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lewis >i. grist, proprietor, j 5U Jitttejpbtnt Jfkmilg fteiosppcr: for l|t promotion of fj)c |)olrtical, Social, ^gricitllnral anb Commercial Interests of tbc Soutlj. j terjis--$2.50 a year, in advance. VOL. 30. YOEKYILLE, S C., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 30, 1884. NO. 44. Ibe JFtojg Mlrr. TOM'S FRIENDSHIP. "I say, Ralph, have you seen the new nurse ?" "New nurse! No, I didn't know there was one." "Yes, lady in reduced circumstances; you know that's what they advertised for, and by Jove, but she is a lady, every inch of her. And she's more, too. Wish you could see her eyes?and the way she smiles! I'm sure she's got beautiful hair, if she wouldn't hide it. I vow, if I was only a little older, I'd pitch in head and ears." "Strikes me vou have done so. in spite of your years. How long has this wonderful being been in the house?" "Came early this morning. Come up and see Maud, and perhaps you can get a look at her." "0,1 guess she'll keep," said Ralph, carelessly. "I'm not in any hurry to see her." "Bother! you won't even look at a pretty girl since Miss Bascom dropped you. I?" "Stop, Tom," said his brother, sharply. "You know I have forbidden you to speak lightly of that lady." "You may keep on forbidding, but I can't help my thoughts, and I vow I wouldn't think so much of a girl who'd engage herself, and then just quietly let me go, as she did, without any reason." For a moment there was no reply to this. Then slowly and thoughtfully the older brother said: "Tom, you are old enough now to understand my position, and possibly, if I explain it, it may be a help to you some day. Do you care to hear it?" "Rather. Fire away." "You know I have never talked much about Miss Bascom, but that when I have there have been very unkind and slighting things said. Now, Tom, as long as they were said only to me, I could keep my tongue still and avoid them, thinking no one would dare say such things of my wife. But I may as well go back and tell you the whole story. I met Miss Bascom, as you know, in Orange, in the prettiest little home you can imagine, and I was attracted by her beautiful voice, for I heard her singing one night in the twilight, when I went to attend to a little matter of business for her father. - 1 ' 1 T 1 met her several times in mat, way, wueu x had gone on business to the house, and soon became so charmed with her manners and appearance, that I wanted to know more of her, for she was rather a different type of woman from what I had been accustomed to, and determined to make my summer home in Orange, which is near enough to admit of my going back and forth from the city. I became a constant visitor at Mr. Bascom's house, and before long the one desire of my life was to make his daughter my wife. She is a woman any man might be proud of as a friend, but I was not satisfied with that; I asked for more. Tom," he said, with a slight curl of his lips, "let me advise you when you find a woman that you would like to make a home for, a woman who makes life more beautiful to you than it has ever seemed before?when you find such a woman, 1 say, put aside all personal feelings until the different members of the family have examined into her antecedents, and have found out her father's standing in the money market. It don't pay to spend a month in paradise, and then have to turn your back on it." . "But, Ralph, I wouldn't turn my back, don't you see? I wouldn't care how much . of a row they made. I'd let them blow till I was married, and then they would respect her as my wife." "I thought that way, too, at first, and when mother and the elegant Mrs. Franklin treated the announcement of my engagement with silent contempt, and refused to <rall on the lady or have anything to do with her, I let the matter rest, thinking they would become accustomed to it in time, and would act as I wished. But I did not know my own mother and sister. They knew me too well, however, to think that anything they might do or say would affect me, so long as toe young lady herself knew and felt nothing, and so, after some consultation, their plans were laid, and they began the attack. I knew nothingof it until tne bomb burst, so you can imagine my surprise and consternation when Miss Bascom informed me one evening that we must part. It is unnecessary to describe the interview, which was one of the saddest I ever had anything to do with. I discovered that she had received several letters from the family urging her to break with rue, but one she had received that day was a positive insult; and she told me, with a flash of her eye and a proud drawing back of her head, that she could not enter a family where she would be looked on in the light suggested in the letter, and Tom, after reading the letter, I couldn't ask her to. She is proud and sensitive, and were I to bring her here into the family, she would be constantly subjected to insulting remarks that would only render her life miserable. But I am even now having my affairs put in order to leave New York. I shall go West, establish myself somewhere, and then ask her to share a home with me, where she will be in no danger of receiving slights and insults.", "Good for you, Ralph. And the lady ?" "She does not know all. "I think 1 begin to like her. She's got some spunk, and I always did like that in a woman." "I wish you could have seen and known her. I'm sure that you would have liked her. She used to tell me she knew she would like you, just from your photograph and what I had told her of you. She said once when I was speaking of you, that you were the first one of the family she would try to make a friend of, for she thought you would be such a true one. She admired your actions at the time your room-mate got into trouble at college." "You mean to say she said and thought nil +V*nf oKonf mo T?alnh 9" an biiav (vuwuv "Yes, and more too." "Then I just wash my hands of all responsibility in the actions of my illustrious family towards her. If she said she would like to have me for a friend she shall have me. I never would refuse to befriend a lady who deserved it, and I believe she does; so, Ralph, if I can help you, just command me." "Thanks, Tom," said the old brother. "I always said you were made of the right metal." "See here, Ralph, I just wish you would give me Miss Bascom's address. I'd like to drop her a line and tell her I'm all right, you know, and let her know if there's anything I can do while you're away, I'm hers to command, etc. Quick ! there's the dinner bell, and I'm hungry as a bear, and have an engagement at eight. The members of this family, who were all assembled around the dinner table save one, consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Grafton, a married