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THE'. PITTSBtmG-BISirATOH,F1SIJNDATf"DEOEMBERi,'u22- fl88
fblonde hair and bright eyes was, if pos
"Eible, prettier than before.
".Ho auaiLlbis time." Bhe remarked gaily
?'io me aside.
."We haven't any squabs, old fellow." said
ihe husband privately.
'Neither auail nor 0.uab was on the table.
."but roast beef, which could lead to no ap
kprehensions. The fire was blaxing cheer
fully, the tDie was ht reaaines, mc uimug
Jroom door opened, and' the maid announced:
Tlie dinner is serve u.
Jntt b we had finished the beef, and were-
I waiting for the salad, in the silence of per
rfect contentment, what did Hawsley do but
igo over to his wile ana as uer. xie was
.moved first by his Rood .meal, and then by
' his regret for tne memorauie scene 01 tne
jear before. , . , ,
".ATld WUen X LlllUJl, UC VUUMUUCU,
"that last year, just because of some
"Quail, dearest, quail." sne interposed.
"Oh. no. my darling, I made inquiries;
they were squabs."
"I asked, too, my -aear. xney were
Well! This time it was truly frightful.
There was nothing more to be done. Two
quarrels in two years! It was too regular.
This time little Mrs. Hawsley did not cry.
She rose to her fnll height, a little pale, and
with dilating nostrils, and turned toward
"Sir. I claim you as mv witness."
TheD she called for her hat, a pretty little
affair all feathers and lace and tied at the
tide, and her long fur cloak falling to her
feet. She wonld go home to her mother;
and she did, leaving the meal unfinished.
Hawsley took the departure ol his wife
less perturbedly than might reasonably have
been expected. He was sorry and ashamed.
but he seemed to leel sure tnat sne wouia
return the next day and submit to a recon
ciliation. "We are not an unloving couple," he
.said, "but our road to happiness is so de
vious that it sometimes seems likely to
lead to misery."
"Well," I said, intending to be consola
tory, "stand among the Allegheny Moun
tains, especially near what is called the
Horseshoe, and you will find a train of cars
almost doubling on itself, and sitting in the
back car you see a locomotive coming as
you look out the window, and you think it
is another train, when it is only the front of
the train in which you are riding; and
sometimes you can hardly tell whether the
train i- going toward Pittsburg or toward
Philadelphia, but it is on the track, and it
will reach the depot for which it is started,
and all the passengers will be dis
charged at the right place. Now,
there are a great many sharp
curves in life. Sometimes we teem to be
going this way, and sometimes we seem to
be going that "way; but if we are Christians
we are on the right track and we are going
to come out at the right place. Do not get
worried, then, about the sharp curve. A
sailing vessel starts from New York for
Glasgow. Does it go in a straight line?
Ob, no. It changes its tack.. every little
while. Now, you say, "This vessel, instead
of going to Glasgow.mustbegoingto Havre,
or it is going to Hamburg, or it is going to
Marseilles. No, no. It is going to Glas
gow. And in this voyage of lire we often
have to change our tacks. One storm blows
11s this way, and another storm blows us
that way; but He who holds the winds in
His fist'will bring tis into a haven of ever
lasting rest, just at the right time. Do not
worry, then, if you have to change tacks.
We three may eat a pleasant Christmas
"O, I believe so," was the cheery re
sponse. "To tell the truth, it was not a
direct road that led to matrimony between
lionise and me, and I onght to be tolerant
of any infirmities of temper in her, since
sbe is a good little woman at heart, and I
was not exactly honest in marrying her. I
will confide the whole story to you."
The account which he gave can best be
transferred from the first person words into
a third person's account, and in that form I
Once, in a special meeting of the New
York Society lor 'Egyptian Besearcb, a
member addressed his companions in set
phrases as follows: "Whatever one may
say, gentlemen, there are dead peonle whom
we can never replace. Among the number
is he whom we mourn to-day. Who will
dare to propose himself as a successor, in this
company of which one late friend was for
15 years one of the chief glories? Above
all, who will feel strong and patient enongh
to go on with the "History of Sebekoteph,
.that stupendous work to which he had con
secrated his whole life, and which a cruel
late did not allow him to finish?" '
The speaker paused, for an unexpected
disarrangement of his notes prevented him
from finding his seventh and last page.
Then, without being disconcerted, he passed
forthwith to his peroration, which he knew
by heart, and which ended with: "Fare
well, dear and noble friend; tireless worker,
adieu. Sleep in peace, Solomon Bayard."
There was a moment's hesitation and
silence. The Chairman waited a few sec
onds to see if this enlogy was the last. Then,
seeing that no one else spoke out, he closed
the meeting decorously. The scientists be
gan to fojhi little groups and discuss the
literary success of the dead man. a success
achieved after many vain attempts, for dur
ing his lifetime Solomon Bayard had been
assiduous in several specialties of culture.
He had justly passed among his colleagues
lor a happy man. Never had a life
been more free from care and
anxiety than his, and from its moaest
beginning no one could have foretold the
high reputation in store for him. The srm
of a rich merchant he had but to succeed
his father and make for himself an honor
able name in trade. But he soon deserted
profitable business for the thankless pursuit
of literature. At the end of five years he
became discouraged by constant failures to
originate anything noteworthy. He tried
first painting and then, philology. This
last attempt seemed likely to succeed, and
he was on the point of gaining some fame
with a small but exclusive portion of the
public, when he conceived the unlucky idea
of publishing an erudite work under the
fceductive form of a romance an egregions
lolly of which the world of learning soon
showed him the impropriety. In short, at
the age of 50 he produced a few works of
Bayard now married the youthful daugh
ter of a celebrated orientalist, recently de
ceased. Wonderful to relate, this ill
assorted match was decidedly lucky for the
husband. Not only was he respected by
his young wife, but, moreover, under the
guidance of that bright woman this much
abused savant, this scholar of many fail
ures, found himself rapidly transtormed
into an Egyptologist of the highest ability.
Some Coptic translations found among the
papers o his father-in-law, and which he
published soon after his marriage, operated
in his favor so as to produce a complete
change in critical opinion, and two years
later, at the mere announcement of his
forthcoming great wort upon Xing Sebek
oteph and the Second Dynasty of the Pha
raohs," he was established in the literary
world as a genuine producer of worthy mat
ter. He worked at it all day long with
jealous care, alone and without any help.
Nobody was allowed a sight of this work,
which was to number four big volumes, and
to unveil to an impatient publicthe hitherto
mysterious history of the first ruler of
Egypt. But suddenly he died.
A lew days later the Champollion,the
journal of the orientalists, gave the follow
ing in'ormation: "It is not yet known
whether the manuscript left unfinished by
Solomon Bayard will be given to the pub
lic It seems that the illustrious scholar
look care to signify his wishes m this re
siect. His instructions, it is said.were con
tained in a letter which is not to be opened
until ten months after his death. It may be
mentioned that the New York Society for
E; ptian Research must choose a president
to Mircced onrmuch regretted fellow-worker.
The candidates thus far named are Dr. Den
tnn. Prof. Springer and Arthur Hawsley.
