Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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*r; - . ^ , The kinc { _^:honi \> \ NOVEL OF AMERICAN LIE DV MAURICE I Copjrrlcbt, nr.i I5?: CHAPTER XVI. CONTINUED. 'T couldn't stay at home!" she exclaimed, casting aside her cloak and rushing impetuously into Paniioe's embrace. "I am so troubled, so nervous! Papa says that the enemy will be in the city before the week is past." Pauline pulled her down into her lap with girlish tenderness and fondness, soothing herself by caressing her friend. "Ur3. Veraoa took Mademoiselle de Sezauaes's bund and stroked it. The three were drawn close together in a striking group near the center of the room whoso windows were lestooneu inside with almost priceless tapestry and outside with blooming vines. Despite the chill of the December air, with its searching dampness, the perfume of roses and violets were sweetly prevalent throughout the house. "Why, you have lost the set ofyour ring!" Mrs. Vernon eiciaimed, as her fingers touched the little circle of gold claws that had held a large diamond in place. "No!" "Yes. See!" Mademoiselle looked down and "turned pale. "And it was the ring he gave me? my " "Your engagement ring!" For the time they forgot war and its terrors in their consternation over a lost bauble; bat, then, the bauble stood for so mnchl They sprang to their feet, and the diamond set rolled, flashing, on the carpet. All three stooped to piok it np, and so pressed and crashed themselves together in beautiful disorder, actually laugniug And ejaculating gayly. "Ob, I could not?I could not lose dliis!" cried Mademoiselle de Sezanne?. She kissed the stone and fondled it against her cheek. "You know I lost the large ruby out of my fan ou the night of your party," she went on to say. "I'm having bad luck with my jewels." "j>o you mean to say that you lost the Caribbean ruby, as you called itV* inquired Mrs. Yernon. "Yes, the buccaneer. You recollect, Pauline, that Mr. Parker admired it so much that eveuiug. I was nearly heart broken when I fouud that it was gone. Though I would rather lose a hundred like it than this darling set." And again she showered kisses on the diamond. It wonld have been a trifle startling to the ladies could they have been informed just then that Paiker, alias John A. Murrell, had sold the ruby in Memphis and made merry with friends in espendiug the money received for it. Mr. Vernon came in presently, wet aud chilled. He went dircotly to his own room to change his clothes and .be rubbed by a servant. When he appeared again it was to inform his wife aud his daughter that tliey were to be sent to the plantation to remain till after the impending battle he.I been fought. Preparations for the move would be made immediately. Lapiu, tho overseer, had been notified, aud would come early on the morrow with the proper vehicles for taking such things as would he needed. Tiie ladies would go in the family car riage. So sudden an announcement, at sucu a time, added much to the feeling of dread and to the confused apprehensions with which Mrs. Vernon ami Paulino were already oppressed, it had in it the terrible reality oi immediate and dire urgency. A whiff oi battle-smoke wafted through the house could not have been more startling. "Oh, if I conld go with you!" cried Mademoiselle do Sezauncs. "It will be awful!" "But, you can go with us," said Mrs. Vernon. "Why not? There i* room in the carriage." "My dear child, yes," added Mr. Vernon, with a serious smile, "ft -wonld be so good cf you to go and be company for Pauline and Madame Vernon." "But, papa and " "Oh, there.is no hnrry. You ran go home and confer with yonr father. Jt will be safest for you to be with my family, I am very sure. Tell your father that I advise it aud iusist upon it. The city will be uo place for u.? if the English, defeat Jacksou and come in." In some way, through a medium h iKifht thfl timn to hp o? ? ?- ? ? - ? authentic, the story bad come to New Orleans that the British officers had promised their men the freedom ol conscienceless conquerors should they capture the city. As the rumors ol their approach and of the overwhelming numbers they could oppose to the little handful of Americans wore coupled with a report of such dark significance, the invaders were regarded as savages worse in every respent than the red men who bad been s > recently conquered by Jackson. A thrill oi apprehension shot through the heart of the oily; but the hediz i' * , ,i?.i Jens of yice 8 nd in fumy ?bated l or <>;e iincor point of their cupidity, ?