The ledger. [volume] (Gaffney City, S.C.) 1896-1907, August 19, 1897, Image 5
THE LEDGER: GAFFNEY, S. C., AUGUST H>, 1807.
TALK TO Yol'XG MLX
DiL TALMAGE ON THE EVILS OF GOING
IN DEBT.
Denirnetivn Tnflu«*nr«*fi of Sorloly lirep- j
in" I' p ApjirMritiicrn TemptHtioim of City
I.lf“ i>»ii|;«'rii of the Wlno Cup Cliriat
tlio Friend of Htriijft;liii" lloiiinnity.
Ni:v.- Yokk. Au^. 15.—Dr. Tahuago 1
in liiij rimm for today chows how run
ning into liojtt’li'SK cli hts and slo |)tioism
havo undono young incii iu town and
country. The text is Proverbs vii, 22,
“Ah an ox to the chiugliter. ”
Tht ro is notldng in the voire or man- i
Her of tiio butcher to indicate to the ox
that there is death ahead. The ox thinks,
he is going on to a rich pasture Held o?
clover win re all day long he will revel
in the herbaceous luxuriance, but after j
awhile tho men and tho boys close iu
upon him with sticks and stones and
tdiouting and drive him through bars
and into a doorway, where ho is fas
tened, and with well aimed stroke tho i
ax fells him, and so tho anticipation of |
the redolent pasture field is completely
disappointed, tsii niany a young man
has been driven on by temptation to
what ho thought would he paradisiacal
enjoyment, but after awhile influences ;
with darker Into and swarthier arm
close in upon him, and ho tludN that in- I
stead of making an excursion into a
garden he has been driven “as an ox to j
tho slaughter. ’’
° i
Society to IShiiiio.
Wo are apt to blame young men for
being destroyed when we ought to
blame the influences that destroy them. |
Society slaughters u great many young j
men by tho behest: “You must keep up
appearances. Whatever bo your salary, j
you must dress as well as others, you I
must givo wine and brandy to as many i
friends, you must smoko as costly cigars, !
you must givo as expensive entertain
ments and you must live in as fashion-
able a •boarding Louse. If you haven't !
the money, borrow. If you can't bor- j
row, make a false entry or subtract lu re i
and there u bill from a bundle of bank I
bills. You will only L ive to make the i
deception a little while. In a few
months or in a year or two you can
make nil right. Nobody will be hurt by
it, uobody will be. the wiser. You your
self will not be damaged. ’’ By that aw
ful process 100,000 men have been
slaughtered for time and slaughtered
for eternity.
Suppose you borrow. There is noth
ing wrong about borrowing money.
There is hardly a man who has not
sometimes borrowed money. Vast es
tates have been built on a borrowed
dollar. But there are two kinds of bor
rowed money, money borrowed for the
purpose of starting or keeping up legiti
mate enterprise and expense and money
borrowed to get that which you can do
without. The hirst is right, the other
is wrong. If you have money enough of
your own to buy a coat, however plain,
and then you borrow money for a dan
dy’s outfit, you have taken the first rev
olution of the wheel down grade. Bor
row for tho ucc: viities; that may be
well. Borrow for tho luxuries; that
tips your prospects over in the wrong-
direction.
The Bible distinctly says the borrow
er is servant of the lender. It is a bad
state of things when you have to go
down some other street to escape meet
ing some one whom you owe. if young
men knew what is the despotism of be
ing in debt, more of them would keep
out of it. What did debt do for Lord
Bacon, w ith a mind towering above the
centuries':' It induced him to take bril. s
and convict himself us a criminal be
fore all ages. What did dt lit do for
Walter .Scott, broken hearted at Abbots
ford? Kept him writing until his hand
gave out in paralysis to In ep the sheriff
away from his pictures and Htatuary.
Bolter for him if ho had minded the
maxim which he had chiseled over the !
fireplace at Abbotsford, “Waste not,
want not.”
doing; In Itebt.
The trouble is, my friends, that peo
ple do not understand the ethics of go
ing in debt, and that if you purchase
goods with no expectation of paying for
them, or go into debts which you can
not meet, you steal just so much money.
