f fit oo PITTSBURG DISPATCH, SHADOTOJF NIGHT, "Weird, Uncanny Fancies That Chaso Each Other in Dreamland. A GOLD CIIEST TBAGEDY. Faces That Crowd the Walls in the riayliouse of Childhood. PAXTOMIME TO CfllLL THE BLOOD. Imiitioai Statelj Structure Built on the Euins of Living Hearts. 60UE0F JEEOMK E. JEROJIL'S SKETCHES PVRITTEX TOR THE DISPATCH.! I dreamt a very curious dream about riches once that made a great impression upon me. I thouihl that I and a friend a Tery dear friend were livin; together in a strange, old house. "We very fond of one another, and we lived Tery happily. I ilon't think anybody else dwelt iii the house but we two. One day, wandering about this strange, old rambling place, I discovered the hidden door of a secret room, and in this room were many iron-bound chests, and when I raised the heavy ds I saw that each chest was full of gold. " And, when I taw this, I stole out softly and closed the hidden door, and drew the worn tapestries in front of it again, and crept back along the dim corridor, looking behind me, fearfully. And the friend that 1 had loved came toward me, and we walked together with our hands clasped. But I hated him. And all day long I kept ever beside him or followed him unseen, lest by chance he should learn the secret of that hidden door; and at night I lay ever awake watching him. But one night I slept, and when I opened my eyes, he is no longer near me. I run swiftly up the little narrow stairs and aloDg the silent corridor. The tapestry is drawn aside, and the hidden door stands open, and in the secret room beyond the friend that I loved is kneeling before an open chest, and the glint of the gold is in my eyes. His back is toward me, and I crawl for ward inch by inch; and when T am near enough I kill him as he kneels there. His body (alls against the door and it shuts to with a clang, and I try to open it. and can not. I beat my hands against its iron nails, nnd scream, and the dead man grins at me. The light streams in through the chink be neath the massive door, "and fades; and comes again, and lades again, and I gnaw at the o'iken lids of the iron-bound chests, for the madness of hunger is climbing into my brain. Then I awake, and find that I really am very hungry, and remember that in conse quence of a headache I d.d not eat any dinner. So I slip on a few clothes and go town to the kitchen on a foraging expe diting. It is said tint dreams are momentary con glomerations of thought, centering lound the incident that awakens us, and, like most i-cientinc tacts, this is occasioimllv true. There is one dream that, with slight varia tions, is continuallv recurrius to me. Over nnd over again I dream that I am suddenly called upon to act an importautpart in some piece at the Lyceum. That poor Mr. Irv ing should invariably bi the victim seems wnlair, b-it really it i entirely his own fault. It is he who persuades "and urges me. I myself would much prefer to remain ouietly in bed, and I tell him so. But lie does notstu1v my convenience. He thinks "" Tally"?) r"imi'e.f, and insists on my getting lip at ones ai:d coming down to the" theater. I explain to him that I can't act a bit He nems to consider this unimportant, I and rays, "Oh, that will be all right." I e argue for a while, but he makes the matter quite a personal one, and to oblige liim and get him out of the bedroom I con tent, though much against my own judg ment I generally dress the character in ray nislitshiit, thoDgh on one occasion, for Jicnvpio, I i.ori p.i jamas but then that was a swell part and I never remember a single word of what I ought to say. How I get through I do not know. Irving comes up tfterwardand coniatulate me, but whether upon the brilliancy of my performance, or upon my luck in getting o'lTihe stage before a brickbat is thrown at me, I cannot say. ' "Whenever I dream this incident I in variably wake mi to find that tiic bed clothes are on the floor, and that I am shiv ering with cold, and it is this shivering, I tup-pose, that ciuses me to dream I am wandering about the Lyceum stage in noth ing but my nightshirt. But still I do not understand why it should always bs the Lyceum. Another dream which I fancv I have dreamt more than once or, if not, I have dreamt that I dreamt it belorc. a thing one tomctimes does is one iu which I am walk ing down a vcrv wide and very long road in the IZast End of London. It is a. curious road to find thre. "Buses and trams pass up and down the center of it, and it is crowded witli stalls and barrows, beside which men in greasy caps stand shouting; yet on each side it is bordered bv a strip of tropical forest. The road, in .'act, combines the advantages ol Kcw and WnitechaneL Someone is with me, but I cannot see him, and we walk through the forest, push ing our way among the tangled vines that cling about our feet, and every now and then, between the giant tree "trunks, we catch glimpses of the uoisy street. At the end of this road there is a narrow turning, and when I come to it I am afraid, though I do not know w liv I am afraid. It leads to a house that I once lived in when a child, and now there is someone waiting there who has something to tell me. I turn to run awav. A Blackwall 'bus is passing, and I try to overtake it. But the horses tarn into skeletons and gallop awav lrom me, and my feet are like lead, and the thing that is with ute, and that I cannot see, seizes me by the arm and drags me back. It forces me along and into the house, nnd the door slams to behind us, and the sound echoes through the lileless rooms. I recog nize the rooms; I lhcd and laughed and cried in them long ago. Nothing is chang!. The chairs stand in tlieir places, empty, Aly mother's knitting lies upon the hearthrug, where the kitten, I remember, dragged it somewhere back in the sixties. I go up into my own little attif. My cot stands in the corner, and my bricks lie tumbled out upon the floor il"vas nlw.ivs an untidy child). An old man enters an old, bent, witheied man holding a lamp above his head, and I look at his face, aud it is my own face. And another enters, and he also is myself. Then more aud more, till the room is thronged with faces and the stairway be3ond and all the silent house. Some oi the facts are old and others young, and some are fair and smile at me, and many are foal and leer at me. And every laca is my own lace, but no two of them are alike. I do not know whv the sight of myself should alarm in'e so" hut I rush from the house in terror and the faces follow me; end I rnu faster and faster, but I know that I bliall never leave them behind me. As a rule one is the hero of one's own dreams, but at times I have dreamt a dream entirely in the third person a dream with the incidents of which I have had no connection whatever, except as an unseen ami impotent spectator. One of these I have often thought about since, 'wondering it it could not beworked up into e. story. But, perhaps, it would