Beware lan
Bellefonte Pe., Februrary 26, 1904.
THE FELLOW THAT'S DOING HIS
BEST.
There's a song for the man who is lucky and
bold,
For the man who has fate on his side ;
There are cheers for the folks that are jingling
the gold
And are drifting along with the tide.
But the man who is striving to get to the
land
And facing the angry wave’s crest,
We quite overlook, for we don’t
stand
The fellow that’s doing his best.
under-
But he has his rewards when the story is
done,
Though we smile as he plods on his way.
For his own self-esteem is the prize he has
won,
As obscurely he’s stood in the fray.
And he knows the affection of home and of
friends
And the pleasures of honest-earned rest
There are peace and good will, as the twilight
descends,
For the fellow that’s doing his best.
— Washington Star.
“A. C. CARMICHAEL, CASHIER.”
‘How was I to know that ‘A’ stood for
‘Alice’?”’
‘‘Good Lord ! man,
known.”
‘‘But look at that fist !’’ and the presi
dent held up a letter.
‘Yet it’s a masculine hand all right.”’
‘And the name?"’
‘‘Nothing to show there.’’
‘‘And the recommendations?’’
‘‘Couldn’t be beat; but it’s a nasty situ-
ation,’’ and Perkins stretched his six feet
and went over to the window. Medway
was just coming from the First National
across the street. He looked up, nodded
nervously at Perkins and went on. Per
kins half turned to his companion.
‘“What will Medway say?’’ he asked.
‘‘Hang Medway—and yet that’s just
what I am thinking of. On top of Hiller’s
getting away with the cash and the bonds,
then the reorganization’’—and the presi-
dent groaned. ‘‘We can’t stand a run
now.”’
‘‘But she’s all business,’”’ said Perkins,
apologetically.
‘So much the worse. She isreally worth
keeping, ’’ said the president.
‘‘And it will advertise the bank.’’
‘“‘Worse yet. If there is anything that
the Farmer’s Bank of Pew#ukee don’t
want just now is advertising. Hiller gave
us enough of that.”’
‘‘She isn’t pretty.”
The president straightened out his back-
bone and revived from the attitude of com-
plete surrender to fate.
‘If she was, I'd let her go in a min-
ute.”’
‘‘But the board —"’
‘Yes, there’s the board; and that’s what
heats me. To think that everyone of them
hard-headed men, and you too—and I had
to--voted to make her cashier of this bank
What did you do it for I was depending
on you.”
‘Pare cnssidness,’’ said Perkins, yawn-
ing. “I’m tired of the whole business. I
ought to have been in Paris before this and
here I am staying on just to keep a decrep-
it old bank from failing. Mother has writ-
ten me demanding imperatively that I
shall get over there. She wants me to help
look after those Sawyer girls. I'm willing
to gamble a little on this bank and I don’t
forges that father and you started it. It
ought to be a good investment; still, it’s
sentiment that keeps it going and the girl
cashier is right in line with the sentiment.
Call it the ‘Bank of Sentiment.’ It can’t
be worse, anyhow, with her. What do we
know about banking? We’ve both got too
many irons in the fire—at least, you have,
and I'm too lazy. Hiller got away just be
cause we didn’t watch him and now, Shel-
don, I’m sure she won’t get out that way.
She isn’t one of those strong-minded fe-
males. Didn’t I ask her what her politics
was?’
‘‘And she said ‘banking’’
‘“Yes and that settled it for me.’’
‘‘But Medway?’
“We'll fight him. Come, let’s go home.
It’s six o’clock.’’ :
‘And she stays?’ asked Sheldon ner-
vously.
‘She does,”” was Perkins’ reply given
emphatically.
That was how it came about that A. C.
Carmichael, tall, under thirty,in a big pic-
ture bat, a hecomingly tailored costume,
came into the Farmers’ Bank, the next
morning, put her hat away, pushed up a
mass of brown hair with a most feminine
movement of both hands, and seated her-
self at the desk marked *‘Cashier.”’
At ten she beld a conference with Presi-
dent Sheldon, received a'copy of. the bank’s
report, made some recommendations, dis-
cussed the general business, and at noon
wené away to lunch. In the afternoon she
spent much time going over the bank’s se-
curities with Perking and talking over fu-
ture plans. :
Pewaukee read all about A. C. Carmich-
ael, Cashier, in the evening paper, and
knew that the Farmers’ Bank, old,.firm}y es
tablished, the Gibraltar of the lumber kings
for years, had an imported girl cashier and
their pride was hurt. , They also read the
sworn statement of the bank’s .condition,
and with faith in old man . Sheldon and
young Charlie Perkins, said the institution
looked sound at least. Miss Carmichael
had experience, the paper said : six years
in Sandersport, Pa., in a lumber town, too
and two years in’ Elmira, N. Y. Before
that, she had been her father’s private sec-
retary for a year, and he had been a king
of hemlock and pine, Pewaukee’s chief pro-
ductions.