Thrre will be a hot contest between the first
two. equally famous for the number and
importance ot their works. As to Mr.
Havsley, we imagine that the mention ol
his name, is simnlv made to draw him into
:. prominence, for he is a young man, and his
'comparative newness to 'Egyptian study J
cuts off his chances of being chosen for such
an important succession."
When the time for an election arrived the
members were called upon to choose a suc
cessor to Solomon Bayard, but none of the
three candidates could be chosen. Suffi
cient votes were stubbornly cast for young
Hawsley to hinder his rivals from obtaining
a majority, and tbe business was deferred
until the loliowing spring. It was in this
interval that Hawsley made his trip to
Egypt which has already been mentioned.
Nearly a year passed, while the three
scholars pursued their ambitious course.
Prof. Springer published an essay upon
Manchoo poetry, which he hastened to send
to all whose votes he desired. Dr. Denton
bent all his genins to composing scientific
dinners which should triumph over the
indigestion of the scholarly stomach. As
to Hawsley he too had hit plans of cam
paign, as ingenious as it was simple, and
not confined to actual researches in Egypt.
He went very often to call on
lionise Bayard, who, since her husband's
death had lived in retirement. Could
Hawsley be in love? Why not? The
youthful widow was intellectually and per
sonally attractive enough to melt the stony
heart of a young Egyptologist. With her
heavy hair" confined by a circlet of gold and
her large eves, she resembled an Egyptian
princess. But, when all is told, it was not
wholly lionise herself who attracted Haws
ley. He professed to regard love -as an
emotion of an inferior order, quite beneath
the chosen minds among whom he modestly
classified himself. A secondary object
which he hoped to obtain was a perusal of
the famous manuscripts of the late Solomon
Bayard. He thought that if he conld finish
the ''History of Sebekoteph" his election
and fame wonld be assured. lionise was
pleased by his attentions, and gradually be
gan to love him with 3ll the strength of her
nature, and that was the situation when the
appointed time came, ten months after Bay
ard's demise, according to his orders, to
open and read a certain sealed envelope.
"When shall I begin, Madam?" the fam
ily lawyer said.
"The sooner the better," said the widow;
"now. if yon will."
The legal adviser, and custodian of the
paper had come to read the last wishes of
Bayard concerning the manuscript, and had
dined in company with Louise and Hawsley.
He was an amiable person of loquacious
tendencies, and during the meal he had
sought to divert the widow with anecdotes
that had delighted several generations. But
be could not break the ice. Inferring, at
last, from the embarrassment of the yonng
pair that it was a case of lovers, and that
his presence was inopportune, he curbed his
desire to talk and the company soon ad
journed to the library the same library in
which Hawsley told tbe story to his friend.
At his hostess' invitation, the lawyer
drew from his pocket a black-bordered let
ter, showed that the seal was intact, and be
gan in unctuous tones: "I, the undersigned,
Solomon Bayard, bequeath, all my books,
manuscripts,papers and miscellaneous works
to my dear wife, Louise Bayard, leaving her
to dispose of them as she shall see fit I de
sire that my 'History of Sebekoteph' may
not be published except in case my wife, on
remarrying, shall judge her new husband
worthy to finish that important work. In
this case I authorize her to deliver to my
successor, but not until the third Christmas
after her marriage, theinclosed key, which
wall ODcn lue utviuuua -u, , .n -u auu ju.01
my bookcase No. 7, where the aforesaid
work will be found."
"My late client," added the lawyer,
"thus'gives a fine example of his rare gen
erosity of mind. Generally husbands object
to tbe idea thattheirwives may marry again.
This one, however, seems to advise you not
to give yourself up to eternal and vain re-
Then remembering the tender glances
which had passed between his companions
at dinner, he added with fine discernment:
"We may be permitted to hope that the
'History of Sebekoteph' will be published
"Who knows?" murmured Xouise, dart
ing a glance at tbe young orientalist; where
upon Arthur Hawsley, profiting by the in
attention of the lawyer, who was arranging
his papers, seized her hand and imprinted
upon it a kiss.
"Now, that is the way in which I wooed
and won my wife," said Hawsley. at the
conclusion of the narrative, "and do you
think I am the man to be intolerant of my
wife's whims? Our two quarrels in your
presence have been foolish, and when she
returns to-morrow, 1 shall ask her forgive
ness. Of eourse, every man's own experi
ences seem to him to be pregnant themes,
but really, Pardee, I believe the Christmas
sermon you are going to preach might well
contain something about husbands' duty to
JOSIAH BtJKfTHAM'S CUBIOUS CONDUCT.
That my friend Hawsley's love of Egyp
tology was genuine, the library in which we
sat- bore proof. Not only did it contain
many books and exhibits left by the late
Bayard, but tbe present master had added
to both, and, besides, prided himself on the
possession of editions of the Bible lacking
in the richest theological libraries in Amer
ica. He owned Bibles printed about 145
from the presses of Gutenberg and Paust,
the Bible of Luther, the polyglot Bible of
Plantin, that of Aldus Manutius, and the
like. Lastly he took down from the shelf
two volumes of a modern aspect, and said
"Here, I have reserved this for the flower
of tbe collection., It is one of the crown dia
monds among my treasures."
"Yon don't call that a crown diamond,'"
I said, "that reprint of the last century?"
"Exactly so, my dear Pardee, and with
perfect justice. In the first place, altbough
printed in English, it was once the property
of Erederick the Great, who deigned to
ornament one ot the two volumes with
marginal notes, more witty, to be sure, than
reverential, as might be expected from the
To me the holy books seemed to have
been shockingly desecrated by the flippant
monarch, and I did not care to peruse his
marginal notes. Hawsley stood with one
of the volumes in his hand when Josiah
Burnham rapped and came in. His visage
wai more repellent to me than it had been a
year before; and his singular behavior im
pressed me, vaguely though curiously, at
the time. His eyes fell on the book, and,
with a shiver and a recoil, he seemed abont
to qnit the roomy With a manifest effort he
delivered tbe errand which had brought
him, and then started to withdraw.
"How are you, Josiah?" I asked.
"Pretty well," and his tone was almost
"Y6u don't remember me?"
"Yes I do. You preached to me about the
money that was minel"
"Tlje money that belongs to Mary, the
widow by betrothal of yonr dead "wife's son.
I thought you might have given it to her
"No, I haven't, and, what's more, I
won't. So yon may lecture me if you like,
and you may preach Christmas sermons
with me in the text if you care to, but the
law is with me."
"Josiah, let us leave law human and
divine out of the case, and consider the
moral question whether you have done right
by your dead wife "
"Who says I done wrong to my dead
wile?" he savagely interrupted.
"Let yocr own conscience decide for you,"
I said, seeing that I had affected bim. She
was your best friend no doubt. Wives are
usually their husbands' best friends. Have
you been true to her in this matter? In
this world so full of heartlessness and
hypocrisy, how triflling it is to find some
friend at faithful in days of adversity as In
days of prosperity. David had such a friend
in Hushai. The Jews had such a friend in
Mordecai, who never forgot their cause.
