastor of the Church of the Evangel, preached on the special subject, "What is It to Live?" The text was from Matthew 4:4: "It is written? Man stufll not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God." Mr. Cox said: It is written! Where? In Deuteronomy, the second giving of the law, the recapitulation of man's experience with God, and his interpretation thereof. It is declared that man's life is something more than escape from a wilderness of hunger to a land of rich harvests. The temptation of Jesus is the prototype through which every personality must pass. This profound fact of spiritual consciousness brings man face to face with the elemental questions of his being. What is our life? Why are we tempted, and how? What is sin, and how can we be free from it? What is to be the end of the battle, with its deep failures and few successes? What does it mean to live? The answer of Jesus includes a denial and an affirmation. He sets forth (1) the unity of life. His reply to the tempter was surely unexpected. He does not say, I am divine, I am unique, I am in a social sense the Son of God. He speaks for. the race as its representative and refers to a fundamental law that man has experienced, though rarefy interpreted. 'Man does not live by bread alone. His living is something more than the means to live. There is one life. Only part of it depends on bread. Bread, like the plow and the soil, is but an agent, a tool. It preserves the body, but the body also is only a machine in which the person who has life for a little while dwells. The answer of Jesus does not define life, but declares the source of its fnllonf oTTirocnInn "Yrmr fnthprs eat manna in the wilderness, and are dead. The bread that I will give, if a man eat, he shall live forever.* There is a distinctness of the life that is purely physical, or intellectual, 01 moral, or spiritual, but with the dis* tinctness there is also the impossibil* ity of separation. The sourcc of each* and .the unity of all, originate in God. This, then, is the denial of terialism. Man does not live by bread alone! God has given to each phase of life its need, and no lower nature in us can supply the needs of the one above it, though it may influence it more or less. A bilious body may cause a pessimistic philosophy, but it could not be .the sole cause. The pugilist acquires a perfect physique, without gaining an atom of intellectual force, moral perception or spiritual desire. The skeptic may inherit wealth without faith, and the hypocrite may own libraries and art galleries. These live?that is to say, they exist; they eat, drink and are merry, because the bread of the world, the things of time and place and of the present are theirs in abundance. But in the deeper, profounder, timeless, ageless sense of life, in the vision of the true, the beautiful and the good, do they live? ' Jesus denies it. He affirms the reftl* Ity of the spiritual. All things proceed out of the mouth of God. The soul must receive life by an incarnation. That is the representative miracle or sign "of the being of Christ. God must pass into our consciousness as He had always been in that of Jesus, dominating our nature, but only with our voluntary acquiescence. What is it .to live? To have the force of the life of God put in control of our hu man lorces ai tne command 01 our own will, the higher condoling the lower, and yet making more of the lower. The si^ritual, feeding on the vision of^.God an$ then expanding the moral, tfie intellectual, and the physical, bo that, for the whole man, limits disappear; time, death and thegrave are but temporary expedients and all his nature cries, "I live, yet not I, Christ liveth in me." Thus life eternal Is something more, and something different from life prolonged. It is a new quality of life, involving the recognition of God's share in the making. It is God lifting man into the new spirit of being. Man lives? by the things that proceed out of the mouth of Jehovah, said the Deuteronomist. He does. The words of God are symbols of his volition, whether his will reveals a new harvest, a new idea, a new duty, or a ne- sacrifice. The spiritual man greets either of thgse words