Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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jjloldehhu ^ Cop>Ti*ht 18PC by R< CHAPTER XXI. Continued. "Remember, you must not say a word of all this to your father beforehand," continued uncle Sam. "Your father is a fool, and a fool is always a marplot. Before you actually undertake the task, It is well you should realize that succes may amount to little more than failure. Your father may appropriate the whole of the sequins the moment they are recovered (for they are rightly his), give you half-a-crown for your pains, and send me a two-line apology on a postal card. Perhaps you may reasonably (tope for more generous treatment, but It's hard to say. Nothing is so diffi cuit U8 to ioreeasi me a*.is ui au incompetent, stupid man." Though my uncle's bitternes against my father was easy to understand, 1 found every exhibition of it hard lo bear. It was not in my power to defend the man who had the greatest claim upon my gratitude, and whom I still preferred before all other men, bo I remained silent. Something of the dejection his words had caused must have appeared in my face, for uncle Sam, taking my hand in his and holding it tightly, continued in a kindlier tone, while he regarded me steadfastly to observe the effect his words produced: "If you clearly carry out my suggestions. our family differences will be mended, if not eDded. What in England is thought to be a comfortable fortune will be rescued from the dutch of a contemptible old crank, -who has gone wrong at the accidental sight of a heap of gold, and your father and you?or one of you?benefited to * tlio friondahin nf vnur father I don't want (I am sorry to say anything painful to you, Ernest, but such is the truth); yet. I repeat, it would be a satisfaction to me to know that he had been brought to a knowledge of the wrong he has done me. These things it is in your power to effect; but to do so you must be cool and cautious, yet bold. Observe closely, deliberate profoundly; and, your conclusions once reached, act promptly and with vigor. Clothe your reserve in many words. When 1 wish to avoid making assertions, 1 talk most. Your task is not a hard one, and you have at least an average share of ability. If you had been my sou I would have subjected you to a training which would have enabled you to engage with confidence in a matter so simple' and easy as this." "I am sorry you have no son, uncle," I remarked. "Reserve your sorrdw for greater I need," answered uncle Sam quickly, i "and tell me, are you disposed to follow my advice?" "Yes, uncle, I am," I answered firmly. "I believe your theory is correct, and I will do my best to carry out a)l you have proposed." "Very good. Your prompt decision augurs well for your success. When will you return?" "The sooner the better. Say next week," I suggested. "Why so long delay?" asked uncle Saiu. "The man is old and feeble, and whenever he dies no one will be surprised. Every day thai passes tells against us. Let me see. This is Tuesday and the Umbria leaves on Thursday; better let me book you a passage by her." Thoughts ot leav.ng my tousiauce almost as soou as 1 had found her again, ^aipl of immediately renewing The .monotonous life on an Atlanticliner which only two days before 1 had abandoned with so much thankfulness, were far from agreeable to me; tyit 1 was now almost as eager as my uncle was to bring the affair of the sequins to a termination, and therefore assented to this proposal also. Uncle Sam was much gratified, and if he had not expressed his satisfaction in words (which be.did very explicitly) the merry twinkle of his bright eyes and his pleasant smile would have sufficiently denoted it. He not only undertook to secure my passage to Liverpool in the Uinbria, but insisted upon my accepting, then and there, a gift of $1000, which sunt be handed to me in the form of thirteen United States bank notes?seven for $100 each, and six for $50 each. "There," said he, as he selected them from the thick packet of greenbacks which filled his pocketbook, "put those thirteen > bills in your pouch. To-day is the thirteenth of September, and I dine at Knickerbocker Cottage to-night with the Thirteen Club. I have been a member of that club ever since its formation; but though I was not superstitious when 1 joined it, 1 have become ?