Paul had such a friend in Onesiphorus, who
visited him in jail. Christ had such in the
Marys, who adhered to Him on tbe cross.
Why, you don't have to look far in the
Bible to find some good examples of fidelity
between friend and friend," and I carelessly
turned the pages of Hawtlev'i cherished
copy, which had lain on the table.
"I don't want scripture quoted toae,J'J
Josiah exclaimed, retreating "not out of
"I preach two kinds of sermons," I went
on; "the one on the faith of tbe Gospel, the
other on the morality of the Gospel and
the one is just as important as the other, for
you know that in this land to-day there are
hundred's of men hiding behind the com
munion tables and in churches who have
no business to be there as professors of re
ligion. They expect to be all 'right with
God, although they are all wrong with mail,
and I tell my congregations that by the
deeds of the law no flesh living can be justi
fied, and a mere honest lite cannot enter us
into heaven. I want you as plainly to un
derstand that unless the. life is right the
heart is not right,"
"That is meant for me," Hawsley good
humoredly said; "and it is true, Pardee it
is true. I will treat my wife from my heart
not from my head. Now, you, Joshua,"
and he turned to the gardener, "why don't
you do just right by your dead wife? Give
Martin's money to Mary, as he wished, and
as his mother would have done if she had
"I was mentioning Bible instances of
loyal friendship," I resumed, "of cases in
which a friend surely you and Martin
were friends did his duty conscientiously
by that friend. Naomi had such a true
friend in Buth," and I took the first appro
priate passage that happened to come under
my eye; "and it was Buth who cried out
'Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return
from following after thee; for whither tbou
goest, I will go; and where thon lodgest, I
will lodge: thy people shall be my people,
and thy God my God; where thou diest I
will die, and there will I be buried; the
Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught
but death part thee and me.'"
Josiah was livid with rage, as he broke
out: "I won't have any texts from the Bible,
I tell you I've had one too many from it
The book seemed to be an object of terror
to bim, and he retreated from it as from
something deadly, quitting the room in a
strange state of excitement.
We discussed him after his departnre,
and Hawsley told all he knew of him,
beyond what I had already learned.
"When I married Louise," my friend
said, "she brought me as her dowry this
small estate, where we decided to lire, as it
was within a convenient distance of the
city's center and of my professional head
quarters. You were pleased yesterday to
admire our garden, with its hedges, and its
winter remnants of last summer's beauty.
But I am sorry now that I did not take you
beyond into the homely but nseful vegeta
ble garden, for probably you have- never
seen a haunted bouse, and there I could
have shown you one. There is nothing
sinister in its appearance, though some of
the more ignorant folks claim that it is
largely the rendezvous of the unquiet dead.
It is a small one-story cottage, almost hid
den in summer under honeysuckles and
jasmines. The windows have lost their
glass, while within, the fireplace is full of
rubbish and broken plaster, the walls
show their laths, and the woodwork
is crumbling away in the dampness
and mold. As a dwelling house it
was abandoned by Josiah Burnham after
his wife's death, and serves now
only as a storehouse for his flower pots and
gardening tools. "When we first came here
the house was tenanted by tbe gardener and
his wife, both of whom worked at his trade.
They kept our grounds in order, and culti
vated flowers to sell to the city florists, as well
as some garden truck for the markets. Josiah
had tried several times, it seems, to rise
above his state of toil, but his undertakings
had always failed, and he made many bitter
"Still, I shall get rich, he would add;
I don't know how or when, but it will
"He was harsh with men and with ani
mals, and often beat his dog immoderately
and unreasonably, -not in anger, but with
cool deliberation, as if for personal gratifica
tion. Twice when thieves were caught in
the garden he sent them off with broken
heads. The servants of the neighborhood
detested him; and some of them believed
that, he bewitched the cattle that even
human beings were powerless under his evil
"Josiah married late in life a -widow with
a grown son Martin Jeffries who was lost
at sea, as I have told you. Tbe woman in
nocently contributed much to her husband's
ill-repute, because the idle gossips thought
her the victim of her husband's fancied oc
cult powers. She trembled before bim like
a bird fascinated by a snake. Moreover,
she often tell into a state of lethargy, and
would remain for days in a strange sleep
so like death that during the first a'ttack she
came near being buried alive. The doctor
-said it was epilepsy, but the ignorant
thought it supernatural, once were tbe
hnsband and wife. But, having no personal
grievance against Josiah, who seemed in
dustrious and honest, we did uot think of
dismissing him. and attached no import
ance to the vague and absurd reports con-'
"Well, soon after my return from my
Egyptian trip, and my sad report of the
death of Martin, his mother died
before transferring his money to his
affianced wife. She was found stretched out
on her bed, pale and rigid, with her eyes
wide onen and the pupils dilated.
" 'Another of her attacks,' said Josiah,
witbout apparent emotion. They proposed
to send for the doctor, but he protested
loudly: 'No indeed, I haven't any money
to watte. She will wake up soon of her
own accord, as she always does.'
"It was not until three days later, when
unmistakable signs of death were manifest,
that tbe doctor came. He could only cer
tify to the demise, at which no one thought
of being surprised, considering the ill
health of the poor woman. That is all."
This account of Josiah's disregard of his
wife, and his wrongful withholding of Mar
tin's money from .Mary, led me to devote
my ensuing Christmas sermon to the sub
ject of Christian loyalty to those with whom
we are associated. My text was, "Do unto
others as ye would that they should do unto
you," that great humanitarian dictum of
Christmas' originator. I dwelt upon man's
duty to women especially; and when I spoke
of woman's seli-defe'nselessness, Josiah
gazed from a pew half angrily, half cring
ingly, while Arthur Hawsley slightly
nodded assent, as I said: "The daughter of
a regiment in any army is all surrounded
by bayonets of defense, and, in the battle,
whoever (alls, she is kept safe. And you
are the daughter of the regiment com
manded by the Lord of Hosts. After all,
you are not fighting tbe battle of life alone.
All heaven is on your side.
IN A 'WEEK BEFOBE CHEISISIAS.
How could I decline, or dislike, to make
. a third Christmas visit to the Hawsleys,
when I knew that tbe time was at hand for
my friend to receive, at last, the singularly
bequeathed manuscript of Solomon Bayard?
I was invited to be present as the only wit
ness, other than Arthur and Louise, of tbe
opening of the treasure of research, industry
and learning. The pair greeted me cor
dially. "We don't quarrel anymore Arthur and
I," Mrs. Hawsley said to me confidentially.
"He is the kindest and best of husbarfds.and
the words 'quail' and 'squab' can be spoken
between us without the slightest danger."
In proof of that we had a jolly, talkative
dinner, and the husband and wife spoke
apologetically of their two quail-squab
squabbles, as she termed them. I trembled
with fear that pleasantry on that topic
would prove explosive, but it did uot, and
we were a very happy trio clear through
the first meal of'mv stay.
"Your last Christmas sermon did me a
great deal of good," Louise remarked.