of God by giving them their holiest expression because now he lives! He lives- in growing harmony with .the perceived will of his eternal Father. He has a stronger life than the pugilist, because his physical powers are ofily at the service of the world's need. He is mightier than the physical champion, because his superb bodily endowment c&nnot escape his spiritual Ideals of uervlce. His mind towers above the skeptic's because, In spite of poverty or bodily weakness, or many sorrows, of grave problems of truth, he has the power to prevent these things from obscuring his vision of a child's 'r^mplicity, a woman's tenderness, a man's courage, or those larger successes seen when races struggle up through fearful toil to days of laughter and powers a thousandfold greater. He sees that men have risen above the level of their dead selves to nobler living, and he finds that neither money, nor land, nor power, nor luxuries have explained the primal forces that have urged man on. The eternal choice. And always that choice involves sacrifice. It did for Jesus. It must for us. He desired nothing more eagerly than the rapid conquest of His people by His ideals and mission. His triple temptation suggests improper ways of securing it. His public ministry was quickly filled with opportunities for gathering disciples, prestiga and power. Yet he denied Himself an easy popularity, a legitimate pleasure, worldly wisdom and current methods of success, in order that absolutely all that He was and did might be true and right and holy. He refused the lower whenever it threatened to weaken the higher. He made wine at Cana, He cooked food for His own exhausted disciples, He attended public dinners, He participated in the normal social life of His C.i\y, but at all times He lived, and bade others live, in the calm joy and immovable confidence born of a hid? den source of supply, even a spirit fed every moment by uninterrupted communion with God. Does not the devil of self tem?t us continually, by urging the legitimacy of our struggle for bread and clothes and shelter and things, until the conflict to secure the things obscures the reason for their use? t | OUR TEMPERANCE COLUMN. REPORTS OF PROGRESS OP THE he BATTLE AGAINST RUM. Boy Stealing. ! A few days ago a murderer was chained to a kidnaper on their way to prison, the murderer for a few i rears, the kidnaper for life. A ; Pittsburg paper said, contrasting the murderer, who, if he behaved well j enough, would be released in four i years, with the life-sentenced kidnaper: "He didn't kill a man, he ; stole a boy!" ? j The liquor seller is constantly comi mitting both crimes. Nearly all murl derers are saloon customers, and the doomed boys and young men begin , ;heir dolorous downward way in and ! out of the swinging doors of the j drink shop, into jail and prison and | poorhouse and drunkard's graves. ! Which is worst,' to give or sell (iquor to a hopeless sot," or to a youth ! tvho has never tasted it? To whom ! rhall we decide to give liquor, a lost 1 drunkard or a youth from whom the world eipects so much of high enI deavor? The high-toned club room, the focrVii.-ino'hio rafo nnrl h?r rnnm tha 1 respectable saloon want the custom ; not of drunkards but of youths who i are susceptible to their meretricious , attractions, and the moderate drink; srs who gi*e their example and in! fluence and vote to sustain the liquor traffic. ! The Presbyterian Banner had a rej port of a speech made at a liquor dealers' convention in Ohio to this 1 ! effect: "Gentlemen, the drunkards will soon die. We must toll in the ; boys and young men. A nickel spent ; now among boys means dollars to us j bye and bye." Youths who have been well trained do not learn to drink in low dives, j th9y take their first glass in respecta ble club room, cafe, restaurant, bar . room, saloon. They begin in yonder } and are kicked or stagger at last out. ; of. low drink shops into gutter and grave. ! The more respectable and attractive a drink shdp, the more danger| ous it is. If a boy has-been well nur' tured he never will learn to drink j If he has to go to a low disreputable 'saloon. if, The undergraduates of colleges and universities