Medway was coming down from a meet-
ing of the hoard of taxation revision that
night along the muddy walks towards his
Bows, when Parker, the grocer, overtook
im.
“I'm going to swap, banks I 8’pose, youn
know,” said Parker. “I put in a pretty
big deposit with you today.’
‘Why, why, Parker, you’re a stock-
holder in the Farmers’, and they need
you.”’ :
“No, I ain’t. I don’t stand for darned
foolishness in banking. This wimmen
business beats me. I sold my stock to Per-
kins today. I think they’re shaky. There
are others that are going to sell ont,
t0o.”’
Medway replied in alow tone. He halt-
ed Parker, but in the darkness under the
shade trees, did not see Hershelman stand-
ing by his open gate.
you should have
‘Now, look bere,” said Medway. *I.
am not saying but yon’re wise} atill, I
can’t be mixed up in trouble of this kind.
It’s my opinion. unless old Sheldon goes to:
the bottom of his pocket, that bank won’¢
livea week,” = 0
‘heard the jingling coin on the counter.
Hershelman, the hard-headed truck driv-
er, who bad been saving money all his life
hastened from the deep shadow into his
house, to toss in unrest and dream of bank
failures. He sat on the steps of the Farm-
ers’ Bank when the boy came to sweep out
and wae at the window, trembling, ner-
vous, as he presented his book and asked
for all his cash. ‘When he got i$ he rushed
over and put it in Medway’s bank. He
drove out into the country to a sawmill,
stopping to ask friends a score of times if
they had money in the Farmers’ Bank.
“Why, yes, alittle,’”’ was the general re-
ly.
? ‘‘Better get it ont. Medway and Parker
was talkin’ last night and they said the
Farmers had a gal cashier and the bank
wouldn’t last a week.’
At one o’clock the truckman returned to
town and was astonished to see a crowd in
front of the Farmers’ while a line of people
wound from inside the doorway around the
corner. Medway and Parker were just en-
tering the First National. ,The truckman
pulled up his team and looked on in won-
der. He saw a tall, lithe figure step from
the never-used side door of the Farmers’,
and got a glimpse of Parkins in the presi-
dent’s room. Unmindful of the muddy
street, the woman who had paid him the
money that morning with such deft white
fingers was crossing over to where Med-
way stood, she halted, spake a few words,
and howing stiffly, the president of the
First National Bank followed her into his
office. But the truackman did not notice
the package under Cashier Carmichael’s
arm. He saw an acquaintance come from
the Farmers’ with his bank book in his
hand.
‘‘Ain’t you gitéin’ your money,’’ asked
Hershelman.
‘“Why, no,I saw they had a pile of mon-
ey on the counter, more than this crowd
can take, and I didn’t want it ’long as I
could get it. I won’t bank with old skin-
flint Medway if I take it out.’’
But there were plemty of other people |
who were hurrying out with silver and
gold and bills. Others eagerly moved up
to fill the vacant place in front of the tell-
er’s window, while others, workmen, wom-
en, farmers from miles away, came, pale,
anxious, too excited to talk, to step sol-
emnly along as the sinuous column moved
ever forward, praying that the money
would last until they reached the win-
dow.
Inside the Farmers’, except the nervous-
ness of some of the clerks, there was no
visible excitement or change from the me-
chanical routine of the ordinary day. The
new cashier had been at the paying teller’s
window much of the time, and had listen-
ed imperturbable to the strange tales told
by most of the people, as their reasons why
they were so anxious to get their money.
On both sides of her were piles of green-
backs and silver in plain sight of the pub-
lic. She had emptied the vault, hoping so
much money would have its effect and re-
tard the ron. It did in a few instances,
but they are very few. Paying was slow,
money was counted with studied deliber-
ateness, each account was verified; there
was some impatience, but eventually each
one waiting at the window went away with
a closed account. Much of this went around
the corner and across the street to Medway’s
bank.
Perkins was sitting in the president’s of-
fice nervously smoking cigarettes. Sheldon
was walking the floor.
‘‘There was really nothing else to do,
was there?’ said the president. balt-
ing.
“Why, no, certainly not. Icouldn’t go
of course, and you wouldn’t. It would be
easy enough if Med way were decent. If I
could have known sooner-still the currency
won’t be up from Milwaukee before ten,
and the examiner will be here at five,”’and
Perkins thrust his hands into his pockets
and went over to the window where he
peered above the curtain. ?