be too painiui a iiieine. strange beauty in it. I see it come and go, moving in and out among the Bhadoivs. The flickering gleams thrown by street lamps flash down upon it, shoving the wonder of its evil fairness. Then the lights go out I see it next in a place that is very far away, and it is even more beau tiful than before, for the evil has gone out of it Another face is looking down into it, a young, pure lace. Che faces meet and kiss, and, as his lips touch hers, the blood mounts to her cheeks and brow. I see the two face3 again. But I cannot tell where they are or how long a time has passed. The lad's face has grown a little older, but it is still young and fair, and when the woman's eyes resf upou it there comes a glory into her face so that it is like the face of an angel. But at times the woman is alone, and then I see the old evil look struggling to come back again. Then I see things clearer. I see the room in which they live, It is very poor. An old-fashioned piano stands in one corner, and beside it is a table ou which lie scat tered a fumbled mass of papers round an inkstand.' An empty chair waits before the table. The woman sits by the open window. She seems to be sitting there, for a long while. From far below there rises the sound of a great city. Its lights throw up faint beams into the dark room. The smell of its streets is in the woman's nostrils. Every now and then she looks toward the door and listens. Then turns again to the open window. And I notice that each time she looks toward the door the evil in her face shrinks back; but each time she turns to'the open window it grows more fierce aud sullen. Suddenly she starts up, and there is a terror in her eves that frightens me as I dream, and I see great beads of sweat upou her brow. Then, very slowly, her lace cnanges, ana x see again ine evil creature of the night She, wraps around her an old cloak and creeps out I hear her footsteps going down the stairs. They grow fainter aud fainter. Then it seems as if a door were opened, so that the roar of the streets rushes up into the house and the woman's footsteps are swallowed up. Time drifts onward through my dream. Scenes change, take shape and fade; but all is vague and undefined, until, out of the dimness, there fashions itself a long, de serted street The lights make glistening circles on the wet pavement A figure, dressed in gaudy rags, slinks bv, keeping close against the wall. Its back is toward me, and I do not see its face. Another fig ure glides from out the shadows. I look upon its face, aud I see it is the face that the woman's eyes gazed up into and wor shiped long ago, when my dream was just begun. But the fairness and the in nocence are gone from out of it. and ic is old and evil, like the woman's when I looked upon her last The figure iu the gaudy rags moved slowly on. 'Ihe second figure follows it, and over takes it. The two pause and speak to one another as they draw near. The street is very dark where they have met, and the figure in gaudy rags keeps its face still turned aside. They walk on together, side by side, in silence, till they come to where a flaring gas lamp hangs before a tavern; and there the woman turns, and I see that it is the. woman of my dream. And she and the man look into each other's eyes once more. Iu another dream that I remember, an angel (or a deil, I am not quite sure which) has come to a man and told him that so long as he loves no living human thing so long as he never sutlers, himself to leel one touch ot tenderness toward wife or child, toward kith or kin. toward stranger or toward friend, so long will he succeed anil prosper in his dealings so long will all this world's affairs go well with him; aud he will grow each day richer and greater and more powerful. But if ever he let one kindly thought for living thing to come into his heart, in that mo ment all his plans and schemes will topple down about his ears; and from that hour his name will be despised by men, and then forgotten. Andthe man treasures up these words, for he is an ambitious man, and wealth and fame and power are the sweetest things in all the world to him. A woman loves him and dies, thirsting for a loving look from him; children's footsteps creep into his life and steal away again; old laces fade and new ones come and go. But never a kindly touch of his hand rests on any living thing; never a kindly word comes lrom his lips; never a kindly thought springs from his heart. And in all his doings fortune favors him. The years pas: by, and at last there is left to him only one thine that he need fear a child's small, wistful face. The child loves him, as the woman, lon-j ago, had loved him, and her ejcslollow him with a hungry, beseeching look. But he sets his teeth aud turns away lrom her. The little face grows thin and white, and one day they come to him where he sits belore the key board of his many enter prises, and tell him she is dying. He conies and stands beside the bed, "aud the child's eyes open and turn toward him; and as he draws nearer her little arms stretch out toward him, pleading dumbly. But the man's face never changes, and the little arms fall ft-ebly back "upon tl.e tumbled coverlet, and the wistful eyes grow still, and a woman steps softly forward and draws the lids down oer them; then the man goes back to his plans and schemes. But in the night, "when the great house is silent, he steals up to the room where the child still lies, and pushes back the white, uneven sheet, "Dead dead," he mutters. Then he takes the tiny corpse up in his arms, aud noius it iigni against nis oreast, and kisses the cold lips, aud the cold cheeks aud the little cold, stilf hands. And at that point my story becomes im possible, for I dream that the little dead child lies always beneath the sheet in that quiet room, and that the little face never ciianges, nor the little white-robed limbs decay. I puzzle about this for an instant, but soon forget to wonder; for when the Dream Fairv telb us tales we are only as little children, sitting around with open eyes, be lieving all, though marveling that such things should be. Each night, when all else in the great house sleeps, the door of that room opens noiselessly, and the man enters and closes it behind him gently. Each night he draws away the white sheet, aud takes the sm.nll i dead body in his arms; and through the uars uours ne paces soitly to and fro, hold ing itclose against his breast, kissing it and crooning to it, like a mother to her sleeping baby. r b "When the first rays of dawn peep Into the room, he lays the dead child back again, and smoothes the sheet above her, and steals away. And he succeeds and prospers In all things, and each dav he grows richer aud greater and more powerful. Jerome K. Jerome. ANNIE LAURIE'S HOME. A Visit Shocks the'Bomance Oat of the Ballad Heroine's Life. SHE DEVELOPED INTO A GOSSIP, And Even Degenerated So Far as to Take the