learned to drink in the J gilded reputable places, not in the ' dives. Webster avenue, Wiley avenue sa| ioons do not tempt well trained youths. The Fifth and Sixth avenues i n-rs A ofmof t\7 o nac lnro thom tn | auu r v* wco ou ?m*v ,w begin the downward way. In'Professor Hopkins' most excellent book, "Profit and Loss in Man," there are figures obtained by the Y. M. C. A.: "In a city of 32,000 inhabi; tants, 600 young men entered five of ! the prominent saloons in one hour. : There are 3,35 saloons in the city. I In a city of 30,000 population, 452 J young men entered four saloons in ; one hour. In a large Western city, 478 young men were seen to enter a 6ingle saloon in^ one night. In an| other large city, 236 young men went j Into a prominent saloon in one hour. i.In a town of 11,000 population, 725 i young men visited thirty-four of the fifty saloons, of the city in one night. ! In an Eastern city, the Y. M. C. A. i secretary visited nineteen saloons in ! one evening and found 275 young I men. In another Eastern city with a population of 130.000, during ono I Saturday evening 855 young men ' entered five saloons in two hours. In | a city of 30,000 population there are 1 150 saloons, $nd 1045 young men entered- seven of them one Saturday night, 'and only seventy-five attended all the churches in the city the next | day! In a city of 17,000 population i more than one-third of all the young men went into the drinking saloons In one hour." Call conventions to nlan for chfl-j dren's playgrounds! Why not join all the real temperance forces to make the streets safe for the youth? Remarkable and commendable interest is shown for the sanitary and ; moral welfare of the children. Most ; of w?at children need can.be.furi nished by sober fathers! More than food and proper surroundings can ! be had for our young people when j the time and money now wasted for , drink is used for the building and j blessings of homes. Our boys and j young men Are in mortal danger from licensed and illegal drink shops. De! stroy these ante rooms to perdition. ! Vote to prohibit them and to elect officials who believe in sobriety and | ! civic righteousness and therefore can , 1 be depended upon .. to destroy the i ! fpofflu trt ctrpnrthen the I j U11UA uiumv, vx, ^? c j foundations of' home and school and j church.?The People* ' Prohibition's Effect in Savannah. Although it is asserted that the prohibition law is openly defined at Savannah, Ga., the report of Chief of Police Austin on the first.year of the operation of the law shows a decrease of 147 in the number arrested .for drunkenness, as compared*with 1907, when the saloons were in operation. The total arrests for 1908 were 8493, which is 414 in excess of the previous year, but Austin reports a marked decrease in the number of arrests for offenses usually credited to whisky. Wages and Beer. "Out of 100 pounds value in beer, only seven pounds ten shillings goes in wages. In mining, ship building, railways, agriculture, iron and steel manufactures and textile products, an average of thirty-two pounds out j of each 100 pounds vame proaucea.- i J goes in wages."?Lord S. Alwyn, I Conservative President Board of j Trade of London, writing concerning ! the liquor trade of England. Temperance N'ofes. The United Presbyterian General i j Assembly has denounced all persons j I tVioir nniitiral influence in I ? favor of having licenses granted as I Involved in the guilt of the crime of | the liquor traffic. + Five hundred and twenty-five saI loons have been voted out of Massa| chusetts since May 1. 1906, but the j breweries of Boston, Worcester and ; I other cities are happy in their immu- I I nity from danger under the present ; local Prohibition statute. Harper's Weekly and Harper'g ! Monthly have announced that they will take no more liquor advertisements. Dr. Charles Dana in an address in Philadelphia declared that alcohol was one of the chief direct causes of insanity. "Illinois spent $7 for rum for every j dollar lor bread and bakery products: I it spent more than twice for rum , what it did for clothing; it spent for , liquor $500,000 a day or $10.000,-j 00ft a month."