If I go into a greet r’s store and I buy
sugars and coffees and meats with no
capacity to pay fer tin m, and no inten
tion of paying for tin in, 1 am more dis
honest than if I go into the store, and
when tho grocer’s face is turned the
other way 1 fill my pockets with the
articles of merchandise and carry off a
ham. In the one case I take tho mer
chant’s time, and I take the time of his
messenger to transfer the ^rods to my
house, while in the other case I take
none of the time of the merchant, and
I wait upon myself, and I transfer the
goods without any trouble to him. In
other words, a sneak thief is not so had
as a .nan who contracts df-bts he never
expects to pay.
Yet in all our cities there are fami
lies who move every May day to get
into proximity to other grocers and
ineatshnps and apothecaries. They owe
everybody within half a mile of where
they now live, and in xt May tiny will
move into a distant part of the city,
finding a new lot of victims. Mean
while you, the lion. it. family in the new
house, are bothered day by day by the
knocking at tho door of disappointed
bilkers and butchers and dry goods deal
ers and newspaper carriers, and you are
asked where your pn decessor is. You
do not know. It was arranged you
should not know. Meanwhile your
predecessor has gone to some distant
part of tho city, and the people who
have anything to sell have sent their
wagons and stopped there to solicit the
‘‘valuable” custom of the new neigh
bor, and be, the new neighbor, with
great complacency and an air of nflln-
buco, orders the finest steaks and the
highest priced sugars and the best of
tin- canned fruits and perhaps all the
wwspapcr.s. And tiie debts w ill keep
oil accumulating until he gets his goods
on the 80th of next April in the furni- j
turn cart.
No wbnder that so ninny of our mer
chants fail in business. They are swin- j
died into bankruptcy by these wander- j
ing Arabs, these nomads of city life. ,
They cheat the grocer out of the greci: |
apples which make them sick, the phy
sician who attends them during their ;
listnss and the. undertaker who tits
tie m out for departure from tho neigh- !
borhood where tiny owe everybody j
when they pay the debt of nature, the ;
only debt they ever do pay.
Commercial Kthle*.
Now our young men are coming up |
in this depraved state of commercial
ethics, and 1 am solicitous about them. |
I want to warn them against being
slaughtered on the sharp edges of debt.
You want many things you have not, j
my young friends. You shall have them
if you have patience and honesty and
industry. Certain lines of conduct al
ways lead nut to certain successes.
There is a law which controls even
those things that seem haphazard. 1
have been told by those who have ob
served that it is possible to calculate .
just how many letters will bo scut to !
the dead letter ollice every year through .
misdirection; that it is possible to cal- I
onhito just how many letters will be de- ,
tained for lack of postage stumps through j
the forgetfulness of tho senders, and
that it is possible to toll just how many
people will fall iu tho streets by slip
ping on au orange peel. In other words, |
there are no accidents. Tho most insig- i
nilicant event you ever heard of is the i
link between two eternities—the eter- I
nity of the past and the eternity of the
future. Head the right way, young |
man, and you will come out at the
right goal.
Bring me n young man and tell me
what his physical health is and what
his mental caliber and what his habits,
and I will tall yon what will ho bis
destiny for this world and his destiny
for the world to come, and I will net
make live inaccurate prophecies nut if
the 500. All this makes mo solicitous
in regard to young men, and I want to
make them nervous iu regard to the
contraction of unpayable debts. I give
yon a \ arugraph from my own expo
rn nee.
My first settlement as pastor was in a
village. My salary was $K00 and a par
sonage. The amount seemed enormous
better off than n young man when you
have robbed him of bis Bible. Have
yon • ver noticed how despicably m< >iu
it is to take away the world’s Bible
without propositig a substitute? It is
nn aner than to come to a sick man and
steal his medicine, meaner than to come
to a cripple and steal his crutch, meaner
than to conic to a paupi r and steal h<s
crust, meaner than to come to a poor
man and burn his house down. It is the
worst of all larcenies to steal tin* Bible
which bus been crutch and medicine
and food and eternal home to so many.