< (?> ( not by night or by day their hod . or.? < f ousjile. There seeutel to In ' i" rav.-b danger within as without, it j 0 F-V BY ISLAND E DURING THE WAR OF 1S12. I THOMPSON, ! Vr "obert Eccaeri Son*. ilie event of suck disorder as would ' ii-- _f T_?l i IOIIOW me utieiii ui uiivusuu. What aggravated tue danger was the clash between Jackson aud this very class, whose leaders were, in fact, the chief men of the State. The iron-hearted general, however, apparently paid not the slightest attention to any particular individuals of i the would-be obstructionists, albeit his eye saw everything and his hand I was heavy when it fell. He grasped the situation more intelligently than did Governor Claiborne or any of bis associates, aud when the moment came, he declared martial law and took charge of everything with a suddenness aud vigor that were irresistible. Eveu the vilest of the forbnns ami cat-throats were touched by the magnetic mllucuce of his indomitable spirit aud courage. Here was a general who was the lit leader of desperate men. and all these outlaws were nothing if not willing lighters aud scoffers at danger and death. Mr. Vernon felt the doubtfulness of the outcome, and, moreover, in any event, the safer place for his wife aud Pauline, he thought, would be at the secluded plantation house. As for himself, he had determined that he would report at once to General Jacksou. CHAPTER XVII. THE JACKSONIAK TEMrEB. The plantation to which Mrs. Yeri aon and Panline wore sent lay near the Mississippi River, a few miles below New Orleans. It was a lonely dace. and the house, a very plaiu and I ? - _ simple structure, stood close to the edge of a dreary swamp. Hard by . ran a narrow ditch or canal, which was dow bankful of muddly-loolting \ water. Mademoiselle de Sezannes, at the i urgent request of the Yeruons, ac| companied them, although her own i parents decided to remain in the city. One who is in the least familiar with the topography of the region round about New Orleans and with the plan of attack determined upon by the British general will suspect that the refugees, in going to the j plautation, were running almost di| rectly toward the enemy instead of ' fleeing from him. This was so iu ' fact, although Mr. Vernon did not for a moment suppose that the final advance could be from any other direc, tion than Lake Pontchartrain, which lies north of New Orleans. Lienteuant Ballanche has not yet returned from Lis reconnaissauce of the Bayon-Bienveuu region, nor Lad there come any definite report of tLe 1 enemy's movements on Borgne or up the Rigolets when Mr. Vernon took his long rifle and reported to General Jackson, desiring to fight as an independent private. It is always so in the case of aa impending advance of an army upon a city wholly unprepared for defense. The want of a sufficient force to keep all the avenues of approach well under ' observation results, generally speaking, in a total ignorance of just what is most needful to know. Doubtless General Jackson was in possession of [ more facts regarding the whereabouts i and purposes of the English than the circumstances seem to indicate; still j the lack of troops and munitions and the confusing number and intricacy . of the waterways ami tire laodways by which it was quite possible for his foes to reach hi:u made everything i like regular military preparation ami action ou his part well nigh impossible. His memory was good, and wheu Mr. Vernon presented himself :tud asked to be assigned at once to duty, he recollected everything in '; connection with their past interviews. Secretly he was glad to make amends J 'or the brusq ruess of those oeca! eions, and he was quick to underI stand that here was a chance for him ! to secure, perhaps, the adhesion of a I i class of malcontents who he nuderII stood would accept Mr. Yeruou as ! their leader. He grasped the burly : old man's hand with diplomatic j warmth (for Jackson, despite liis will ! fulness, was born a politician) and I pressed it. "I am glad you have come, Mr. i Vernon," he eaiii, with a straight, ! stronc traze of eontideuce and pleas j ure, "for I need you. You can serve tue and the country to great advantage just now, sir?to great advan1 tuge, indeed. J want a company of 1 voiuuteers armed with rides, or, for that matter, with gnus of whatever j hind cau he had. You are just the i :qii& to