?Prohibition Year j j Cook. And Illinois is white j ?? t-n t':s map. Reugious Reading ! FOE THE QUIET HOl'B. ~=H==r~ WHAT ONE SHORT HOUR MAY DO. j . t ! u "Lord, what a change -within us one short j nour Spent in Thy presence will avail to make? What heavy burdens from our bosom take, What parched grounds refresh as with a S snower! We kneel, and all around us seems to lower; We rise, and all the distant and the near Stand forth in sunny outline, brave and clear; We kneel?how weak! we rise?how full of power! Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this wrong; * Or others, that we are not always strong; 3 That we are ever overborne with care, ii That we should eveir weak or heartless be, tl Anxious or troubled; when with us in a prayer, ;( And joy and strength and courage are t with Thee?" ' h ?"Rishnn Trench. ? The Man Without a Friend. t! BY AMOS P.. WELLS. To my mind one of the cheriest P bits in all that cheery book, the Bible, is the story of the sick man borne of f5 four friends, who tore up a roof to 1 get him laid at Jesus' feet. And per c. contra, one of the saddest glimpses in the Bible, that record of sadness 1 and sin, is the little picture of the ? sick man lying by the pool of Beth- s esda, who had no friend to get him ( into the pool when the waters were ? stirred with Jhe mysterious healing 1 spirit. "Bethesda," "House of Mer- * cy,"?to that sick man it had become a very House of Human Selfishness, ? as, time after fime, another had C stepped down into the pool before J' him. . And, as I ponder his case, he seems D to me a perfect type of a large part J of this world's wretchedness. He was the incarnation of unfriended need. 6 As he lay there, unheeded or spurned, n he was the symbol or all the siclc and ^ sinful, the lonely And wretched, the ? outcast - and fortorn, the despairing . and desperate, that have groaned and J cursed upon this selfish earth from Cain's day .to our own! He "had rj been thirty and eight years in his ^ Infirmity." Yes, and thirty-eight ? centuries! And as our Lord ap- 1 proached this man, and accosted him in those loving tones that thrill over fl the whole earth to-day, the scene ap- ? pears to he a concentration of the entire beautiful stOry of salvation, .J from the Bethlehem cave to Calvary's j cross. ' * Why did Jesus ask him that ques- Z tinn "Do vou want to be healed?" " Was ever a question more sufferflu- ? ous? * No; for the man had doubtless ^ fallen into the listless abandonment J of despair. There had been a time * when he had begged and Implored a ,, friendly hand. There had been 9. time when he had cursed the selfish' ? ness around him, and shaken an lm< ? potent fist at the lucky ones carried ' to the pool before him. All that wa? over. He had dropped into the last 8 pit of misery. How much ofc the P world's suffering is there to-day! * And how incredulous it is of tb? j* question, "Wouldst thou be ' made whole?" ,n It is the sufferers' fault, too, verj ? largely. That is what the selfish onej _ say, when they step down before ' them into the shining, tossing pool'of ? uealth and wealth and happiness. ? Sickness is sin. .Poverty is sin. Thai j* is what the selfish say, and oft^n they ? are right. % ? And \that is what our Lord said: "Sin no more, lest a worse thing be? , fall thee." Ah, but He said it aftei He had healed the man, and we say 1 it while we are crowding past him ? into the Pool of Privilege! It is eas5 _ to see whick sayihg will work refor-' " matlon. ... " ' ? He was found.In the temple, the sick-man who had been healed. That Is where the whole world of sick men ? will go,, if we temple-men do but ,, stretch out our hands of healing in the power of the Christ. But while ' we press before them into the Pool, who can blame them If the temple . remains enrnty??Sabbath Reading. \ Spiritual Life. t Righteousness is the sure and neo- a essary form of every life in which re- * liglon is really established as its cen. 11 tral principle.?Joseph May. c Remember, above all things, that 4V duty and life are no great overwhelming task, but daily strife and toil and e hope and cheer and love, building 0 within us a home fit for the indwell- f ing of God.?John M. Wilson. Learn to comprehend and