What a generous and magnanimous
business infidelity has gone into—this
splitting up of lifeboats and taking
away of fire escapes and extinguishing
of lighthouses! I come out and I say to
h
The rapidfi of temptation and death
rushing against that young man 4<»
miles the hour, and he iu a frail boat
headed up stream, with nothing but a
broken oar to work with. Unless Al-
migli-v God help them they will go un
der.
Ah, when
THE SERENE GODDESS.
soio walks in srnlik »lm; iiepcrtnu* tides
That Htir lifo’s shatlowH cameit stir the lit ers
Ytliosc air she bn atbes; she neither laughs
ner weeps;
TSut, Ihrotiuh (iod'H world, wher - her white
MUll iibides,
; Sti« flings a song that on the stfllnc-w rides
I told you to take ( are of I I.jg,. juurmuring light, and he who vigil keeps,
“ What are yon doing all
this for:” “Oh.” they say, “just fir
fun.” It is such fun to see Christians
to hold on to their Bibles! Many of
have
Tien,
such peojdi
try
them have lost loved
been told that there is
ones and
a resurre
and it is such fun to tell them there
will be no resurrection! Many of them
have believed that Christ came to carry
the burdens and to heal the wounds of
the world, and it is such fun to tell
them they will have to bn their own
savior! Think of the meanest thing
you ever heard of, then go down 1,00(1
feet underneath it, and you will fin 1
yourself at the top of a stairs lOo miles
long; go to the bottom of the stairs,
and you will find a ladder 1,000 miles
long; then go to the foot of the Judder
and lock off s. precipice half as far ;.e
from hero to China, and you will find
the headquarters of the meanness that
would rob this world of its only com
fort in life, its only peace in death and
its only hope for inmiorta.ity. .Slaugh
ter a young man's faith in God, and
there is not much more left to slaughter.
I’liyHic.?.! and MuruJ Wreckj.
Now what lias become of the slaugh
tered? Well, some of them are in their
father’s or mother’s house, broken down
in health, waiting to die; others are in ho was capable of filling
the hospital, others arc in the cemetery, I vain
yourself you misunderstood me if you
thought I meant you are to depend upon
human resolution, which may be dis
solved in the foam of the wine cup or
may be blown out with the fir.-t gust of
temptation. Here is the helmet, the
sword of the Lsird God Almighty.
Clothe yourself in that panoply, and
you shall not be put to confusion. Sin
pays well neither in this world nor tho
next, hut right thinking and right be
lieving and right acting will take yon
in safety through this life amt in trans
port through the next.
I never shall forget a prayer I heard
a young man make some 15 years ago.
It was a very short prayer, but it, was
a tremendous prayer: “O Lord, help us!
We find it so very easy to do wrong and
so hard to do right! Lord, help ns!”
That prayer, I warrant you, reached the
ear ot God and reached his heart. And
there are 100 men who have found out
— I,on0 young men, perhaps, who have
found out—that very thing. It is so very
easy to do wrong and so hard to do
rigid.
I got a le tter one day, only one para
graph, which I shall read:
“Having moved around somewhat. I
have run across many young men of ii -
teliigeuce, ardent strivers after that
will-o’-the-wisp—fortune.—ami of one
of these I would speak. He was a young
Englishman of 28 or 24 years, who
came to Now York, where ho had no ac
quaintances, with barely sufficient to
keep him a couple of weeks. He had
been tenderly reared, perhaps I should
say too tenderly, and was not used to
earning his living and found it e?:-
tremely difficult to get any position that
Aftor manv
w.it.-hitik' the iH'iuity Unit tn < - tii , i r tin ►’Ink*
< mt <if the silence wlrl • the lil-eh ciirth Ml. i'Jih,
Ii.,tii low In r ns kIio mtii;s. b r In that strain
Nile make* tin- two diviner natures otm
A.ml lilts thi ::i Initii beneath one crown to
reian;
Th- i.roiiil radiance of wonr.n, who hat I.
vitlod
To son li< r ti <i iin" by her lover done,
hho marries to tho U1UI Uoi s- , f .1 clill'!.