Titillating Snuffi LETTERS FBOJI EER DESCENDANTS rwIUTTKf FOR TnK DISPATCH. I llaxwelltown's braes are bonnie Whore eaily la's the dew; And 'twas there that Annio Laurie Gied mo her promise true; .fnrl ..... l.r... ....n.Mt. ....... J.n4 1110 I1CL JI11I11113U H 1IU That ne'er lorgot wart he. And for bonnie Annie Laurts a I'd lay me down and dee!" William Douglas. Imagine Annie Laurie, of the immortal song, old and wrinkled, taking snufl from a Sevres "sneezin' mull" with a miniature of Prince Charlie painted on its porcelain lid! Or fancy Douglas, of Fingland, grizzled and gouty, laughing over the youthful folly that impelled a hard-drinking Jacob ite laird to write love-lyric3 on the girl of his fancy! Yet, prosaic as these pictures may appear, history proves them true. The Annie Lau rie of romance was a commonplace gentle woman in real life; and so far from keen ing her "promise true, "she faithlesslyjilted J the heroine of the song hearing her namo can be proven beyond doubt by any one, who tikes the trouble to look throuzh .the old papers now at Ciatedarroch nnd Maxwell town. The song, written by William Dons las, of Fingland, Arse appeared In an Edin burgh newspaper, and created quite a sensa tion. Douglas was an adherent or the ex iled Stuarts, while Sir Robert Laurie, father of Annie, was a canny gentleman who be lieved in standing by the stronger side. Douglas first met Aunfe at a ball In Edin burgh and was greatly struck by her beauty. A lore affair spiangup, to check which Sir Kouert Lnurie carried his daughter hack to Nlthsdale. 'i'hlthor, however, Dong las followed, and for months the lovers met clandestinely in the woods and braes around JIftxwelltown. Finally the rumor of an impend ing Stuait invasion lured Douglas back to tho capital, but tradition has it that on tho night before his departure he wroto tho ballad or "Annie Laurie." As well as I can recollect, tho old version of the song differed little either in words or air from that now in uso Douglas' trip to Edin burgh proved fatal to his loye affair. His Jacobite intrigues wero suspfcted. and ho was loiced to fly to the low countiies. Whether ho conesponded with Annie Laurie from tliii Continent, or left hr without news of his whereabouts'. I know not. At any late. Annie was not inconsolable for his loss. She amusod herself with several love affairs, nnd finally married Alexander Fergnsson, laird of Cruigriarioch. Fergusson was not a poor, but his estates wnio lare and his fam ily old us the hill-. With him Annie Lam ie lived long and happily. Douglas obtained pardon from tho oovernment and leturned to Scotland, but there i9 no tradition of his everagain meeting Annie Laurie. She sur vived her husband and hoenmo the lady bountiful of Xithsdale. Under her din-c-tiim tho present mansion of Craigdarroch was built, nnd a relic of her taste is still nre seivcdin the lorin.il Georgian Hardens in tho rear of tho house. A Chbly Mention of Her Lover. In her old ago she became a notable match rnaker, probab'y using ho r own experience in the selection of husbands lor the young DUTIES OF THE PARISH. EeT. George Hodges PoinisOut a Few of the Kight Things to Do. MAKING THE CHURCH ATTRACTIVE. Folk Who Go to Worship Without ing to Iheir Neighbors. "pealc- FACT3 ABOUT THE CONTBIBOTIONS 1 ' -' - " uZsZ tsi ..... I Mw CRAIGDARROCH, TIIE HOME OF ANNIE LAURIE. the rhyming wooer to wed a wiser and wealthier man. Beyond the confines of her own quiet cor ner of Scotland, the true story of Annie Laurie has seldom traveled. That "Star spangled Scotchman," even, Jlr. Andrew Carnegie, in his "Four-in-Hand in Britain," expresses considerable surprise at discover ing a descendant of Annie's in Dumfries shire. Carnegie In Touch With the Poem. "While we were at the mansion of Friars' Corse," he says, "a great-great-grand-daughter"of Annie Laurie actually came in. I know of no young lady whose Acestress is so widely and favorably known. "We were all startled to be brought so near the ladiei of her acquaintance. She was very fond of letter writing: but In all her cone spondence which I lutve seen, there is only one reference to William Douglas. Her cousin, Mrs. Itiddel, or Glenridde), had men tioned seeing Douzlas at n ball in Kdln bumh. 3Ir. Forgusson wrote in reply: "I trust ho has forsaken his treasonable opin ions, and that he is content." .Very unro niuutically she dismisses her old lover with that sentence, and proceeds to dwell upon the coming nuptials of one of her uteres. She died in tho year 1761 at the age of 79, and was buried in tho old graveyard at Craig darroch. Portraits of her are preserved at Maxwelltown. and at Mansfield, the seat of Sir C. Stuart Enteith. In appearance, she was slender and grace ful, with large blue eyes and brown hair, which slio never powdered In spite ot tho fashion of tho times. Her laco ecms to have been rather long, nnd her leatares fol lowed the Grocian type. Tradition has it that her feet anc hands were very small, so that Douglas'bt'autitul simile of "dew on the govian lying" had some foundation iu fact. Most Charinin wniTTiif roa Tire dispatch, l Every Christian ought to be in a parish. Every good man and every good woman ought to have a church of their own, at which they attend service two times every Sunday.and with which thev are thoroughly identified. Any other condition of living is altogether abnormal and unnatural. It is true that there are a good many Christians who are not in any parish. It is also true that there are a good many persons who are not in any family. Some people live in hotels; some people live in lodging houses; some people live in the street. Neverthe less the ideal social life is lived in the fam ily, and the ideal religious life is lived in their larger family which we call the parish. Every Christian ought to be in a parish. Wherever you find a Christian who is not in a parish, you may be sure that something is the matter either with the parish or with the Christian. "Very often the fault is with the parish. There are some parishes in which the front daor ot the parish church is so constrnctcd that it will admit only a certain peculiar kind of people. The front door is built down so low that only the very short people can get in; or else it is made so exceedingly narrow that only the thin people can get in; or else it is away up so high in the air that only the very tall people can climb in over the threshold. All Tilings to All Men. ' That is to say, there are some churches that seem to be managed on the principle of keeping out as many people as possible. Whereas, the ideal church ought to be big enough to take in all the people. And the ideal house of worship ought to be set four square with three doors on every side, as in the vision of the Bcvelation. The ideal of every minister of a parish ought to be to accomplish, that, feat which St. Paul was always desiring to accomplish in his own ministry. St. Paul said that there was