raise end lead such a company." The general was a magnetic man, 1 and he knew how to direct his great f persouat power; hut in nn instant he ' teit the counter-thrust, of an invnlnerf bide individuality. Mr. Vernon's im meuso physical propottions 6cemed just then to tling out a spiritual and > moral spell which, if it did not eu; tangle Jackson's agile min.l, wrought i singular effect upon his imagination. The two men stood faciug each i itber iu .silence for a moment. l "Sit dowu, sir," said Jackson, i (>resently, pushing a cuair toward his - rif.itor, 1 The rcoui was a large, plaiu one, , ind simply furnished iu the msiu. - The gauut frame of the general, as roughly clod as if he had just arrived r from the 'farm, bristled with augles, and a stnbblo of wiry beard stood oul stiffly on his grim, sunbarnt face. "I prefer to fight as a private individual attached to auy company that you may choose to assign lue to," said Mr. Veruou, without appearing to notice the prodered seat. "I am not seeking au ofiice, general." "Of course, you are Lot. Cut the olliee seeks you, sir." "Xo, there are offlcers, and to spare, as you said the other day; aud, besides, I am not a military man." "You are a leader of citi/.eus, aud tkat'o bet .er." Jackson could not help admiring the old man, standing there like a Hercules, grown gray iu doing miracles of powesa. What limbs he had, what shoulders, wnat a large neatl ana what bulging muscles! Some rumor of bis past life, a vague but fascinating story of wauderiugs on the sens and of stormy but successful experiences iu the wars of many lands, had come to the general's ears from this or that accidental source. Very fe\r imaginations are proof against such a film of romance hovering over au individual who emphasizes its allnreincut with a personal aj'pearaucc altogether extraordinary. ' J am too old, general, to think of taking command of even a company," said Mr. Vernon after a moment. Ho spoke with respectful thoughtfiilnes , but beuiud his words was a reserve of something like conscious superiority, or, at least, of absolute self-confidence. He folded his arms across his immense chest, his long rifle in the hollow of his left elbow, its butt on tbe floor betweou his feet. "No, I prefer to tight as an individual rifleman; and, although I urn old, my eyes are still good?I shoot well." "Now, what is tbe use, Mr. Vernon, of your speaking like this!" demanded Jackson, with a hint of his stormy impatience in his voice. It was not of his nature to brook resistance. "Are you not going ever to cease resonting my refusal to appoint Loring? I as sure you, sir, mat nan ne oeeu a gentleman instead of a scoundrel, I still had no place for him." "Ta! It is you who are fretted! Do you ima- ino that if I felt so greatly aggrieved I should be here now offering myself as a private soldier? If I desired office, General Jackson, do yon feel that I could not have it without asking you?" There w?is nothing beneath the most superb dignity in Mr. Vernon's way of saying this. It was propounded as a simple question without any ring | of personal pique or of undue assumption, and yet there was a sudden cold, hard gleam in his eyes. 'Oh, well," said Jackson, rather haughtily and as if dismissing the J matter once for all, "you must do as I you please." j "I will do this," Mr. Vernon responded, without taking any notice of the general's mood; "I will raise a company at my own expense and have it report to you, properly eqnipped and officered." llefore there could he any reply to his words, he saluted gravely and waiuea our. 01 me room. The erlrance at this moment of Governor Claiborne, General Villero nod M. Tonsard, the French consul, forced Jackson's attention into a new j channel; but during the interview, which was importaut, bis thought kept turning back to the singular coulereuco with Mr. Veruou. And yet what had there really been in it (hat should impress him? Certainly, the mere fact that a citizen of New Orleans had offered himself is a soldier was nothing peculiar or impressive; men were doiug this every day. Moreover, what Mr. Ver| aon had said was simplo enough. Jackson found that it was the man's personality, the extraordinary presence, the suggestion of aimost im measurable experience and of incomparable dignity, reserve, self-repression tbat lingered iu bis braiu and appealed to him in some obscure bnt wonderfully potent way. It is credible tbat Jackson who was a man of penetrating insight, felt