daughter and her husband, Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence, Helen, a younger daughter just in society, and Ralph and Tom, the two sons. After an animated discussion of some society topics, Mrs. Lawrence looked at her mother and said : "I really think we have ht last found a treasure. She seems to have won Maud's heart in some way, and the child will let her do anything for her. I hope she will know her place, and not presume on once having been a lady. "H'm! I don't think you need be afraid of that," said Tom, half to himself. "What do you know about her?" asked his sister. "I know a lady when I see her, and a true lady always knows her place." "I hope'you are right in thinking she is a true lady, then, for she she promises to make a good nurse." * "Do the doctors give any more encouragement than they did?" asked Ralph. "O, tbey say with good nursing she may ~! be able to go about again in a year, and that is one reason I am so anxious to have a good nurse, who will remain permanently j and with whom I can trust Maud, for I can; not stand any confinement myself. Ralph, 11 wish you would go in and see her tnis 1 evening. You don't often favor her now, and she likes to have you stop and speak to> 1 her." "I'll go to-night, for I don't know when I may be able to do so again, as I am preparing to leave the city for the West." This announcement was a sudden shock to those who heard it for the first time, and RalpB was met with questions, but he soon, f>ut a stop to them by excusing himself and eaving the table. "That girl's at the bottom of it all, I know," said Mrs. Lawrence, who could not conceal her vexation. "I haven't a doubt she thinks that rather than let him leave the city, we'll consent to the match, uut she'll find herself mistaken. Let him go. He'll forget all about her out there, and be glad enough to come home after a while, and thankful, too, that we prevented a low marriage." Tom bit his lip to keep from saying what rose to his tongue, but he was quick enough to see he would not help Ralph by taking sides with him openly just yet, and he hurried from the table in order to write to Miss Bascom, feeling that was all he could do at present. He felt better when it was accomplished, and determined to go and speak to his niece, Maud, a little lady of wnom at times he was very fond. She had been thrown from a carriage in the spring, and so severely injured that it was tnought at | first that she would not recover, but hopes ! were held out now that in time she might i be on her feet again. At first, when she | suffered the most, Tom had been all devoj tion. Then, when she was away in the summer, and was pitied and brought for: ward on all occasions for attentions and sympathy, Tom's devotion became a thing of i the past. Now, however, that she was at home again and confined to her room for the winter, he spent more time with her and was rather returning to his allegiance. On his way to his room that night, he met his brother in the hall, but the expression on his face caused Tom to start back involuntarily, and ask, anxiously: i "What is it, Ralph ? Are you ill ?" "No, no. It is nothing. Do not mention haying seen me to any one." Tom speculated a good deal on the change in his brother's looks, as he walked slowly towards the sick room. TAm Jy ooirl Mmul M'Vtnn ho Wj JLV/UI) 0<im .LfXCAUVA) UIIVll AAV/ vtJw*vvt| j "I am so glad to see you. You'll talk to ; me, I know. Uncle Ralph wouldn't, and he only staid a moment. Isn't Miss Andrews good to hold me on her lap, instead of mak: ing me lie on the bed all the time. Nobody ! ever did that before, you know." "I thought it might rest her," said Miss i Andrews pleasantly, as she looked up. j Tom thought it might rest anyone to have ! such a pretty face looking down on him, j and half wished he could be sick himself, if i she would talk and entertain him. She did I talk that night, drawing Tom out, and in| teresting herself in what he had to say so i that the evening slipped away before he knew it, and his engagement was broken. "I don't care," he thought; "I've had a better time;" and when Maud bade him | good night, and softly whispered, "Isn't i she splendid?" he would willingly have | given more than a simple assent, had not i Miss Andrews herself been dangerously j near. From that time Tom devoted, himself once more to Maud, spending many of his evenings with her, and bringing her many little things to interest and amuse her; but before long he found he was not the only one who was doing it, for Ralph had suddenly taken it into his head to do the same thing. Tom was a little puzzled over this, and for some reason took good care to keep away from Maud when Ralph was with her. The weeks flew by, and Tom became more than ever puzzled over Ralph's conduct. He had never cared before to do more than run into Maud's room every two or three days, say a few words to her, and then run out again ; but now he spent hour after hour and seemed to enjoy it. Had he forgotten Miss Bascom so quickly? And what could he, Tom, do? He had said he would keep his word, if he only knew what to do for her. And while he thought over it, he became rather cool and distant in his manner towards his brother, who, he be lievea, was ncKie, a ining iom iuukcu un as almost dishonorable. It was thus that matters stood, when other members of the family began to notice things and see them in a new light and take alarm. "Mother," said Mrs. Lawrence, anxiously, "you don't suppose it possible he is actually falling in love with her. Surely Ralph would have more sense than to get entangled in any way with a hired nurse. I was afraid from the very first that she would not know her place and this proves it." "How, I'd like to know," said Tom, quickly. "What has she ever done that she should not have done? If Ralph has I fallen in love with her, it's not her fault! I She couldn't help it. I don't believe she ! has ever said a dozen words to him outj side of Maud's room, and she couldn't drive ; him away from there, when it was his own : niece he came to see." "It strikes me there are two, instead of I one, she has captivated," said Mrs. Law! rence, with a curl of her lip, and a toss of ! her head. "Whatever she has done, she is a perfect ' lady at all times," said Tom, moving away | to avoid further discussion. ; But the subject once having been brought | up, was destined to become a serious topic ! of interest for some time, and the question j of what should be done, was discussed from ! time to time. At last Ralph was questioned ! as to his intention of going West, and when ; he announced the fact that he had given up j all idea of going at present, the storm broke, i He listened quietly to what his mother and ! sister had to say, and then told them it