nothing to be desired more than to be able to carry water on both shoulders. That is what every parish priest ought to try to do, to be ''all things to all men," so that in some way he may gain some. There ought to be.a place in the parish church for every honest man and woman in the world. Sometimes, however, the fault is in the man; the Christian has something the matter with him. Dr. Parkhurst, who is taking that place in New York City to-day which was filled in old Jerusalem by these grand preachers, the prophets, by Isaiah and Jeremiah, said the other day that there are just two possible explanations ot the failure of the municipal authorities of New York to cope with the wickedness of that ritv they are either corrupt or they are incom- far from realizing how much part they hava in the sermons. At least half of the success of a sermon, half of its efficiency, depends upon the hearers. The very best sermon that could be preached by "the very best preacher would be sure to fail of its pur pose if preached to an inattentive congre gation. The nearer"! Tart In Preachlnj. Somebody said to a preacher, recounting the good old times: "We used to have great preachers in this part of the country 40 or 60 years ago," to which the exasper ated preacher replied: "Yes, and great hearers." That was the reason for th great preaching. The presence of the con gregation also helps the people. It is a singular trait of human nature, which we all recognize, that people desire to get into the place where they are in danger of find ing no seat all. . So that everybody who comes helps. The Christian, however, is not content with taking his part in the parish worship. He does not consider himself a good Christ ian because he goes to church twice on Sunday. He takes his share in the parish work. He does that in one wav by giving his money ih the offerings of the "church. Because mpney is condensed work. Money is the medium of exchange. It represents the values of the things which we barter, and those values ought to be acquired by reason of the work that hxs been ex pended. Money, accordingly, ought to represent condensed work. Sometimes it does not. Sometimes money represents condensed falsehood. Sometimes it means concentrated stealing. I heard the other day 'of a parish in Turkey,.an Armenian Chnrch, which is supported altogether by robbers. These men go off in their expedi tions, and when they make a fortunate haul they contribute a percentage of it to the church, so that it is entirely supported by robbers. Let us, however, believe that the great majority of the money that goes into church on the alms basin is honest money that it does represent work. Studying a Chnrch Contribution. It does not always represent very much work. One of the most interesting studies to one who has time to pursue it is the study of the Sunday contributions. Somebody said that otten in looking over a congrega tion hensked: "Where are the poor?" and then when he came to look over the offering he wondered "Where are the rich?" No one can tell, of course, what all the money in an offering means. The other day I studied an offering taken for the poor of the Earish, for charitable work in the neighbor ood and community, and in the offering there were 158 5-oent pieces. Now, that number really does not tell us anything. Some of these 5-cent pieces may have repre sented $5 in the books of God. Some of them may have represented $500 in the coin age of heaven. I have no doubt that a good many of them meant more than 5 cents. And yet I am equally sure that a good many of them did not mean acything at all, got no credit whatever in the celestial ledgers, be cause all that they represented was care lessness. Some of the men who gave 5 cents that morning did not sav to themselves: Now, here is an offering for the poor of the par ish, here is an opportunity for me to do some work for the poor; how much work can I do now? how much concentrated work can I put into the alms basin fcr that worthy purpose? He did not say that aud then gave 5 cents. Some of the people saw the plate coming anil put that money in be cause they did not like to be seen passing it by. One Die of the Three-Cent Piec. I was rejoiced to find only one 3-cent piece in the offering that morning. For the d-cent piece, as we all know, is coined Annie Isiurie't Great-Great-Granddaughter. THE SHANGHAI CHAEACIEE. A Farmer's Opinion or iho Chiclcn Based on Elaborate Experience. Shanghai chickens are born with an in ordinate pair of legs, which continue to grow into regular drumsticks of the longest dimensions. It is said that although good layers, they are very fond of devouring their own eggs. A farmer who has tried them and found them wanting, gives the following account of their peculiarities. Their true name, he says, is "Shank-high," and he pronounces them rightly named. They have no body at all, and when the head is cut off the legs come right apart. I don't see how they can set on their eggs my jack-knife cau set as well as they can. They don't sit on the roost the same as other chickens do; not a bit of it. When they attempt to sit as other chickens do, they fall off backward. Thev sit when they eat, I know, for I've seen 'em do it And I've seen 'em try to eat standing, but they couldn't fetch it; for when they peck at a grain of corn on the ground, they don't more'n half reach it, but their head bobs right between tlieir legs and makes 'em turn a complete somerset I'd as soon see a pair of tongs or compasses walking about my yard as these ehauk-highs. j.ney crow, too, a long time before day, when it. isn't. flllV "Prntt1.1.r Iib..iiib thai. j. uicam. j. taw a woman s lace, among a legs are so long tnat they can see daylight throng. It is an evil face, but there is a I long before a common chicken can. Annie Laurie of our dreams. It only shows that the course of true love never runs smooth, we said, when we heard that she did not . marry the poetic lover. Well, maybe she was happier with a dull country squire. Poets are not proverbially model luisl ands; the better poet, the worse husband, and the writer of Annie Laurie had the poetic tem perament pretty well developed." These remarks of Mr. Carnegie aroused a legion of paracraphers in England and America. Each writer had his theorv, and the accpunts published of Annie Laurie were as various as they were incor rect In order to settle definitely the question of the Nithsdale heroine's identity, the writer requested two of her immediate descendants Captain Robert Cutlar Fergus son and Miss Stuart-Mentcith to relate the particulars of her life. In response, Captain Cutlar Fergusson, he present laird of Craigdarroch, Dumtries thire, Scotland, and a grandson of the Ferg s sson made famous by Robert Burns' poem, u'The Whistle," writes as follows: ' Facts About thn Heroin-. Ca mod MtBOcn, Momave, I DmrntfeissMEE, X. Ii., April 23. 