that Mr. Vernon was a typo embodying tho strange spirit of this romantic creole civilization?that in hi; stalwart, massive frame there dwelt the composite soul of all this wild, Iree, untamable swarm in whose midst the general now found himself, with no efficient means of reaching their natures act! warming their sympathies. "What did Vernon waut?" Claiborne ventured, in his smooth way, to inquire, aiier mo Iiaiueuiuie uumucs) of the interview was over. "Heofferedhis services," said Jackson, evasively. "Ho did? That is fortunate just at this juncture. Do you know, general, that lie is the most important man iu Louisiana?" "I have been told that he has influence." "It is uubounded," said the French cousul. "Yes," milled General Villere, with quick interest, lighting a cigar mean* time, "we cau connt upou everything if his hearty support cau be secured at once." "I asked him to raise and lead a company," said General Jackson. "Why, general," said Villere, "1 must say that you have blundered? unwittingly, of course. liaise and lead a company! You should have taken him close to you at once and made hiin a confidential adviser." "It was he who carno with Faval, some time ago, and asked tne to take that scoundrel, Colonel Loriug, ou my staff," Jackson replied dryly andwitu a savage shrug of the shoulders. "He asked that? He favored Lor* iug!" exclaimed Villere, iu an astonished tone. "Incredible!" In his excitement he spoke in French, and Jcckson did not under* stand his words; but his gestures and expression told as much as his l&a-uitge. . (lO EC CONTINUED.) I avAw.w.w.v.'.w.v.v^ | || HOUSEHOLD =!***? MATTERS :j iw.V.V.V.V.V.V.VAW/rf Window-Cleaning Msde ICany. The cleaning of the upper sashes of large windows necessitates generally standing on a stcplndder, and in this position it is by no means easy to polish the glass well. A very simple contrivance will greatly lessen the labor of the window cleaner and enables her to stand firmly on the floor all the time. It is made from an old broom, which is no longer in the state to be of any use for sweeping. Cut off what bristles remain, leaving the wood bare. On to this wood nail firmly a strong flat piece of board about a foot long and eight inches wide. This should then be covered with two or three thicknesses of house flannel, fastened to it by tin-taeks. which can easily be taken out whenever the flannel has to be renewed. The same sort of contrivance is useful for polishing the windows, but for this purpose wash leather or linen should be drawn over the padding of flannel.? Philadelphia Telegraph. To Clean Shetland Shawl. The Shetland floss shawl or scarf in which the summer girl delights is practically spoiled if laundered according to the usual method, so some special way must be devised for restoring their freshness when they become soiled. Dry cleaning with starch, meal, flour or tho like is highly recommended, hut a Brooklyn young woman has discovered one way to launder a white shawl satisfactorily. She made a suds with warm water and white soap, adding a little ammonia, and sopped the shawl gently around in this, squeezing, but never lifting the mass of wool. A la "go pan was utilized for the washing process and when the suds was poured off fresh rinsing water was added twice. After the second rinsing every possible drop of moisture was squeezed out of the shawl, and the pan set over the warming oven of the range. The shawl was turned over and over until perfectly dry. when it looked good us new.?Brooklyn Eagle. How to Broil and Koa*t Bird*. The directions for broiling are the same for all small birds. Bear in mind, however, that for the extremely small ones a very hot. bright fire Is needed, as the birds should he only browned: consequently, the time required for broiling them is very brief. Singe and wipe the birds, then split down the middle of the back, remove the contents. pound the birds lightiy. to flatten the breastbone, and wipe thoroughly with a damp, clean towel, taking care that everything is removed and the birds left perfectly clean for cookiug; season with salt and pepper, rub thickly with soft butter and dredge with flour. For squabs or quail about ten nniAa ran 111 ! />/! fnr lirAillfif*. JlJlllUtCV ilic ivv^uuvu ? 