The Batesburg advocate. [volume] (Batesburg, S.C.) 1901-1911, October 27, 1911, Image 9
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EfrLOUIS JOSE
AUTHOR OP "T & BRASS
oiD-tyi^tTCMaTO?..^ by mi
coPYMCtir ay Louta UOSZPH vahcs
8YNOP8I8. \
<1
David Ambor, ntartlna for a durk-ahoot- .
Jng visit with Mb friend", Qualn. comes upon
n young lady equestrian who haa been
dismounted by her horse becomln* fright- c
ened at the sudden appearance In tho road ^
of a burly Hindu. He declares ho Is I
Feharl I.al (,'htttt orll, "the appointed ;
tnouthpleoe of the Hell," addresses Amber
hs a marl of high rank and pressing a
mysterious little bronse box. "Tho Token,"
Into lils hand, disappears In tho
v wood. Tho girl calls Amber by namn. I
\ H?- In turn uddreBscs her as Miss Sophie .
\ Karrell. daughter of Col. Farrell of the
\ lirl'.lsh diplomatic service In India and ?
\ visiting the Quoins. Several nights later
\ the Qualn homo Is burglarised and the
' bronxe box stolen. Amber and Qualn go j
hunting on nn island atrd become lost and .
Amber Is left marooned. He wanders
about, Anally reaches a cabin and roc- j
ognizes as Ita occupant an old friend
named Rutton, whom he last met In England.
and who appears t<> be In hiding, f
IVhen Miss Karri 11 is mentioned Rut-ton la ,
strangely agitated. Chatterjl appears
and summons ltutton to a meeting of a | J
mysterious body. Rutton .selz.s a revol- .
I ver and dashes after Chatterjl. He re- |
/ turns wildly excited, says he has killed j r
/ the Hindu, takes poison, and when dying
asks \mber to go to India on a mysterious
errand.
CHAPTER VI. (Continued). R
The servant brought from Rutton's !!
leather trunk u battered black- n
japanned tin box. which, upon exploration,
proved to contain little that
might not have been anticipated. A
bankbook issued by the Iioubo of Rothschild
Pre res, Paris, showed a balance
to the credit of H. D. Rutton of ^
something slightly under a million ^
francs. There was American money,
chiefly in gold certificates of large 11
denominations, to the value of, roundly.
$20,000. together with a handful of 0
French, German and Kngllsh bank- 5
notes which might have brought in n
exchange about $250. In nddltlon to J
those there was merely a slnglo en- '
velope. superscribed: "To be opened "
in event of my death only. H. D. R." 11
Amber broke the seal and read the 1
enclosures once to himself and a sec- 8
ond time aloud to Doggott. The date J'
was barely a year old.
"For reasons personal to myself
and sufflclent," Rutton had written, "I
choose not to make a formal will. 1
shall die, probably In the near future,
by my own hand, of poison. I wish
to emuhaaize thin ">tntomnn? in avant i
" *** ^ Q
the circumstances surrounding my demise
should appear to attach suspicion
of murder upon any person or persons
whatever. I am a widower and J'
childless. What relations may survlve
mo are distant and will never 8
appear to claim what estate I may ! x
leav
that
an
appi
proi
In n
To
have died or left me, however, the die- , 1
position of my effects Is a matter
about which I am wholly careless." p
The signature was unmistakably r
genuine?the formal "H. D. Rutton" s
with which Amber was familiar. It t
was unwitnessed. n
The Virginian put aside the paper '?
and offered Doggott the blank cheque
011 Rothschilds'. "This," he said, r
"makes you pretty nearly Independent- A
ly rich. Doggott." h
"Yes, sir." Doggott took the slip of
paper in a hand that trembled even m
his voice, and eyed it Incredulously. ^
"I've never 'ad anything like this be- h
fere, sir; I 'ardly know whit it ^
means."
"It means," explained Ambctf, "that. 1
when you've filled In that l-?.\nk and 1
hud the money collected .'rom the j
Rothschilds vnii'U v 1 e
.. uu vyui ur -wuii
what cash Is here?In ?he neighbor- 1
hood of forty-five thousand pounds "
sterling."