1S9J. Dear Sir: My ancestiess, Annie Laurie, was unquestionably tho heroine of tho famous ballad. She" was born on December 10, 3G-2. at C a. jr., in the manor house of Max ivclltown, and baptized a few davs later in Glencairn Kirk. Her lather was Sir Uobert Iiurte, BarC, of JIaxelltown, and her mother, Annio Delzell, granddaughter of the first Earl of Cam w atli. She married in April, 1709, Alexander Fergusson, laird of (Jraig dairocn, and was the mother of one son, Alexander. She lived to be nearly SOyoais of age, dying not long bntore the marriage or her granddaughter to Thomas Louyhran, Esq. With regard to the song or "Annie Laurie." it was oiliinally written to an old air by William Douglas, of Fingland. Both word and tune were alteied by Lady John Seott. sUtcrof tho late Duke or Buecleugli, and wei o published by her, in their present con dition, for the benefit of the widows and orphans left by the Crlmcnn War. Douglas, of Fingland. was a cadet of tho Qneensherry familv. and a Jacobite refucee. I am afraid that he was jilted by my fair progenitor, but he subsequently consoled himself by marry ing a Mis-. Clark, obtaining his pardon from King George, and settling down to a quiet country life. He wrote ninny verses, but none equal to "Aqnie L-iurie." Unclose von u picture ot Annie Laurie's picture at Slaxnelltown, andnnothcror the heroine's descendant. Miss Annie Stuart Menteith, who is said to strikingly resemble the older Ann'c. The .minting of Mrs. Fer gusson (Annie Laurie) it Maxwelltowu wag evidently executed when the original had passed the meridian of life, and Is possibly even a posthumous portrait, as tho he.id diess, which belongs to a later period, would Indicate. I nlso send a view of Craigdarroch House, wheiein Annie passed hall a century of her existence. The winding path on the right of the picture still bears her name. Old llaxwelltown manor house has been de stroyed, und the LhuiIo familv is now repie sented in the female line by the Eev. Sir Emilias Bayley-Laurie. I possess several letters of Annie Laurie. Sho wrote uninterestingly nnd Invariably signed her name "Anna." I beg to lemain, 3 ours, etc. K. Cutlab Fbroussox, Captain. Another Account of the Lore Affair. at a Distance. Some years ago the writer journeyed up the banks of Nith from the "guid toun o' Dumfries," by "Maxwclltoun braes," to Craigdarroch. The ever-changing scenery had all the wild beauty of the North, and glen, scaur and woodland teemed with poetic recollections. Altogether I felt wondrously romantic, and could not he'n singing soitly to myself the tender melody which has given deathless fame to the name of Annie Laurie. But when I entered Craigdarroch House, and found myself con fronted with 1,000 relics ot the real Annie, this veil ot romance was rudely rent aside. It was hard to find that she who should have waited long years for her Jacobite troubadour, had actually thrown him over to wed a Dumfriesshire laird, with a paucity of ideas, and a plenitude of "siller." It was still harder to find her transformed into "Mrs. Fergusson," the gossiping, match-making mistress of Craigdarroch. But romance was completely routed when a snuff-box was shown from which Annie's white fingers had taken many a titillating pinch. It was petent. Now, when the fault is In the flhrictiflti flnfl is Tint in flip Tinricri trior, ii either one or the other of two explanations hy the United States Government for the tue vunsuau is eit-uer uuwurmy or ne is "Ar";i':" ''' " '"s "'" mj uuurcu Ik .'sSL Annie Laurie, From an Old OU Painting. explained that Mrs. Fergusson did not be come partial to snuff until late in life, but the bare idea of her practicing the habit at all seemed too terrible to contemplate. The writer sadly left the ancient mansion in which he had expected to find so many tender memories of Anrtie Laurie's gracious life. He did not linger in "Annie's walk" bv the winding Nith, or under the walls of Maxwelltown, where Douglas had wooed and lost. On the contrary, he hastened to Dumfries convinced that Annie Laurie, like most cherished heroines of romance, is most charming when admired from a dis tance. John Gerald Brestan. COMPETITION AMONG VEGETABLES. Miss Stuart-Menteith, aunt of the young lady whose portrait accompanies this ar ticle, wrote as follows: That Annie Laurie, of llaxwelltown, was the Plants Are Mach Like Ramans and Strongest Win In tire's Struggles. The principal ot competition is so active and so vigorous in the vegetable world that it keeps up a sort of domestic warfare among plants. The struggle to get on in the world, says Pearson't Weekly, is less notice able in our latitude than it is in the tropics. Where the possibilities of reaching the most gigantic size are the greatest, there the in dividual plant struggles most eagerly to get into the foremost place. Plants are much like ourselves. As an instance of how one tree will take tdvantage of another, may be mentioned the conduct of what is called the parasitio fig. The seed of this plant is distributed by birds. Suppose one ot these seeds happen to lodge in the fork of a fruit tree. It germ inates as well there as it would on the ground. The young plant sends a long root, down until it reaches the soil. Then it grows vigorouslv, and its first development is toward spreading itself all over the fruit tree, until it has smothered and killed it. The foster child steps completely into the shoes of its foster-parent. ignorant The Christian Who Is Selflih. Sometimes the Christian is unworthy. That is to say, he is a selfish Christian, thinks of nobody but himself, and has no desire except to get whatever spiritual good he can fcr his own soul. If be can get that in solitude, so much the better. He has no interest in any Christian plans set on foot lhat require the co-operation ot a great many people. Or perhaps the Christian is ashamed or afraid. He may be living that kind of q life which he recognizes as incon sistent with the Christian profession and does not dare to go into the parish. In either of which cases the Christian is no Christian at all. Or else the Christian is ignorant. That is to say, he is ignorant ot Christianity. There'are a great many people who have exceedingly false ideas about Christianity. Some people imagine they have departed from Christianity when they have departed from some kind of ritual that is in vogue among a certain class of Christian people, or believe themselves unable to accept a certain metaphysical statement which is alleged to be Christian doctrine. The truth is, however, that no good man, and no good woman, has rejected Christianity from the beginning to this day. There "are those who have turned away from some caricature of Christ, there are those who have turned away from some representation of Christ wholly inadequate, no more like the Christ thatli'vedand breathed in Galilee than a glass Christ in achancel window. But no good man orwoman has turned away from Christianity. Because that means turning