‘‘Medway probably put it into Parker’s
head to send for the bank examiner.’’
‘It does seem a bit cowardly, though,’
said the president plaintively to let her go
to Medway. But she insisted so hard.
‘‘And if she doesn’t get it?’’
“Why, then, we’ll close up and face the
music. We ought to have done it any-
how. It would have been wisdom.”
‘“John!"?
The president looked up, his face
flushed at the rebuke. He sat down wear-
ily.
‘*No, we conldn’t close of course. She’s
right, though. We've no business to let
sentiment mix np with banking. I don’t
get it in the lamber business and your fath
er didn’t in his paper mills—7’
‘‘She’s coming! Look here!”’ and Shel-
don heard Perkins say something like a
gentle oath.
Perkins threw open the heavy door.
Cashier Carmichael, followed hy the teller
and bookkeeper of the First National, car-
rying a basket filled with bank bills enter-
ed . 3
“I’11 bring the silver right over, ma’am,
said the teller.
count four thousand dollars.”
‘‘Mr. Perkins will go with you,”’ she
said. ‘‘It’s four thousand dollars in halves
quarters and dimes, ’’ she said, smiling up-
on the gasping vice-president. :
Perkins started to stammer a refusal, but
Sheldon looked at him appealingly, and he
went out. He had not stepped foot in Med-
way’s bank since his father’s: death. When
Perkins returned, Sheldon unbolted the
door and both men clasped hands as they
Several people put their bank books in their
pockets and went home.
‘When Daust, the bookkeeper at the First
National, came in a few minutes later and
ostentatiously made a deposit of five thou-
sand dollars for William Medway, there
was a tremor in the line and more deser-
tions. Parker, the grocer, followed with a
deposit of nearly twice as much more.
Hershelman, the truckman, summon-
ed from a late dinner, had been inter-
viewed for ten minutes by Medway and
sheepishly deposited a check representing
his withdrawal of the morning.
‘What did you do that for?’’ asked one
of the truckman’s friends.
‘Cause the bank is sound asa nut,’’ was
the dogged reply. .
‘‘But you told me——"’
‘I didn’t tell mothin’. Medway says
the bank hain’t never been so good,’”’ and
he went away leaving his questioner per-
plexed for a moment, then to get out of
the line. In half an hour only a few wom-
en were still left to wait for their small de-
posits,
Some had gone over to see Medway and
bad returned with a deposit. Before clos-
ing time a few stragglers were asking for
=oney while the receiving teller’s window
wae very busy indeed.
Sheldon and Perkins, who had been in
and out of the banking room, keeping
watch on the changed conditions at first,
were now eitting in the rear office silent.
The curt.ins were drawn down and the
big front door was closed at three.
Cashier Carmichael figured a few min-
utes on the pad, ran up the columns, and
then told all clerks but one to get out and
eat.
no food all day, were shocked, said so, in-
sisted on her going first, hut she replied
that she would wait, and so decisively,
that there was no further questioning. She
passed her hands wearily over her eyes,
pressed back her bair and entered the pres-
ident’s room.
Sheldon.
They remembered she had touched
Both men sprang up, but at this
there was a shade of annoyance in her
face.
*‘We won’t need the money from Mil-
waukee, Mr. Perkins, and I think we will
have sufficient funds before noon tomor-
row to safely return Mr. Medway’s loan,
and get those bonds again.”’
‘“You have saved the bank,’ ’gravely said
‘‘Please he seated,’’ and he wav-
ed her to a chair. ‘‘You ought to be the
president.”
She took the proffered chair and read the
sum she had noted ou the slip.
“‘Splendid!’’ said Sheldon.
“But how did yon do it?’? Old Med--
way! it’s —a--a — funny,” said Per
kins.
*‘I did not intend to tell yon,’’ she said,
‘‘bus I felt sure he wouldn’t do it, except
he was scared. So when you told me the
stories of Parker and that—that truackman
I bad a plan.”
‘*And it worked, eventfully.”’
She looked up gratefully at Perkins.
‘‘He refused to let me bave $30,000 on
those bonds. Couldn’s think of it; ‘‘No
telling when there might be a run on the
First National,” he said, rubbing those
bands of his. Then I said, ‘Very good,
Mr. Medway. The affairs of the Farmers’
Bank are in my hands.’ I told him I
would have him arrested inside of an hour
for conspiracy with Parker—and—and—
that other man to wreck our bank
and—and that—that would be worse than a
run on the Farmers’.”’ :
Perkins was leaning forward in amaze.
ment. Sheldon had ceased to drum on his
chair arm and was staring at A. C. Car-
michael.