Dr.ygott gasped, temporarily Inar- s
tlculate. "Porty-flv-y thousands pounds? a
Mr. Amber," he declared earn- I ^
sutly, "I never looked for nothln' like
this. I?I never?I?" Quito without
warning ho was quiet and composed
Rg.iin. Vilght I ask It of you as a
favor, f;'r, to look after this"?he offered
to return the cheque?"for a j
while, till I can inyku up my mind ^
wfcat to do with it."
"Certainly." Amber took the paper,
folded it and placed It in his card- f
ease "I'd suggest that you deposit t
It as soon as possible In a New York j ^
bnnk for collection. In :ho meantime, I 9
these bills are yours; you'd better c
take care of thorn yourself until you v
open the hanking ucconi^^^, ' v
"It'll keep as as nnywh.-res
" l)oggn;t considered, relork- | t
ing the box*j0"\ 'aveu't 'ardly any iisd | )
for motxMBexcopt, of course, to tide | i
lire ovor^B i find another position." i r
"\S hat^^p exclaimed Amber In t
amaze, t
^> s, tM," afflrnu d I)oggott respect- t
^i',nyVm a t)lt too old to chynge "f
my w'vb*. a valet l'vo been all mv . t
llfo and ft valet I'll die, sir. It's u>o
lyto to think of anything else." r
"15ut with this money. Hoggott?" )
"Heg pardon, sir, but 1 know; I i
could llvo easy like a gentleman if I r
liked?but 1 wouldn't be a gentleman, t
so what's tho use of that? So tho w'yo r
I look at It, there's naught for me but
HK TOOK MEAI^
I 7^.
Broker Banked "Friend's" Check After
the Borrower Thought He Had
Protected His Money.
"Sen that heavily built guy who Juat
came in?" said the broker to his friend
In the cafe. "You may have noticed
that he caught my eye, but passed on
without a sign of recognition. Well,
h?tfs a promoter. He and I used to ho
,great friends?ostensibly. Ho niBhod
Into my o.T.co oue afternoon In a state j
[ " "
m VANCE
* BOWb" &TC. n JJ
Sf W-&Q3T20Q? ^
;o on valetlr.g until I'm too old; aft
hat the money'll be a comfort,
tares'y. . . . Don't you think a
ilr?"
"I believe you're right, Doggot
?nly your common-sense surprises m
Jut it makes it easier in a way. . .
Imber fell thoughtful again.
" 'Ow's that, sir?If I m'y ask?"
"This way." said Amber: 'Bofoi
le died, Mr. Rutton asked me to c
llm a service. I agreed. He su
jested that I take you with me."
"I'm ready, sir." Interrupted Do;
cott eagerly. "There's no gentlema
'd like to valet for better than you
lelf."
"But there will be dangers, Doi
;ott?I don't know precisely wha
That's the rub: we'll have to trav<
lalf-way round the worhl and face ui
mown perils. If Mr tutton wet
ight about it. we'l' j lucky to gt
way with our lives."
"I'll go, sir; it was 'is wish. I'
:o with you to India. Mr. Amber."
"Very well. . . ." Amber spok
bs'ractedly, reviewing his plan;
But," he enquired suddenly, "I didn
lent ion India. How did you know?1
"Why?I suppose I must 'av
uessed it, sir. It seemed bo likel;
nowing what I do about Mr. Rutton,
Amber sat silent, unable to brtn
lmsolf to put a single question in r<
ard to the dead man's antecedent!
lut after a pause the servant coutii
ed voluntarily.
"He always 'ad a deal to do wit
ersons who camo from India?nil
ers?I mean, natives. It didn't muc
latter where we'd bo?London c
'aris or Berlin or Rome?they'd 'ur
m up; some 'e'd give money to an
tiey'd go aw'y; others 'e'd be locke
p with in 'is study for hours, tuikini
alking. They'd 'ardly ever come th
nme one twice. 'E 'ated 'em all, M
Lv;tton did. And yet. sir, I alway
id a suspicion?"
Doggott hesitated. Inwered his voici
is gaze shifting uneasily to the stll
hrouded figure in the corner.
"What?" demanded Amber tensel;
"I alw'ys thought pe/'aps 'e we
That wo call in England a man <
olor, 'lmself, sir."
"Doggott!"