-o since; because, in reserving iinportj :t affairs for the thirteenth of the x uth, in defiance of the old supers' ,ion, I observed that those same affairs invariably turned out well And so you will find in this case." As my experience widened, my shyness decreased, and at this point I informed uncle Sam of the Impression which his fair sister-in-law had made upon me, and of the provisional promise which she had so graciously given me?a declaration which not long be. M Sr- BV A.LTER BLOOMFIELD IBEBT BOKXZB'8 SOXS. fore I should have lacked the courage to make. My uncle listened with an amused smile, and when 1 had finished speaking, he remarked that he had observed almost as much for himself. "The man who wins Constance Marsh," said uncle Sam, "will have a wife wise, healthy and wealthy. You will observe that I place these timehonored qualities in the order in which they ought to be esteemed, but are not; the second is largely dependent on the first, and the third wholly so. I wish you success in your amorous enterprise. I am the young lady's guardian, but I tell you frankly. I will neither assist nor retard your suit. I have seen something of the disaster usually consequent on the interference of a third party in such matters. As society is now organized, marriuge offers no scope for a broker; the busi ness, to oe successiui. iuusi w a4ranged by the principals themselves." "This is as much as I could reasonably hope for," I said. "I was afraid you might resent my presumption." "Dismiss that fear, my boy." said uncle Sam, consulting his watch, "and come with me to breakfast. I am as hungry as a prairie wolf, and would prefer a porterhouse steak." I followed my uncle down stairs into a room which I then entered for the first time, and was disappointed to observe that breakfast was laid for two. On inquiring the cause of this I learned that aunt Gertrude and Miss Marsh, In preparation for what they expected would prove a fatiguing day, had ordered breakfast to be taken to them in their private rooms. On the table lay a letter addressed to me in my father's hand. My father had promised to write to me immediately he received a telegram announcing my itrriYUl 1U lYCVt luia, ouu M. uuu ?. ranged that his letter was to be forwarded to my uncle's house by special messenger the moment It was received at the Gilsey House, but I felt sure at the time that my father would write to me within a day of my departure from home, so its presence on my uncle's breakfast table occasioned me no surprise. On the contrary I had been thinking that I might possibly hear from Holdenhurst this morning. "Well, what news from Suffolk?"! asked uncle Sam as he sat down, for < his quick eye had perceived the Eng-1 lish stamp and the familiar writing on j the letter which lay on the table. "I shall be pleased to tell you the mo- ( ment I know," I replied, tearing open the envelope. And then the following lines, and all that they implied, were revealed to me. Holdenhurst Hall. Bury St. Edmund's, 3d September. 18? My Dear Son?When you arranged with me the particulars of your tour I voluntarily stated that I had no objection to your calling upon your uncle when you were in New York should you feel disposed to do so. You have been gone from home but j one day, and in that short time circum- j stances have arisen which induce uie to write to you at once, urging you very earnestly not to do so, or to in , any way concern yourself with my I brother or his doings. About four hours after you left here: I was startled by your grandfather j calling upon me. As you know, I bad not seen Mr. Wolsey for four years, and during that time he has been round the world. I was greatly surprised by this visit, and much impressed by your | grandfather's venerable aspect; he ap-1 pears quite an old man now. and his! hair and beard are almost white. His j story is strange and painful. After being deluded by cunningly devised false clues for four years he has at last found his daughter. She is at present staying with her little child at Bournemouth, but never remains at one place for more than a month or so, and lives chiefly on the Continent. I understand also that she goes to America once a year. The man who induced her to leave her situation in London is no other than your uncle, Samuel Truman. Your grandfather is staying with me, and is more contented than he was now that the mystery is made plain to him. Such also is my own case. Any shadow of doubt which may have lingered in my mind as to the Venetian treasure is now dispelled. A man who will resort to villainy to accomplish one purpose will not scruple to employ it for another. Do not neglect this injunction, my ! dear boy, but write as soon as you can. telling me where you have been. nmnlnro/1 VAiir tiino .lim 1IU? ,IUU U.l ? V t.u,,.vjv? When your money falls as low as fifty j pounds let nic know of It and I will j endeavor to send you some more.; Your affectionate father. ROBERT TRUMAN. "What's the matter now?" asked uncle Sam. "Have you any bad news? You look ill." "Yes. I have rather bad news." I answered confusedly, "but I cannot tell you about It." "Why not? You promised you would \ show me your father's letter." "Yes, that's true. Shall I do so?" "Of course. Stand by your word, whatever happens." I handed my uncle the letter. t CHAPTER XXII. TWO CONFESSION'S. As soon as uncle Sam had read my father's letter he got up from the table and stood by the window for a minute or two, gazing at the street. Presently he resumed his seat, and handing me the letter asked very quietly what I thought of