—New York Tribune.
criAWEfi shoes.
Young Viscount Pctersfield was rc-
! markable for three things, his intense
bashfulness, his indecision of eharnotev
and his abnormally small hands ami
feet. On tho latter Im particularly
! prided himself.
Ho was the most eligible of bachelors.
1 Equally, of course, ho was being ev* r-
j lastingly stalked by hushnnd hungry
mammas and daughters. But they could
make nothing of him. Their most
sircuic efforts simply frightened him.
But exemption wit impossible. He
v as young, single, u viscount. He had
$125,000 a year.
One autumn, three or four year: ago,
Lord Peter field went dew it into Sussex
to stay with his friends the Wcntwarps,
at Wentwurp hall, a very line old coun
try scat.
For or.o thing, they understood Ids
character and did not worry him with
excessive hospitality. And then, for
another, the daughters of tho house,
i Mabel and Maud—very pretty girls,
1 too, by the way—did not run after him
j or make eyes at him. They were simply
I friendly and cordial with him.
! Now Viscount Ptaor.-field had con-
!” I was afraid of getting
so much prosperity. I
to me. I said to myself, “What, all this
for one year
worldly under
resolved to invite all the congregation
to my house in groups of 25 each. We
began, and as they were the best con
gregation in all the world, and we fidt
nothing was too good for them, we
piled all the luxuries on the table. I
never completed the undertaking. At
tho end of six months I was iu finan
cial despair. I found that wo not only
had not the surplus of luxuries, but wo
had a struggle to get tho necessities,
and I learnt d what every young man
learns, iu time to save himself or too
late, that you must measure the size of
a man’s body before you begin to cut ;
the cloth for his coat.
When u young man willfully and of !
choice, having tin t cmfort.; of life, goes ;
into tiio contraption of unpayable debts, |
he knows not into what he goes. Tho !
creditors get after the debtor, the pack I
of hounds iu full cry, and alas for the 1
reindeer! They jingle Ids doorbell lie- i
lore he gets up in the morning, they
jingle his doorbell after he has gouo to
bed at night. They meet him as he
conies off Ids front steps. They send
him a postal card or a letter in rurtest
style, telling him to pay up. They at
tach Ids goods. They want cash or a
note at 80 days or a note on demand.
They call him a knave. They say he
lied. They want him disciplined ir. the
chun h. Tin y want him turned out of
the hank. They eniiie at him from this
side and from tin t side and from be
fore and from behind and from above
mi l from beneath, and la* is insulted
and gibbet* d and sued and dunned
and sv.urn at until he gets the nervous
dyspepsia, gets neuralgia, gets liver
complaint, gets heart disease, gets con
vulsive disorder, gets consumption.
Now he is dead, and you say, “Of
course they will let him alone.” Oh,
no! Now they are watchful to see
whether there are any unnecessary ex
penses at the obsequies, to see whether
there is any useless handle on tho cas
ket, to see whether there is any surplus
plait on the shroud, to see whether tho
hearse is costly or cheap, to sec whether
the flowers sent to tho casket have been
bought by the family or donated, to see
iu whose name the deed to the grave is
made out. Then they ransack the bereft
household, the kooks, the pictures, the
carpets, the chairs, tho sofa, the piano,
the mattresses, the pillow on which he
died. Cursed be debt! For the sake cf
your own happiness, for the take of
your good morals, for the sake of yocr
immortal soul, for God’s sake, young
man, as far us possible keep out of it!
Irreligious Young Men.
But I think mere young men are
slaughtered through irreligicn. Take
away a young man’s religion and you
make him the prey of evil. We all know
that the Bible is the only perfect system
of morals. Now, if you want to destroy
the young man’s morals, take his Bible
away. How will you do that? Well, yon
will caricature his reverence for the
Scriptures, you will take all those inci
dents of tho Bible which ciyi be made
mirth of — Jonah’s whale, Samson’s
foxes, Adam’s rib. Then you will cari
cature (ecentric Christians or inconsist
ent < -liristians. Then you will pass off as
your own all those hackneyed arguments
against Christianity which are as old as
Tom Paine, as old as Voltaire, as old
ns t in. Now you have captured his Bi
llie, and you have taken his strongest
fortress. The way is comparatively
dear, and all the gates of his soul are
t 1 1 open in invitation to the sins of
earth and the sorrows of death, that
tiny m; y come in and drive the stake
for their fnniinpmeiit.