"I don't mean no 'arm, sir; It we
ust their 'minding him. like, and 'I
eing a dark-comDlecteil man th
yrue as them, and speakln' their lai
tiage so ready, that made me thin
. . ? Httl
5* '
CO!
> 8<
?nc
tutton.
The servant stared, VTslbly li
rested. "Very Rood. Mr. Amber. 1'
emember. sir. I don't ordinarily go
ip, sir; but you and him being s
hick, and everything 'appenlng t
light so 'orrlble, I forgot myself,
ipe you'll excuse n e, sir."
"God in heaven!" cried the your
aan hoarsely. can't be true!" H
lung himself li.*o his chair, buryir
Is face In hh; hands. "It can't!"
Yet irresistibly the conviction wi
elng forced upon him that Doggo
ad surmised aright. Circumstance
mcked M> circumstance within h
nowle^fce of or his experience wit
I10 man, all seeming to prove inco
estably the truth of what at the fir
lush had seemed so Incredible. Whi
Id he, Amber, know of Rutton's pa
ntage or history that would refui
ho calm belief of the body-servai
if the dead man?
And then Amber's Intelligence w?
mitttn by a thought na by a clul
nd he began to tremble violently, u
ontrollably, being weakened by f
Igue and the strain of that tndles
errlble night. A strangled cry e
aped him without his knowledg*
Sophia!"
Sophia Farrell, the woman he hf
iromlsed to wed, nay even the worn?
to loved with all his being?a hnl
>rcod, a mulatto! His mind sicken*
vlth the horror of that thought.
His very soul seemed to shudd<
ind his reason cried out that tl
hlng could never be. . . . Yet 1
tls heart of hearts still he loved he
itill desired her with all his strengl
ind will; In his heart there was r
vaverlng Whatever button had bee
vhatever his daughter might be, 1
oved lu-r. And more, the honor <
he Ambers was In pledge, holdlr
dm steadfast to his purpose to set
jer out In India or wherever si
night be and to bear her away fro
he unnamed danger that threaten*
ler?even to marry lier, if she won!
lave him. He had promised; his woi
ind passed; there could now be t
vlthdrawal. . . .
An hour elapsed, Its passing rn
iously emphasized by the tin cloc
Vmber remained at the table, his hefl
ipuu 11, inn iace maaen ny his artn
'<> still that Doggott would hat
lioiight him sleeping but for his u
ven breathing.
At length tho young man callc
1 ADVANTAGE
if great excitement, saying that n 11
le deal he was putting through mac
!f>0 necessary at once, and would
iave him a little trouble by cashing
heck for tho sum. Mo always seerm
o havo plenty of money, so I gai
llm the cash and took his check,
lid not see him again soon, and on n
leposlting tho check it came ba<
marked 'No funds.' I looked up h
bank, and found ho did have a d
posit thoro at one time. I deposits
^ uuggou disappeared to prepare a
I meal, but within five minutes a gunshot
sounded startlingly near at hand.
The Virginian's appearance at the
door was coincident with a clear hail
re of "Aho-oy, Amber!"?unmistakably
lo Quain's voice, raised at a distance of
8" not over 200 yards.
Amber's answering cry quavered
5* with joy. And with a bear-like rush
Quain topped the nearest dune,
r" dropped down into the hollow, and
was upon him.
5" "I3y the Ix>rd Harry!" he cried, alt
most embracing Amber in his excitement
and relief; "I'd almost given
Q* you up for good and all!"
e "And 1 you." said Amber, watching
curiously and somewhat distrustfully
a second man follow Quain into the
II vale. "Who's that?" ho demanded.
"Only Antone. We've him to thank.
? Ho remembered this old camp here?
f- I'd completely forgotten it?and was
* sure you'd taken refuge in it. Come
inBlde." He dragged Amber in, the
? Portuguese following. "Let's have a
look at you by the light. Lord! you
seem to be pretty comfortable?and
g ! I've been worrying myself sick fo>
s- ! fear you?" He swept the room with
b. an approving glance which passed
l- over Doggott and became transfixed
as it rested upon the hammock-bed
h with its burden; and his jaw fell.