it. This question, coming from such a source, greatly embarrassed me. and my embarrassment was increased rather than allayed by my uncle's unexpected behavior in these peculiar circumstances. Instead of indignantly repudiating the charges brought against him, or admitting their truth by some outward and visible sign of depression he contented himself with merely asking my opinion of the matter. and while he awaited my reply sugared his coffee and buttered his toast with as great an air of indifference as if he had asked my opinion of the weather. "I don't know what to think: my brain is in a whirl. I no sooner surmount one difficulty than I am con fronted by another. Are the statements in my father's letters true?" "You are too discursive." said uncle Sain. "Let us settle one thing'at a time. If you don't know what to think I can tell you?at least so far as regards the subject of that letter. To allow your brain to get into what you call a whirl whenever you receive unwelcome intelligence is bad; you must conquer that weakness, or you will always be the sport of events. Of course, as soon as you surmount one difficulty another difficulty confronts you; it was ever so with every man, and you will find the process continue until yo.u are confronted by death?the last difficulty, not to be surmounted or evaded by any of us. As for your direct question I unhesitatingly assure you that the statements in your father's letter (except where he seeks by a spurious analogy to associate me with the loss of his sequins) are perfectly true, and not only are they true, but, as I regard the game of life, they are perfectly justifiable." This declaration shocked me. I had never before met with anybody who entertained such unscrupulous opinions, or was so honest in the expression of them. "Most people." continued uncle Sam. "would Infer from that letter that I was guilty of great treachery to your grandfather Wolsey, whereas the very reverse Is the case. I loved his eldest daughter (she who afterward became your mother), and my suit was approved of by no oue more than by . William Wolsey. But when later on i your father bent his glances in the same direction that same William Wol sey discouraged my visits to his farm, favored the visits of your father, anc' not long afterward coerced his daugh ter into marrying him, well kuowiug that she had promised herself to me. And why was this? Not because o^ any fault in me. real or alleged, but for that soyereien quality in the new suitor?ownership of a couple of thousand Suffolk acres, forsooth!" Here uncle Sam paused and laughed scornfully. Presently he continued: "It was that circumstance which first gave my mind a cynical turn, and in dnced me to devote myself to the acquisition of money, which I conceived was the prime mover of our kind. Twenty years' experience has confirm ed the opinion then formed. 1 nave not gone out of my way to avenge the wrong old Wolsey did me. but when about four years ago I accidentally met one who greatly resembles the girl I used to ramble with in the fields and lanes of Holdenhurst I did not restrain myself by any consideration for the man who had treated me so badly. That she has secluded herself from her father as long as jwssible has been her own wish, and was always a matter of indifference to me." Uncle Sam's sophistry was very fascinating to me. Systems of reasoning which in others I should have denounced as illogical and absurd when presented in his words, and with the ease and charm of* manner for which he was distinguished, seemed to lack none of the essentials of truth. At first it appeared to me monstrous. But my uncle's way of stating his case obscured these considerations, and led me rather to think of the perfidy of my grandfather Wolsey, which was the origin of the trouble, and to marvel how my father could have accepted for his wife a woman whose love he had not fairly won. That the statement was true I had no doubt whatever, for uncle Sam had very effectively alluded to the circumstance when he denounced his brother, and the latter had suffered it to pass with- i out challenge. Another, though an en- j tirely different consideration, afforded ine much gratification, and that was the promptness with which my uncle had admitted the truth of the charge now brought against him. which contrasted strongly with his strenuous denial of having had anything to do with the missing sequins, aud afforded an additional proof of his innocence of that affair. "What do you purpose doing respecting this little affair?" inquired uncle Sam after a long pause. My mind was made up. and I answered without hsitation: "I will go to England in the Umbria and carry out the plan you have suggested. By that means I hope I shall convince my father that lie has done you an injustice. aud he will readily agree that our friendship shall remain undisturbed. Should I fail to connect Adams with the robbery of the sequins, then I will assert my indvidual