A steamer 1,500 miles from shore,
with broken rudder anti lost compass
and hulk b aking 50 gallons the hour, is
or, rather, their bodies are, for their
souls have gone on to retribution. Not |
much prospect f >r a young man who j
started life w ith good health and good
education and a Christian example set |
him, and opportunity of usefulness, |
who gathered all his treasures and put
them iu one box and then dropped it
into the sea.
Now, how is thn wholesale slaughter
to be stopped? There is not a perst u
who is not interested in that question. !
The object cf my sermon is to put a
weapon in each of ycur hands for your
own defense. Wait not for Ycun" Men's
Christian associations to protect you or
churches to protect you. Appealing to j
God for help, take care of yourself.
Fiist, have a room somewhere that
you can cadi your own. Whether it be
the back parlor of a fashionable board- !
ing house or a room in tho fourth story
of a cheap lodging I care not. Only 1
have that one room your fortress. Let i
not the dissipater dr unclean step over
the threshold. If they come up the long
flight of stairs and knock at the door,
meet them face to face and kindly yet
firmly refuse them admittance. Have a
few family portraits on the wall, if you
brought them with you from your coun
try homo. Have a Bible on the stand.
If you can afford it and can play on one.
have an instrument of music—harp or
flute or cornet or melcdeon or violin or
piano. Every morning before you leave
that room pray. Every night after you
come home iu that room pray. Make
that room your Gibraltar, your Sevas
topol, your Mount Zion. Let no hud
book or newspaper come into that room
any mere than you would allow a cobra
to coil on your table.
Take care of yourself. Nobody else
w ill take care of you. Your help will
not come up two or three or four ffighis
of stairs; your help will come through
the roof, down from heaven, from that
God who in tho (i,0l)0 years of the
world’s history never betrayed a young
man who tried to be good and a Chris
tian. Li t mo say in regard to your ad
verso w orldly circumstances, in passing,
that you are on a level now with those
who are finally to succeed. Mark my
words, young man. and think of it 80
years from now. You will find that
those who 80 years from now are the
millionaires of this country, who are tho
orators of the country, who are tho poets
of the country, who are tho strong mer
chants of the country, who are the great
philanthropists of the country—mighti
est iu church and state—are this morn-
; ing on a level with you, not an inch
above, and you iu straitened circum
stances now’.
Hcrschel earned his living by playing
a violin at parties, and iu the inter-
I stices of the play he would go out and
look up at the midnight beavers, the
fields of his immortal conquests. George
; Stephenson rose from being tho foreman
iu a colliery to be the most renowned
of the world's engineers. No outfit, no
capital to start with! Young man, go
' down to the library and get some books
and read of what wonderful mechanism
God gave you in your hand, in your
foot, in your eye, iu your ear, and then
ask some doctor to take you into the
dissecting room and illustrate to you
what yon have read about, and never
again commit the blasphemy cf saying
j you have no capital to start with.
Equipped! Why, the poorest young man
; is equipped as only the God of the
whole universe could afford to equip
him. Then his body—a very poor affair
compared with his wonderful soul—oh,
that is w hat makes me solicitous. I am
| not so much anxious about yon, young
man, because you have so little to do
with as I am anxious about you be
cause you have so much to risk and lose
or gain.
Yonn* Men In Great Cities.
There is no class of persons that so
stir my sympathies as young men in
; great cities. Not quite enough salary
to live on, and all the temptations that
come from that deficit. Invited on all
hands to drink, and their exhausted
nervous system seeming to demand
stimulus. Tlictr religion caricatured by
the most of the clerks in the store and
most of tho operatives in the factory.
traeh d a deplorable habit of easing his
efforts iu this direction he found | pinched toes by kicking .iff his pumps
If on a Sunday evening iu Brook- j during the progress of d.i ui
himself
lyn, near your church, with about £8
left of bis small capital. Providence
seemed to lead him to your door, and
ho determined to go in and hear you.