5- "What's this? What's this?" He
h swung upon Amber, appraising with
ir relentless eyes the havoc his night s
it j experience had wrought upon the
d I man. "You look like hell!" he exd
I ploded. "What's up here? Eh?"
r, Amber turned to Doggott. "Take
e Antone out there with you and keep
r. him until 1 call, please. This is Mr.
s j Quain; l want to talk w ith him un*
II HE
*;l ' * f yi
%
?! ^
is The Signature Was
tt
>g disturbed. . . . But you can bring
i8 ! us coffee when It's ready."
:h i Qualn motioned to Antone; the
n- Portuguese disappeared into the back
st ! room with Doggott, who closed the
at communicating door.
r_ "You first," said Amber. "If you've
te fretted about me, I've been crazyit
about ou?what time I've had to
| think-"
is ' Qualn deferred to his insistence.
>; j "It was simple enough?and damned
^ -d " ?vi?lninorl " I ottnahf ihn
]]. j UtiiU, lie: CA^iuuiru. *
a. Echo by the skin of my teeth, the
s> Bklmmy almost sinking under me. She
8! was linrd nnd fast aground, but I man
s: aged to get the motor going and backed
her off. As soon as that was ail
l(j right we got a wave aboard that
m soused the motor?like a fool I'd left
If the hatch ofT?and short-circuited the
sd coll. After that there was hell to
pay. I worked for half an hour reefer
ing, and meanwhile we went aground
ie again. The oar broke and I had to
In g<> overboard and get wet to my waist
r, 1 before I got her ofT. liy that time it
:h was blowing great guns and dead
10 j from the bench. 1 had to stand off
n, ' and make for the mainland?nothing
-,e els- to do We beached about a mile
of below the lighthouse and I bad tho
ig , four-mile tramp home. Then after I'd
ik thawed out and had a drink nnd a
ie change of clothes, we had to wait two
m hours for the sea to go down enough
>d to make a crossing in the launch
Id practicable. That's all for mlno. Now
d you? What's that there?"
10 ; "A suicide; a friend of mine?the
i man Rutton whom we were discussu.
ing the night I came down. And that's
k not half. There's a man out there
[(j somewhere, shot to death by Rutton?
B a Hengali babu. . . . Quain, I'v*
,e lived in Purgatory ever since we partis
cd and now . . . I'm about done."
Ho was; the coming of Quain with
>d the ease of mind It brought hail
tho check again nnd again It was re'
turned. A week later I tried again,
jt. with tho samo result. Moro for
1b amusement than anything else, I sent
I ; the chock to tho bank for the fourth
a time, and this time It went through!
?d "Soon after that our friend aills me
ire up on the telephone, and In the mn?t
I outraged tono of voice asks what I
\y mean by taking ndvantago of him that
:k way. He could not have been more
Is Indignant hnd I double-crossed hirn In
e- a straight deal. And that explains
>d why hu no longer speaks to mo."
/
I him and Doggott found bins tiling up,
. 'with a haggaid and careworn face.
V . but with the Kane light of a man com*
posed in his eyes.
"Doggott," he aaked In an even,
toneleaa voice, "have you ever menI
tinned to anybody your suspicion
about Mr. Kutton's race?"
"Only to you. air."
"That's good. And you won't?"
"No, air."
"Havo you," continued Amber, look*
lng away and speaking slowly, "ever
heard him mention bis marriage?"
"Never, sir. 'E says In that paper
*e was a widower; I fancy the lady
e* must have died before I entered 'ia
- service. 'K was always a lonely man,
lo' all the 15 year I've been with 'im,
keepln' very much to "linself, sir."
4_1
" snapped' Cbe' Xorvcur umilon
which had sustained Amber. HGb was
now on the edge of cooaps# sod
i showed It plainly. But two otrcum
stances aided him to recover his flip
upon himself: Qualn's companionate
consideration in forbearing to press
his story from him, and Doggott's opportune
appearance with a pot of
coffee, steaming and black. Two cups
of this restored Amber to a condition
somewhat approaching the normal.
He lit a cigarette and began to talk.