"O, because you think it made me reform
my treatment of you?" Arthur laughingly
'No, no," she soberly protested; "I didn't
mean that What I meant was that it set
me thinking about conjugal duties about
wifely duties and well, I love my husband
"Not more genuinely than I love her,"
Arthur declared, to me, as though I were a
"Duties performed always lead,to greater
amiability and to greater' happiness," I re-
marked. "I don't say this to belittle any
or every endeavor in that direction, but I
am to begin the composition of another
Christmas discourse, vou Know, ana x am
thinking that it shall he devoted to an en-'
couragement of good endeavor for the gen
eral benefit of other people. Prom the
moment our Savior went out of the caravan
sary of Bethlehem to the moment when the
cross was plunged into the socket on the
bloody mount, He was busy for others.
Does that remind us of ourselves? It does
not remind me of myself. Oh, if
we lift a burden, it must be light
If we do wbrk it mus be popular. II we
move in a sphere of usefulness it must be
brilliant. If we have to take hold of a
load, give us the light end of the log. In
this way to heaven fan us, rock us, sing us
to sleep. Lift us up toward heaven on the
tips of your fingers under a silken sun
shade. Stand out of the way, all you mar
tyrs who breasted the fire; stand out of the
way and let this colony of 'tender-footed
Christians come up and get their crowns."
"You are deriving your theme from me
atrain." said Hawsley. "You know I am
depending on the manuscripts that are to be
mine;tyou are thinking that I seek to avail,
myself of another s researcn iortne gioriuca
tion of myself; yon are "
"Stop, stop," I exclaimed. "I have had
my 'Western eye on you all the year, and I
Know that you have been figuring hand
somely in your chosen line of archaeological
research, quite on your own account."
"Come into the library and I will show
you some of the jresults," and heled the
way from tbe finished dinner to his store
room of knowledge. "There in the corner
cabinet which is a fireproof safe, as well
is the Solomon Bayard manuscript. Not
until 12 o'clock of Christmas morning will
the combination numbers of the lock be
sent to me by the lawyer, to whom they
were entrusted by Louise's husband."
We chatted, looked at rare books, and at
length recalled Josiah Burnham, whose
queer conduct in that room a year before
had indelibly impressed me. I said to, and
Hawsley added that he, too, had been struck
by the man's perturbation.
"With the $1,000 that he wrongfully con
verted to his own use," Hawsley went on,
"he left us and set up in business for him
self as a florist Fortune, on whom he had
waited so long, smiled upon him, and he
had become very prosperous quickly. I
have not personally spoken with him since
that night in this room, for he gave up all
work for me, and sent a friend to settle up
our account. I set myself to thinking
about him intently, and especially about
the particular Bible which seemed to agi
"Probably, any copy of the Scriptures
would have done'the same. He was angry,
apparently, because I quoted from it to his
"But dou t you remember his telling you
that he had" had texts enough from, that
especial Bible? I recalled that after his
sudden departure, and then, of a flash. I re
membered an incident In addition to his
work in the garden, Josiah used, to have
several tasks to perform in the house. One
Saturday he was waxing the library floor. I
entered unexpectedlyand fonnd him stand
ing near this particular shelf in the act of
reading this particular Bible. At the sound
of my entrance he hastily closed the book,
but not before he had marked the place with
a piece ot paper which he happened to have
at hand. I took no notice of him, seeing by
his confusion that he felt himself to be at
fault for meddling with my books. He re
stored the volume to its place and I never
happened to discover the mark, which was
not very conspicuous, until a few days ago.
Here it is."
He opened the book, and we looked at the
slip of paper which had served as a mark.
It was a scrap which in itself could mean
nothing, but Hawsley had left it just where
he had found it, even making a star with
his pencil on one of the two leaves between
which he had found it They belonged to
the Book of Judges. I ran my eye down
the columns, but could see nothing which
seemed like matter which. Josiah would have
"Probably an accidental bookmark only,"
"Doubtless." my friend assented: "but he
did place it there he did act strangely
when I came in on him and ho did get ex
cited when you used tnat Bible for quota
tion." Again I scanned the two pages, and this
time I discovered a stain in the margin be
side the fourth verse of the twenty-first
chapter of Judges. Hawsley looked at it
closely and said:
"That was made by Josiah's forefinger,
and the stain is the wax that he was using
on the. floor."
The verse was this:
"Then Jael, Heber's wife, took a nail of
the tent, and took a hammer in her hand,
and went softly unto him, and smote the
nail into his temple, and fastened it into
the ground; for he was fast asleep and
weary. So.he died."
It seemed clear to us that the finger print
and the bookmark, too, were merely acci
dental, and that Josiah had only been angry
with me without reference to that particu
And Mary the girl whom he
frauded? I inaulred.
"Marv Welles is a very poor, hardwork
ing girl," was the reply. "She is a dress;
maker, with a mother de'pendent on her for
support, and only by hard work does she
get along at all. That (1,000 might have
established her in a little business of her
own. Now, Pardee, I have a conscience,
though I may not have always heeded it
In this matter of Solomon Bayard's manu
scripts,which will be in my possession three
nights hence, I am going to let my
conscience dictate my course. It was a de
sire to get them that led me, more than love,
to marry Louise these' and the other treas
ures that her husband left, and which, in
my Egyptomania, I coveted unreasonably.
That was the primary cause of my marrying
her. You may smile, but it was so. Wellr
I got my wife, whom I now love for herself
alone, and that is my undeserved reward.
I won't take any more. Whatever valuable
secrets may be contained in Mr. Bayard's
manuscript I shall give to the world, as
from him not stealing them for my own
aggrandizement as a savant Whatever
profit comes from their publication Iam re
solved to give to Mary Welles. Every cent
shall go to that girl, because it was through
me that she lost 'her lover, and it was an
employe of mine who defrauded her. That
is settled in my mind."
. The rest of the week before Christmas
passed. Twelve o'clock struck at the close
of Christmas Eve. The twelfth clear ring
from the clock on the parlor mantel was im
mediately followed by one at the front door,
and a man delivered a letter from the law
yer. It contained the figures necessary to
know in order to open the iron cabinet.
The messenger took a receipt and departed.
Then the Hawsleys and I went to tbe
library. Arthur turned the knob of the
safe, and, despite his laborious calmness,
was so nervous that he could not work the
combination nntil alter half a dozen trials.
Bnt at length the long-shut door swung
open. He next disclostd division H.
It was empty!
No. A large but flat envelope lay in the
spacious compartment. To our great sur
prise, tbe long anticipated papers resolved
themselves into a single letter. With fever
ish haste Arthur broke the seal and read:
"Dear and honored successor: "You will
seek in vain for the MS. of the 'History of
Sebekoteph,' the wonld-be work to which I
owe my reputation as a literary man. Long
ago I burned the few notes once collected in
view of this undertaking. After devoting
the better part of my life to barren pursuits
which brought me no honor, I have felt
justified in obtaining by false pretenses tbe
fame which was refused to my honest efforts.