j would be useless for them to say anything as j his mind was made up. They had already I acted so that one lady considered it would I be lowering her dignity to enter the family, : and it would be well for them to be a little more careful a second time. If they were : willing to make their peace with Miss Bas! com, so that she would marry him, and he i could ask her to do so without fear of her | being insulted, he would go back to her, : otherwise he would do all in his power to ; make Miss Andrews his wife. "Anything rather than a hired nurse!" i said Mrs. Lawrence, when she and her ; mother were alone. "I've thought it all ! over, discharging Miss Andrews, speaking to her, and everything, and I don't see anyI thing to be done but to make terms with j the first. Wish I knew whether she's any relation to the New York Bascoms; one of them has just come into the possession of : half a million. It would be a comfort to know she was related." | And Mrs. Lawrence whose word was law in the family, after much more thought and deliberation, wrote to Miss Bascom, apologizing for what might have seemed rude before, and asking her to reconsider the anI swer she had given some months before to the man who had asked her to marry him. The note, though studiously polite, had an undercurrent of ungraciousness, and | at the last some spiteful little remark was made concerning a certain Miss Andrews, a 1 dependant in the family who was doing all | she could to ensnare and captivate him. I i Mrs. Lawrence believed that the thought I of losing him entirely would cause Miss 1 Bascom to take steps to make him return to his allegiance to her, and then?yes, if they could once get him away from the I Andrews wiles, they might see their way again. To discharge Miss Andrews would i only hasten matters as they believed if he 'found her alone and without a posi: tion, he would offer to marry her at once, ; and they never dreamed of such a thing as her refusing. She?the hired nurse?refuse to become the wife of-Ralph Grafton ! It was preposterous unless they could work upon her?but it would be all right now. Miss JBaseom would settle that. But they did not know Miss Bascom. and they saw they did not, when a dainty little note came from her, which said that Mias Bascom declined the honor of entering a family whose members deemed her unworthy to do so, and that she resigned all claim on their son and brother in favor of Miss Andrews, who, she did not doubt was a very worthy person. Mrs. Lawrence ground her teeth when she read the note, and said that she would have nothing more to do with the affair, and that , Ralph might disgrace the family it he chose. If Miss Bascom expected them to go down on their knees to her. she was doomed to disappointment. And so matters remained for awhile, as far as the mother and sister were concerned. But Tom had his own thoughts and ideas. His brother he began to look at with rather a feeling of mortification, and he would Viovtq troofoH fho whole nflfair with silent contempt, had it not been for Miss Bascora. She loved Ralph, and he, Tom, had said he would be her friend. But what could he do ? And there was Miss Andrews. He'd be glad enough to have her for a sister, for if she was "only a hired nurse," she was every inch a lady, and one of the loveliest he had ever seen. But he had said he would be Miss Bascom's friend, and he would keep his word. He was thinking of Miss Bascom as he sat in Maud's room one evening very oblivious of his surroundings. Mrs. Lawrence was out, as usual, and they had been a quiet party, Miss Andrews, and Tom, until Maud had fallen asleep, and then Miss Andrews had gone to Tom's side, and laying her hand gently on his arm and said: "Tom, something troubles you. Do not brood over it, but talk it to some one. Is it anything you would mind speaking of to your brother ? I am sure he would be glad to help you if he could." Tom looked up quickly as she spoke, and when she st ? ped, took her hand in his in a strong, firm ^rasp, as he said: "I wish I could talk to you about it." "Well, said his companion, drawing a chair to his side and seating herself in it, "Why can't you ?" "Because?because," said Tom, thoughtfully, "It don't seem?" rather slowly? "But, Miss Andrews, if you'd said you would be a friend to someone and you didn't know just how, but you meant to be in spite of it, and you saw the man she loved liking some one else better, and you didn't want her to be hurt, and you didn't know ?" "Stop a moment, Tom, till I get straight. This person whose friend you are loves a man who loves some one else. That's right to begin with, isn't it?" "jN 01 exactly; i uoni kiiow pusiuveiy n he loves her enough to marry her, but I'm afraid he will." "Afraid, Tom? Why hasn't a man a right to love any woman he chooses?" "Yes, but don't you see he loved the other one first and asked her to be his wife." "Indeed! Then it stands this way ; he asked the one whose friend you are to marry him and he loves the one whose friend you are not." "0, Miss Andrews," said Tom, in distress, "Please don't say that; I am her friend, indeed, indeed, I am, you know I am." "I," said Miss Andrews in astonishment. "How should I know?" "Because?I might have known I would make a mess of it, but don't you see it's Ralph I have been talking about. He was engaged to Miss Bascom and would have married her if the family hadn't kicked up a row, and now don't you see he likes you and ?" "And you would rather he would marry Miss Bascom than me?" asked his companion, a little anxiously. "No, not quite," said Tom, "I don't mind telling you that I'd rather have you for a sister than any one in the world, but then I've promised to be Miss Bascom's friend." "Tom," said Miss Andrews, "doyou really mean it when you say you'd like to have me for a sister?" "Every word of it. But then there's Miss Bascom." "You think your brother ought to marry her?" "Yes. I think I'd despise him if he married any one else." "But you say the family have acted so as to prevent that." "Yes, but it's only the Lawrence part of it. Mother would be all right it it wasn't for them, and I'm sure even then, she would never treat Ralph's wife any way but kindly, after he was really married. And as for the Lawrences?well, I know things about them that Ralph doesn't and I'd just give them a hint that would keep them on their good behavior towards Mrs. Ralph. I think if she knew them as well as I do, she'd forgive and forget for Ralph's sake." "Ah! There's the trouble. How can people judge correctly of those they have never seen? As I understand it then, you want to help bring things right, or in other words ?" "But, Miss Andrews, don't you see Ralph ?" "You think I am in the way, Tom ; don't be afraid tosay so. I know that is what you mean, and