‘Oh, it was easy then,”’ she went on,
hastily. ‘‘He was scared to death. 1 told
him now I knew,and what the people were
saying and—and that he really wouldn’t
stand much of a chance before a jury here.
I said I could wait till he got the money.
He never waited a minute to order the
cashier to get it,”’—she was laughing hys-
terically with eyes full of tears—*‘but call-
ed a clerk and—and—and—I got it—and
the bank is—’’her voice broke into a sob—
“saved.” :
‘‘I am not going to Paris,’’ said Per-
kins to Sheldon the next morning. “I
think I will stay in Pewaukee and learn
banking.”.—By S. W. Bolles, in The Pil-
grim.
Quick Sale of Printing Plant.
Baltimore News Buys Equipment of Old Times
Office.
In one of the quickest.deals on record the
plant formerly owned by the Philadelphia
Times changed hands Friday as a result of
the Baltimore fire. The building and plant
of the Baltimore News having been com-
pletely wiped out, its publisher,Charles H.
Gratsy, went to New York Sunday night,
after having arranged for the temporary
publication of his evening paper in the of-
fice of the Washington Post, and secured an
option on a vacant store building in Balti-
more.
In New York Friday morning Mr. Grat-
sy got into telephone communication with
Adolph 8. Oches, owner of the Zimes plans
in that city. After exchanging a few words
regarding the fire Mr. Gratsy asked: ‘‘How
about the Philadelphia Times plant ?”’
“It is at your service,”” replied Mr.
Oches.
‘“What is the price?’’ came next.
‘Go and take it,’’ answered Mr. Oches,
‘‘and if you and I can’t agree upon a price
later, why we’ll leave the matter to a third
arty.’’ :
‘“Thanks, I'll take it,’’ said Mr. Gratsy,
and the deal was closed.
The plant, which is still in the old Times
building on Sansom street, west of Eighth.
is in good condition and includes a battery
of linotype machines, Hoe presses, stereo-
typing machinery, engraving plant and of-
fice fixtures, as well as a complete reference
library. Its estimated value is $150,000,
and arrangements were made at once for
dismantling the machinery, packing it and
shipping it to Balvimore. This work will
e begun at once and the plant will be
ready for installation by the time the build-
ing is ready. :
Connell is Seated by Partisan Vote.
Scranton Millionaire is Given George Howell's Place
in . Congress. “Rank,” ‘Asserts Shiras.
Millionaire William Codnell has been
declared entitled .to a seat in Congress as
the representative of the Scranton district
1 #f Pennsylvania, in place of George Howell,
*‘It takes some time to |]
emoorat, who was summarily ejected.
The vote was 159 to 148,
Representative Shiras, Republican, of
Pittsburg, voted with the Democrats, as
did also Representatives Parker and Lan-
ney, of New Jersey. :
All the Pennsylvania members were pres-
ent, and voted. according to their party
affiliations, except Shiras and General
Bingham. The latter reached the Honse
late, and did not vote. d
Shiras declared that the House was
about to commit a rank injustice by. de-
ciding a contest on worthless testimony.
Howell himself made a strong speech,
ridiculing the testimony.
Connell . was present, and to the aston:
isbment of the House began interrupting
Howell. The attention of the Speaker
was called to the fact that Mr. Connell had
not been. declared a memher of the body,
and he was told to be still.
The action of the House was entirely
partisan.
The Boss Bull.
The Butler Times, of recent date tells
the following of a bull that is owned by a
farmer of that county.
Two Beaver Falls gentlemen recently
were in Cranberry township, Butler county,
and while there visited the Frank Lucy
farm where the celebrated short-horn bull
is kept. The animal has been previously
mentioned in our columns but the follow-
ing will still be of interes. The Beaver
Falls Review says:
‘“The animal is said to he the largest in
the world, and is undoubtedly the largest
ever seen in this section of the State.
The weight of the animal is said to be
5,500, but this is probably incorrect. It
is estimated that he will weigh between
4,000 and 5,000 pounds. He measures
from the crown of his head to the root of
his tail, just 12 feet 8 inches, being 18
feet around the girth, and is proportion-
ately large. Last fall fully 3,000 people
visited the stables and all declared him to
be a wonder in the bovine family. A few
days ago a stock raiser from Texas was
there making arrangements to have the
animal exhibited at the world’s fair.”
Awakening of Japan.