He told me his going to hear you
that night was undoubtedly the turning
point in his life, for when he went into
your church he felt despi rate, but w hile
listening to ycur discourse his better
nature got the mastery. I truly believe
from what this young man told me that
your sounding the depths of his heart
that night alone brought him back to his
God whom he was so near leaving.”
A Great Heality.
That is the echo of multitudes. I am
not preaching au abstraction, but a
great reality. O friendless young man,
O prodigal young man, O broken
hearted young man, discouraged young
man, wounded young man, I commend
to you Christ this day, the best friend
a man over had! Ho meets you this
morning. Despise not that emotion ris
ing iu your soul; it is divinely lifted.
Lock into the face of Christ. Lift one
prayer to your father’s God, to your
mother’s God, and this morning got tho
pardoning blessing. Now, while I
speak, yon arc at tho forks of the road,
and this is tho right road, and that is
tho wrong road, and I see you start on
the right read.
One Sabbath morning at the close of
the service I saw a gold watch of the
world renowned and deeply lamented
violinist Oio Bull. You remember he
died iu his island homo off the coast of
ucr and only
resuming them just In fore he had to
jump up in deference to the rising of
the ladies.
Ho was rather sorry when he saw
Lady Wontwarp preparing to main the
signal, and he had to feel for his vacant
1 pumps. He found them and got them
j on in tinu—phew! Certainly they w<r
; abominably tight! They seemed to
i throw him forward on his toes in a
wav to which he was not accustomed.
| Only as the last fair diner swept past
him, on her way out. did he realize that
! his tot s w ore being tortured in a pair of
lady’s shoes.
They were high heeled, of black satin,
with large insettos and silver buckles.
; lie hud no dinieulty in recognizing
them. They were Mabel Went warp's,
i Then h** saw how it was. An unin
tentional exchange. The young lady
1 must have kicked off her shoes also, and,
meaning to resume them, have un
knowingly resumed his insti ad.
He decided that his best course war
to slip away, on some pretc xt or other,
while tho gentlemen were still smok-
I ing their cigarettes; then to hurry up
stairs tn hi t bedroom and exchange the
satins for a second pair of pumps,
which he had fortunately brought with
him.
j Having decided on this line of action,
he murmured—with a vt ry r« d face—a
few excuses and apologies to his host,
Troublesome Tetter
Suffered for Yonrr. fell 2 14 Could Find
No Cure Until Hood’s Sr.rsaon-
rilia was Tried —Scrofula Cured.
“I Buffered with tetter on one of my
limbs just above the ankle. I tried a
great many remedies, but nothing did mo
any good. Tho disease was very trouble
some for 12 or 13 years. In the spring
I began taking Hood’s aanaparilla
and after taking several bottles of this
medicine,! was completely cun d. Hood’s
Sarsaparilla also increased my weight.”
F. 1*. Kkgistek, Slateslioro, Georgia.
“When my boy was three months old
he broke out with eruptions. He was
treated by a physician and the eruptions
would heal but would break out again.
Wc resolved to give him Hood’s Sarsapa
rilla, and when be had taken two bottles
he was cured. He has had no trouble
with scrofula since, but is perfectly well.”
John R. Smith, Shady Spring, W. Va.
If you have decided to try Hood’s Sarsa
parilla do not be induced to buy any other.
Hood’s Sarsaparilla is the best, in fact,
the One True Blood Purifier. Sold by all
druggists. Price f*l, six for f5.
arisen out of onr—our—foolish mistake
last night. I—I—have just had H
dr-dreadful interview with—that—
that—odious Lady Slanderson!”
“Tho do— Oh, I beg your pardon. But
—but—do you mean to say that she dis
covered ou—onr—mistake?”