Hence I have spread abroad the report of .a
colossal work which I was preparing,
and which my advanced age would
probably not allow me to complete. I
was able to devote the latter years of my
lire to the pleasures which I had formerly
rejected. Now I must consider my dear
Louise who, if I life some years longer as a
spendthrift, will find herself at my death
lonely and penniless. Consequently I have
promised my history to any one who should
marry her the second time. I hope thus to
tempt someone, of my confreres, who will
fi nd himself Justly punished for hisamb
tious schemes. O, reader, yon are ambi
tious, and you Joust at tbu aosaent be
astounded by my deceit Still, do not de
spise me too' much. You will find Louise a
good and gentle companion, who will make
you happy. As to the, 'History of Sebeko
teph," jou will he forced to keep silence,
under pain of the bitterest ridicule unless
you prefer to emulate my example and die
in tbe midst of the work, for cannot a work
of this magnitude exhaust three savants?"
Dumb surprise fell upon the occupants of
that library. We were minutes in making
even a partial recovery of our speech, and
for awhile our utterances were exclamations
only. Then the letter from Louise's former
husband to her present one was read over
and over, and finally it was freely dis
cussed. Arthur went again to the cabinet, and
looked it through for any other possible con
tents. Three letters were found in an ob
scure drawer. One was a receipted bill and
another was a business note of no conse
quence. They were of the same date as to
postmarks, and had evidently been over
looked by Mr. Bayard when he had last
cleared out the cabinet for its odd final use.
The third letter was so -interesting that it
took our thoughts away from the fraud of
the non-existent manuscripts. It had not
passed through the mail, but the inclosure
bore ft date corresponding with the other two
envelopes. It was addressed to Mr. Bayard,
and it ran as follows: ' "
"I write this to you because I am in fear
of my life. I do not know anybody else to
turn to for protection. My husband means
to murder me. lam sure. He is all the
time studying up poisons kinds that don't
leave any sign on them they kill. Then, I
see him often reading about murders in the
newspapers and he goes over and over
every case where they don't know who did
tne murder, or how. I know him well. He
has murder in his heart and he will let it
out on me, sooner or later. Can I come and
talk with you about him?"
That was signed by the wife of Josiah
Burnham. What action the recipient had
taken, if any, was not indicated. Probably
he treated it as the idle fears of a hysterical
and epileptic woman, for he had carelessly
thrown it aside.
But Arthur Hawsley and I gazed at each
other with round eyes. Then we hastened
to take the peculiarly-potent Bible from Its
case, and turned again to the doubly marked
That verse had instructed Josiah how to
kill his wife by doing to her what Jael had
done to her victim, We both believed in
stantly that a nail had been driven into Mrs.
Burnham's head by her husband.
It was subsequently found to have been so.
The avaricious scoundrel, with the murder
of his ailing and burdensome wife already in
his heart and the means ot perpetrating it
ready in his mind, had been incited immedi
ately to the deed by his desire to get Mar
tin's $1,000. The deadly nail, concealed by
the victim's natr, would never have been
discovered except for the remarkable circum
stances which have been narrated here.
The next day a police inspector, whom we
informed of our discovery, went to Josiah's
house and found him seated alone at the
supper table. The official placed his finger
on the murderer and said, without circum
locution: "You murdered your wife."
The wretch began to tremble, his teeth
chattered, and he gasped out :
"Yes, yes! Heaven is avenging her. The
book tbe book I am choking," and he
fell back dead, struck by apoplexy.
Shadowed blackly as was that third
Christmas at Hawsley's, it still was marked
by gifts ot happiness. To Arthur and
Louise it was given to be, as they had not
been a year before, content and true with
To Mary Welles it brought Martin Jef
fries' thousand dollars multiplied by three,
for in Josiah's effects was found a will be
queathing all his property to her. The man
left no blood relatives, and why should he
not mase reparation alter he was done with
Copyrighted, 1889. All lights reserved.
K0T HEWS TO TUB OLD MAN.
Uncle Abimelech Knew Bis Wife Better
Than tho Doctor Sid.
Uncle Abimelech Barnes regards himself
as dreadfully abused by his wife, Aunt
Amanda, who scolds him more or less,doubt
less with good reason.
Tbe other day Aunt Amanda complained
of being ill, and sent Uncle Abimelech
for the doctor. The physician arrived, felt
Aunt Amanda's pulse, and told her to show
- "Uml" said the doctor, shaking his head;
"A pretty bad tongne, Mrs. Barnes; a very
Uncle Abimelech wriggled a little at
this, and presently managed to get the phys
ician a little to one side.
"Look a-here, doctor," he said, in a
whisper, "that don't prove no thin' at all.
She's had the wust kind of a tongue ever
sence we was marriedl"
CONFEDERATE MONEY ABROAD.
A Londoner Succeeds In Buying a Coat With
a Worthless Bill.
London Globe. 1
At Worship streetPolice Court yesterday,
a wood-turner, named Abraham Halfant,
was charged with having obtained a coat
worth 30s. and 50s. in money by false pre
tenses from Gabriel Davis, a clothier, of
Whitechapel. In October the prisoner
bought a coat from the prosecutor, and
tendered in payment an American note,
which he said was worth 4. He received
the coat and BOi. change, and after he left it
was discovered that the note was issued by
the "Confederate States," and was redeem
able "two years after the conclusion of a
treaty of peace." Tbe prisoner afterward-
pawned the coat
The magistrate f Mr. M. Williams) said
the prosecutor ought to have seen- that the
note was worthless, and discharged the
prisoner, refusing to make any order as to
From the Yankee Blade.
he said el he'd
had a fair show.
And a big enough
town for his tal
ents to grow.
And tbe least bit
in hoein his
Jim Bowker, he
He'd fill the
world full of the
sound of his
And climb tbe top
round in the
ladder of fame.
It may have been so;
Jest so It might been,
j. nen ag'in
But he bad tamal luck; everythin' went ag'in
The arrears 'of fortune they alios 'ud pin
So he didn't get a chance to, show what was In
Jim Bowker. he said,
Ef he'd had a fair show, you couldn't tell
where he'd come.
An' tbe feats he'd a done, an' the heights he'd
It may have been so;
Jest so It might been,
But we're all like Jim Bowker, thinks I, more
Charge fate for our.bad luck, ourselves for suc
cess. An' give fortune the blame for alt our dis
tress, As Jim Bowker, he said.
If it hadn't been for luck an' misfortune an'
We might have been famous, and might a' been
It might be jest so;
Jettso might bees, ...
JOYS OF FARH LIFE.
Bessie Bramble Takes a Pessimistid
View of the. Inch-Vaunted
DELIGHTS OE A IUBAL EXISTENCE
When it ia Darkened by the; Shadow of a
WHI FARMERS' WIVES BECOME IUSAHE
fWBnnaf son thi disp atch.i
To those constrained by force of fate or
pressure of environment to dwell amid "the
crowd, the hum, the shock of men," the idea
of country life ever holds out test, refresh
ment, and the sweetness of living in clover.