One Man Changed Nation from Feudalism to Free-
dom. The Man of the Hour To-Day. An Em-
peror-Magician who has Made History and Lived to
8ee the Result of His Work,
Life must seem like a dream to Mutsn-
hito, the Emperor-Magician of Japan, the
man of the hour in the far East to-day, as
he looks back to the time when he came to
power, says the London Mail. As long as
Japan has a place in the world his name
must live on the roll of the world’s great
men.
It was not given to many of the great
world-figures who made history and found-
ed empires to sow the reed and watch the
harvest gathered in. England toiled pain-
fully through the centuries, through war
and revolution, now suffering long oppres-
sion, now heating down its Kings, out of
the long night of feudalism into the free-
dom which she has spread throughout the
earth. But to one man in the world it
has been given to find a nation bound and
to set it free, to ascend a fendal throne and
to base it firm upon the people’s will.
Mautsuhito has brought Ja} an to Europe.
It is almost as if he had, by a stroke of the
magic wand, transformed the England of
the Conqueror into the England of to-day.
Half a thousand years seem to have slip-
ped by forgotton in the generation which
Mutsuhito has reigned.
Time and history seem both to be plag-
ing ‘tricks when we think of the rise of
Japan. The things which should be cen-
turies old are only 30 years, and almost on
the same page we find Prime Ministers and
feudal lords. There aie men, and men not
very old, who remember when for an Eng-
lishman to set foot in Japan was a perilous
thing, when Japan was to Europe as a
closed book which none had dared to open.
Then, across the vast distance, came rumb-
lings of a storm, the dim message of a
mighty change, and Europe knew that
Mutsuhito, a young man in an old coun-
try, the youngest, perhaps, of all the rulers
in the world, had broken down the power
of centuries, swept aside all buta thousand
years of custom, and laid the foundations
for a new Japan.
It was the work, as it were, of a night.
In a short war, the Shogun, the dynasty
which had ruled Japan for 700 years, was
overthrown,and the dynasty which through
all the centuries had ruled Japan in name
now ruled in fact. That was in 1868, when
Mutsohito was 16, and it seems an incredi-
ble thing outside a novel that a youth in
his teens should lead a kingdom ous of
Egypt into the Promised Land. Yet all
that is modern and powerful'in Japan has
come into being since the Emperor was 16,
and in his short life is bound up all the
strange change which has made Japan the
hope of the East to-day.
A MIGHTY SACRIFICE.
Even now there are times when Japan
looks rather like a picture in a fairy book
than a country on the map. But there
were wonderful things for the world to see
in Japan when we weie young. Such things
as men had rarely looked npon were there
to gaze upon when Japan drew up its
blinds and threw open its doors to all the
continents. Great nobles gave up their
lands and castles to the State. The feudal
lords, heads of great families which had
ruled Japan a thousand years ; the sword-
bearers, who had fought her battles and
preserved lier fame in war,laid their wealth
and dignities and traditions, their very
homes and incomes, on the altar of the
New Japan. Two hundred landed lords
gave up their estates to the Emperor who
was building up a kingdom which could
have no room for other lords than he. No
such laying down of rank and power had
been seen since the nobles sacrificed their
privileges in the National Assembly of
France, 80 years hefore. 1t was an event,
this surrender of its glories by a proud
nobility, which somebody has said ‘‘throws
into the shade the achievements of Peter
the Great, the reforms of Joseph II, and
even the French Revolution itself.”’ If
was, at least, a sight which neither gods
nor men had seen more than once or twice
since the gentlewomen of Florence flung
their rings and bracelets on Savonarola’s
Bonfire of Vanities.
But Savonarola himself could bardly
have changed the whole life of a nation ;
we know how his kingdom fell. And there
were crises and storms in Japan, with re-
volts against the new regime and risings of
the old,and once when the streets of Japan
ran with Japan’s best blood, the tragic
close of 30,000 lives marked forever this
parting of the ways between East and
West. Nor was it easy for the Emperor to
deprive of their lost privilege all the lords
who had magnanimously laid down the
rest. Yet so small a thing as the wearing
‘of a sword eamé necessarily to be forbidden,
and slowly the old tradition and. pictur-
esqueness of life in Japan passed away be- |’
fore the nation’s eyes. Japan was loth to
let it pass. We like to remember that
story of the wife of a Japanese Ambassador,
who was attended by a leading physician
in Vienna, She bad a bed such as any
great lady in Vienna might sleep upon,bat
in it the phygician found a board upon
which she really lay, and hidden in the
soft pillows lay the old-fashioned head-rest
common in the old Japan. . How hard it is
to let the habits of a life-time go !