I will try to help you. But listen, Tom, if you had not spoken as you did this evening, I might?yes, I might actually have allowed things to go on until your brother married the "hired nurse." I don't know quite, but I might have done it, and then you would have been disappointed and sorry for Miss Bascorn, but you have told me you would like to have me for a sister, and you have also told me that you were Miss Bascom's friend, and for all that, 1 will make you a promise that if your brother marries either of us, it shall be Miss Bascorn and not Miss Andrews. Tom, will you be sorry to have me go away?" "Go away? Where? What for?" said Tom, looking up, with a troubled countenance. "If Miss Bascorn is to be your brother's wife, I must leave here. Will you be sorry, Tom ?" But Tom's looks were sufficient answer without any words, and before he could speak, Maud called Miss Andrews to her side, and Tom quietly left the room. Miss Andrews' "Notice" that she was going to leave caused as much consternation among the other members of the family as had been felt by Tom, but from a very different reason. She had made herseif invaluable in the sick room, and what was to be done without her no one knew. And then there was Ralph. They all believed he would follow her up and "disgrace the family" as Mrs. Lawrence said. "I am not so sure of its being a disgrace," said his mother. "She is a lady and has moved ingood society it is very evident and I will say that I am very sorry for her." "Mother!" said the elegant Mrs. Law- ! rence, with a horrified look, and Mrs. Graf- ' ton was silent, but she was busy with her thoughts, so busy that when she heard Ralph, in reply to a remark of. his sister's, say: "Well, you may take your choice, either Miss Basconi or Miss Andrews; and I intend to make my preparations to be married next month," she looked up and said se- | riuu.My ; "Ralph, it seems to me it ought to be Miss Baseom. Do you still care for her?" "Do you mean would I make her my ; wife?" "Yes, if she could be prevailed on to en- ! ter the family now." "Then, Ralph," she said, laying a hand 1 on his arm, "as I have been partly to blame, I will do what I can to make things come 1 right. The day after to-morrow I will go to see Miss Bascom myself." Ralph leaned over and imprinted a kiss on his mother's brow. Tom looked up with a glad light in his eyes, but Mrs. Lawrence ; stood with wide open eyes, looking on and biting her lips to keep back her anger. What was going to happen next? There was one thing, she would never bend to this i creature?never. And when her mother < had gone to "make peace," she paced 1 Maud's room in anything but an angelic ! frame of mind. Miss Andrews had gone away for a few days "to look for another place, I suppose," said Mrs.*Lawrence, who was thereby obliged to confine herself more closely to the house. Once more Mrs. Grafton spoke without regard to her daughter's feelings and it was when she returned from Orange. "I have but one thing to say," she said when they were alone together, "and that this is my house, and the first person who speaks slightingly in any way of Miss Bascom leaves it for good," and Mrs. Lawrence knew that she meant it and that she must guard well her words and actions if she wished still to govern her mother. She had never dreamed of the change that had lately come over her and she must be very careful of herself now, lest she make a false move, for she could not afford to give up her present home. The following evening Tom was telling Maud, who knew a good deal of what was going on, of a visit he had paid Miss Bascom, she having sent him a dainty little note invitinsr him to,do so. and as they be lieved themselves to be alone, Maud asked questions to his heart's content. "Is she pretty^ Tom!" "I should think so." "Prettier than Miss Andrews?" "Yes, a great deal prettier." "O, Tom! And do you like her better?" "No, not a bit." "I know I won't." "No, I'm sure you won't, but you'll think she's prettier." "Indeed I won't," said Maud, shaking her head, and Miss Andrews, who had heard the conversation without being seen, brushed away a tear that had escaped from her eye, but afterwards when she was alone with Maud and had her in her lap she kissed her and said softly: "So you won't think Miss Bascom prettier than I am, little girl?" "I'll never, never think anyone so pretty as you are or like anyone half so well, for no one was ever so good and kind to me and I'll just cry my eyes out and get cross and horrid when you go away." "No you won't, for you know I've promised to come back and see you after awhile and then we will plan about the future. "I don't see why you have to go away now." "Haven't I told you, dear, that someone else wants me now, some one I knew before I knew you ?" "I don't believe she wants you half so much as I do, but if you'll only come back, I won't mind so much." Again Miss Andrews brushed away a tear. Mrs. Lawrence was very much surprised and angered when she found the wedding was to take place in one of the most fashionable churches in the city. "I don't see why she couldn't be married ? ? 5?-XI? i ? V? r\ riAt/1 nrhnn oIamq quieuy m uraugU} snu nmu, >vihth aiwn^ I with her husband, "and not to make such a public thing of it here, where every one will be asking who she is, and then saying we have taken a nobody into the family. It is as much as I can stand, and then to think we must all appear in laces and satins and diamonds as though we were delighted with the match. I wonder where the bride's dress will come from and if she'll have taste enough to make it suit her means. Perhaps the rich Bascoms are related to her, and will give her- a dress." But she was forced to admit as she saw the bride walk up the aisle that, if rich relations had given it to her or not, it was one of the most elegant dresses she had ever seen, and she waited rather impatiently during the ceremony, hoping to get a good look at the "girl's face" as she came down the aisle. When she did, she started back involuntarally and said in a low tone. "He's deceived us all and married Miss Andrews," and her face was white with anger. "He has not deceived us all," said Tom, who rather enjoyed her discomfort. "He has married Miss Bascom and she's worth half a million in her own right and you'd better be careful how you act or her' relations will be saying things you won't like." But Mrs. Lawrence was not easily appeased. She felt that deception had been practiced and she had been allowed to appear in everything but an enviable light. As for her brother's wife she positively hated the girl. Yes, she had liked her well enough as nurse, but in spite of her rich relations and her own money, she should hate her as a sister. She did not think much of a gfirl anyhow who