away from Christ, and means calling darkness light. and light darkness. It means turning away from God. Every man who desires to live a good lite, every honest man who wants to know the truth "about God, should have a place in a Christian parish. Duty of Those In tho Church. However, my concern at present is not so much with the Christian who is not in a parish as the Christian who is in a parish already. What shall the Christian in the parish do? The Christian in the parish will take his share in the parish worship and in the par ish work. It is not my purpose to speak at any length on the duty of church attend ance. The duty of church attendance is one of the most dangerous ot doctrines be cause it tends to obscure the real meaning of Christianity. It would be a most unfor tunate and mistaken idea if anybody should think that going to church is even a large part of the Christian religion. "Why, in the New Testament, with one possible ex ception, there is actually no command laid urion the Christian to attend church at all. The New Testament fills up the space which might have been taken un with that kind of injunction with exhortations to better liv ing. Church attendance is the least part of the Christian religion. Christianity is a life Moreover, the way to get church at tendance is not by telling people that they ought to go to church. That is beginning at the wrong end. That is a good deal like setting somebody down in a chair and say ing, "Now, I want you to talk to me in the roost interesting way you can." That would drv up all the springs of inspira tion. Nobody would be able to converse under these conditions. The way to get conversation out of people is to get them interested in something that interests you and them. The way to get people to church is to make the. church attractive. What does that mean? Eveiybortj Wants to Be Better. Does it mean operatic singing in the choir and sensational preaching in the pulpit? I hare too much confidence in the good sense and the good conscience of the people ever to believe that Every man and .every woman in this world wants to be better, and wherever there is a Christian parish which exerts itself to teach people to be better, even in a small way, there you will find the people. The parish whose services are found to help will have no need to send out tithing men With long, sharp sticks to drive the reluctant people withiu the doors of the sanctuary. The Christian, however, will sometimes go to church, although he is not interested and the services do not attract him. Because the Christian will realize that, although he may not get much help, he can give help by his presence. We do not think enough, perhaps, of the helpfulness of being pres ent It helps the preacher and it helps the people. Every empty seat in every church is so far a discouragement, both to the preacher and to the people; and every seat that is full counts just so much on the other side. ' I am sure the congregations are very alms box, that it may represent a gift of 10 cents on the part of the giver. There was only one 3-cent piece in the offering that morning. Now, I say that the offerings which we make in the church are a real way of doing work. The money ought to repre sent concentrated work. This is one way in which the Christian may do work in the parish. The Christian, however, will also work in the parish in dustries. His question will be that which St Paul asked on his way to Damascus, in the moment of his conversion and as a test also of his conversion "Lord, what wilt tnon nave me to do iivery good man wants to do something, and every good par ish ought to provide something tor every man to do. Peonle are not to think that the parochial industries are set down in the church calendar for the purpose of filling up space, or to get people interested. All of them are designed to accomplish service for the cause of righteousness, and in everv case they depend for the amount of service which they can accomplish entirely upon the efforts of people who take part in them. So that everybodv who stays away from the parish industries weakens just so much the work that might be done for the cause of uplifting in this world. Being Good Away From Chnrch. It is plain, 'tiowever, that everybody can not work in the parochial industries. There is, accordingly, another way of work better than giving money, better than taking part in the parish organizations, which every Christian ought to do at home, and in the street and in the shop and everywhere. Evervbody who is a Christian all the week is doing parish work. The man who is a Christian in his business, the woman who is a Christian in society, the people who lead such lives tnat other people say, "u that is what it is to be a Christian, I want to be a Christian too" those people are doing the very highest and most efficient kind of parish work. The Christian, however, will bear dis tinctly in mind in all his relations to the worship and the work that he is not the only Christian in the parish, that there are a great many other people in the same par ish who have their needs and their desires and their ideas. Some people seem to im agine that the parish exists entirely for themselves; that the best svmbol of the parish is a big wagon filled with lazy or in different Christians who are being tugged along the Jordan road into the kingdom of heaven by the clergy. Whereas the proper symDoi oi tne ennren is a company ot men at a life-saving station who are there beside the dangerous reef that they may do their work in saving those who are sinking into the waves. They are not thinking about their own safetv but about the help that they can give to others. The good Christian will re member that he is not the only Christian in the parish. Tha't will stir up in him the spirit of neigbborliness and the spirit of tolerance. Sacredness of Brotherly I.ov. The Christian will be a good Christian neighbor to all people in the church. The idea used to be that the Christian ought to go in the front door of the church, looking neither to right nor left, and march straight to his pew and there attend to his devotions and go through the service, and then when the benediction was given, go straight out of the church as if he were all alone and there were no other Cnristians in the church at all. That is the fault of forgetting that far more sacred than any sanctity which God can attach to the material building of the church is the sacredness of brotherly love. That is the most sacred thing in our religion. Brotherly love ought to have its place in the whole life of the church. If it had, a story which Mr. Moody tells would bs without point of the man who said that the sermon that morning was about recognition in heaven and he wished that the preacher would preach next Sunday about recognition on earth, because he had been a member of that church for seven years and nobody had ever looked at him. The