THE OLD AND THE NEW,
‘‘Among all the innovations of the era,’’
a great authority on Japan bas told us,
‘‘the only one that a Japanese could not
lay aside at will was the new fashion of
dressing his hair. He abandoned the quepe
irrevocably ; but for the rest he lived a
dual life. During hours of duty he wore
a fine uniform, shaped and decorated in
foreign style. But so soon as he stepped
out of office and off parade he reverted to
his own comfortable and - picturesque cos-
tume. :
‘‘Handsome houses were built and fur-
nished according to Western ‘models. But
each bad an annex where alcoves, verandahs
matted floors and paper sliding doors con-
tinued to do traditional duty. Beefsteak
beer, ‘grapewine,’ knives and forks came
into use on occasion. But rice howls and
chopsticks held their place as of old.
Japan bad grown old in the old paths,
and now, 35 years after, there are those who
tread them still.
WINTER DREAMS.
Deep lies the snow on wood and field,
Gray stretches overhead the sky,
The streams, their lips of laughter sealed,
In silence slowly wander by.
Earth slumbers, and her dreams—who knows
But they may sometimes be like ours?
Lyrics of spring in winter's prose
That sing of buds and leaves and flowers.
Dreams of that day when from the South
Comes April, as at first she came,
To hold the bare twig to her mouth
And blow it into fragrant flame.
—Frank Dempster Sherman, in Atlantic Monthly.
——Subscribe for the WATCHMAN.
Rk
.| little,
PLEASANT FIELDS OF HOLY WRIT.
Save for my daily range
Smong the pleasant fields of oly Writ,
I might despair —Tennyson.
THE INTERNATIONAL SUNDAY-SCHOOL LESSON.
First Quarter. Lesson X. Matt. iv. 35—41
Sunday March 6, 1904.
JESUS CALMS THE STORM.
To dignify that tiny sheet of water in
the north of Palestine with the title of sea,
and call it Sea of Galilee, seems a mis-
nomer. It is a little pear-shaped pond, six
by thirteen wiles. If it is a material mat-
ter of just so many cubic feet of water, of
course. the small Jake does not deserve its
large name. But when the things that
happened there are considered, the title
seems not to be out of proportion. It is,
in fact, the most important sheet of water
on the globe. It is the chief scene of Jesus’
ministry. On its shore He preached His
sermons and worked His miracles. Out of
it His disciples drew great draughts of
fishes. He walked its surface as if it had
been terra firma.
One day, after hours of tireless industry
in teaching and healing, the Master gave
bis disciples ‘sailing orders.” It would
have been a comparatively short tour on
foot around the head of the lake; but
Jesus needed the rest He could have on
shipboard. So. perhaps, in the very boat
(Simon Peter’s) from which he had been
preaching, he set sail. A little fleet’ ac-
companied Him. The curious or devoted
followed in His wake.
There was nothing preternatural in. the
storm which broke upon the ship and its
convoys. The lake lies six hundred feet be-
low the sea-level. The streams tributary
to it have cut deep gullies, sudden wind-
storms are caused by the proximity of snow
on Lebanon and the arid wastes of the
desert. These hurricanes find natural vent
through the ‘‘gigantic funnels,”’ and in-
stantly convert the placid lake into a boil-
ing caldron. :
When the storm broke, Jesus was asleep
on a mat, perhaps in a little cabin at the
stern. The disciples did not appeal to
Him immediately. They first did every-
thing their nautical education had taught
them to do. But when the waves kept
breaking and filling the boat, they wakened
the Master. As men in fear are apt to do
they forgot their manners, and cried, “We
perish !”” “‘Carest Thou not?’’ Jesus ob-
serves a Divine order in coming to the res-
cue. He first quiets the tempest in the
heart. With reassuring emphasis and in-
flection, he said, “Why art thon fearful ?”’
*‘Then’’ He arose and rebuked the external
storm. :
A new meaning for those men must have
come into the familiar lines of the Hebrew
bymnal—'*‘Thou rulest the raging of the
sea,”’ and ‘The Lord is mightier than the
noise of many waters.” They saw Him
‘gather the winds in his fist.”” Though
long acquainted with shis little sheet of
water, they bad never seen such a storm
give place to such aur instantaneous and
complete calm. There is a picturesqueness
in the words ‘‘the winds ceased.’”’ They
grew weary and sank to rest. Talmage
ounce said, *'Jesus lulled the lake to sleep
on the knee of His omnipotence.’
Moses parted the Red Sea with his mystic
rod. Joshua made a causeway for a nation
through the Jordan with the glittering
ark. Elisha smote the same river effectual-
ly with the sheepskin mantle of Elijah.
But it remained for Jesus, without any
material instrament, to quiet the sea in a
raging storm with only a word from His
lips. He spoke, and it was done. He re-
buked the waves as if they had heen in-
telligent beings, and the winds as if they
bad been used to the sound of His voice.