would take the menial position she had just to worm her way into the family. "She thought she could be proud and haughty in giving him up and then come into the family and have him make love to her under our very noses." The last remark reached Tom's ears who turned quickly and said : "You are mistaken. She thought ltalph horl imno Wosfwlion she PRtne to the house and she came because she had heard him talk a great deal about Maud, and she was lonely and wanted something to do, besides she believed that there was some good in the family Ralph belonged to, in spite of their treatment of her and she wanted to know of it." "What made Ralph speak of her as though she had no money?" "Because he didn't know. She and her father took a home in Orange for the summer because they did not want to go to a fashionable resort and this winter her father has been traveling on business. And I'll tell you one thing more," added Tom, a little maliciously. "She came very near marrying Ralph quietly as Miss Andrews, when you were making such a confounded fuss. Wouldn't you have enjoyed that, Mrs. Lawrence ?" Tom never knew how much he had done towards preventing that, but he did know that he was more proud of his new sister than he was of the one who made so many professions. He didn't wonder Ralph looked happier and handsomer than he had ever looked before, and wondering if he, when the time come, would be able to find any one he liked half so well as he did some one he knew now, he walked off by himself into the library of Mr. Bascom's elegant city residence. Ire had come to the conclusion that it was hardly likely he would marry, when a hand was laid on his shoulder, and looking up he saw his new sister ready to start on here wedding trip. "Tom," she said, "I'm glad I have the opportunity of saying good bye to you here alone, for I want to tell you that I value your friendship as one of the grandest things lever possessed. I have been proud of you as a friend, but now you are my brother, the first brother I have ever had. Would you mind calling me sister just once before I go?" Tom never forgot that parting, after which he quietly left the house and hurried back to his own room where he found to his astonishment an exquisite ebony writing desk and cabinet that had not been there when he left. Opening it, lie found a note that proved it to be a little remembrance from Miss Andrews on his birthday. "T?olt>h tnUl hor if wns mv hirthrlav and I had forgotten it myself," said Tom, seatiug himself in an easy chair. Then, continuing to soliloquise, he put his feet on the fender in front of his open grate and added, as though talking to a second person, "There's one thing that must bo settled now and forever. She's your sister, and you've signed, sealed and delivered yourself over as her brother, and she never had one, so you must just stop wishing you had been older or she had been younger, or any of that foolishness. You told her once.you would rather have her for a sister than any one else in the world, and you know you would, so don't let me ever again hear of anything else. Just look about and see if you can find anyone like her. If you can, inarry her: if you can't, don't. Envy Kalph no more. She's your's as well as his. She's your sister, and you're mighty glad of it. It is estimated that the population of the United States has increased twelve per :ent. since the census of 1880, and the number of voters in the country is now estimated it 14,000,000, of whom 1,">00,000 are colored. HJisfellattCflus gUatUug. EVOLUTION. IrnoFEssoit david sirixo talks aiiout A HOPELESS STUDY. Professor David Swing, pastor of Central Church, recently preached upon the subject, "A Hopeless Study," and from the text: That they should seek the Lord if haply they should feel after Him and find Him. Aets"l7:27. It htvs not been many years since it was thought that the theory of natural evolution was new and pure atheism. It was looked upon with horror by both ministers and theologians. The harm done the world by Voltaire and the French Rationalists be Cfime insigninCitliL ill euiinjansun null nun coming theory of new men ofscience. Only a few .seasons have passed, and now we find that eminent Presbyterian clergymen and professors are espousing and teaching all the essential ideasof Darwin and Huxley. The President of Princeton College and also a Southern teacher of note have affirmed the probable truth of the ordinary doctrine of evolution. Thus the monster of a former age becomes the beauty of a succeeding day. This is not because of Pope's notion that vice becomes charming when favored and long looked upon, but rather because it was a childish fancy that made a monster out of the first appearance of the new idea. Fancy often makes giants out of windmills and cavalry out of a flock of sheep. It is probable that the doctrine of evolution, as held by Darwin at first, and now by eminent Presbyterians, is false, and that DARWIN, OF ENGLAND, and McCosh, of ourcountry, are meeting in the valley of darkness rather than on any mountain of light. But be the truth where it may, one lesson of value results from this meeting of evolutionists and Christians? that God and nature are beyond the reach of any measurement by materialist or Christian. When the materialist and devout Christian meet in their mental journeyings, that meeting teaches us that both are dealing with an incomprehensible subject, and have finally come to a place where advance is impossible. The harmony of McCosh and Darwin is the harmony of ignorance more than of discovery. They meet not in victory but in despair. T i. ?" lnoo/m r* f f Ba Ijtil US IIJilKU il iuuiuiu? icoouu VI uiv thought that there is no such a thing as a solution of the universe upon either its material or spiritual side ; that all we can do is to mark the passing fact and draw our conclusion from the constant phenomena. Not that we must live a life of doubt, ready for atheism or deism ; but the life of faith we must live cannot be based upon any comprehension of the universe, but it must be founded on the landscape that is visible in the life of man. Let us note in advance the error of those times which subjected so many to torture and death for slight variations of opinions. ALL THOSE VARIATION'S must have been harmless, because in our day the disciples of evolution sit down at the Christian communion along with those who hold that God created each species out of nothing, as suggested in Genesis. When that professor in a Presbyterian Theological Seminary delivered recently his address in favor of evolution, the trustees convened in obedience to a general clamor, but after conference concluded that the address was not I at war with Christianity. From such new ' reasonableness we must infer the crime of those ages which visited with death or imprisonment, or exile, departures from church notions not one-tenth as great as this one under consideration. We are all glad that we live in an age which can admittoonc brotherhood, and even into one denomination, those who follow Darwin and those who follow the old theory; but our gladness makes us see the cruelty of that past which perse" 1 ! 