For all his affection for and con|
fldence in his frier:d, there were
1 things he might not tell Quainwhere*
fore be couched his narrative in the
i fowest possible words and was miserly
of detail. Of the coming of the babu
and his going Amber was fairly
free to speak; he suppressed little If
| any of that episode. Moreover, he
; had forgotten to remove the Token
from his finger, and Quain tnstantly
| remarked it and demanded an explar
nation. But of the nature of the errand
on which he was to go, Amber
said nothing: it was, he averred. Rutj
ton's privato business. Nor did he
j touch upon the question of Rutton's
nationality. Sophia Farrell he never
mentioned.
Nevertheless, he said enough to
render Qnaln thoughtful.
"You've set on this thing, I suppose?"
he esked some tlmo after Amber had
coucluded.
"Set upon it. dear man? I've no
choice. I ;nu3t go?1 promised."
Quain went t$ the hamwockbed,
turned back the sheet, and for several
minutes lingered there, scrutinizing
the stony, upturned face.
"So!" he said, coming back. "Here's
nowi that'll help you some. You
were blind not to see it yourself.
That man's?was, I should say?a
it'ijput." He watted tor the comment
which did not come. "You knew
it?"
"I . . . suspected, tonight"
"It's as plain as print; the mark of
his caste is all over him. But perhaps
he was able to disguise it a little
with his manner?alive; undoubtedly,
I'd say. He was a genius of his kind
?a prodigy; a mental giant.. That
translation of the 'Tantras'?! Wonderful!
. . .* Well, he's gone his
own way: God be with hlin. . . .
When do you want to start?"
"As soon as possible?sooner. I've
not a day to lose?not an hour."
"Urgent as that, eh?" Quain
V ' * '
ffl"''
Unmistakably Genuine.
peered keenly into his face. "I wish
I knew what you know. I wish to
heaven I might go with you. But I'm
married now?and respectable. The
morning train leaves Xokomis at 7:30
You can make that, if you must. Ilut
you need sleep?rest."
"I'll got that on the train."
" 'Knew you'd say that. Very welL
This is Tuesday. The Mauretania?
or the Lusitania, I don t know which
?sails tomorrow. You can catch
that, too. It's the Quickest route,
eastwards?"
"Hut I've decided to go west."
"That means a week more, and you
said you were in a hurry."
"1 atn; but by going westwards it's
barely possible I may bo able to transact
or wind up the business on the
way."
As a matter of fact Amber was hoping
the Rolands, with Sophia Farrell,
| might linger somewhere en route, reuu
inhering that the girl had discussed
a tentative project to stop over between
steamers of Yokohama.
"Very well," Quain gave in; "you're
the doctor. Now as for things hero,
make your mind easy. I'll take
charge and keep the affair quiet.
There's no reason I can see for its
ever getting out. I can answer for
myself and jVntone; and the two of
i us can wind things up. Oct ready
now to trot along, and I'll take care
of everything."
"Thore'a no way of thanking you."
"That's a comfort. Call Doggott now
I and tell him to get ready. You
j haven't much time *.o lose."
While they waited for the servant
j to pack hla hand haj?It being cbvl!
oils that to tnko tUo trunks with
them was not feasible: while Qualn
j was to caro for Amber's things at
Tanglewood until his return from India?Qualn
wag possessed by an Idea
Let the Fairies Afonel
Another good but misguided woman
has undertaken a campaign for
the abolition of "Mother Goose,"
"Allco In Wonderland" and fairy sto
rles of all kinds. She declares thai
these stories are lies and Ovight nol
to be tolerated. In her opinic-n Moth
er Goose Is worse than a witch, and
as for Lewis Carroll?well, this "Mr*
Gradgrind," of Huston, would havo hire
hanged on the highest hill. An, bul
It would be a sad old world If all thg
? -----
' 1 ' I in ?
which be VII pUl r.vi to C*lTl?t?9 Mi l
inspiration.
"It's this,1' ha e^rnlMd: "What
do you know about Calcutta t"
"Little vr nothing. !' ? Wan thare
?that's about all."
"Precisely. Now I know ths place,
and I know you'll never find this goldsmith
in tba Machua baser without
a guide. The ordinary, common**garden
guide la out of the question, oi
courses But I happen to know an
Englishman there who known more
about the dark aide of India than any
other tan man in the world. Hell be
invaluable to you. and you can trust
hlaa aa you would Doggott. Go to him
t? toy nam*?you'll need no other la*
-oduction?and tell him what you're
told me."