0. Smaller birds require less time. To roast birds, draw and wash quickly. wipe dry. season with salt and pepper, and put n thin slice of pork on the breasts: put the birds in a shallow pan !n a hot oven, and bake for fifteen or twenty minutes. Partridges require forty minutes. Serve en toast with j currant jelly and with bread sauce, which is made in the following way: One pint of milk, one half cupful of fine bread crumbs, two tablespoon fills j of chopped onion, one tablespoonful of ! butter, one-half teaspoonful of salt, i one-half saltspoonful of white pepper, j two-thirds of a cupfri i f coarse bread crumbs, and another teaspoonful of butter.?Gallic Joy White, in the Woman's Home Companion. jagtssiBfeij-s, RECIPESi'.vf Cheese Straws?Mix two ounces of j flour, two ounces of grated American j cheese, one ounce of grated Parmesan | cheese, a dash of salt, cayenne pepper and the yolk of one egg: work this j to a smooth paste: roll out on a floured j board very thin; cut in strips one eighth of an inch wide, place on a j greased pan and bake in a moderate i oven until a pale brown. Molded Bread Pudding?Butter a border mould; sprinkle with currants: nearly fill the mould with stale bread crumbs; beat four eggs u little; pour over them one pint of milk; add threefourths cup of sugar and one teaspoon of vanilla extract; pour this over the bread crumbs and bake in a moderate oven thirty minutes; let cool; turn out on a platter; serve with a fruit sauce or cream. Potatoes With Cheese?Take potatoes of even sire; when tender cut off the end from each and scoop out the potato into a hot bowl. In each potato allow one tablespoonful of grated cheese, one tablespoonful of cream, and one teaspoonful for the whole amount and the white of one egg beaten stiff. Beat the mass until light, returti it to the skins and put in the oven for ten minutes, to brown slightly, before serving. Duchess Soup?Put one tablespoonful of butter in a saucepan and when melted add one cupful of grated bread on/1 ctlr until n rnldpll brown I V.'l UUM/iS, auu oui uuvi. ?4 0v.?. ?, add chicken stock, about two quarts; season well and simmer about half an hour; rub through a sieve and return to the Are; add one cup of the breast ol chicken dried and simmer five minutes: draw to one side where it will keep hot; beat together three yolks of eggs and one cup of cream: add this to the soup; stir one minute. American sewing machines find large sale in British India, all other parts ol Asia and in the Islands of the Pacific. The boy should weigh twenty. an<! one-half pounds on its first birthday. A SERMON FOR SUNDAY f, ( AN ELOQUENT DISCOURSE BY THE , REV. DR. S. PARKS CADMAN. Hip Dliitin^nUhrd Brooklyn Divine De- J livers a Powerful Address Entitled j "The Calling of Life"?Why We Must , Offer to God Genuine Sainthood. Brooklyn. X. Y.?Dr. Samuel Parke# j Catlman. pastor of the Central Congrega- > tional Church, occupied his pulpit for the ' first time Sunday morning since his vaea- j tion and his return from Europe. A large congregation had assembled. The sermon ; was upon "The Calling of Life," and the text from the First Epistle to the Corin- \ thians i:2. "Called to be saints." Dr. Cad- ' man said in the course of a strong sermon: 1 To-day we enter upon the fifteenth year j of our church's existence and work. Be- 1 hind us lies the honorable past, conferring J obligation more than feeding pride, a holy prophecy in living deeds and a strong root fK-it i I/Y/1 OVPn till* (vrtrl /if ^ our father?, who has reared this pillar to His name and dory, will not break it in j the midst. So this year of jubilee is upon us.' and these considerations make it a priceless possession which our stewardship must guard and increase. These divisions of time are arbitrary, but influential. January 1 is but a moment's space from December 31. and yet the birth of a. new year has witnessed in numberless instances spiritual and moral revolutions. A few hours separate Good Friday from Easter Day, but if near in time, how distant are they in meaning! These distinctions of the calendar arrest us. They b-eak thp crust of our conventionality, they recall us to our original work and purposes and they inspire us with the realities of vision and of hone. Let us beware of blaming our surroundings for our weakness, our failure to instrumeutallv convert men and control the present world in the intcre. s of the kiuddom. The scant supply of living wafers is too often caused by the choked pipe and its paucity prevents man.