afcpre- J ciate the relations amid which you | } live, the duties, affections and problems of daily life, and you will find s yourself, by that very process, com- ( ing into the knowledge of the divine. ?Edward H. Hall. * The conscience call to the individ- ,, ual is again the call of the simple life?the life of plain food; of beau- * tiful, and on that account necessarily ? plain, dress; of forceful, and on that 1 account loving, disinterested worft; * of lasting, and on that account co- ? op^-atlve, life. .Only as we work to- f1 getiier can we enlarge the individual !! life.?Jenkin Lloyd Jones. ~ . <3 The Man Behind the Veil. n We all wear veils. Some put on n veil to hide purposely their evil n life. Others unconsciously wear veils p and they are better than they seem. n We need to remember this truth of i the veiling of lives if we would be : just and fair in our judgment of oth- ? ers. We condemn faults which would not appear faults if we knew all. J1 Some faults are only unripeness in character, and some person's queer- P ness would be works of loveliness if 5 we knew all.?Rev. Dr. J. B. Miller. * P Regard For Honor. The conduct of business merely for j profits leads men into corrupt prac- | I tices. A regard for honor and a spir- h it of kindness do not hinder profit, | d but make business a means of soul v culture.?Rev. T. Edward Barr. v a - - I o The i tiristian itiea. r Down through the life of character, g the life of intellect and the life of the i( flesh, the power of the Christian idea J] of the universe goes like the balm tl >f Gilerid.?Rev. George A. Gordon. a t) Conservatory on ^Vlount Whitney. A meteorlogical and astronomical j observation station at an altitude of | about 14,000 feet is to be erected on P Mount Whitnev, Cal.. by the Smith- j 1 Bonian Institution. The work of pre- l c paring a trail up the mountain, over I ? which the material will be trans- 1 J ported by pack uiules, is already " under way. It is said the station, | ' which will be temporary, will be | completed by September. ; P Tons of Fans Exported. Japan exports 11,000,000 ions o: j n faus annually. u ' v ~3Tk 1 5artbaii-?>.d?ooP I I ??? / IHj STERN ATIONAL LESSON COmJB MENTS FOR AUGUST 29. H ubject: Paul 'on Christian Love, lB Cor. 13:1-13?Golden Text: ill Cor. 18:18?Commit Verse 8? Commentary. Hi TIME.?A. D. 57 (Spring). H| PLACE.?Ephesus. B EXPOSITION.?I. Love Exalted,* 3. Paul brings forward in rapid^B uccession five things that were held^H 1 great esteem in Corinth and showsH| tie pre-eminence of love over them^H 11. If love be lacking, these all count^H or nothing. (1) The gift of tongues;?! 'he saints in Corinth seem to have^B een peculiarly gifted in this direc-^B [on, and to have been very proud of^B heir gifts (ch. 14:2-23). Each wasH ager to outstrip the other in the dis-^B lay of the gift (ch. 14:23, 26, 27,H 8). Paul tells them that their muchM oasted gift amounts to little. That^B he grace of love is so far "a more ex-^B ellent way" than the gift of tongues;*] hat, if love be lacking, speaking withM he tongues not only of men'but even^B f angels would leave them onl^H| ounding brass or a clanging cymbal;BB 2) The gift of prophecy, In its verjc^B lghest potency. Surely that Is some'-^H hing to be greatly coveted and much-H| dmired. The man of great theologp^E :al and spiritual insight must oc-H upy a very high place in the mind^fH rod. If he has love, yes; if not he 1|B,^H ust "nothing." (3) Miracle working-H aith. A man can have that In th?H lost powerful form conceivable, and B et, if he has_not love, he Is "noth-Bl ag. 4,4) uenencence. you can ;ive all you have, and that for the aost philanthropic purpose?to feed he poor?but, if you have not love, ou will gain by it just "nothing," low many false hopes that arinihiates! (comp. Matt. 6; 1-4; 23-5). 