“Shi—slu —think-, that -he lias found
out some—something dr-dreauful about
; ns. ’ ’
, And poor Mabel, unable to restrain
her feelings any long v, Is gan to sob.
j “Oh, dear! Pr-ray don’t distress
! yourself, Miss Went warp. ”
I “Oh, Lord Pcterstield, I—I—don’t
know how I shall tell you tin—tho
shameful things Lady Slanderson said
I to me. But—but—iu justice to you, as
well as tn myself, I must. It—it seems
. that she was up stairs last night at—
at a most unfortunati moment, and that
—that—she saw me sl-slip out of your
room—without my shoes on!"
j “Good heavens! ' gasped his lord -hip
tciiie of evident di.unay. “What
m a
a”—
“And also," Mai el vv nt on hurried
ly as if anxious to finish her painful
disclosure, “she waited up there, spying
in the dark, and saw you slip out of my
room without your shoes on!”
“But, surely,” began Lord Peters-
field.
“I—I—told her tho truth,” inter
posed the girl. “I ( xplained everything.
She—-hi—scoffed at my version. She
said she would—would—publish tho
scandal to the four winds of heaven.
Oh, Lord Petcr.slici.I, what is tn bo
done?”
“But, surely,” stammered L^rd P -
tersfield, wlio was naturally in a great
state of mind, “ people will accept our
version rather than that of tins vile
scandal nungi r!”
“Alas, ’ sdbbitl Mabel, “I wish I
thought so! You see. Lord P tersfield, I
cannot help r cognizing the very un
fortunate state of app ..ran es. She will
say that if—if—we had—any—any
thing to conceal wc should, of course,
be ready with an explanation, and that
even at that our explanation is lan-;»
and t lieu performed a skillful and sot edy
exit with so much rapidity as to make
it impossible for the black satins to be
Norway. That gold watch he had seen.
wound up day after day through his Now, ns he passed with rapid and
nervous rtealthalong thecorridor which
led to his room, he happened to noti v
that once? the bedroom doors on the
. way stood open. He recognized whose
room it was. Ir was Mabel Wentwarp’s.
In o.n instant he had popped them sail ly
inside the door of her room and was
proceeding with a lighter h'-art toward
his own apartment at the end of the
pa-sage.
On reaching Lift own room ho turned
np the gas and was about to hunt out
his second pair of pumps from a cup
board when his eyes fell upon his best
pair—tho pair which Mabel Wontwarp
had appropr.atod—standing in a con-
spit uous position by his dressing table.
He saw how it was. Miss Mabel, hav
ing disoovt red htr mistake, had had the
promptness and delicacy to replace
them thus in his room. It was certainly
most tactful and consult rate of la r.
i When they joined the ladies, Lord
! Pcterstield still, however, felt rather
nervous in ease any of tiie fair guests
might, have shared Miss Mabel's disoov
j cry about tho exchange of shoes. But
he was soon set free from anxiety on
this point ly Miss Went warp herself,
who, taking the opportunity to approach
him as he stood for a moment alone,
murmured, with a blushing, downcast
; look:
“I found out our little mistake, Lord
Peter-field, and I nt oneo restored your
property to your room. Sli! No one
knows anything about it. Ah!” (tuni-
ing her eyes down upon his varnished
! tot s). “I see that you have already n -
claimed ybur own!”
At- that moment Julia Slanderson
sw uoiied down upon her prey and to
bis great annoyance forcibly annexed
him for tbe n st of the ( veiling.
Next morning after breakfast the un
fortunate viscount noth '. :I that this per
sistent young lady was still hovering on
the pounce. He evaded her at the ex
pense of some skill, and slipped off into
the dampest and most st eluded portion
of the garden to enjoy his cigar alone.
Mabel Wontwarp startled him by sud
denly appearing at his side. Her face
was white and distressful. Her eyes, he
noticed, where bright ,vith unshod tears.
“Oh, Lord IVur.-field,” she exclaim
ed, “forgive my intrusion, but i saw
you come our, and I have followed you,
because I—I—have something I—L—
must, tell you.”
“I—1—trust there is nothing the
matter!” remarked his lordship, look
ing embarricssed and conscious of a
vague sense of alarm.