- from seeking it. Pastors, teachers and workers of all churches should remember that the mighty tide of God's life and blessing finds its way to human hearts through their appointed agencies. And the greatest church among us is only like a port on the ocean's shore, dependent on it for increase and for strength. Dredge deep the bar and cleanse away the silt of daily cares. Then, when the text is thus understood and obeyed, commerce with the unseen world shall bring us wealthier freights, and life, which now seems far away, and inland shall be lifted upon thw resistless affluence of blessing and brought back to God. But sainthood is no passive movement, dependent on our inaction, hesitating when we are alert and shy of any effort we can make to secure its franchise. It absorbs 1 ?ulffir onrl earn. 1I11U UIIC uaiuc ui uviwhuii ttihut mmu ?.v.. fice. It insists upon the full employment 1 of every capacity and new and better obediences. It bids you rise from the low grounds of despair and cease to say: What might I no', nave made of Thv fair worid had I but lived Thy highest." God's love and health are yours, willing to meet your readjustment of energy and of aim. 1 Lord Salisbury's favorite advice to those who pestered iim about his world-compelling diplomacy bade them '"Study larger maps." And the sweep of God's plan in your life and mine is wide unto the infinite, tender and wise and capable beyond our utmost imagination. When the apost.'e wrote these words he was conscious of their high supremacy, and yet tney are but a faint reflection of. the weight of glory God has chosen to give perfected char- j acter after the pattern of the Master. If we see the excellency of this calling it should mean for us the objective point where the finest energies of the soul are constantly in service. Tne pity of it is that we are busy overmuch in trivial and immaterial things and struggle in the meshes of the commonplace. Our soul's pace is liable to be set to perishable strains, where noble means are used for little ends. Strenuous life is wise | when its aims are correspondingly high, 1 but it was said of a noble Roman "'Doinl- 1 tian is always busy?catching flies." To be born a man and die?not a saint, defeats the central thought of our loving Creator. Manhood sacrificed to anything less than the Maker's purpose is manhood lost. We may pursue tne uetty round until high achievement and its possibility are | pantiyzea. You naturally ask. What i* sainthood? It is spiritual health and moral thoughtfulness. "It is," to ouote a significant utterance of Dr. Arnold, of Rugby, "the inquiring love of truth sustained bv the devoted love of goodness." It is wholesome, because it is holy, set about and adorned by the abiding beauty of holiness, rightly understood. It is practice, not theory; ?onsecration, not perfection; a condition of character and not a theological definition. It is the kinship in willing and feeling ot your spirit to the snirit of Christ, who was the very will and heart of God in human flesh. Pecause it flows out of the fulness of God and is accepted by our belief, it is a catholic blessing, and there has been no more mischievous teaching than that which has limited it to a sect within the church. Being God's gift, its only condition of existence in you is your hearty trust and acceotance of the same, followed by constant effort to walk in. Christ's way. Alike for all who profess and call themselves Christians for brilliant but blameworthy Corinthians. for generous but tickle Galatians, for Ephesus in her dearth of first love, as for Sardis and Laodieea. with li.ile more than a mere name to live; let none draw back from this divine election or declare the boon is not for them. Many shrink from this term "saint" because it has been defamed by the charlatan " ?'J caIU/J nil iflrnnKin nco PKnriflalcnl itllu ruucu vj mi ???. sanctimoniousness and bigoted exclusivencss and false standards of the real measure and quality of sainthood have hindered its free range. But, rightly known, it is the spirit of the heavens within the wheels of earthly intercourse. Cardinal Newman reflected upon the Jhurch of his birth that she failed to pro.ce sainthood, and the Roman communion, he declared, was first and singular in this respect. How rudely he challenged Anglican complacency some of us know. Capable of much, it was wanting here. Bishops, theologians, exegists. ecclesiastical statesmen it could ana did afford, but saints, no. Bishop Kew, John Keble and Richard William Church are sufficient evidence to the contrary. And I only quote the cardinal to show how segregated ideals and types of sainthood may mislead a foremost