right to unrestricted action, for I am nearly of full age now. and could respectfully and regretfully refuse to obey my father in this matter on the ground that bis command is unjust and unnatural." To be continued. Tomato Sauce. Put one pint of tomatoes into a saucepan, with a slice of onion. Cook five minutes, then strain. Put one tablespoonful of butter into a pan, add one tablespoonful of flour; when smooth add the tomatoes, stir until thick, and season with salt and pepper to taste. When Making Soup. All the tedious skimming and straining of soup can be avoided if one takes the precaution to put in a small unpeeled onion at the very start and permit it to remain until one is ready to thicken the soup. When lifted out it will be found that this vegetable has served as a magnet to draw to itself all the floating sediment, leaving the broth as clear as crystal, yet in no wise impairing its nourishing quality. Fanner*' Fruit Cake. One pound sour dried or evaporated apples, soaked over night in warm water. Drain off water and simmer two hours in two cups molasses. One cup melted butter, half cup thick sour pream, two teaspoonfuls soda, one cup brown sugar, four eggs, four and a half cups sifted flour, browned in the oven, cassia, ginger, cloves,, nutmeg, lemon rind grated.each one teaspoonful. Bake in moderate oven.?What To Eat. t . .'Ai Curried Rice. TV-ich in Qovornl trotoro nno nnn ftf rice: put It into two quarts of boiling water; add one teaspoonful of salt; when the rice is nearly tender pour it Into a strainer; put over the fire one cup of stock; add to it two teaspoonfuls of curry rubbed in a little cold water; then add the rice to this and cook until tender; serve in the centre of a platter: pour the gravy over it; squeeze the juice of half a lemon over all and sprinkle over it a little chopped parsley. ? .1 / /Boston K.owii Bread. One even cup Indian meal, two heaping cups rye meal, one teaspoonful salt, one teaspoonful soda, one cup molasses; mix very thoroughly together the meal, salt and soda; add one pint of hot water to the molasses and stir; pour the molasses and water into the middle of the meal and stir till a smooth batter; put in a buttered tin boiler, cover tightly and set in covered . iron kettle to boil three hours, adding water as may be necessary; when done set the bread boiler in the water for ten minutes. ??? d f Toinato Jelly. Pass the contents of a can of tomatoes through a sieve, rejecting nothing but seeds and coarse fibres (if any). Put two cups of this puree over the fire with two slices of onion, two cloves, a sprig ofparsley, a piece of bay leaf, four peppercorns, or a bit of green pepper, and two teaspoonfuls of tarragon vinegar. Let simmer fifteen minutes, then skim out the vegetables, etc., and add half a teaspoonful of salt and half a two-ounce package of gelatine, softened by standing some time in three-fourths a cup of cold water. Stir until the gelatine is dissolved and pour in moulds. |j til NTS FOR. THE I .( Housekeepers Cane chair seats become more elastic if washed in hot water and soap. Dry them in the sun and air. A piece of soft paper wet with kerosene oil will clean an enamelled bath tub or bowl that has become dingy. Dwellers who live in apartment houses should know that turpentine poured down the kitchen drain pipe will keep the water bugs away. Lamp burners which are in constant use should be boiled occasionally in soda suds, then scrubbed and polished with brick dust, when they will do as good service as new ones. Save all your broken and crooked, carpet tacks and keep them in a box in the kitchen for cleaning bottles. They are better than shot, for the sharp edges scrape off all the stains. Kerosene added to boiling starch ? a tablespoonful to a quart?will prevent the smoothing irons from sticking and will give a gloss to the articles; the scent will all evaporate in the drying. When silver spoons become discolored from eggs scour them with fine table salt. This will remove the discoloration, which is caused by the su! plnir in tne egg, ana not scraten or wear the silver. ; For tomato fritters scald and peel ripe tomatoes and chop them fine. Sea-; son with salt and pepper and stir in enough flour to make a thin batter. With the flour mix about half a teaspoonful of soda. Fry in deep fat and serve hot. Nickel plating which has spots of rust may be cleaned by covering it for a few days with mutton tallow., Follow this treatment with a brisk rubbing with powdered rotten stone and then by a bath in strong ammonia, a rinsing in clear water and a final polishing with dry whiting. ' / y THE DEBTTO CAESAR OUR REGULAR SUNDAY SERMON The Sacred Obligations We Owe Our Country, Our Fellow Man, Ourselves and Our God. I Southampton, L. I.?Dr. A. B. Kinsolving, rector of Christ Church, Clinton street, Brooklyn, preached here Sunday morning in St. Andrew's Dune Church. I His subject was "Our Debt to Caesar and Our Debt to God." His text was chosen from