"That's impossible. Rutton expressly
prohibited my mentioning his
name to any one Sn India."
"Ob, very well. Tou haven't, have
you? And ydu won't have to. Ill
S"
mm
"Hang Your Promise."
take care of that, when I write and
tell Labertouche you're coming."
' What name?"
"I^abertouche. Why? You don't
know him."
"No: but Rutton did. Rutton got
that poiBon from him."
Quain whistled, his eyes round.
"Did. eh? So much the better; he'll
probably know all about Rutton and'll
take a keener interest."
"But you forget?"
"Hang your promise. I'm not bound
by it and this is business?blacker
business than you seem to realise,
Davy. You're bent on Jumping blindfold
and wltn your hands tied into the
seething pool of infamy and intrigue
that is India. And I won't stand for
it. Don't think for an Instant that I'm
going to let you go without doing
everything I can to make thtnga as
pleasant as possible for you. . . .
No; Labertouche Is your man."
And to this Qualn held Inflexibly;
so that. In the end. Amber, unable to
move him, was obliged to leave the
matter In his hands.
A sullen and portentous dawn hung
In the sky when the little party left
i the cabin.
Between two sand hills the Bengali
lay supine, a huddled heap of garlrh
color?scarlet, yellow, tan?against
the cold bluish-gray of snow.
At a word from Qualn the Portu'
tuuiiu?ueuveu kLiuwb wnete.
"Right-O!" agreed Qualn. His
hand sought Amber's. "Goodby, and
God be with you," he said huskily.
Amber tightened his clasp upon the
man's fingers. "I can't Improve on
that, Tony," said ho with a feeble
"Goodby, and God be with you." He
dropped his hand and turned away.
"Come along. Doggott."
The servant led the way baywards.
Behind them the angry morning blazed
brighter in the sky.
In the sedge of the ahore they
found a rowboat and, launching it,
, embarked for the power boat, which
swung at her mooring in deeper water.
When they were aboard the latter,
Doggott took charge of the motor,
leaving to Amber the wheel, and with
little delay they were in motion.
As their distance from the shore Increased
Amber glanced back. The
! >sland rested low ugalnst the flamlDg
sky, a shape of empurpled shadows,
scarcely more substantial to the visIon
than the rack of cloud above. In
the dark sedges tho pools, here and
ther*? r-nuchf thft tli?ViL frnm aK~?v?*
-and
shone blood-red. And suddenly
the attention of tho Virginian was arrested
by tho discovery of a human
figure?a man star.dlng upon a dunetop
some distance Inland, and staring
Fteadfastly after tho boat. He seemed
of extraordinary height and very thin;
upon his head there was a turban; his
arms were folded. While Amber
watched he held his pose, a living
menace?like some fantastic statue
bulking black against the grim red
dawn
(TO HE CONTINUED.)
Fencea Ward Off Rabbits.
Owing to the- Increase of rabbits la
certain parts of Australia a movement
has been started in the Armldale district
to construct a barrier fence along
the eastern side of Central New England.
This will serve to ward off the
rodents, which now abound In the
rough country along the edge of ths
tableland. Th;se rabbits are beginning
to crowd westwards, and are al
| ready making their presence felt on
the adjoining country. The suggestion
Is to link up the rabbit-proof fences
which already exist along the edge
of the more settled area from Walcha
to Glen Innes districts, and thus cut
off tho rough country where the rabbits
are thick, and where there la no
chance of keeping them under.
If all the dear delightful tales that
have to do wi^a fairies and imps and
' elves and hamadryads were to be destroyed.
The world is snd enough as
It Is, but it would be infinitely sadder
: and dreader if children did not be
: lleve In Fairy Fine-Ear and mothers
and fathers did not yield allegiance to
I the Dame o' Dreams. Rochester Post
Express.
t Hair Indicates Strength,
i \ Short, thick, curly hair Is an indict
ask thla question by an arousal of con* j
I science from lethargy that at one time
I seemed to be as binding as prison
I chains. In this reawakening the
I church has played a most. important
I part, but its appeals have been secI
ouded by moralists and even by statesI
men. Today the question, "What la
right?" is asked not only in personal
morals, but in the larger affairs of
I life, and to the extent that there is
greater effort for higher standards
of morality and nf rfllglnim nrue
tlcea.