*T—I—cannot deceive you. A great
deal is the matter. And—it has all
: she will t n-'
d—and tel!—
1 rather havo
happen!”
:* for
lust illness, and then he said to his com
panion, “Now, I want to wind this
watch as long as I cun, and then when
I am gene I want you to keep it wound
up until it goes tn my friend, Dr. Dore-
mus, in New York, and then ho will
keep it wound up until his life is done,
and then I want the watch to go to his
young sou, my especial favorite.”
The gn at musician who more than
any other arti.-t had made the violin
speak, and sing, and weep, and laugh,
and triumph—for it seemed when he
drew tho bow across the strings as if
all earth and heaven shivered iu de
lighted sympathy—the great musician,
in a room looking off upon the sea, and
surrounded by his favorite instruments
of music, closed his eyes in death.
While all the world was mourning at
his departure 16 crowded steamers fell
into line of funeral procession to carry
his body to the mainland. There were
50,000 of his countrymen gathered in
an amphitheater of the hills waiting to
hear the enlogium, and it was said
when the great orator of the day with
stentorian voice begun to speak the 50,-
000 people on the hillsides burst into
tears. Oh, that was the close nf a life
that had done so much to make the
world happy! But I have to tell you,
young man, if you live right and die
right, that was a tamo scene compared
with that which will greet you wh- n
from the galleries of heaven the 144,-
000 shall accord with Christ in crying,
“Well done, thou good and faithful
servant!” Aud the influences that on
earth you put in motion will go down
from generation to generation, the in
fluences you wound up handed to your
children, and their influences wound
up and handed to their children, until
watch aud clock are no more needed to
mark the progress, because time itself
shall be no longer.
and improbable. B -id*
large and cxaggci-au a:
falsehoods, until—oh, I h:
died than have had thi
Tho viscount was sib a- for a minute.
A sudden idea, born ( f the circum
stances, hud flashed a ros his mind. He
had never thought < f Mabel in this
light before. lit veu! ; a have done so
now unless the situation had forced it
on hixi, but as he b : d a* her pretty,
woeful face lie realized that it was not
such an unw’wkoiia light iu whieh'to
think of her after ail.
“My—my—dear Miss M,.bol, I—1—
might, for all that Lady Slandcr.xou
knows to the contrary, have—huvt—ac
quired the right to—to—take your—
your—slippers to ycur room. ”
“1—I—w hat do you m an, L 'rd Po-
tersfield •’ ’
“Why,'' replied his
ing and stammering. '
—engaged to be married
Mabel, it w-worthl make
ence—wouldn't it?”
“Oh, no. Lord Pi'tersfield! Not that,
not that," she cried, .starting away.
“Couldn't you s-siand me at—at—
any price, then?” gasped the viscount,
painfully minified.
r-l>b
I w
to
ip, blnsh-
. re—wi ro
you, Miss
■a—diii . r
It—:
mean I count
was
t
not-
not
that. I
let you
yourself t —to—save my ri p
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“Oh,
should—
s-sacrific
utation. ”
“It wunldn’t bo mv.< h of n sacrifice,”
said his lords!rip. “Do y u know, I r.m
rather glad m w that this—this—unfor
tunate situation ha;; oj ii d my eyes? It
—it—hows me sur.. tiling I didn't real
ize U-forc. I—I—oh. Mabel, will you?”
“He is a noble man, mamma,” raid
the iH w iy ( agagt d girl to her mother a
few hours later. “H —ho—says lie
didn't I* alizc that lie 1. , in- till this
morning. And I did nor ; ..use that —
that—1 IowkI him. If I Lai:. I wc aid
ii-nevt r ha .a played ihi.f Ltz rid pr a t:
i**l y i.e rq n .mu ah’ at — a. - pump .
But wii’Ui In—he—t.» m. I
ku. vv in a mom: ::t that—that—1 did
love him. You will—v.bi!—• ver (■ 11
him that I meant i; originally for a
stupid hoax, will you. mamma u. ur?”
“Don't Ik* afraid < f ilia*, Mab. Your
old mother will not give you away. II
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though it has had the happiest results,
as it seems to have op.‘lied both your
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