5) Martyrdom. If I give my body o die at the stake, that will surely Ting me great reyard. Not neces-, arily. The "more excellent way,<# he supreme gift, the one and only .bsolutely essential thing, iar loye. II. Love Described, 4-7. Love has> fteen marks that are never want> ng: (1) It "suffereth long," it /en-, ures injury after Injury,"insult after asult, and still loves on: It waste? tself in vainly trying to help, the unworthy, and still It loves on', and ielps on (comp. Gal 5:22; Eph. 4:2V. Jol. 1:11). (2) It "is kind." It mows no harshness. Even its necesa"ry severity is gentle and tender Eph. 4:32; Gal. 5:22, R. V.). (3): t "envieth not," How can it? Is lot another's good as pleasant to love" as our own? Do you ever seretly grieve over and try fo discount Sother's progress, temporal or spirlal (Jas. 3:14-16, R. V.)? Lov&; tever does. (4) "Vaunteth not itelf." If another's greatness Is as reclous to us as our own. how is it hat we talk so much of our own, and re so anxious that others see it and ppreciate it? * There is no surer \ a ark of the absence of love and presnce of selfishness than this. (5);; It is not pufTed up." If we love, we rill be so occupied with the excellenies of the others, that there will beio thought of being inflated over our wn (Phil. 2:3, 4). r(6) "Doth not ehave itself unseemly." Love is too onsiderate of the feelings ,of others o do indecorous thingfe. * Nothing ilse will teach us what is "good orm" so well as love. Those Chrisians who take a rude delight in rampling all conventionalities under oot and playing the boor would do yen to pouuer tuese wurus. uuiv /ill make a perfect gentleman. (7); Seeketh not her own." That 'needs xemplification more than it does, pmment (cf. ch. 10:24', 33; 1 Jno. : 16, 17.-R. V.; 2 Tim. 2:10). (8); Is not- provoked." It may be often jrieved./but never irritated. (9),: Ta&eth not account of evil." Lovelever puts , the wrong done it down n its books?nor in its memory. (10) Rejoiceth not in unrighteousness."*" VTiy is it we are so fond of dwelling ipon the evil that exists in church ,nd state? (11) "Rejoiceth with theruth." Oh, if we love, how arelearts will bound whenever we disover truth in others! .How gladly re will call attention to it! (12); Beareth all things." (13) "Bellevth all things." How proud we are if our ability to see through men and he impossibility of gulling us. (14) 'Hopeth all things." No boy is so tad but a mother's love, with eyes of tope, sees in him a future angel. (15) 'Endureth all things." Let Jesus md Stephen stand as illustrations Luke 23:34; Acts 7:60). III. The Permanency of Love. 83. Prophecies, tongues, knowledge, lave their day. Love has eternity. God is love," and love partakes of lis eternal nature. Our best knowldge is only partial, and the divinely nspired prophecy tells but part of'" irhat is to be. When the perfect :nowledge comes in, our partial :nowledge will become idle and be aifl aside. When the event comes o pass of which prophecy gave us nly outlines, prophecy will be renered useless by fulfillment. We are iow, the wisest of us, but children; ut a day is coming when we shall be sen kndwing all things. In a comarative sense we are some of us aen now, and if we are we should ave laid away childish things. Our learest vision now is but as in a airror, as "in a riddle" (R. V. larg.). But a time is coming when .*e are'going to see "face to face"cf. 1 Jno. 3:2). We now know "in. art," but a time is coming when we hall know even as we have been nown, i. e., we shall know God at> erfectly as God now knows us. Hull mrsnea into House. John De Nyse, of Greenlawn, Long sland, was reading a newspaper on lis front porch when a bull was J TTT40 riven aiong ine roau. l>c h;oc ??*?<? rearing a red shirt. The bull snorted hen he saw the shirt and charged t De Nyse, who climbed to safety ver a high fence. The bull kept ight'on. plunged through a plate lass window into the De Nyse parar, where Mrs. De Nyse sat. Screamne, she ran down the cellar stairs, he bull behind her. The bull halted t the top of the stairs until its driver ersuaded it to leave the house. Exiled Sultan Gets Gold. Salonika dispatches to Vienna re orted that the manager of the )eutsehe Bank, with a military esort. arrived there bearing the Sulan's personal treasures, including ourteen bags of gold, many boxes of ank bills and jewels. The treasure as deposited in the Ottoman Bank. ,ater it was delivered to the Sultan ersonally. Oklahoma a Cits of Murders. Two hundred and thirty persons let violent deaths in the last year i Oklahoma City, Okla.