The question is an old one. It has
been asked by mail since first he knew
there was right which might be distinguished
from wrong. It has been
i discussed In all its phases, and St.
Paul in his letter to the Phlllpplans
exhorts them in the wordB of our text.
He tells them that right is "what is
true, what is honest, what is just, what
is pure and lovely and of good report."
His exhortation is as pertinent
today, as then, and bis definition
aB complete. Let us first consider
men, not things.
A great many men are true so far
as their standards permit them to be.
There are others who seek constant elevation
of standards so that they may
be nearer the ideal true man. To be
a true man means to be truthful in
thought, in speech, in act, to be devoid
i of dissimilation, to be right and to be
Just what you seem to be; to be loyal
i to all that is good and devoted to the
j furtherance of good. Such a man invariably
answers the question "What
; is right?" correctly, and his answer
has the respect of his fellow men.
A great many men are honest so
far as the demands of relationship
with other men may go. and few go
beyond this point and are honest with
themselves as well as with their fellows.
In their transactions they have
1 no doubts, no regrets, no sufferings
of conscience. They make every
transaction a closed transaction in
! every sense of the word. They are
right. Such men are the examples of
honesty that should be emulated.
Men are just in the measure that
they mete to their fellow men; and
some of them are Just to the extent
that they heap the measure to overflowing.
They neither weigh to the
ounce, nor exact their pound of flesh
no ry.\ A Ok?U?l. JU ??
UIU ou/iuvn uiu. 11 auyming, tuey |
are Ju6t to the point of ?*?n*?? ??? *
I ha sc.. ..1 a . -i<it
tu ,\n\f given full valua :z full.
: > ai. * ! !: v. i.om tit* . ec - t in 1
-t n . n vr -<? lu the extent
.! i Vave to fault! or vices that
rIn m immoral. There .re
wl thot it-. vt?u are pi re
.o v< uoii) impurity is absolutely ob-,
noxious. They think good, and as the
thought is the father of the act, tney
act well. These are the men at whom
the finger of suspicion never points,
but are always held as models after
which we should pattern.
Men who tire truly honest. Just and ,
pure, men whose thoughts are always
upward, are men of good report. They i
have unassailable reputations support- 1
ed by unimpeachable characters. Tbey
ask the question, "What is right V
from the innermost recesses of their |
souls, and answer it with all the enlightenment
of conscience and spiritual
guidance that God can give them. i
They are alwaye men of good report j
and always will he so long as they I
possess the virtues that the apostle ,
has enumerated.
1 know that the apostle tells the
brethren to "think of things that are
true, honest, pure, lovely and of good
report." It is by thinking of these
things that men become honest, true
and just. The apostle asks them not
only to think but tn pb??a? '? *> =
says that "If there is any virtue in
these thiugs, if there be any praise"
thinking of them will bring them into
their lives and cause them to be grateful
for the good they receive. Men
who think honestly, men who try to be ;
conscientious gain for themselves all
the good that can be derived from I
right thought and pure thinking. And
that good is ability to think straight,
and answer correctly the question, i
"What is right?"
Of course there is no absolute right, j
Men do not think alike. They have
not the same standards, nor the same '
conceptions, and yet they have one
standard of right and their conception
of that standard will always grow better
and better the more they study itThat
standard was set by Christ. Paul
studied it, and his wonderful growth
] in spirituality enabled him to tell the
Phllippians what they should think
about, for he knew that the man who
was true, honest. Just and pure, the
man who regarded things that were elevating
and of good report, would bej
come the man who would be able sooner
or later to answer more exactly the
question, "What is rights
Vou can follow Paul's prescrlDtlon.
especially If you ask for that guidance
which has been promised you
by that greatest exemplar of right.
Woman's Rights.
During these days we hear a great
deal of women's rights which are
really women's wrongs. I know not
whether women will ever get what
they term equality with men. Man |
and woman are equal in the sight of
Ood, but here below woman occupies
a different station. She was created
to be man's helpmate and to supplement
what lie lacked. She was to be
kind and gentle under long suffering.
?Bishop J. J. Nilan, Roman Catholic
Hartford, Conn.
All human culture rests on a willngness
to make sacrifices to th?