1.1 cuteci men ana women, una even umureu for varying in opinion from some printed [ formula of idea. Plow much happiness and I INTELLECTUAL GREATNESS our world has lost by not having known the harmless natureof variations within religious thought, and how near to each other may be two minds and hearts which cherish different theories of creation and widely differing theories of God. All the discords of the church have occurred among those who were indeed friends. Bitter enemies in the fifteenth century would have been loving friends in the nineteenth ; and yet are the modern divergencies greater than those for which thousands died in past periods. But we must not permit the follies and sorrows of our ancestors to cloud the sky of us all?their children; but rather we must enjoy to the full a period which can see the substance of things and distinguish it from the ever changing drapery of thought. As in its political affairs and in arts and inventions the human race has lost a large part of its possible prosperity for ages and ages, so in its religious department it suffered a vast multitude of great and needless sorrows, and since no tears can help those dead generations, we must turn away and enjoy a period which can see the same religious faith under theories old and new. Our chief thought to-day is that, as to the universe and its Author, all is wholly unknowable, except a band of passing OBJECTS AND EVENTS; and that in this band are seen a universe and a God. Away from this zone of passing fact one theory is as good as another. Here we are all of us standing in the midst of terms, no one of which we can define? time, space, life, eternity, infidelity and God, and yet we are slow to admit that progress toward a definition is impossible. Philosophers and metaphysicians return repeatedly to discourse at least upon these topics, but we are unable to detect any progress whatever along these lines of thought. We are perfectly and hopelessly unable to think of a time when tnere was notninganci of a world where there was or shall be no time. The terms "boundless," "timeless," "without origin," are only the unintelligiblesighs or groans we utter when our minds fail. In the great hidden surroundings of man Pythagoras and his school taught that the soul of man had been long in existence, going from one animal to another, and that when man's body dies his soul journeys to some higher organization. It was difficult for this theory to be combated because the outside realm was so fully unknown that it was open to all theories alike. Eternity was like A NEW CONTINENT. Or like the great plains of our West, open once to the first actual settler. And even now when one of the recent novelists makes his character recognize a city and street and house as having been once before occupied by a former body of himself the public reads the book as though it might be true. Edward Deecher publishes a volume to prove that we all once lived a former life, and this is out second period of probation. Thus all this territory of thought lies open to any pioneer of daring nature. Darwinism wins more favor because it takes so far away from us the first human being. The idea that a full-sized man and woman were made out of clay 0,000 years ago makes the fact of man come upon us with a kincl of Jolt. The mind, like the body, dislikes all sudden stoppings and alightings. We all wish our rapid train to come gently to rest in the terminal station. In railway parlance, the old theory of Adam and Eve is two much like a stop of trains by collision. The theory of evolution removes the origin of man back so many millions of years and fills up the intermediate space with so many middle links that wo feel BETTER SATISFIED with our search after the first man. Darwinism, after taking us a long journey, lets our balloon down gently in soft grass, but we are lulled rather than enlightened. We still have on hand two facts: something making a clod into man and something making, previously, the clod. No wonder the New Presbyterians harmonize their preachers of evolution and their preachers of ab solute recent creation, for they do agree perfectly in their ignorance of the origin of creatures and things. We may welcome both parties to our bench in the dark. If imagination can transform the bench into a throne or a mountain summit, they are to to be congratulated over such a creative fancy. For many years we have been entertained with this inqufry: How could beautiful forms of life from man downward ever have come from the insensate dust? All have said: "How could life come? How did it begin ? Did it begin in the present forms or has it passed through long modifications?" But in all those years there was an enigma unmasked: Whence came all the material without life? What billions of ton3 of heavy substance! The earth alone is composed of 2")O,0OO,000,000 of cubic miles of material. Add to this quantity all the solid contents of the planets; add to that result the mass of the sun; and then the millions of fixed stars, and we are in the presence of a problem : Whence came all inanimate substance ? as perplexing as THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. If we say matter is eternal, it never was created, we have harmed our definition of Spirit as being the starting point of the universe; if we may say matter was not eternal our minds are burdened with the idea of v so much heavy material as having heen , made out of nothing. Thus man is in the unusual situation of being dissatisfied with both answers to his inquiry, and he does not know which reply is the less pleasing. Matter must either have been eternal or have been created. Man comes along with his proud intellectual powers, and is inclined to deny both methods of getting the materials of the universe. lie does not like matter as eternal, he does not like to have it created out of nothing; he maintains his confidence in his mental powers, and goes onward to find other deeps. So far as Darwinism is a simple study of ' facts, it is entitled to the same respect we show to any form of industry or observation; but it solves no mystery for us; it leaves all the venerable inquiries of our race still resting heavily as ever upon the | heart. The origin of life and of matter PERPLEXED PLATO, ! and from the fact that moderns stand where j Plato stood, shows us the hopelessness of I the debate, n tynaau