good Christian is a Christian in his place in the church; he extends all possible courtesies to the strangers who sit in his pew. He makes it a point to know those who have seats around him in the church, and to be as neighborly as possible; so that those who go into the church may feel that they are welcome there, that it is really a Christian church and not a kind of Sunday club. Calling on New Neighbors. And that same neigbborliness will ex tend outside the church into the com munity. The Christian will ctll upon peo ple in the parish who move into that neigh borhood. And it will not make any differ ence if they happen to be exceedingly poor people. If they are exceedingly poor peo ple, the call that is made will not be a call of charity. It will be the call of perfect equality. It will be a social visit I recognize the limits of congeniality of which I spoke last Sunday, and I recognize also the largo, social duties that are laid up on people in society, but I say that far more important than social duties are re ligious duties, and this is one of them. If we are going to have a brotherhood in this world, where we shall all be on an equality, where weshall all look up to the Heavenly Father, and realize that we are brothers an'd sisters, where shall it begin if it does not begin right here in the parish? TheChristian who realizes that he is not all alone in the parish will have also the spirit ot tolerance. He will recognize the fact that it is possible for other people to be altogether different from himself and yet be right That is one of the hardest lessons which we have to learn I suppose that none of us have altogether learned that lesson the lesson of the fact of difference. God has made us different, and different in our religious temperament a well as in all our other temperaments. .God has made some of us so that the direction in which it seems natural to look is up, and others so that we look in, and still other: so that we look out - Different Kinds or Churchman. To some the emphatic word in religion is worship they look up to God. In the case of others, the emphatic word is salvation thev look in at their own souls. Whibs with still others the emphatic word is work they look out for their brothers. And,accordlngly,there are high churchmen, and low churchmen, and broad churchmen, and always have been, and always will he, and always should be. There ought to be room in a parish for all kinds of religions temperaments. The Christian who sees some things in the parish which are not particularly helpful to him, will at once reflect that for that reason he may be sure that they are helpful to somebody else. He will desire to have in the parish everything that will help anybody. Finally, the Christian in the parish will be loyal to the parish. By that I mean that he will find all possible fault in everything that is blameworthy iu the parish. But he will always find that fault in the right way ana to tne ngnt people, suppose that Mr. A says to Mr. B: "Don't you think that the congregations are falling off a good deal, that the church is not getting along verv . well?" what good will that do to Mr. B? What business is it of his whether the con gregations are large or small, unless Mr. B happens to be one of those who have been staying away from church then there is some sensein it The loyal Christian in the parish if he finds that the congregations are getting small,- will try to make them larger. Complaining at Headqnirters. Then suppose that Mrs. C says to Mrs. D: "Don't you think the sermons have been very long lately and rather dull, and that the minister is not quite doing the work that he used to do?" what has "Mrs. D to do with that? What responsibility has she for the length or brevity of the ser mons? The person to go to is the preacher himself, and the loval Christian in the parish does that If he has a complaint to make, he always makes it in the presence of the right people. And the loyal Christian in the parish praises everything that It is possible to praise, aud praises it at all possible times and to all possible people, because the loyal Christian understands that even a parish grows better in the sunshine. I suppose that there are conditions when a parish needs something different from sunshine, when the only thing that is left for a parish is hailstones and coals of fire that is what the parishes of Sodom and Gomorrah needed. But the chances are that the av erage parish needs more sunshine, needs more praising of everything that can be praised, knowing that human nature is to make that praiseworthy which is praised. The loyal Christian makes the best of everything. That kind of conduct, persist ently continued in, in due course of time makes everything the best GEORGE HODQES. EVERY FAMILY Should be provided with Ayer's Pills. No other aperient is in such general de mand or so highly recommended by tha profession. Mild but thorough in oper ation, these pills are the best of all rem edies for constipation, biliousness, heart burn, indigestion, flatulency, loss of ap petite, liver complaint, and sick head ache. They break up colds, fevers, and malaria, relieve rheumatism and neu ralgia, and are indispensable to travel ers, either by r- land or sea. Sugar-coat- Jl-, cd and com pounded of II 66 OS the pnresfj vegetable LJ cathartics, they may bo taken with impunity by old and young. Physicians recommend these pills In preference to any other. H.W.Hersh.Judsonia, Ark., says: "la 1853, by the advice of a friend, I began the use of Ayer's Pills as a remedy for biliousness, constipation, high fevers, and colds. They served me better thaa anything I had previously tried, and I have used them in attacks of that sort ever since." Ayers Cathartic Pills Every Dose Effective. Scott's Emulsion of cod liver oil is an easy food it is more than food, if you please; but it is a food to bring back plumpness to those who have lost it. Do you know what it is to be plump ? Thinness is poverty, living from, hand to mouth. To be plump is to have a little more than enough, a reserve. Do you want a reserve of health? Let us send you a book on careful living; free. Scott&Bowhx. Chemists, 133 South sth Arena, New York. Your druggist keeps Scott's Emulsion of cod-live oil all druggists everywhere do. ft. 3 MED1CAI. Pleanant Tiames of Indian Women. Harper's Young People.! ' The wives of some of fhe Indian braves have names as odd and often as funny as their husband.s.lThey seem to have names of their own, too, and not to take the names of their husbands only. Some of the actual names given in a jensns of the families of the scouts at Fort Supply includes Mrs. Short Nose, who was, before her marriage, Miss Piping Woman; Mrs. Big Head, for merly Miss Short Face; Mrs. Jfibbs, for merly Miss Young Bear: Mrs. White Crow, formerly Miss Crook Pipe; Mrs. Howling Water, formerly Miss Crow Woman; also Mrs. White Skunk, Mrs. Sweet Water, Miss Walk