I had ulna one bottle I vai tlftc in ' ^
ay wort l?i vecenuasand i ^
her canstttaMlfc^^ ' t*' I
and bacluiclin, mr^f-'';
turns of her wowH^Weekswwn. Tim
proper treatment,
the woman's tonic. )H^nH|K'
cine, or tonic, has exaoUk&|g^nij||?
results as CardoL No Othe$*S|?h\
record of so many years of
use in cases of womanly ailments.^ ^
If Mrs. Oarrett had taken Oaln E:
annner *he mlcht have Ttiiiin SIIS'?T 1
the lone sickness and modi suffering.
A few doses of Cardul at the right
time will often sare serious rafieriif
and prevent a long sickness. Dmt
delay. Begin to take Cardial at ones.
IT. B*?Writ* toi I*?i# aSil?S
Dc*t, CbaKaaMga SetletM Oe, Clwl
taiMca, Tna, tor t*?rt*l iMtnw*
(ioMt aai SI sags baak, *Bmm Taan*
MMt for Wanes," newt la flats naaaw*
par, on tnnaat
FAILED TO WIN.
a $20,000 prise story."
"And did he get the $20,000?"
"No. The girl wrote and told him
she had accepted his rival."
Too Lata ? Ch?nm?
" \ man can no trior*. change hts ep~
atlon fi bo can changp his lace
I an is," said Sens tor Ijl Triflstte '
lit a L?au-iuot in Madison. t Tlic:e
a'.'j, once a wloJrCf' old Hanlf
.on -n'Hicnalre who took hi* pa->tur
.aide nT,?t e:\itl;
V
I'H'.S ?
uiumuci UL nij me to doing good.'
"Dr. Thirdly, outspoken man, retorted:
" "Do yon mean John H. Good, the
wealthy farmer ,or young Sam Good,
the Socialist millionaire?*"
They're AH About Tailor*.
"All criticism," said Professor
Brander Matthews in one of hi* brilliant
Columbia lectures, "Is, to a certain
extent, personal and biased." He
paused and smiled. "The Tailor and
Cutter, a weekly paper," he resumed,
"said in a recent leading article:
" 'Carlyle's "Sartor Resartus," Meredith's
"Evan Harrington" and Kingsley's
"Alton Locke" will be great
classics when the ephemeral novels
of today will have long since perished.'
"
Would Arrest Him Anyway.
Sergeant?'Alt! Take Murphy's
name for talkin' in the ranks.
Corporal?W'y, sergeant, 'e weren't
talkin*.
Sergeant?Wasn't he? Welt, cross
it out an' put *im In the guardroom for
uctcivm me.? lBuer.
Overlooked.
Knicker?We can't carry revolver*
any longer.
Booker?But they didn't take away
the girls' hatpins.
8H1FT
If Your Food Fails to 8ustale Yom,
Change. _
One sort of diet may make a person -*
despondent, depressed and blue and a
change tc the kind of food the body
demands will change the whole thing.
| A young woman from Phlla. says:
"For several years I kept in a rundown,
miserable sort of condition, was
depressed and apprehensive of trouble.
I lost flesh in a distressing way and
seemed in a perpetual sort of dreamy
nightmare. No one serious disease
showed, but the 'all-over' sickness waa
enough.
"Finally, between the doctor and far
ther, I was put on Qrape-Nuts and
cream, as it was decided I must have a
nourishing food that the body coeld
make use of.
"The wonderful change that <"?" *
over me waa not, like Jonah's gourd.
tKa srrnnrt V? r\# ? -? ? * ?*- A
i uo 51 vT*tu v/i a omftiw UI dill, JW ll>
came with a rapidity that astonish**
me.
"During the first week I gained in
weight, my spirits improved, and tlwe
world began to look brighter and mors
worth while.
"And this has cont!n*ipd steadily, till
now, after the use of or.pe-Nuts tor
i only a few weeks, I ar > perfectly well,
feel splendidly, take a lively interest In
everything, and am s changed person
In every way." Name given by Postnm
Co., Battle Creek, Mich.
Read the little book, "The Road to
Wellvllle," In pkga. "There's a reason."
brer read thr abm Mlrrl a mw
one npyearo from time ? time. Tfcey
mr+ HQ #T