nau Deen auie 10 | find spontaneous life he would have had dif: Acuity in showing spontaneous matter; he would have had to inquire, whence came the inanimate kingdom and having the power of generate living forms? lie would have reported no progress. Toward a solution of the universe nothing has been accomplished. Nor can there be any hope that future ages will determine any of the vexed questions. As a law, long ages of uniformity do not imply that the uniformity will continue always. The ! motion of earth around its axis has not ! varied the thousandth part of a second in j two thousand years, but that offers no per| feet assurance against changes in the next j twenty centuries. But the uniformity of mental failure to grasp the problems of man comes from mental unfitness that will never ; pass away. Edtication clothes the mind j with new powers indeed. It enables the j man to look more deeply into government, law, science and happiness, but we cannot conceive of any education that will understand how there can be a space that has no outside to it, and how there was a time when nothing turned into something. Upon these questions culture will have no effect. The truth is, man was not made to grasp them any more than he was made to live without food or dwell under the water. His mind is inadequate to any THEORY OF THE UNIVERSE. The simple fact that he can not accept of the eternity of matter and can not think of it as having been made from nothing shows that there is a limit to the perceptive powers of our race. It is thought by many that man has been on earth a million years. This is very probable or possible; for there has been a great amount of time back of us, and why not be liberal in our allowance to man? But in all that time he has made no more progress toward learning how there could be an eternal timeor and endless space, or a time not eternal or a space not endless than the dumb brutes have made toward speech and the manufactures and sciences. JU Illclll uamiui cutiucivc ui ajjntg | as boundless, he ought to be able to think | of it as having an end. There ought to be ! something he could say on the subject. But! the real truth must be that man's mind was made for a certain purpose, and that it is valueless away from that special design. There is an arena within which the human intellect is very successful. This arena is immense, and as useful as great, and as beautiful as useful. There is a broad band drawn across the bosom of that infinite space and that infinite time, and within this band the human raco is accomplishing wonders. When we look upon this wide held of the actual we feel like FORGIVING NATURE for all of those outlying problems, and like I saying this vision is grander than our souls \ are worthy. It does not explain God, but it contains Him. This inexplicability of a ! Creator does not affect to the smallest de-1 gree the fact of such a mind, because mat-' ter is equally inexplicable, but lo! it is! here; space is equally inexplicable, but lo! j we are in it! Time is as incomprehensible, I but lo! we have its hours and years. God ! 'is thus beyond our grasp, but He may be j filling our time and space with His presence. Whether He is in all atoms or around all, or is Himself all things, it matters not; here He is, the mind that arranged all things, the wisdom that ordered causes and effects, the presence that knows no absence, the benevolence that wishes all its children to be wise, upright, and happy. God is a something to be weighed or measured; God as a being whoso biography j might be written is not here; but this implies nothing, for the biography of man himself cannot be traced. It is in that visible band which we divide into epochs, j years, and hours we find the questions I which have answers and the seas that have | shores and the times that have beginning and end. Here is the reign of law that j bespeaks a law-giver. By law the earth j turns, the sun shines, the rains fall, the' grass grows, the rivers run, the fire burns, j the lightning flashes, the wind blows, i Man perceives the myriad of status written thus by A DIVINE HAND, and he utilizes many unvarying forces. He looks at himself and the empire of law reappears. His birth, his growth, his food, Ills education, ins laoor, ins arts, nis enjoyments, his laughter, his tears, his love, his j marriage, his death, are fixed by statutes j decreed by some superior intelligence. He ! looks out in wonder upon the great pageant j of Deity, and if devout and grateful he feels that the scene is only too grand for j such a being, and that to ask a review of all { the eternal past were only a form of ingrati- j tude or egotism, Man deals only in fragments of the uni-1 verse; God alone deals with it all. Man has never heard all of music; from frag-i j inents sweet indeed, and many, now sad as ' j a requiem, now gay as a festal song, comes I that delight of every land ; man never sees j all of beauty, but after looking upon a scene j in nature or in art he immediately feels j conscious that elsewhere there must be things and forms of amazing loveliness; hence Socrates says, "What would be the bliss of that soul that should be permitted to see the supreme beauty!" Man sees not all of the heavens, but the measureless cosmos rolls up to him one border; he sees a few jewels set in the azure; he names them Venus, Saturn, Moon, Acturus, North Star, Pleiades, but there are MILLIONS OF STARS which do not pass across the path of man, and which wear 110 names assigned by human lips. Thus also man deals with fragments of the eternal past. The human race can count its historic years?six or ten thousand in number. They are but a specimen of that strange essence into which centuries fall like snow flakes in the sea. Thus in his relations to the Deity man follows this law of a part and must see the divine manifestations without beholding the whole of the divine glory. As the universe turns toward the human race only a rich border of its star decked vestment, so the Author of nature is too vast to be comprehended by human sense. We are compelled therefore to read Darwin, the materialistic student, and the Christian disciples of evolution as being interesting inquirers amid the phenomena of our day, but as minds which add nothing to and take nothing from the divine philosophy of mankind. They are all on one platform as to the origin of things. They may not be equally distant from the old tenets of the church, but the origin of matter and of life, the quality of God are so far from both orthodoxy and heterodoxy that they may be considered as side by side in this one DEPARTMENT OF THOUGHT. To us in America the wheat is taller than the grass in our lawn, but to the dwellers in the planets, could they look down upon us, all our grains and grasses would be of one ; ? i.;-i-~ ?4. 