The solemn quiet of the sequestered vales
and leafy forests, broken only by the flutter
of the leaves, the whisper of the wind, or
the voice of birds; the gentle ripple of the
flowing waters; the meadows fair, and
densely wooded hills; the cosy homestead
bounded by broad fields of grain and tas
seled corn, present a picture to those whose
lives are passed amid the din of factories,
the roar and racket ot busy marts
and moving merchandise, the sharp
contests of competition, the wearing
turmoil of every day's business in the
battle of life that suggests nothing but calm I
content, beatitude and bliss and beds of,
roses. To them it seems that life amid
such surroundings must be slow, and mav
hap a little dull, but it is not lived at the
pace that kills. They fondly, perhaps,
imagine that some day, when fortune plays
them fair and gives them luck, nothing
will be sweeter than to settle down in the
autumn of life in such "sequestered scenes
and bow'ry mazes and surrounding greens,"
and trust to "rural sights and rural sounds to
exhilarate the spirit antf restore the tone ot
languid nature. .
The traveler on trains enjovs short
glimpses of the many cozy, spacious and
comfortable homesteads' in the midst ot fer
tile fields, fruitful orchards, and luxuriant
gardens, and he is wont to welcome the illu
sion that if anywhere is to be enjoyed Pope's
epitome of happiness:
"Reason's whole pleas are. all the Jots of
lie in three words health, peace and com
petence," it is in such homes, where, with the ioys
and charms of nature, the royal task of man
is to labor and trust the result to heaven,
and then "to sit every man under his own
vine and fig tree and revel in the fat of tbe
CALL NO MAK MASTEB.
No man is so independent as the farmer
say the eloquent orators of the Orange. He
is his own boss, and is not subjected to the
whims and caprices of magnates and mil
lionaires. He crooks no hinges of his knee
that thrift may follow fawning, as Shake
speare puts it He and heaven are partners.
He furnishes the labor, and the sun and
showers and increase come as the share of
heaven to swell the profits. He can manage
to get a living whether stocks go up or
down, whether business booms or beats
upon the rocks, whether hanks break or
money kings are swept to ruin by a cyclone
of insolvency. The forces of nature are
not subject to panics, but to universal law.
If crops are short prices are high.
The poets keep up the illusion that life
upon a farm is Arcadian in its happiness,
and halcyon in itsquiet,happy peacefulness.
Volumes have been written upon the beau
ties of rural life and the felicities of the
farmer 'Armed with poetic license they
uuaie in. uowing numoers ana regulation
feet upon the beauties, the pleasures, the
transporting scenes of country life, while
the artist with no less of enthusiasm and
ideality portrays the lovely bits of land
'scape, the romantic old mills, the cozv cot
tages, and all the picturesque glories seen in
their summer1 ontmgs in an entrancing way
that suggests .only the sweetness of a quiet
life far Irom the madding crowd's ignoble
But perhaps withal no man expresses him
self more discontentedly than does the
farmer. And as a chorus to his song are the
complaints of the dwellers in the country
villages which, as observation goes, seem so
quiet and peaceful and happy. But if the
towns' people have their illusions as to life
in the conntry.Uhe ruralists have no less
their delusions as to life in the city. The
country boy gets tired of the monotony of
planting potatoes, and dropping corn, and
bring home the cows. He is full of the
bright ideals of youth, and sees in the city
the golden chances of life. His hopes of
highest happiness are beyond the grubbing
and the moiling on tbe old farm, and in his
fancy the prizes of the world are waiting to
be captured by courageous hands, but he
soon finds that happiness is no more realiza
ble in the busy markets, in tbe struggle for
places in the professions, in the toil -and
hardship of bread-winning than in the heat
of summer and the cold of winter, and the
ungenial work and depressing surround
THE FAMILY FABM.
The philosophy of disenchantment bears
quite as hardly upon those who see in these
rural homes the peace, the pleasure, the
happiness that the world is so determinedly
seeking, and of which, saith John Stuart
Mill, mneteen-twentieths of the people -fall
short Beneath the roofs of these quiet
homes are lived lives as fall of tragedy as
ever shown in song or story. Within those
walls, surrounded by all that is beautiful
and blooming, maybe found unhappiness as
profound and direinl as was ever conceived
or concealed within the busy haunts of city
life. Within tbe closets ot those vine-covered,
flower-embowered, picturesque old
farm houses ate skeletons hidden as horrible
and heart-breaking as any to be found
within the stone walls of city mansions.
Men are as cruel, ns stubborn, as cross
grained when brought up under nature's
teachings, and familiar from their earliest
hours with the charms of fields and flowers,
of sun-kissed hills and forest glades, of
heavenly zephvrs,delicious odors, and earth
in verdure clad. Oppression, tyranny,
injustice are as often lound on
the farm as though no emancipation
act had ever been proclaimed, or no brutal
legislation of the common law had,ever
been repealed. Little children grow up upon
farms who are taxed with work cruelly be
yond their powers, whoni the labor laws of
the Legislature has had no power to protect
All hands are needed for work if it is only
those of tbe little ones who carry water to
the fields. Longfellow paints a'beautiful
picture of Evangeline carrying flagons of
home-brewed ale to the reapers in tbe har
vest heat, and while it reads beautifully, it
must have been hot, tiresome work, espe
cially if she had in addition, the dinner to
get and dishes to wasb. as Evangelines out
of poetry have to do. Whatever the princes
of the pen may say, or the artists ideally
portray, life on tbe farm has little of ro
mance'or poetry about it. It is full of hard
work for both women and men whose high
est endeavors are likely to be ruined by the
weather, and whose best planted hopes go to
wreck oftentimes by a matterof temperature.
Mrs. Poyser puts it well when she says:
"As for farming, it's putting money in your
pocket wi' your right hand and fetching it
out wi your left. As fur as I can see it's
raising victuaLfor other folks, and just get
ting a mouthful for yourself and your chil
dren as you go along. It's more than flesh
and blood 'nil bear sometimes, to be toiling
and striving and up early and down late,
and hardly sleeping a wink for thinking as
the cheese may swell, or the cow may slip
her calf, or the wheat may grow green in the
sheaf and after all, at the end of the year,
it's like as if you'd been cooking a feast and
had got the smell of it for your pains."
A fAkmee's ibotjtbles. '
A farm is generally esteemed a good
thing, but this truth was more apparent in
tbe days when the farm about yielded
everytniBe neeaea ior tne support ot tne
family, aatLwheaj with community of inter
est, there was community of help and effort,
but nowadays when the wants of the" farmer
in the way of-clothing and luxuries are the
same as those of other people, and high
wages are the demand of laborers, a farm
must be an exceptionally good one to pay at
ail, or even come out so as to mage both ends
meet at the end of a year.
Perhaps the farm upon which life it most
miserable, and the illusion of happiness is
least tangible, and pessimist views are most
largely entertained, is that upon which a
mortgage rests with the ever-present horror
of piling up a yearly interest that must be
paid whether crops-are good or not whether
tbe weevil ruins the' wheat, or the rot at
tacks the potatoes, or the hay is spoiled by
wet weather. The fanner's wife must do
witbout a bonnet, the children must go
without shoes, the pinch of poverty that
turns life to bitterness must be felt on the
score of that blighting monster of a mort
gage. "Happy tbe man whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,"
says the poet, but when the man has to pay
taxes, and the interest ot a mortgage, and
eke out a scanty living on his paternal
acres, he is very likely to agree with
Socrates that "happiness was a pure illu
sion, and that lite seems pleasing only to
"No man on earth is more independent
than the fanner," sounds like irony to him
whose enslavement to a mortgage drives
sleep fromjiis pillow, ives bitterness to his
soul, and incites an affirmative to the ques
tion, "Is life an affliction?"