St. Matthew xxii:21: "Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's; and unto God the things which are God's." Dr. Kinsolving said: Were ever words more palpably just and fair? Could any statement be more calmly self-evidencing? Could any disentanglement of the provinces of God and Caesar be more distinct, or any declaration of our respective duty be mote lucid? Men have always been confusing these two things? their debt to Caesar and their debt to God ?mixing up in some clumsy fashion the one with the other, fancying that when they have discharged one they have done the other also, finding the one to conflict with me otner mrougn some nnsunuersianaing I of the dignity and weight of the respective obligations. And not only in private life, but in the history of peonies and States what confusion. what blundering has there been! Look how ttic cruel Roman empire tried through years to crusn out the life of the Christian martyrs for simply doing their duty to God. and then in turn, when the empire had been conquered by ihc church and the papacy was seated upon its throne and had erected its palatial Vatican amid the ruins of the old order, see how the haughty earthly embodiment of the heavenly autocracy sought to bring low and make subservient the things of Caesar! You are familiar, doubtless, with the way the saving was brought about. A party of young Pharisees?the old hacks had recent| ly retired in confusion?had joined with | some Herodians or Jewish nationalists to Snt to Jesus a catch question to ensnare Km. "Master," said they with feigned j earnestness, "we know that Thou art true, i and teachest the way of God in truth, neither carest Thou for any man, for Thou I regardest not the person of men. Tell us, ' therefore: What thinkest Thou? Is it lawful to pay this distasteful Roman poll . tax or no? If He had answered "Yes" He would * * - i. Ja. ?1 sL. ! nave Deen at once aiscreuttea as me mec* siah?King of Israel. If "no" it would have been treason and rebellion against [ Rome. So instead of falling into the trap ; set for Him, with a complete, a divine J grasp of the whole situation, He declares a principle which is the key to this wnole complexity in life wherever it may possibly occur. "Why tempat Me, ye hypocrites? Show Me the tribute money. Whose image is this stamped on your current coin? Caesar's. Very well. Then what is Caesar's give back to Caesar, and what is God's to God." The impression it produced at the moment was profound. "When they had heard these words they marveled and left Him and went their way." He had lifted the whole controversy out of the immediate and passing circumstances into the region of largest and widest statesmanship, and all the centuries of human history that have rolled by since have not exhausted its I wisdom. I '"Render therefore unto Caesar the things I that are Caesar's." Not a great deal of 1 time. I take it. needs to be spent in enforcing this behest. It marks the sanity, the wnolesomeness of Christ's religion. It is r.o star-gazing cult. The charge against it of inveterate other worldliness is a libel. Christianity has always taught man to do , nobly, patiently, heroically his full duty to I the State, to rulers, to society. We are part | of a social system which has already taken I shape. We are in debt to it in many ways. "We pass its coins freely; we enjoy its endowments." Its image and superscription are on us: We belong of right to our age; our era of civilization, our nation, State, city, community. All that is around us is but the providential setting and environment of our lives. It is never perfect. t Tlioro la nn/1 for a rrrol f U'Kila fft ifl likely to be a vast deal that is faulty about it. But we have no charter from Christ to be hopelessly sour in our attributes toward it. \\ c are to trust, you and I, the upward Erowtb, the slow and painful evolution of uman civilization. We are to believe that at the heart of the movement there are deep-hidden, interior principles which, in | co-operation with those special and powerj ful incentives which God brings to bear | from above, are steadily bringing the king| dom of Caesar to some better fulfillment i of itself. So then, even when we see ! things in the nation, the municipality, the neighborhood, go wrong; even when we see tyranny and corruption and abuses, we are not permitted to turn awav in despair and disgust. We have no right to stand aloof as if our hands would be contaminated by any contact with it. Our duty is to go bravely in and try to discharge our duty to the civil and secular powers, respecting the moral worth of the things of Caesar, and confidently trusting truth and God and humanity for the dawning of the brighter day. We are set as Christians not to build a dazzling visible chorciupf God upon the ruins of the dynasties Rd governments of earth, as was dreamed by the medieval popes and doctors. No, but rather is our book to infuse into organized human society the