spiritual genius. The challenge Newman flung down we are bound to take up for ourselves. No more searching question than this can be brought to our fiftieth anniversary. How is - " -1 V 'I'. ? U'n. r?. rnis lneai 01 tne new lCMamcm *v alired by this flock of God? His we are whom we serve. He justly claims us for His own. elect and precious. And beyond our cautious Puritan temper and our dislike for the mystic and the cso' teric, all the heaven of Ilis purpose awaits i tne sweep of our faith. I plead for abani don in the front of this gracious calling: , for that sanctified recklessness which led St. Augustine to cry, "Give what thou ! conimandest, then command what thou i wilt." Two main lines of Christian culture are open to us ail. First, we can seek for a renewed, invigorated personal relation to God. Detached from minor entcgleinents. we ma;- prove with the pure in all ages ! that the frontiers of a man's life are not i the stronghold. Remote, aloft and lonely is the source of uncreated strength anil goodness. And second, from the mount to the mulI titude A but a step. Christ continually, took it, meditating between the vigil of the eight and the burden of the day. What ca:i I lx? What cr.n I do? A3? rwer, oh, thou God of uy people, thou Releemer of my soul! Neither of these methods of soul devql>ument should be without its partner, 'Solitude is to character what space is to i tree.'' And alone with God, our hiding alace is 110 cell where "we wind ourselves :oo high for sinful man below the skv;" it s the sanctuary where strength and wialom are nourished for the daily battle. Service i3 to character what athletics are ;o the physical frame. And when all apolo ;etics fail to halt tne prouc concourse cz in alien world, duty well conceived and lone can turn the wondering multitudes from their fruitless ouest and make tliem wk. whence received these Gordons and Livingstones their warrant? The nameless saints who heal the wounds of the world ind would blush to give their deeds a lame, are the joy and crown of the BrideToom and His Bride. Those who lay upon :hemselves the lowliest duties, who claim n modest retirement their alliance with :he unseen but beloved One, are at this very hour the salt, the leaven, the preservation of God's cause uoon the earth. Both these methods of solitude and servee centre in Jesus Christ. Ee is our un'aiiing supply, the Mediator of the coveoant in all its brandies. In Hi.n the best, :he real self of men is revivified and reinbreed. And as we appropriate His life md His examnle we make our largest ;ains in the infinite, the eternal, the holy ind the good. In Him we are commended, edeemed and called unto this fellowship. When governing forces around us are orutal, when certain aspects of national ;xistence are without a moral gleam, when oractical infidelity displays its lures and vices catch the unwary, how should we orJer ourselves save by the light of this command the text enjoins? What humanity primarily needs is not a changed environment so much as a regenerated heart. I noticed on our homeward voyage that :he giantess steamship Ccdric. because of lier bulk, outrode the fierce Atlantic. By virtue of her increase the proud waves tvere <taycd.. How manv men dread the . =ea of life with its adventure, because their size is unequal to the shock. So they tarry in the harbor til! death's tog cover* ill. their work not done. .And in order that lynching* mav cease. ? md justice be undefiled. and the fool'and the knave nlucked out of the seats of leadership. and the demagogue and the trickster cease to defraud labor communities, md defeat lawful entcrnrise. one radical ind sufficient step must be taken, and the church must take it. We must offer to God and to society genuine sainthood. For its verities I am thankful, as for the different colors and scents of a garden of flowers. A St. Francis, a Cromwell, a Wesley, an Edwards: one loving devotional retirement, another political action. \ third the flaming evangel; a fourth profoundest thoucnt. but alb in their different gitts the fruit of the tree of life whose leaves are for the healing of the nations. These spell across a world's program the great words, God, the soul, immortality and honor. . ;j Ingratitude. Ingratitude in those who have helped in their desire to do better things wul not t injure you in the least particular, if you steadfastly refuse to allow it to stir up S -our feelings, and to make a way iato your & heart for