Somebody has said that a farmer s dollar
is as big as a cart wheel. But what wonder?
Who knows so well as he -What work it was
to earn it? But with too many of the tillers
of the soil the hoarding of dollars becomes a
passion for parsimony. They deny their
families everything save the barest neces
sities. Even when prosperous, some farmers'
wives are the veriest drudges. No woman,
perhaps, on the face of the earth toil more
strenuously than do some of them. From
early .morn till dewy eve their labors are in
cessant Bemote in many cases from neigh
bors, they perform their daily tasks in
monotonous round without the stimulus of
wages, meed ot appreciation, hope of better
things, or the solace of sympathy. Driven
by spur of necessity to toil beyond their
strength, they grow cross and wornout and
homely long before their prime.
a fabmeb's "WIFE
in Pennsylvania who hasnohelp and help
is next to impossible to get save for those
who pay large wages has to be uo before
the dawn to milK and feed the chickens, to
get breakfast and dress the children, to
make the beds and clean the rooms and do
the dishes, and wash, and iron, and bake,
take care of the milk,,churn the butter, get
tbe dinners, make the garden, do the sew
ing and mending, gather tbe eggs, and
other multitudinous things which her city
sister would never dream of doing.
AH this work, with jio time to rest,
or to read, witbout society since
every woman in the neighborhood is as
busy as herself and anyhow so far apart
that social intercourse can scarcely be main
tained without recreation, save if going to
church may be called such, or "a wake"
once in a while for a spice of variety. . No
holiday, or Sabbath rest even on Sunday,
for cows must be milked, chickens and pigs
must be fed, meals must be got dishes mnst
be washed, children must be dressed and
cared for even on the day held by men holy
to rest. In the vicinity of cities and within
reach of things by decent roads the isolation
may not be so depressing and disheartening,
but out West and in regions sparsely settled
thelife is described by those who have ex
perienced it, as nothing less than sheer mar
tyrdom. "I married the man I ardently loved,"
said a lady in telling her story, "with the
most brilliant anticipations of wedded love.
A home on the prairie held no horrors for
me, with him by my side. Loneliness
would" not he felt in a desprt were he my
companion. But, alas I- how soon were my
dreams dispelled. He proved to be one of
the sort of dull, practical, heartless men
who think the duty of a wife consists in
being a willing slave, to whom no kind
words are due alter marriage, and.no consid
eration is included In-the marriage bond.'
There was a mortgage on our farm, as there
is on almost all of them through the West,
and the struggle to pay the interest let
alone" the principal--wa!i up to the notch of
what flesh and blood can stand. Work?
No factory hand or Southern slave ever
worked harder than I did. My
husband, alter his toilsome day at
the plow or in the harvest field,
went to bed and rested, while I
had to sit up and make and
mend the clothes- of the family. Many a
day when haste was essential to save the
hay or other crops I have worked in the
fields and done the most of the housework
at night That mortgage crushed out every
flower that might have bloomed in my life.
It defrauded my children of their mother's
care when they most needed it It starved
my mind by depiiving me of books and
nanftrs. and fivn tbft '
x 1 , . -
TIME TO BEAD.
L '"Itmade my husband niggardly,penurious
add illtempered if he was; not born so. Nor
were things much better after by incessant
toil ana struggle the farm was at last
cleared. 'Mortgage' was the first bugbear
to keep me stinted of every comfort and
pleasure, then it began to be the 'rainy day,
against which we were to fight. Little
recked the man I had once so fondly loved
that all the days were rainy to me."
This is only a little bit of individual ex
perience, but it gives something of a clue
as to why, in the matter of insanity, farm
ers and farmers' wives exceed in numbers
those of any other occupation, and why, in
the statistics of suicider they stand at the
head of the list by a large majority. Their
laborious lives, their lack of congenial
society, their isolation from neighbors, their
short allowance of recreation, all tend to the
lowness'of spirits, that leads to melancholy
and finally insanity. Men are less subject
to this than women, because they have the
change of going to market, meeting their
fellows in business and politics, and gossip
ing at the country store, while their wives
often times stay at home from one year's end
to another. One farmer's wife, who dwelt
within IS miles of Pittsburg for 50 years,
had never been in the city nor out of the
township. She grew melancholy, and
finally "queer," as so many country peo
As preservative of health and happiness
farmers shonld arrange it so as to dwell
more in communities with their farms out
lying where society,recreation,amusement,
could more easily be enjoyed. They should
remember, as Milton puts it, that "Loneli
ness is tbe first thing which God's eve
named not good." Moreover, it max ke
added that nothing is more conducive to
the enjoyment and happiness of country life
than to have the farm well stocked up with
bank stock or Government bonds, or some
source ot income that will preserve them
from being "land poor," or dependent alto
gether npon sunshine, showers and high
markets. Moreover, nothing will so con
tribute to his joy and pleas
ure in home life as to see
to it that his wife is no more overworked
than his favorite horse. Worry and too
much work will kill anybody or put them
in imminent danger, of tbe insane asylum,
and the farmer's wife should take thought
upon this matter, and refuse a martyrdom
that shows np only on her tombstone, and is
the subject of talk at "intermission" on
Sunday at church. - "Shiftless" may be the
verdict pronounced upon her by those who
do not know, . but to preserve herself from
insanity and her Children from her loss, she
should set her foot down hard on incessant
work and endless worry.
A Great Placo for Bags.
San Francisco Examiner, j
It is interesting to know that Oakland is
inhabited by over 200 varieties of beetles.
Explorer Torrey has discovered them and
presented specimens of these Oaklanders to
the Academy of Science.
Ken I and Apparent.
Vonkers Statesman 4
A drunken man sees everything double
but'fllV jaoaey. It-is oaly.the mas" who'
wyw.was see in assey oeBle.
, - l!. . , .-' .. .. , - I
BY A CLEBGYMAN.,
At the recent
notable meeting of -the
Evangelical Alliance there was or the part
of all present a recognition of the drifting
apart or the Church and tbe people. Thus,
the Bey. Dr. Josiah Strong (author. ofthe
famous book, "Our Country,") exclaimed:
"The Church has largely lost touch with the
world. It is more institutional than per
sonal. The cry too often is not 'Here am I,
send me!' but "Here is njy check, send
somebody elsel' There is salt enough in tho
country, but it is barreled up in,- the
Bishop. Huntingdon, of the Episcopal 9
Communion, asked: "How does it come to
pass that the people, being at the Church's
door, are on the outside? Certainly there
can be no fault in the gospel. Is the ob
stacle then in the people? If so, we cannot get
it oat until we get at the people. No; the ob
stacle Is in ourselves. Tbe Gospel and tbe
people belong together. They were made for
each other. No matter what tbe apostolicltr
of the Church may be. the putting apart of the
Gospel and the people is her apostacr."