healthful spirit of the kingdom of Jesus Christ, and meanwhile, as Christ's words here clearly teach us, to keep the two spheres distinct. And on the same principle precisely 1 think our Lord would have us deal with entire honesty with the facts of science. To presume to use religious authority to deny the ascertained and verified conclusions of a genuine science?as was done, for instance, in the case of Galileo, and has often been urged since, is to break Christ's command. Natural science must proceed along its own distinct and separate lines. It cannot go out of its sphere to teach the world religion. Its function is to search out and interpret material facts. But in its own proper sphere we must respect it. Wc owe it the tribute of our sincerity. We must render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and there will be no sort of peril to us if we are at pains at the same time to "render to God the things that are God's." to i -J. _ iL. -'-i. il.i T 1 * 1 JjUI 18 it in me poi.it nut x u<i>c utx-u urging that most men fail nowadays? Is it here that we need to throw oar emphasis on this "Render to Caesar?" Are tnere not certain forces in the realm of Caesar which of themselves exact the payment of what is due there? Does not this tribute get itself paid in as do the Slate taxes by a sort- of self-acting process, so that in a rough way it has to be forthcoming? Is not the real trouble now that we are in so many cases surrendering to Caesar more and more of the things which belong to G#d? It towers o\er us," some one has said, "this world movement of modern civilization, with its immense volume and weight of human interests, human growths, human skill and art and industry. It makes itself more and more felt as the one overpowering, ruling fact. It fills the scene. Where is there any room for the things of God? Where can the spirit move and breathe? Where has the soul fled?" Because of the nressure upon their lives of the world of Caesar, because of the strong currents that sweep them along, soul ana body, our debts to God too often go unpaid. You know how it is without my attemptI ing to describe it in detail. Industry, with ' its iron necessities, grips a man; he flings himself with good American pluck and pur pose into the thing before him, and by and by the very headway of success, the very stress of competition, is found to be using up all his strength. Soon his prayers get thinner and poorer; he has scarce time for them and feels less and less need for them. When his days and nights at the otfice are through with, he recuperates Ilia tired energies at the club, where he can still with the waning nerve power talk over the course of the market?or else he goes out of town to get the relaxation which will enable him to keep his place in Caesar's kingdom. He does not mean at first to renounce his obligation to God. For some time he pays it in the worthless currency of good intentions and good-humored apologies. By and by even these are omitted, ana he and his friends begin to justify the dereliction to God on the score of the increasing claims of Caesar. This laxity on the part of men and women to-day i.i giving back to God the things that are God s is simply i opalling in view of God's unrivalled gifts and blessings to us. If it be true that "to whom much is given of him shall much be required," and that jtldgment will ever begin at the house of God with the privileged, what is to tie said when we all stand, a* stand we shall, before the Son of Man? "Ye cannot serve God and mammon." Christ .If:us does not clock the way of our paying our just debt to Caesar, but He does warn us with the utmost plainness not to give Caesar everything. If we allow "the huge mundane machine" to run over our sou.s, line some ear 01 Juggernaut, crushing out our religious freedom and initiative, we shai! be horr.bly flattened in our manhood, our symiuthies, our ideais. our conceptions of life. The results may not appear fully for a while, but in the end there will be experienced an impoverishment, an atrophy, a sinister, maimed and crippled growth which will make us unfit for our citizenship in the higher kingdom here or there. 5-t. Paul, in beginning his iipistle to the l!onia"s ? that is. to the people who then lived at the capital citv of Caesar's realm?accounts in the following words for the sin and misery, the failure and decadence of heathendom: He tells them that "when thev knew God, they glorified Him not as Cpu, neither were thankful. Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools. They changed His truth into a lie, and worshiped and served the creature more Ihau the Creator, who is bless3d forever." It was an awful blunder. No greater could be made by any man or people. They made the world they lived in their goa, their only god, and worshiped and cerved it witn their whole hearts. They worshiped power, knowledge, pleasure, wealth, force, passion, art. They lived for these things until tney fancied that these were the only things to live for. We know the result. As they rejected Him, so God rejected them. As a punishment He gave them over to moral corruption, to an abandoned mind, to a festering decadence. "And men crowded around amd strove for place and food, and the strong beat down the weak, and the rich were gorged and the poor were sent empty away, and strife and chielty filled the earth with violence." That was happening at the very moment Christ spoke these tremendous words: "Render to God the things which are God's." This is the sort of heathenism which exists everywhere on this earth where it is not persistently kept down by the spirit of Jesus Christ, "lo God the things that are God's!" "To God the things that are God's!" Let that cry haunt you until it compels you to pay your debt. }-.ve the courage to look on the one hand at what vou are giving to the world represented by Caesar, and on the other at what you are actually giving to God- Is God missing His rights? Is your duty to Him threatened by the power and pomp of this massive earth? Ah! then be all the more careful that your debt to heaven is paid. By the blood of the Crucified. give back to God what really belongs to Him! Your soul, your heart, your convictions, your spiritual reality, your eternal being?all these to God, for they are His. Believe Him when He tells you that all else that we see and handle is but a shadow that passeth away. Aye, trust Him when j He pledges you His help whenever you I sincerely want to follow Him, and promises never to leave you to struggle on by yourself. Through Him who condescended to make II is home in our hearts, who by His spirit "helpeth our infirmities," let us make such offering to God as yet we can. Give God, through Jesus Christ, your Saviour, first of all yourself. He will accept nothing in the stead of you. Do not clutch the portion of goods that falleth to j you and try to have them all to yourself in some far country, where you shall never I hear the Father's voice or see His, face; but whatever you do have fron^ Him, whether more or less, try to enjoy it as a child in your Father's house, under the constant benediction of His smile. In the face of this tremendous pressure of earth, which bears down so heavily upon every soul, resolve manfully that you will not yield; that the great and first commandment of Christ, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God ' shall be kept. "Render unto Caesar t/ie things that are Caesar's, and unto Go! the things that are God's." Geins of Thought. There is nothing in life which has not its lesson for us, or its gift.?Ruskin. Great ideas travel slowly, and, for a time, noiselessly, as the gods, whose feet were shod with wool.?James A. Garfield. God reads our characters in our prayers. What we love best, what we covet most, that gives the key to our hearts.?T. L. Cuyler. The good things that we have missed in this world sometimes make us sad; but "sthe sad things that we have missed should mitigate our sorrow and give us a spirit of praise.?United Presbyterian. Oh. the littleness of the lives that we arc living! Oh, the way in which we fail to comprehend, or, when we do comprehend, deny to ourselves the bigness of that thing which it is to be a roan, to be a child of God!?Phillips Brooks. A religion that stays in the clouds is of no use te anybody. Religion must be definite, practical, useful?a binding rule of daily life?or else it is as much a mockery as the gilded prayer wheel of the Buddhist.?Philadelphia "SToung People. The Power or ? xrue June, What I wanted, and what I have been endeavoring to ask for the poor African, has been the good offices of Christiana, ever since Livingstone taught me during those four months I was with him. In 1878 I went to him as prejudiced as the bitterest atheist in London. I was there away from a worldly world. I saw thia solitary old man there, and asked myself, "Why on earth does he stop here?" For months after we met, I found myself listening to him and wondering at the old man and carrying out all that was said in the Bible. Little by little his sympathies for others became contagious. Mine was aroused. Seeing his piety, his gentleness, his zeal, his earnestness, ana how quietly he went about his business, I waa converted by him, although he had not tried to do it.?Henry M. Stanley. ? The Need of God. The thought of God, the sense of an immediate relation of the spirit of man to the Kternal and the Infinite, are easily displaced from men's minds by undue admiration ior the achievements of a culture based on material progress, and supplying every need of human nature except the very deepest?the need of God.?J. Skinner. When Small Thing* Become Great. The smallest things become great when God requires them of us; they are small only in themselves; they are always great when they are done for God, and when they serve to unite us with Him eternally. ?Fsaelon. _ , . . . , > " . eeBI