A sudden awe fell upon the disciples and
the men in the accompanying boats. No
wonder they said to each other ad miringly,
‘What manner of Man is this?’ ‘‘Even
wind and sea obey Him!” “Who,
then is this, It was the recognition of
Divinity.
THE TEACHER’S LANTERN.
Jesus started on no mere pleasure-trip to
the further shore, though He enjoyed the
view and refreshment en route. In this
instance, as in His whole life, He had an
errand of mercy.
* * * *
The humble environment of Jesus’ life
is bere in evidence. He had no pleasare-
yacht at His disposal, only a common
fisherman’s boat.
ue * *
* *
The gennineness of Jesus’ humanity is
sbown in this only instance, in which He
is’ described as asleep. Heavy draughts
had been made that day upon His psychical
and physical reserve. He had spent Him-
gelf in teaching. Now He was relaxed,
and so wrapped in slumber as to be ob-
livious to the storm.
* * * x *
Jesus sleeps, but He never oversleeps.
* * * RG
Those who bave no faith for practical
and present use in an emergency, have
none. Theoretical faith is no faith. ;
*
* * * * 4
Each of the evangelists reports the dis-
ciples as saying something in their fear,
which the others omit.. Patting them all
together, and personifying the exclama-
tions, one might read : Little Faith ories.
‘‘Save !”” Much Fear, ‘‘We perish 1’ Dis-
trust, ‘‘Carest thou not?’ More Faith,
“Lord I” Faint Hope, ‘‘Master I’ (thou
with authority) Discipleship, ‘“Teacher !"’?
: *
Like so many vivid incidents in Jesus’
life, the whole scene seems an acted par-
able. The emergencies of individual and
organized life (Church and State) are here
depicted. The revelation of personal char-
aoter in conduct under such emergencies ;
the supreme authority and power of Jesus.
* * * * *
Jesus sought centers of population.
Galilee was such, Josephus may be un-
safe when he says that there were 250 cities
there of 15,000 each, but recent exploration
shows that the territory was so thickly
built over as to make it almost a continuous
village.
* * * * *
This population was also remote from
the ecolesiastical establishment, and so
more independent and open to His message.
CHILD-STUDY AND SUNDAY-SCHOOL METH-
ODS. :
Sympathy with child-life is the touch-
stone of a noble character. Appreciation
of children’s ideals, their hopes and griefs,
indicates a high spirit. Jean Paul Richter
shows it in his pretty fancy : “I would
create a world especially for myself, and
suspend it under the mildest sun. A little
world, where I would have nothing but
lovely children, and those little
things I would never suffer to grow up,
but only to play eternally. If a seraph
were weary of heaven,or his golden pinions
drooped, I would send him to dwell a
month upon my happy infant world—and
no angel,so long as he saw their innocence,
could lose his own,”’ Dean Stan-
ley, during the sermon of an eminent
divine in Westminster Abbey, noticed a
little girl pushed to the chancel-rail by the
crowd. Seeing she was weary, he put out
bis hands and lifted her into the great
chair beside him. However great the ser-
mon from the pulpit may have been, the
sermon from the chancel-chair was greater.
The dean, in that act, reminds one of Him
who opened His bands to children and
said, ‘‘Suffer.”’ . Every Wednesday
during his residence at Guernsey, Victor
Hugo gave a dinner to fifteen boys and
girls selected from the poorest families in
the island. He waited on them in person.
. Agassiz, on his way to his laboratory,
absorbed in thought,saw a little girl stand-
ing at the village pump, crying over the
fragments of a broken pitcher. He took
her to the store, bought a new pitcher,
went back to the pump and filled it for
her. Yet this was the man who was too
busy to lecture for money. . In a
life full of pathetic incidents, none sur-
passed the scene where Father Mathew, in
his last illness, gave a party for his boy
attendant and his friends. . The
addresses which John Ruskin made at his
Christmas dinner to the children of Con-
siton are among the most fascinating of his
utterances. La Salle devoted his
very last days to the instruction of a class
of little children. It is worth re-
peating, the touchstone of a noble char-
acter is sympathy with child-life.
As Seen from a United States Man of
War.
Alfred Terry Brisbin Writes E ntertainingly of Places
He Has Visited While on a Cruise of Three Years
in Foreign Waters.
[The letters which will appear from time to
time in this column are from the pen of Alfred
Terry Brishin, a Mid-shipman on the U. S. S.