1 .size, i uus uur scientists, mutual aim i/ui wtian, run up toward eternity with different forms of thought, but looked at from the heights they vainly seek they are all one. In presence of the boundless space and the endless time, education and savage simplicity and joy. Such being the situation, we should not spend life over those hopeless principia. If these obstacles in our path were a want of learning, we might amend our misfortune by seeking knowlege; if the obstacle was a want of mental industry, we could at once enter on a career of less ease and more labor; if the element of love were wanting, we could buikl up a new friendship for the studies, but the hindrance lies in the structure of the mind itself, for it was made for relations to only a part of the Kingdom of God. We may look away at times, but here is our arena of evidence of a God, our arena of work, of duty, of pleasure, of worship, of faith. We have indeed only a fragment of the universe, but it is rich and adequate?so adequate that dyjng we weep to leave so much behind. If we are thus shut up within narrow walls of time, perhaps death does not not carry us over the walls, but leaves us there to GO BACK TO NOTHING. Our minds are indeed limited to a few facts, but if you will look into and over all human history you will meet with a strange fact, that of religion and anticipation of a continuance existence, the fact of a worship. You will find the fact of church, hymn, nrnver and the interwoven historv of Christ. Many details in many religions are incidental or false, but the sentiment is as much a simple fact as is the sentiment of beauty or music. But this religious sentiment is nothing unless man is on his way to a higher destiny. Thus man does not stand cut off from the future as he is cut off from the endless past. His isolation from his origin is hopeless. And from the future he is cut oft so far as any full measurement of that state can be thought of, but otherwise the world of spirits is unique. A chain of religion binds man to it, and his face is turned not away from, but toward the mystery. Thus that border of the universe which rolls up toward man not only offers him time and a home and duties and pleasures, sun, rain and fi<51d, but it is marked with a religion which has no full application in this life. This sentiment is one that carries man out of the limited walls of earth. Thus, as our human race carries in its soul a fragment of music, a fragment of the beautiful, a fragment of wisdom, and looks out upon a fragment of the sky, so does it seem to be carrying in its spirita fragment of worship and hope and of ETERNAL LIFE. Some Christians contend that there is no hope of a future life except that found in a miraculous revelation and the miraculous Christ, but this seems a reckless effacing of all those words written within the heart and in all the experience of our race. Christ came not to destroy, but to fulfill. But it is time to conclude these remarks. We all have awakened in a world of rare nature. We hear great words, "infinity," "eternity," "endless space," "matter," "spirit," "creation out of nothing," "evolution." We know not what they mean. If space ends what is there beyond ? If time began what was there before? We know not what they all mean; but looking out of the window we see a moving scene of sublime worth, day and night, earth and sky, and the amazing pictures of human life, and written over all and in all, the name of God. Into this great river of life we must all cast ourselves. We must seek duty and love it, mental progress and love it. happiness and love it. * WFiile we are doing this the unseen Hand will carry us onward and forward. Christ will be a strong light for all hours. Happy mortals if we can from the full heart sing: Lead kindly Light, Amid the encircling gloom, Lead thou me on. The night is dark and I am far from home, Lead thou me on. Keep thou my feet, I do not ask to see The distant land, ono step's enough for ine. * So long thy power has blessed me, sure it still Will lead me on, O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent till Night is gone; And with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have loved long since and lost awhile. Intelligent?Educated?Learned.? The English language is made up of such a varied combination, and is used so figuratively and allegorically, that one can hardly give utterance to an unstudied phrase but what ingenuity and quick perception can construe into a diversity of meanings ; and so many words have nearly the same meanings that they are so often misused and misapplied ; more probably from a careless custom than from ignorance. The words intelligent, educated and learned are often used as though they had the same meaning, although they convey entirely distinct ideas. Intelligence is an innate faculty of the human soul, that enables one to think and receive ideas with a degree of comprehension and understanding. Education is the cultivation and refinement of the powers of understanding, and includes both moral and intellectual training, This term is usually applied to the early developments of the mind, when it is made capable of receiving learning. There are two kinds of education ; one we have given us at school, which only prepares us for the more substantial one we get ourselves from the world. Human nature can never be learned from books; it is a knowledge others may acquire, but never impart; it constitutes an important part of our education, and can only be gained by mingling with our fellow men. There is a great difference in people, and this difference is greatly the result of our education. Learning is knowledge gained by research and study. It is erudition which a well educated man may not possess. Knowledge is information gained by study, experience and observation. Wisdom is an endowment and is higher than knowledge with judgment and discretion. Intelligence, education and learning are three great steps to the highest development of the human mind, neither of which can be obtained without theaid of the other. God places us on the first step; we make sure of our footing, and reach the others by our own efforts. The second requisite to this end is application. He who would acquire mental as well human knowledge must never admit defeat or pause over a difficulty, but work steadily onto the end, that he may conquer every obstacle which comes in his way. "In the lexicon of youth," says Bulwor, "there should be no such word as fail." The first experiment in submarine telephoning will cover a distance of 850 miles, and will be between Halifax, N. S., and Gloucester, Mass. If it proves successful an attempt will then be made to telephone across the Atlantic Ocean.