The Bev. Dr. Parkhurst. of New TorV de
clared that he "would rather take the chances
of an atheist before the bar of God, than those
of a saved (?) man who was not at the same
time a savior."
These are hopefnl voices. Do they indicate
the dawn of a better day? Whatever may be
tbe surprises of tbe future, religion will sur
vive. For, as Locke said of the Bible: "It has
God for its author, salvation for its end. and
troth without any admixture of error for its
subject matter." Hence, we may be sore that
" the etherlal world.
Incapable of stain, will soon expel bermischief.
And purse off tb e baser fire, victorious."
One thing, however, is certain. Tbe Chorea
will never rehabilitate Itself in popular influ
ence by meretricious expedients, ic Is not to
be saved by broom drills, dairy maid fairs, and
catch-penny festivals. Neither will it better
its condition by preaching dolorons sermons
from tbe Book of Lamentations. The Church
cannot nil Its pews by lazily opening its doors
once a week; clanging its bell in ding-dong
fashion, and saying: "You sinners out there,
come in here and be saved!"
If sinners ran their business as saints ran the
Church they would go Into bankruptcy in a year.
Imagine Paul standing in a gorgeons palpit,
with a $10,CO0 salary and a $5,000- choir, fna
church where pew rent is as high as house
rent, with two or three pews down near the J
door set apart forthe poor, and attributing tbe v
absence of the people from such a service to
Tbe Cbnrcb must preach practical, not techni
cal, gospel. It most make Itself a leader la
helpfulness. It mast put the emphasis on con
duct instead of belief. Christ never lacked
bearers. "The common people heard bim
gladly." The apostles never complained of tbo
absence of tbe people. They went where they
were. They gave out instead of absorbing.
But many of our preachers are like the Bour
bons they learn nothing and forget nothing.
They are too stubborn to change. Their typo
Is Baal's chef herdsman. Doeg. -having charge
of the males." It is tbe wise remark of an
eminent diviue that a religion that does not
take hold upon the life that now is, but dwells
in sublimities, is like a cloud that does not rain.
A cloud may roll in grandeur and be an object
of admiration, bat if it does not rain it is ot
little account so far as utility is concerned.
And a religion that consists in tbe observance of
magnificent ceremonies alone, bat that does
not touch the duties ot daily life, is a religion
of show and ot shame."
In saying this, ws do not wish to be under
stood as depreciating ritual. Tbe rltoalistie
bodies are among tbe mosthelpiul and prac
tical of alt Bat whatever be tbe creed, and
whatever the ceremonial, it most be wedded to
practical, everyday helpfulness if it would win
and hold the respect of tbe community. "Giro
me only fire enongh," said Bernard Pallssy.
"and these.paints will become indelibly fixed
on this china." And he went about trying,
"More fire; more firel" We say the same
more fire! more fire!
The Blindness of Parents.
It Is the sage remark of a recent writer that
parents are a peculiar people. Many of them
are blind color blind. All the beautiful tints
belong to their Jennie or Johnnie, and it is
. only in the children wbo lire next door or
aorosa the street that they detectkthetnglyfmhk
shades. They don't speak to theJlttled
ones about these things because they are
angels, and wbo ever saw an angel smoke or
drink or swear? Some parents are selfish.
They see faults, even sins, in their children;
but it is easier to live for their own personal
comfort tban to correct the evils around them,
and thus frequently their children are lost
through their own indifference. Other parents
are a little at fault themselves, and, although
tbey preach well, they practice so poorly that
tbe children may follow the practice instead of
The M. E. Book Concern.
The Methodist Episcopal Book Concern cele
brated itscentennial anniversary two Sabbaths
ago by special services in many of the churches.
With the exception of the late Jobs M. Phil
lips, all tbe agents of the concern have been
ministers, and have proved to be good business
men. Tbe first agent was John Dickens, of
Philadelphia, where the. bookbonse was first
located, who was appointed in 17S9. He bezan
holiness by borrowing $600 as capital. From
this small beginning the trade bad enlarged
until last year tbe sales at the New York house
amounted to 31,093,559, and at the Cincinnati
house to 789,943. Tbe profits between tbe
years 1838 and 18X2 amounted to $2,500,000. From
these profits the superannuated ministers have
received welcome relief and tbe missionary
boards an Important part ot their income.
Stanley's Work In Africa.
It is difficult to decide whether geography or
philanthropy owes tbe most to.Stanlej, tbe ex
plorer of Africa. There jhave been two pre
eminent explorers of the dark continent in oar
day, the one just mentioned and the lamented
Livingstone. The latter died In bis work. The
former still lives, but by amlracle. He has just
completed tbe most adventurous and romantic
tour on record. From Jane 28, 1887, to Decem
ber, 18S9, he traveled through, the heart of
Africa, locating rivers, fixing lakes, tracing
mountains, threading interminable forests,
every step a battle with pestilence and
with bloodthirsty - savages who were
a living, pestilence. Again and again
he stood at tbe gates of deatb. After
enduring wbat no words can tell, this Is his
conclusion: This has certainly been tbe most
extraordinary expedition I have ever led into
Africa- .A veritable divinity seems to have
hedged us while we journeyed. I say it with all
reverence. It has impelled as wbitber it
would, effected its own will, but nevertheless
guided and protected ns."
And again, after repeating In brief para
graphs the achievements and sufferings of bis
officers and men, and expressing tbe joy of
final success, he says: "Tbe vulgar will call it
luck. Unbelievers will call it chance: bat
deep down in each heart remains tbe feeling,
that of verity there are more things in heaven
and earth than are dreamed of in common
philosophy." And the last words of his letter
are: "Thanks be to God for ever and esrer."
May we not pray that tbe knowledge gained,
and through this, the enlightenment made
possible, may compensate the toil and danger?
Africa and tbe North Pole are about tbe only '
problems left unsolved. Heroic expeditionists
will never rest until tbese secrets, too, become
the property of Christian civilization.
lost in finding a livelihood.
Sufferings are lessons.
It is easier to contend with evil 'at the flu
than at tbe last Leonardo de VineL
If the thlnjf loved Is base, the lover-becomes
There a legend of an artist who was about
to give np in despair his attempt to carve a
Madonna from sandal-woodVwhen a dream bade
bim shape tbe figure from an oak block which
was destined for the fire, and he produced
masterpiece. So tbe materials for religious
happiness lie near at hand in the common fire
side virtues. Vavghan.
Had I my choice of all things that might
tend to my present earthly felicity, I would
pitch upon this, to have my bean possessed
with the greatest kindness and affection
toward all men in the world. ScougaU
Men must know that in this theater of man's
life it is reserved only for God and angels to be
lookers on. Lord Bacon.
Der Luiheriir.hu KalmAer tnr 1SHO. Inst nub-
llsbed, gives the following statistics of tbe
Lutheran Church in the United States: Min-
Isters, 4,591; congregation, 7,8(2; communicants,
1,080,013. The growth of the Lutheran Church,
largely by immigration, has been wonderful. Is
now ranks in numbers nrxt to the Methodists
and Baptists, and if tbe growth of tbe past
decade continues ten jears longer, it is likely
to become the largest denomination in the
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