Decatur, which is now on a cruise of three years
in foreign waters. The writer is ason of the
late Gen. James Brisbin, U. S. A. and it is ap-
parent that he has inherited much of his talent
for descriptions from his gallant father, who was
a frequent contributor to these columns when he
was on Indian campaigns on the frontier. The
letters are really not written for publication ;
being merely the personal correspondence which
he has directed to his uncle, Col. J. L. Spangler,
consequently they may be regarded as all the
more sincere in their context.—FEd.]
GIBRALTAR
U. 8. 8. Decatur, Gibraltar, Spain,
January 28, 1904.
Dearest Uncle:— Your two letters reached
me here yesterday. It bas seemed an age
since I last received mail, and it was indeed
very considerate of you to give me so much
of your time.
At last across the broad Atlantic and
tied up snugly alongside an English dock
among;English people. Here’s where a few
years ago it would have meant instant
battle togappear. Across the bay the shores
of Spain stretch away to the westward and
the fortifications of Algerinas and Terifa
loom up as relics of what the Spanish did
iu preparation for an attempt to invade.
To the southward is the strait and hills of
Morocco. To the eastward the Mediterran-
ean and towering over all with a majestic
grandeur is old Gibraltar the impregnable
stronghold of the English. The mere at-
mosphere of the country seems to breathe
of ages long past and in a constant cycle
the mind calls up Hannibal’s struggles to
reach Rome, the old Moors and their pal-
aces, the lurking pirates, Nelson’s grand
battle and other incidents which thrill one
with excitement and desire to look at the
same mountains, to walk over the same
ground, to enjoy the same air and to live
over those days with those same people.
Looking out across the straits you can pic-
ture Hannibal’s army after its journey
from their native shores embarking in the
little boats, ferrying across, ‘and landing
along these shores. Glancing atthe moun-
tains as they reach to the northward you
can see that same army, unused to the cold,
struggling over the steep passes, until they
encounter the Romans. Imagine the grand
fight those surroundings would , afford.
Those armies, the pick of Carthage and
Rome. I can see Hannibal, who is to me
the embodiment of strength and determina-
tion direoting his movements through the
hills, meeting the Romans, moving on re-
gardless of loss by exposure or privation,
only to meet defeat at the end. Then to
the westward ruins of the old Moors and
their splendors cause one to go back to days
when this was the centre of the world,
when Spain was in bloom and held sway
over the oceans. You can picture the old
pirate ships as they rolled in the swell
awaiting some merchant-man on whom
they could prey. This very bay was their
rendzvous and just across was the bay of
Tangiers which was equally as infested.
Then England became queen of the seas in
truth, for holding Gibraltar as she did, the
pirates could not interfere with her com-
merce. That is when Gibraltar was the
key to this sea. Owing to the currents the
old sailing ships had to come to this shore
to get out, and to attempt to pass was fu-
tile when the swift pirate leet would sweep
out on a laden merchant-man and overtake
him in an hour. Then, too, youn can imag-
ine Nelson ‘in his fight off here and his
preparation here for his great victory at
Trafalgar. Siyiis
: To add local color and bring us back to
our own times, there is an old hulk, her
mast gone, her gun ports simply holes, and
her whole appearance suggesting a state of
by-gone days anchored here. This is the
old Vanderbilt, a relic of our civil ‘war, a
ship sent here to engage the' confederate
‘steamer, Alabama, which was sunk by the
Kearsarge. Here she has remained until
this day. Now the property of the English
and though flying foreign colors I can’t
help but think she is alive and looking at
those ships with a longing, pitiful expres-
sion. ‘Why the whole place reeks with his-
tory and the most unobserving must be
‘struck with the unexplainable desire to
bow with uncovered head to the phantom
heroes that seem to haunt the shores.
There comes a feeling of sorrow. Glance
at the surroundings now. Are these the
descendants of those people who made. his-
tory, who suffered and fought to make
their country glorious, the ruler of the
world ? Indolence, vice and sordid pleas-
ures seized them and to-day they are the
meanest of the mean; despised, beaten,
they are content to sink farther and farther
into oblivion until their condition will he
even worse than it was before their first
stage of civilization.
Gradually the enterprises and natural
resources of the country are falling into the
hands of the English and Americans, and
the natives, once the owners and proud
masters of these estates, are willing—no,
more, are contentedgto be servants and do
the lowest work in the land. Their hatred
for Americans is open and their sense of re-
venge is not to strive to regain their lost
prestige, but to resort to the lowest means
of annoyance, and personal injury.
But here, I have lost myself and am tir-
ing you with the impressions backed by
exuberant youthful spirits. Be kind in
your criticism.
We leave for Algiers on Sunday morning
the 3186. Love to all.
Do write soon, for I would like to hear
before leaving Naples.
Affectionately,
ALFRED.