anger, and what is born of it. y You have had reward enough in being per- e mittcd to do the Christlike office of help- y ing the unfortunate and the sorrowful. Take that gift and be glad. The twinge you feel may be a reminder that your motives were not nure. but were mixed with something which you are not willing to admit to yourself in doing the rood which vou did. and tiiat the ingrati tude of which you comolain is sent of Cod to make this revelation that you may have a further reward in getting to know what is in yourself. At much which profits you is from what is hitter, and as God is seeking to make the best possible use of you in this world, and to nave you prepared for the glorious future to which yon aspire, then thank God for the ingratitude yot: fee] so greatly because of the hidden store of evil it shows vou in yourself, and at once eo-operatc with God in getting rid of it. When this has been done faithfully, and you find that you are able to see sucli ingratitude with a smile 01* content, and thu< realize that what you do for others is for Christ's sake, and not f?. other- ? mocives, you have reached a spiritual condition which is approximating what you s-e to be for ever when you arc following the Lamb whithersoever He goeth in heaven. \V'>at we beer for Christ is a# much an indication of His spirit being in us as what we do for Him and His cause. 11 is a great and consoletorv truth that Christ is oar burden-bearer, but it is a'ao t'rue that we are to follow Him in liearing the contradiction of sinners against our peace of mind with the same spirit He showed when in the teas of the wicked.? Presbyterian Journal. How to Begin ilie Day. i .tcgin ray uuy s wortv some mornings, perhaps wearied, perhaps annoyed bv a muiiipliciiy of trifles which seem too small to bring great principles to bear upon tfyern. But do you not think there would be a strange change wrought in the pettv annoyances of even- day and in the small trifles that all our lives, of whatever texture they are. must largely be composed of. if we began each day and task with that old prayer: "Disc? T,ord. and let Thine enemies be scattered?" Do you net thir.k there would eorae a quiet in our ncaivs and a victorious peace to which we arc t jo much strangers? Tf we carried the as.urance tfcat there is One that fights for us into the trifles as well as into the sore struggles of our lives, we should have nencc and victory. Most of us will not have many large occasions of trial and conflict in our career, and if '.'od's fighting for us is not actual in regard to the small annoyances of home and dailv life, I know not for what it is available. ''Many mickles make a muckle," and there are more deaths in skirmishes than in the pitched field of a great battle. More Christian people lose their hold of God, their sense of His presence and are beaten accordingly, by reason of the little enemies that come down on them like a cloud of gnats on a summer's evening, than are defeated by the shock of a great assault or a great temptation, which calls ?\it their strength and sends them to their knees to ask for help from God.?John Watson, n n The Rent Provided. I was pastor of a small Western church and ray salary was not very large. One Saturday afternoon wife and I found that we did not have enough money to pay the rent, which was due the next Monday. We knelt in prayer and asked our heavenly Father to supply our need as He had promised to do. We prayed for $5. The next morning at Sabbath-school, a good brother who was a member of another church, came to me and asked if I needed 85. I said, "YVell, to tell the truth, I do." He then said that during the preuoua night he awoke at midnight and the nrst tning he thought of was. "You give Brother $5." After thinking it over a fewminutes he said, "All right, Lord," and went to sleep. The next morning lie approached me as above mentioned, and handed me the $5. The incident is the more remarkable because this brother was a heavy contributor to his own church iu another city, and while he worshiped with us and helped with the incidental expenses, j'et he nad never been a contributor to tne pastor'a saltry.?H. C. S., in the Hum's Horn. Our Friend. We have a friend who knows us better than we know ourselves, loves tu better /than we love ourselves, helps us when we cannot help- ourselves, and m the midst of tftrf - deepest' despair breathes into our heart the breath of a new and divine hope. ?James Freeman Clarke.