High, daughter of Mr. White Calf, and Miss Ojage, daughter of Mr. Hard Case. DOCTOR WHITTIER M PESN AVENUE, PITTsBCRG. PA. As old residents know and hacte dies o: rittsbnrg papers prove. Is the oldest estab lished and most prominent physician in tha clty.devotlng speclalattention toall ohronls S5STS.N0 FEE UNTIL CURED sponsible MCRXnllQ an" mental dls perons I H "Hi V UUO eases, physical de cay, nervous dehiltty, lack of enerzv. ambi tion and hope, impalroa memory, disorders i slghr, self distrust, bashfulnes, dlzzfness, sleeplessness, pimples, eruptfons, Impover ished blood, tailing powers, organic weak ness, dyspensia. constipation; consumption, unfitting the person forhiisiness.societyanct marriage, permanently, safely and privately STftiBLOOO AND SKINS' eruptions. blotches.falllnT hair,bones,i)ain3, slandular swulllmrs, ulcerations of tins toncne. mouth, throat, ulcers, old sores, ar enred for life, and blood poisons thoroughly eradicated from I IDIM A DV kldnev and the system. "JnllNnn I ibladder (Is. ranements, wets uacit. ehitpi, caiarruai discharges, inflammation and other painful symptoms receive searching tresment urompr. rellerand ral cures. Dr. AVhittter's Hfo-Ionsr extensive experi ence Insurer "clontiflo and reliable treat ment on common sense principles. Consulta tion fre. Patient! at a distance as earefuUr treated as If here. Offloe hours, 9 a. v. to 1 p. x. Sunday, 10 jum. to I r. n. only. DB YinmiKR, 811 Penn avenue, Pittsburg, Pa WOOD'S PHOSP HOD1NI, The Great English lfemedy. Promptly an2 permanent. Iv cures all forms or nerv- ' ous weakness, emissions. J spermatorrhea, lmpoteucy auu an eaecis ui auuse ur 1 excesses. Keen prescribed over 35 years in thousands of cases; is the only reu sable and honest mealcln ; known. Asfc iroirisis ror enndAr - Wood's Phosfhodii:1 he offers some worthless medicine In place of this. leaTe his dishonest store, inclose price la letter, and we will send br return mall. Price, one pack age. Jl: sir. 15. One will please, six will cure Pamphlet In plain sealed envelope. 2 sumps. Ad dress THE WOOD CHEMICAL CO.. uf Wood ward avenue. Detroit. .Mich. Sola in Pittsburg by JOS. FMMIXOJt BOS. 412 Market street. delj-ol-eoawic "R A "Flowery" Meeting attheSprudel. Society in Carlsbad is up early in the morning. The Waters, as well as the Carlsbad Sprudel Salt, act best when taken very early in the morning, before breakfast. The Waters of Carlsbad, as well as the Sprudel Salt, are of great benefit in Habitual Con stipation, Chronic Catarrh of the Stomach, Dyspepsia, Liver and Kid ney troubles. You can increase the action of the water by adding a little of the Sprudel Salt to it. Obtain the genuine, which must have the signa ture of ''Eisner & Mendelson Co., Agents, New York," on every bottle. su TAPANES IW CUKE A cure for Plies. External. Internal. Blind. Bleed lnjr and Itchlnr;. Chronic. Kecent or Hereditary. ThlsremeJr has posltlrely never been known ts fall. If a box. 6 for $.5. by mall. A piarantee glre a with six boxes, when purchased at one time, to re fund the to If not cured. Issued hv KMIL O. bTOCKY, Drurelst, Wholesale and Ketail Agent, Kos. 1401 and 1701 Penn ave.. corner Wylie are. and Fclton St.. Plttsbnr?. Pa. Use Stueky't Dlarrhcea X Cramp Cure. S and 50 cts. Jal-82-eod I hare & positive remedy for tne above disease ; by its use thousands of cases of tha worst kind and of long standing have been cured. Indeed so strong Is mj f aitb In its efficacy, that I will send two bottles frxf, with VALUABLE TREATISE on this disease to any sot terer who will sand me their Bxpress and P.O. address, I. A tolocmn, 31. C, 183 Pearl St., N. Y ap30 VIGOR OF MEN Easily. Qnlcklj, Permanently IUBTOREa WEAKNESS, NERVOUSNESS, DEBIUTT, and all the train of evlis, the resnlta of over work:, sickness, 'worry, etc. Full stranBth. development, and tone guaranteed, in all cases. Simple, natnral methods. ImmedW ate improvement aeon. Failure impossible. 2 000 references. Book-, explanations and proofs mailed (sealed) free. Address EE1E MEDICAL CO., DVFFALO, Jf. T. J aim FREE TO W3EN. We have a positive enre for the effects of self, abuse. Early Excesses, Emissions. Nervous De bility. Loss of Semal Powr. Impotencjr. Ac. So great Is our faith In o-ir speciae ire will send one lull month's medicine and much valuable Infor mation FJSEE. A'lilrMS O. 31. Co 83o Broadway, Ntw TTorsi. my8-30Stt buffering: lrom Lott ' Nervous De- Power. MIltT.lxutManllao-'. F.,,.- Wn-iHiisend vouavslnable book (sealed) of charpte, contalnlntr full particulars fora speedy permanent cure. Address: SA? iot Ollvi" street. St. Louis. Mo. dress: SA. MATto JlED.CO., and n. SAXDEA'S WEAK MEN, sMsssTBsssssssssssssssslasssssliasssssI tllsaii w &. MM XODK ATTENTIoa IS CALLED TO TBK HWIWI.m OBiAT EKGLISB BEMKDX bray's bpecific Medicine vol"rV)t'h'n"lv!"lValcnefcS of BAdV mo. Ami Tim and Mind. Snermatorrhea. and Impotency, and all diseases that arise from over Indulgence and self-ahuse. as Loss of Memory and Power, Dimness of Vision. Premature Old Age, and many other diseases that lead to Insanity or Consumption and an early gTave. writ for oof pamphlet. Address GRAY MEDICINE CO., Buffalo. S. T. The SpeclBc Medicine Is sold hy all druggists at ft per package, or sit packagrs forts, orsentbymall aaffi'WEGUABAN order a cure ormoner refutirifn. J3"On account of counterfeits we hate adopted the Yellow Wrapper, the only genuine. Sold la Pittsburg by S. S. jiOLI.AND, cur. bmlthdeld aud Liberty sis. 3-ai-nwreoI ELECTRIC BELT With Electro-Magnetic Suspensory Latest Patents ! Best Improvements! Will euro without medicine all Weakness resulting from over-taxation of brain, nerve rorces. ev. cesses or Indiscretion, as exhaustion, nervous de bility, sleeplessness. languor, rheumatism, kid ney, liver and bbdder complaints, lame bade lum bago, sciatica, general ill-health, etc. This Elec tric Uelt contains wonderful improvements over all others, and gives a eurrent that Is Instantly relt by wearer or we forfeit 000. and will cure alio he above diseases or no pay. Thousands hT been cured by tills marvelous Invention after all other remedies failed, and we give hundreds of Our ELECTRIC SU3- WEfflK-.-"r3: S; I mFkYw1,'hT!L,e'WT5r, " HIVvllrIcI.,.tc.,Ih.J..'fT:,ll,.r,.lJf,,.h: , SfAlreSFth o'tVaSFW?;.. i"1"? "" Ti aboT complain u, and by lu qh tbootudt f nut ef tbt wont kind and of loo j f Undtaf hart been rettored to health and "Haa!i4. Ia dtcd, o tron; ! my faith In IU nrathre power that I will tend aa Aill slxedptekafe lYe f chrr, to any afflicted nflrrer. t uk- f. a. i:i.Ai.Flr..tii.n,raH. Addriut testimonial In this nnd ererT other 4tite roweijiil IMPROVED ELECTR weat ..- ....... nif ii.. "r -aMasi Miu '; ? .v. . ju A i-Art iiMMJ in 60 to 90 davs. Sena mailed, sealed, fret. for Illustrated pamphlet. Address, BANDEX ELECTRIC CO oi!32.TTSla Au. b!9 Broadwar.eir Vorx J; .. .:,,,.., .1fJi .to. -...,, I .' ' ,i f ,-& . "'
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers