g soffits Si wo
y1
F. BOHWEIER,
THE CONSTITUTION THE UNION AND THE ENFORCEMENT OF THE LAWS.
VOL. XLIi
MIFFLINTOWIN. JUNIATA COUNTY. PENNA.. WEDNESDAY. OCTOBER 23, 1895.
NO. 45.
vt2
rill -'- ii m rm
' I
CHAPTER L
"Jenny !"
"Yes, Sergeant Lynn."
His fine figure drawn to its full height,
s rigidly as though the eyes of the ad
(utant were upon him, yet apparently
training every nerve to appear unembar
rassed and at his ease. Sergeant Lynn
was a man with whom any woman might
be satisfied as a sweetheart. His fea
tures were good, if not refined, and tlia
weakness of his mouth was hidden by a
mustache as niagniticeut as that of anj
cavalry colonel in the service.
It was only pretty June Knox, the ser
geant major'B daughter, who seemed s
impervious to his attractions ami uiadii
him appear as witless and uncouth as tha
latest trooper who had joined th awk
ward squad. Hitherto, success had been
lo easy to the dashing sergeant. It couM
only be said of his over-eagerness to
please that this time he bade fair to fail.
Bhe did not even dislike him, he told him
lelf with angry surprise; it was merely in
difference that she felt indifference as
gravating as it was complete.
"Jane, don't be so provoking. You
know I mean "
"That it would be best for me to marrj
a sergeant. Well, I dnre say it would"
thoughtfully "if if 1 could only make
up my mind."
"Try only try, Jane. Love alwny
comes after marriage." he argued, eagerly-
"T.'hy don t you prove it by your owd
example?" she answered, negligently.
"Marry gome one you detest, nnd if "
"You you don't detest me;" blankly.
"Oh, no; but I don't love yon, and
there's no middle course in marriage, 1
think."
He was silenced for the time, nnd con
tented himself with watching her as sin ,
flitted about the room, arranging the bits
of holly, with here nnd there a twig ol
the white berries intermingled.
Mrs. Knox, Miss .lane's r.:ot!nr, hnC
been the daughter of n veterinnry stir
geon. and being left almost penniless nl
her father's death, had become a tenchei
In the viliag? school. It had been a quiet
little-frequented spot, and until the ag
of twenty-nine she had not even the sua
picion of a love nffair to brighten the mo
notony of her existence. Then the cler
gyninn of their village came into n smal1
fortune, suliicient to allow him to retin
from liia labors and put a curate in hii
place.
The man chosen was a bachelor, bu
that might well have been considered th
only point in his favor. He was plain
elderly, anil hulf-starved. as indeed hf
might well be, considering the miserablt
stipend he received. Hut to Jane's mother
his chnnn was that he was a gentleman.
His manners had seemed to her the per
feet ion of courtly breeding, nnd had hf
asked her she would have gladly becomr
his wife, in spite of all the petty trouble!
which were attendant on genteel poverty
But, either because his own heart wai
not sufficiently interested, or that, froir
mistaken unselfishness, he hesitated to le
her share his lot. he never did; and aftet
three years of alternate hopes and fean
on her side, another lover appeared upoi
the scene, and by his brisk wooing sue
ceeded in winning her for his wife.
"A terrible match for her," people snif
she, the educated woman, to bind her
self to the rough if dashing hussar, whf
could offer her only the barest necessaries
and at whose side she might have to en
counter endless hardships; but equalizer
urely by the fact that she was faded nnf
worn, and that he was a man in the prim
of life, loving her passionately, obliviou
of her vanished youth and indifference t
him.
"Hold it a little higher, Jenny darling,
whispered the Sergeant, audaciously
ind coming close behind her, he attemptec
to encircle her waist.
Cut she wrenched herself away, and
confronted him crimson with wrath anc
thame.
"How dare you! How dare you!" shi
exclaimed, and In her anger she could saj
no more.
But the momentary madness over, Ser
gearit Lynn looked as penitent and abash
ed as she could have wished, or any num
ber of reproaches could have made him.
Falling back to his old position of "at
tention," he could only murmur shame
facedly:
"I'm very sorry, Jenny, upon my soul
I ami"
"You of all people yon who pretend tr
like me to insult me so!"
"It was Just because of the liking," an
wcred the Sergeant, with a twinkle Ir
his eye, which fortunately Jane did not
detect. "Besides," he added, hastily, "I
didn't kiss you."
"I should think not, indeed!" tossinf
her dainty head.
"And I'll never do It again until yo
give me leave."
"And that will be never."
The Sergeant, noting ruefully her com
pressed lips and flashing eyes, decidee
that she was sincere in her intention, an?
that he had lost rather than gained bj
the boldness of his wooing. He looked Sf
woe-begone that the situation beeami
ridiculous in Jane's eyes, and she hastene
tobringhack the subject to a more matter
of-fact footing.
"You never told mo where yon got 1
all," she observed, nodding vaguely a'
the evergreens that were the innoccn
cause of her admirer's first offense.
"But you never asked me," was hh
prompt reply, only too eager to snatcl
at the proffered olive branch.- "It wai
quite by chance as it happened. I wai
op at the Colonel's with some letters tvhei
a big hamper arrived from Simla, .
think, he said and I helped to open it ai
If I would like a bit I thought of yoi
directly for iie gave me as much as
could carry, nnd told me to give It to my
sweetheart and so I brought it to you.''
"Indeed." remnrked Jane, frigidly.
"I brought it in a basket for fear any
ne shonid ask me for a bit, and I wanted
it all for you. I don't suppose there's
another in Alipore, besides the Colonel
and yourself, that has a piece of real mi
Jetoe or holly."
"Did yon say it was for me 7"
"I mentioned no names, but I expect he
fnessed. I don't think there's much mis
take about my feelings anj way'
,
Jane retrained frowningly silent.
While she was still silent, the outci
door was thrown violently open, and Mrs.
Knox came in hurriec1'- and sunk upor
chair.
"Have you heard the news?" she asked,
turning a white, eicited face first to out
nd then to the other.
"We have heard nothing," replied the
Sergeant.
"What is it, mother?" asked Jane.
"The quartermaster he is "
"Not ill, is he? I saw him out thil
norning," said the Sergeant.
"Not married? There has hardly beer
.inio for that," smiled Jane.
"He is dead," was the solemn answer,
nnd when the first shock of their surprise
vns over, Mrs. Knox began to tell hei
rtory.
It had been so sudden, so terribly sud
den. He had been at "orderly hour" that
morning. Then he had returned home to
breukfnst. and afterward had gone into
& small room be used as an office, and
where he never permitted himself to be
disturbed except on urgent business. It
was the Colonel himself who, wishing to
speak to him, had sent in a salam. The
terrified bearer came back with the news
that his master was dying or dead. And
dead he had proved to be. While sitting
quietly writing in his chair a sndden at
tack of heart disease had seized him, and
life had been extinct for several hour
when at last they found him.
"Don't you see what this means for your
father?" Mrs. Knox said, eagerly, when
her auditors had both expressed their
sympathy and surprise. "He will be
quartermaster in his stead. The Colonel
said as much just now, when he asked him
to take over the work until permanent ar
rangements could be made. He will be a
commissioned officer at last, and we shall
mix with gentlefolk; and yon, Jane
Jon't yon see what a good thing it will be
for you?"
"Miss Jane will marry a gentleman
now. She must forget all that I have
said," remarked the Sergeant, sadly, look
ing so handsome and noble as he re
nounced all his hopes that Jane's henrt
warmed toward him, and she stretched
out her hands impulsively.
But Mrs. Knox rose hastily from hei
sent, nnd answered for her daughter.
"Of course she will forget. She is en-
tering into a new life, and will make new
friends. You see yourself how impossible
it is that there could be anything between
you now!"
"Why not?" asked Jane, sharply.
"Neither of us has altered; it is only the
circumstances that have changed."
"You mean " began the young fel
low eagerly.
"I mean that I should be ashamed to let
this make any difference; and and I
will marry you if you like. Sergeant
rynn."
But when the Sergeant, radiant with
delight, came forward quickly to take
her in his arms, the mother threw herself
jetween the two lovers.
"She is mad; she does not know what
she is paying. If you have a spark of
manly feeling, Jacob, you will go away at
once. Jane, I forbid you to say another
word."
Talking still for fear of either of them
disobeying, she pushed him from the
room, so that he could only turn his head
and gaze regretfully at his sweetheart,
whom he hnd so unexpectedly won. She
was standing with both hands clasped
tightly on her breast, her face white and
frightened, as she realized to what she
hnd pledged herself. But her eyes met
his bravely, and spoke eloquently of her
'ntended fidelity and truth.
CHAPTER IL
The new year brought many changes to
Jane Knox. Her father's appointment
to the quartermastership had been rati
fied from headquarters, and they had im
mediately taken a bungalow in the offi
cers' lines.
Jane was pretty enough, however, to
prosper without any adventitious aid.
Though very small, even delicately form
ed, she was neither thin nor insignificant
In appearance. Her figure was slim yet
svelte, graceful without effort, and a
pliant as a reed; bnt In her face wai her
chief charm the bright, glowing beauty
that spoke of such perfect health, with
out degenerating into anything approach
ing coarseness. The sun-touched nut
brown hair fell into the softest curls on
her low brow; the darker eyelashes shad
ed two lovely hazel eyes and deepened
their dreamy, laughing light.
"If only she would fall in lover thought
the anxions mother, "she would see
things in a more reasonable light then;
and once she begnn to compare gentle
man with him, it would be ail op witr
Jacob Lynn."
They had been nearly a month In their
house when some regimental sports were
announced to take place, and Mrs. Knox
determined to take her daughter to set
them.
The first step must be made, aruj ,AH
pore society had had time enough trf de
cide whether they were to be admitted
within its sacred precincts or not. She
would at least show that she considered
herself worthy of the honor. But, boldly
as she had looked the question in the face,
her courage failed her when they had
been on the ground some minutes, and
not one bed come forward to welconv
'.hem on their first appearance.
Formerly they had always remained at
the further side of the band-stand, with
;he other Sergeants' wives, among the sol
diers and tradespeople of the station, bnt
now Mrs. Knox placed herself only t
little way apart from where the staff and
officers of the regiment were seated. Jan
was crimson with mortification, and
would have given much to find herself
safe back in her own home, away from
those slighting sidelong glances of the
women present, and the bolder, admirinj
gaze of men.
She had turned her back on both, and
strove to appear deeply interested in the
polo-pony race that was going on, when
presently a gentle, drawling voice sound
ed in her ear.
"How do you do. Miss Knox? nave
you decided which is to be the winner?"
, It was Colonel Prinsep, the colonel of
her father's regiment, the th Hussars.
"I was not thinking about tha race,
she confessed, blushing.
He did not press the subject bnt stood
beside her, making a remark now and
then, and listening courteously to the tim
idly hazarded replica. Bat when lira.
Kao Joined nervously In Jfc wng-
tion, he found hi Interest flag, and after
a few desultory remarks moved away to
ward a group of three people, anion;
whom was a young lady, who were stand
ing several yards away.
Her eyts were fixed upon the ponies
that were being walked np and down pre
psratory to a rr.ee, but she saw as little
of what she looked at as Jane Knox bad
seen me twenty minutes before. Per
haps it was because all ber thoughts
were with the "what might have been"
that she could not see what actually was.
The most casual observer might have
guessed she was a woman with a story
a story in which both her companions ha
played a part.
Nora Dene was not yet twenty-two, but
ooked older on account of the gravity of
her expression, which seldom relaxed Into
a smile. Her mouth had a little pathetic
droop which seemed to compel pity in
spite of the pride which would not stoop
to ask it. Her eyes were sad with the
sadness of those which seldom or never
weep, and are the "saddest eyes of all."
Her face lightened when Colonel Prin
sep joined them, and she made a move
ment toward him, which he forstalled by
quickening his pace. They were as good
friends as it was possible for man and
woman to be without protestations and
with no thought of anything beyond.
"Yon are looking tired," he began.
"Won't yon come over to the seats?"
"Thank you; I think we have a better
view from here, and I am interested in
this race," she answered, only now be
ginning to see the ponies as they can
tered up and down.
As she spoke one of the men her hus
band came and placed a chair beside ber
which he bad brought over from thr
tents.
"Why did you not say you were tired.
Nora?" he reproached her gently.
"Because 1 did not feel so at least,
not with standing. There is always a
certain amount of fatigue in watching
things like this. Don't you think so?'
turning to the Colonel.
"I dare say at least of course there
is. Regimental sports are always an in
fliction. They are one of the sacrifices
we feel obliged to make for the men, and
for which we get no thanks." Then, as
ber husband fell back and resumed con
rersation with his companion, he added,
in a lower voice, "Mrs. Dene, I want tf
Interest yon in some one if I can."
"Am I so difficult to interest in any
thing, that you take such an humble
tone?" she asked, looking np at him in
tome amusement from the low seat of
which, in spite of her denial of fatigue
she hnd availed herself.
"I am distrusting myself rather than
you 1 don't know whether I ought to
ask it, in fact. She seems very quiet and
refined, but I should never forgive my
elf if any unpleasantness came to you
through granting my request."
"Are you speaking of the new quarter
master's daughter?"
"The very person but you must be
witch to have found it out."
"Not a very wonderfully discovery, con
sidering you have been talking to her ex
clusively for the Inst half hour."
"Ten minutes, 1 assure you" smiling
good-humoredly.
"I dare say it seemed no longer," dry
ly. "She is a very pretty girl."
"Is she? I scarcely noticed. I was
lorry to see her and her mother standing
all alone, and joined them out of purest
pity."
"And you want me to emulate the no
bility of your conduct?"
"I should like you to be good to them
If you can. Theirs is such an awkward
position. You see they cannot associate
with their old friends, and gain no new
ones in place of thoso they lose."
"Of course I will be amiable If yon
wish; but, honestly, don't you think it a
mistake don't you think they will only
be uncomfortable out of their proper
sphere?"
"It la only the "first step that will 'cost
them anything. Women adapt themselves
so readily to altered circumstances; and
Mrs. Knox is considerably above her pre
ent position, I have heard."
She shrugged her shoulders, but did
not attempt a verbal contradiction.
"You are not thinking of going home
Just yet, are you, Gerald?" she asked
turning to her husband.
"Not unless yon wish it I am at your
ervice."
(To be continued.)
There are soft moments even to des
deradoes. Charity should not be an impulse,
but a principle.
It would be imossible to know some
people senseless.
Tublic sentiment in a buzz saw for
rascality.
Doing religion and bowling religion
are mighty far apart.
For every fault we see in others we
have two of our own which we over
look. You always make more enemies
than money talking politics on the
street corners.
Barking dogs sometimes bite the
dust.
Talk moves fast when the burden of
thought is light.
Cunning leads to knavery. It is but
a step from one to the other, and that
very slippery.
According to a Saxon paper, experi
ments made in Germany have ehown
that sawdust, rendered soluble by
soaking in salt water and supplement
ed by other feed, constitutes a nour
ishing diet for horses and cattle.
Men hate to make an apology, but
the women seem to enjoy it.
We all complain of the shortness of
life, but most folks outline their useful
ness. It is claimed that the oils and fats
may not only be bleached but sweet
ened and purified generally by treating
them with an electric current.
A true friend is not the one who
says, "I told you so," every time you
make a mistake.
Good husbands are seldom troubled
with bad mothers-in-law.
It is much easier to love some people
than it is to agree with them.
A Iazp man loses heart every time he
looks at the clock.
According to the eleventh census
there are 2,000,000 of Irish among our
people.
In Paris the other day a barber
shaved a man in a cage with a lion to
win a wager.
The world owes no man a living who
is not willing to work for it.
Friendship is the shadow of the
evening, which strengthens with the
setting sun of life.
BE ML Tl
QUE
rbe Brooklyn Divine's Sunday
Sermon.
Subject: "An Angelic Rescue."
Text: "Behold the Are and the wood
6ut where is the lamb?" Genesis xxii., 7.
Hre are Abraham and Isaac, the one s
kind, old. gracious, affectionate father, the
other a brave, obedient, religious son. From
his bronzed appearanee you can tell that
this son has been much in the fields, and
from his shnggy dress you know that ha
has been watehing the herds. The mount
ain air has painted his eheek rubicund. He
Is twenty or twenty-live or, as some snp
Jiose, thirty-three years of age, neverthe
less a boy, considering the length of life to
which people lived in those times and the
fact that a son nevur is anything but a boy
to a father. I remember that my father
used to come into the house when the chil
dren were home on some festal occasion
and soy. "Where ore the boys?" although
"the boys" were twenty-flve and thirty ami
thirty-five years of age. So this Innt.o is
only a boy to Abraham, anil this father's
heart Is in him. It Is Isaac here and Isaao
there. If there is any festivity around the
father's tent, Isnnn must enjoy it. It is
Isaac's walk, and Isaan's npparel. and
manners, and Isaac's prospects, and Isaac's
prosperity. The father's heartstrings are
all wrapped around tnnt Doy ana wrapped
again, until nine-tenths of the old man's
life is in Isaac I can just imagine how
lovingly and proudly he looked at his only
on.
Well, the dear old man had borne a great
deal of trouble, nnd it had left Its mark
upon him. In Hieroglyphics of wrinkle the
story was written from forehead to chin.
But now his trouble s 'ems nil gone, nnd we
are glad tha: he is very soon to rest forever.
If the ol-l man slinll get decrepit, Isan' is
strong enough to wait on him. If the. father
get dim of eyeiglit, I-auo will lead him by
the ImiHl. If the father become destitute
Isaac will earn him brend. How glad we
ere thnt the ship that has leen In such a
stormy sen is coming at lost into the hnr!or.
Are yon not rejoiced that glorious old Abrn
ham is through with his troubles? No.no!
A thunderbolt! From that clear eastern
sky there drops into that father's t:nt a
voice with an announcement enoti',-h to turn
black hair whiteand to stun the patriarch into
Instant annihilation. God s.tid, "Abraham!"
The old man answered, "Here I am." God
said to him: "Take thy son, thy only son
Isanc, whom thou lovest, and get thee into
the laud of Moriah and offer him there as a
burnt offering." In other words, slay htm;
cut his body into fragments; put the frag
ments on wood: set tire to the wood and let
Isaac's body be consumed to ashes.
Cannibalism! Murder!" says some one.
"Xot so," said Abraham. I hear him solilo
quize: "Here is the boy on whom I have de
pended! Oh, how I loved him! Hi was
given in answer to prayer, and now mnst I
surrender him? O L?nae, my son! Isaac, how
shnll I part with yon? But then it is always
safer to do as ( rod asks me to. I have been
In dark places before, ami God got me out.
I will implicitly do as God has told me,
although it is very dark. I can't see my
wav, but I know Ood makes no mistakes,
anil to Him I commit myself and my darling
son."
E irly in the morning there is a stir around
Abrahnm's tent. A beast of burden is fed
and saddled. Abraham makes no disclosure
of the awful secret. At the break of day he
says: '-Come, come. Isnao, get up! We are
going ofT on a two or three davs' journey."
I hear the ax hewing nnd splitting amid the
wood until the sticks are made the right
length and the right thickness, and then
they are faslened on the beast of burden.
Thev pass on. There are four of them
Abraham, the fntber; Isaac, the son, nnd
two servants. Going along the road I see
Isnne looking up into bis father's face and
saying: "Father, what is the matter? Are
you not well? Has antliing happened? Are
you tired? Lean on my arm." Then, turn
ing around to the servants, the son says,
"Ah, father is getting old. and he has hod
trouble enough in other days to kill him!"
'1 he third morning has come, and it is the
day of the tragedy. The two servants an
loft with the beast of burden, while Abra
ham and his son Isaac, as was the custom ol
good people in those times, went up on th
hill to sacrifice to the Lord. The wood ll
taken off the beast's back and put on Isaac 'l
back. Abraham has in one hand a pan ol
coals or a lamp nnd in the other a sharp,
keen knife. Here are all the appliances fol
sacrifice, von say. No, there is one thing
wanting. There is no victim no pigeon ot
neifer cr Iamb. Isaac, not knowing that ha
is to be the victim, looks up into his fnther'a
face nnd asks a question which must have cut
the old man to the bone, "My father!" Tha
father said, "My son, Isaac, here I am." The
son said, "Behold the fire and the wood, but
where is the lamb?" The father's lip quiv
ered, nnd his heart fainted, and his knees
knocked together, nnd his entire body, mind
and soul shiver in sickening anguish as be
struggles to gain equipoise, for he does not
Want to break down. And then he looks
Into his son's face with a thousand rushinq
tendernesses nnd says, "My son, God wii
iwovicle Himself a lamb."
The twain are now at the foot of thehill
Hie place which is to be famous for a mosl
transcendent ooourrence. They gather som
tones ont of the field and build an altar of
three or four feet high. Then they take thil
wood off Isaac's back and sprinkle it ovei
the stones, so as to help and invite the flame,
fhe altar Is done It is all done. Isaao hoi
b elped to build It. With his father be haa
discussed whether the top ot the table ii
even and whether the wood Is properly pre
pared. Then there is a pause. The son
looks around to see if there is not some liv
ing animal that oan be caught and butchered
for the offering. Abraham tries to choke
down his fatherly feelings and suppress hil
grief in order that he may break to his son
the terrific news that he is to be the victim.
Ah, Isaac never looked more beautiful
than on that day to his father. As the old
man ran his emaciated fingers throagh his
eon's hnir he said to himself: "How shall I
give hira up? What will his mother say
when I come back without my boy? I
thought be would have been the comfort ol
my declining days. 1 thought he would
have been the hope of ages to come. Beau
tiful and loving, and yet to die under my
own hand. O God, is there not some other
sacrifice that will do? Take my life and
spare his! Pour out my blood and save
Isaac for his mother and the world!" But
this was an inward struggle. The father
controls his feelings and looks into his son's
fnee nnd says, "Isaac, must I tell you all?"
His son saldt "Yes, father; I thought yoa
had something on your mind. Tell it." The
father said. "My son, Isaac, thou art the
lamb!" "Oh," you say, "why didn't that
young man, if he was twenty or thirty yean
of ago, smite into the dust his Infirm father?
He could bnve done it." Ah, Isaac knew by
this time that the scene was typical of a
Messiah who was to come, and so be made
no straggle. They fell on each other's neck
and walled out the parting. Awful anc
matchless scene of the wilderness! Th
rocks echo back the breaking of their hearts.
The cry, "My son, my soul" The answer.
"My father, my father!"
Do not compare this, as some people have,
to Agamemnon willing to oiler np hil
daughter, Iphigenla, to please the gods.
There is nothing comparable to this wonder
ful obedience to the true God. You know
that victims for sacrifice were always bonnd,
so that they might not struggle away. Raw
lings, the martyr, when he was dying for
Christ's sake, said to the blacksmith who
held the manacles, "Fasten those chains
tight now, for my flesh may struggle might,
ily." So Isaac's arms were fastened, his
feet are tied. The old man, rallying all hie
strength, litis him on to a pile of wood.
Fastening a thong on one side of the altar,
he makes it span the body of Isaac, and fas
tens the thong at the other side of the altar,
and another thong, and another thong.
There la the lamp flickering in the wind
ready to be pnt under the brushwood of the
sltar. There Is the knife, sharp and keen,
abrohom straggling with his mortal feel
kigs on the one side and the commands ot
Pod on the other takes that knife, rnbs
the flat of It on the palm of his hand, cries
to God for help, eomes np to the side of
Die altar, puts a parting kiss on the brow of
Um Jx7, taketa. jnesaage Iran him fas
not her and home, and then lifting the glit
tering weapon for the plunge of the deatn
rtroke his muscles knitting for the work
die hand begins to descend. It falls! Not
n the heart of Isaac, but on the arm ol
od, who arrests the stroke, making the
irilderness quake with the cry, "Abraham,
abrnham. lay not thy hand upon the lad,
nor do him any harm!"
What is this sound back In the woods? It
a crackling as of tree branches, a bleating
irnl a struggle. Go, Abraham, and see what
Is. Oh, it was a ram that, going through
the woods, has its crooked horns fastened
md entangled in the brushwood and eonld
lot get loose, and Abraham seizes It gladly
md quickly unloosens Isaac from the altar,
ruts the ram on his place, sets the lamp na
ler the brushwood of the altar, and as the
lense smoke of the sacrifice begins to rise
the blood rolls down the sides of the altar
ind -"rons hissing into the fire, nnd I heal
the words, "Behold the Lamb of God who
akes away the sins ot the world!"
Well, what are yon going to get ont oi
Ais? There is an aged minister of the gos
pel. He says: "I should -Ret out of It that
Vhen God tells yoa to do a thing, whether ii
eomi reasonable to you or not, go ahead
Bid do it. Here Abraham couldn't havs
wen mistaken. God didn't speak so indistinct
y that it was not certain whether he called
ja rah or Abimeleeh or somebody else, bul
vtth divine articulation, divine intonation,
llvine emphasis, he said, 'Abraham!' Abra-lato-
rushed blindly ahead to do his duty,
mowing that thinas would come out right,
likewise do so yourselves. There is a mys
ery of your life. There is some burden yon
tave to carry. You don't know why God
ins pnt it on you. There is some perseeu
Ion, some trial, and you don't know whj
lod allows it. There is a work for you te
lo, and you have not enough grace, yo
hink, to do it. Do as Abraham did. Ad
ranee and do your whole duty. Be willing
jo give np Isaac, and perhaps you will noi
vo to give, np anything. 'Jehovnh-jlreh
-the Lord will provide." A capital lesso
tis old minister gives us.
Out yonder in this house 19 an agea
roman, the light of heaven in her face. She
s half way through the door. She has hei
land on the pearl of the gate. Mother, what
irould you get out of this subject? "Oh,"
ihe says. "I would learn that it is in the last
lnch that God comes to the relief. You see.
Ihe altar was ready, and Isaac was fastened
in it, and the knife was lifted, and just at
:he last moment God broke in and stopped
jrooeecllngs. bo it has been in my life oi
evnnty years. Why, sir, there was a tim
ivhen the flour was all out of the bouse, and
set the table at noon and had nothing tc
ut on it, but five minutes of 1 o'clock a ion!
)f bread came. The Lord will provide. Mj
ton was very sick, and I said: 'Dear Lord,
ton don't mean to take him away from
no. do you? Please, Lord, don't take
iim awav. Why, there are neighbor!
ivho have three and four sons. This is my
jnly son. This is my Isaac. Lord, you
won't take him away from me, will You?1
But I saw he was getting worse and worse
ill the time, and I turned round and prayed,
until after awhile I felt submissive, and 1
sould say. 'Thy will, 0 Lord, be done! The
doctors gave Lira up, and we all gave hint
np. And, as was the custom in those times,
ire had made the grave clothes, and we were
Whispering about the last exercises, when
looked and I saw some perspiration on hil
brow, showing that the fevor had broten,
ind he spoke to us so naturally that I knew
be was going to get well. He did get well,
ind my son Isaac, whom I thought was go
Ing to be sliin and consumed of disease, wai
loosened from that altar. And, bless youi
ion Is, that's been so for seventy years, and
If my voice were not so weak, and if 1 could
see better, I could preach to you younger
roole a sermon, for though I can't see much
can see this whenever you get into
tough place and your heart is breaking, 11
you will look a little farther into the woods,
you will see, caught in the brnnohns, a sub
stitute and a deliverance. My son. God wilt
provide Himself a'lamb.' "
Thnnk you. mother, for that short sermon.
I oould preoon back to yoa for a minute ol
two and say, never do you fear! I wish I had
half as good a hope of heaven as you have.
Do not fear, mother. Whatever hapiens, n
Barm will ever happen to you. I was goinc
Bp a long flight of stairs and I saw an aged
woman, very decrepit and with a cane,
ttee; '- ; on up. She made but very litti
fro; - , and I felt very exuberant, and 1
ie) iier, "Why, mother, that is no way tc
go upstairs," and I threw my arms around
her and I carried her up and put her down
on the landing at the top of the stairs. Shi
aid: "Thank you, thank you. I am verj
thankful." O mother, when you get through
this life's work and you want to go upstair!
hnd rest in the good place that God has pro
vided for you, yon will not have to climb up,
fou will not have to crawl up painfully. Thi
wo Rrms that were stretched on the orosi
Will be flung around yon, and you will bi
hoisted with a glorious lift beyond all weari
ness and all struggle. May the God of Abra
ham and Isaac be with yoa until yon see tin
Lamb on the hilltops.
Now, that aged minister has made a sug
gestion, and this aged woman has made
(uggestion. I will make a suggestion: Lsaae
going np the hill makes me think of the
great sacrifice. Isaac, the only son of Abra
ham. Jesus, the only son of God. On those
two "onlys" I build a tearful emphasis. 0
Isaac! O Jesus! But this last sacrifice wai
a morn tremendous one. When the knife
was lifted over Calvary there was no voice
that cried "Stop!" and no hand arrested it.
Hhirp, keen and tremendous it cut down
through nerve and artery until the blood
sprayed the faces of the executioners, and
the midday sun dropped a veil of cloud over
Its face because it could not endure tha
spectacle. O Isaao of Mount Moriah! 0
Jesus of Mount Calvary! Better could Ood
have thrown away into annihilation a thou
sand worlds than to have sacrifled His only
Son. It was not one of the ten sons; it was
His only Son. If He had not given up Him,
Jrou and I would have perished. "God so
oved the world that He gave His only " 1
(top there, not because I have forgotten the
quotation, bnt because I want to think,
"God so loved the world that He gave Hil
only begotton Son that whosoever believetb
In Him should not perish, but have everlast
ing life." Great God, break my heart at the
thought of that sacrifice. Isaac the only,
typical of Jesus the only.
I have been told that the cathedral of St.
if ark stands in a quarter in the center of the
sity of Venice, and that when the clock
itrikesl'j at noon all the birds from the city
ind the regions round about the city fly to
the square and settle down. It came in this
wise: A large hearted woman, passing one
noonday across the square, saw some birds
ihivering in the cold, and she scattered some
srumbsof bread among them. Thenextday,
it the same hour, she scattered more orumba
of bread amongthem, nnd so on from year
to vear until the day ot ber death. In hei
will she bequeathed a certain amount ol
money to keep np the same practice, and
now, at the first stroke of the bell at noon
Ihe birds begin to eoine there, nnd when the
eloefc has struck 13 the square is covered
with them. How beautifully suggestive!
Christ eomes out to feed thy soul to-day.
The more hungry yoa feel yourselvesto be
the better It is. It is noon, and the gospel
slock strikes 12. Come in flocks! Come
is doves to the window! All the air Is filled
Kith the liquid chine: Come! Com
Come!
Richest Man In the World.
Barnato, the originator of the Kafflrboorn,
IS now estimated to be worth S0 ',000.000,
Dearly all ot which has been made in South
African mining stocks during the past two
years. The nominal capital of his bonk wot
ariginolly 912,000,000 in 5 shares. They
opened at from 815 to 820 premium, and
the capital of the bank is now valued at
ibout t45,000,000. Barnato was formerly a
eircus employe.
The worry of the day is a bad bed
fellow. Rest is an expensive luxury to most
people.
Self-made men are not always the
best made.
Eternity is the infinite expansion of
time.
1'he world cannot frown away a soul
smile.
Death is the open hand to large op
portunities. Ambition is the murderer of man
kind's peace.
THE SOUTH'SaWEET SINGER,
Frets I Btaatom Oaorarla'a Poet and
Hnmortat
No newspaper writer ever achieved
greater popularity than has fallen to
the lot of Frank L. Stanton within the
past year. His sweet poems, whose
bumor and cheerfulness are as fatal to
melancholy as the sun's rays are tc
larkness, are found everywhere in the
magazines, the great metropolitan pa
pers and the more humble country
sheets. An optimist himself, his writ
ings reflect the bright view he takes ot
Ufe. A Georgia Philosopher, one of the
FRANK I.. STAXTOX, OF GEORGIA.
best things he has written, very plainly
hows the style and character of hit
oems:
tt'he cold has killed the corn off an' blight
ed all the wheat;
The Ice is on the peach-blooms an' th
apple-bloseoms sweet.
An' the country is In monrnln' from thi
mountains to the sea.
but the good Lord runs the weather an
it ain't a-botherin' me I
the bees was out fer honey an' a-workin'
fer their lives,
I3ut the blizzard stopped their buzzin'
an' they're froze up in their hives
An' there won't be any sweet'nin' fer t lie
coffee or the tea.
But the good Lord runs the weather, an'
it ain't a-botherin' mel
The mockin' birds was singin' Jes' th
sweetest kind o' notes,
(But now they're sittin' silent with a flan
nel roun' their throats;
An' there won't be any music till thi
summertime to bo,
But the good Iord runs the weather, nn'
It ain't a-botherin' me!
tt don't make any difference whnt these
cbangin' seasons bring:
tf it's cold, the fire's a-blazin' an' I heat
the chimney sing;
If It's hot, the trees Is Bhady, with the
breeze a-blowin' free.
Fer the good Lord runs the weather, nn'
it ain't a-botherin' me!
Stanton's father was a Journeyman
printer and was something of a poetic
fenlus. He died when he was young
nd Frank was obliged to go to work
when a mere boy. "I had a pretty
rough time," he says. . "When I was 11
years old I was sawing' wood for $1 a
month In north Georgia; sawing wood,
you know, and saying nothing, but I
was looking all the time at the things
about me the wild flowers, the forests.
the blue sky overhead. They all sank
deep into my heart. Then, too, I fol
lowed the plow and learned a world
about nature behind the handles."
I-ater he drifted into a country news
paper office the Smlthvllle (Ga.) News
and there his poems and other writ
ings first attracted attention. The At
lanta Constitution secured his services
six years ago and he has since been
with that enterprising journal. Ills
writings are now eagerly sought and
ropled by the magazines and newspaper
editors and he promises to fill a con
spicuous place in American literature.
A NOVEL CHARITY.
f he Home for Asred Baptist Ministers
at Germantown, Pa.
Germantown, I'a., will soon have a
unique Institution, to be known as the
Seorge Nugent Home for Aged Baptist
Ministers. Mr. Nugent was prominent
'.n Germantown business circles twenty-flve
years ago and when he died
ibout six years ago his will provided
that about $1,000,000 be 6ot aside for
the endowment and establishment of a
home for aged Baptists. Shortly after
bis death his residence was converted
Into a home and many laymen and
ministers are now finding rest In their
aeclinlng years. The new home is lo
cated on a tract of land left by Mr.
Nugent, and It was his request that It
be erected on It It is surrounded by
iplendld shade trees and with an nbun
Sance of ground which can be made In
to attractive lawns. The residences of
tome of the wealthiest citizens and
business men In the city are contiguous
THI OEOROK NCGEJtT BOMB.
jo It. Work was begun on the struo
ture last April, and the building will
e finished within the year.
It is of the French transition style of
irehitecture and will contain about 60
rooms. It will cost in the aggregate
(60,000. It will be 122 feet long and 43
feet wide and will be three stories high.
It will be built of buff brick and terra
iotta. One of the attractive features
will be a Spanish tile roof. Its rich
Kiloring contrasting with the buff of
:he building. At one end of the build
tig will be a pretty three-story porch
richly ornamented and supported by
tone and terra cotta columns. Thar
ire porches also on tha side of tha
handsome doorway. The Interior will
be finished entirely with bard wood and
will contain all tha latest Improve
ments.
Deep Water at Gibraltar.
The water In the Straits of Gibraltar
s 150 fathoms deep.
NOTES OF THE DAY
There are twenty-four creameries Tl
Maine that do nothing but manufacture
butter the year round.
A man In Gllsuni, X. H., while clean
ing out a racaway recently, found s
gold ring which his wife had lost sever
vears ago.
A herd of 7,000 horses was bought oi
l Washington ranch the other day by
the Tortland Horse Meat Canning
Company at $3 a head.
About 1,000 grammar school gradu
ates of Brooklyn are unable to find
places in the high schools, so crowded
ire those buildings.
Boston Is said to have spent $75,00C
to entertain the Knights Templar, and
the Knights left behind $1,000,000 It
the city of baked beans.
It Is estimated that the city of New
fork contains fully 50,000 children of
school age who cannot be accommodat
ed la the public schools of Hint city thi
rear.
The record of attendance at the pub
lie schools of the United States during
th last year gives a total of lS.&'iU.'ii
pupils, a figure larger than that of nuj
other nation.
Many efforts have been made by At
lanta barbers to Induce the authorities
to allow then to keep open on Sunday
during the exposition. The matter If
now settled with a positive negative.
In California It has been found that
peach stones burn as well as the best
coal, and give out more hent In propor
tion to weight The stones taken out
of the fruit that Is tinued or dried are
tolleoted and sold.
IYofessor F. II. dishing asserts that
bne of the most ancient things man has
made Is the arrow. It antedates even
the bow, and In its embryonic state Is
older than either the stone ax or th
shaped knife or flint.
The Kansas City Board of Educa
tion has promulgated an order forbid
ding the smoking of cigarettes by pu
pils during school hours (on penalty of
expulsion) and Instructing teachers tf
rigidly enforce the rule.
When the commission of cardlnnls
for the administration of I'eter's ponce
proiiosed to Pope Leo XIII. recently to
Invest 2,000,000 francs In foreign se
curities the Pope Insisted that the
money should be put into Italian gov
ernment bonds.
It Is proposed to erect statues of
Siemens and of his colleague and
friend, Helmholtz, In front of the tech
nical high school in Charlottenburg, In
the same manner as the statues of the
brothers Humboldt were erected in
front of the Berlin University.
The highest speed ever attained upon
the water Is credited to the new Rus
sian torpedo boat Sokol (Russian for
hawk). Just launched In England, which
went thirty-five miles an hour on her
trial trip. At that rate an Atlantic liner
would cross the ocean In three or four
days.
The death rate of Berlin for 1S04 waj
17.2 in a thousand; that of Loudon, 17.7:
Brussels and Hamburg, 18.1; Amstep
dam, 1S.3; Copenhagen, 18.7; Turin,
IS.8; Rome, 19.6; Glasgow, 20.0; Paris,
20.2; Manchester, 20.4; Vienna, 22.8.'
Liverpool, 23.8; Dublin, 24.7; St Peters
burg, 31.4, and Moscow, 34.L,
At Mystic, Conn., sheep owners an.
arrayed against the dogs, which have
been devastating their flocks for some
time past Many sheep have been
killed, some of which cost $50 to Im
port, and others are valuable animals
Several dogs have been caught among
:he flocks and several have been
tilled.
A curious outcome Is reported of the.
preat robbery of the Ruda-Pesth post
office eleven years ago. The two
thieves, who got away with 250,000
florins have been caught The princi
pal has been tried In Ruda-Pesth and
released under the ten-year limit law.
His accomplice will be tried In Austria
where no such limitation exists.
A movement has been projected at
Vlnconnes looking to the establishment
Df a university at Lincoln City, Ind., on
the site where Lincoln spent his boy
hood. The general Idea Is to ask for a
(subscription of 10 cents from each
school child In the State, the incepton
figuring out that the giving would be l
patriotic Inspiration to the children.
In Spain exemption from military
tervlce may be obtained by the pnyi
ment of 1,500 pesetas. The other day a
worthy man presented a petition to th
queen regent stating that he had al
ready paid 15,000 pesetas for ten of hia
sons, and requesting that he might be
excused from paying for the other
fourteen, as he had no money left Hi
request was granted.
Victoria's Arbitrary Powers.
People on this side of the water are:
apt to attach too much credence to th
oft-repeated, but somewhat fallacloui
assertion, to the effect that the Queen
of England has no power. Is a mere
figurehead; In fact, nothing but a con
stitutional puppet In the hands of the
Cabinet for the time being. It is often
stated that the President of the Unled
Bates Is possessed of far more execu
tive power and prerogatives than her
British majesty.
This Is a great mistake. "The Engllsl
sovereign has retained far more power
than people realize. For instance, she
has the power to dismiss every soldier
In the army, from the commander-in-chief
down to the youngest drummer.
Bhe oould disband the navy In the same
way and sell all the ships, stores and
arsenals to the first buyer that present
ad himself. Acting on her own respon-
lblllty, sha could declare war against
any foreign power, or make a present
of any section of tha empire over vhla
the rules to any foreign power.
Acting strictly within her preroga
tive, sha eonld make every man, wom
an and child In tha county a peer or s
peeress of the realm with tha right, Is
tha ease of males, who ara of age, tc
a seat and a rote In the House ol
Lords. With a single word or stroke
of tha pen sha could dismiss any Cabi
net that was In power, and could, more
over, pardon and liberate every crim
inal of every grade that are confined
In British penitentiaries. These are
Only a few of tha things that the Queer
could do If sha desired. Marquise d
Venteney, tn FUadeJjhU Pjvmss,
EFFECT OF THE NEW BULLET,
Dlacuesioa by Army Officers in RagaH
to the Krax'Jorgcnsen Kifle.
The killing of Convict Thomas Coffey
t Fort Sheridan, Chicago, was the Aral
practical demonstration of what effect
the new Krag-Jorgcnseu rifle will have
fa a human mark. This rifle was lntro
duced Into the army to reduce the lose
of life as far as possible In time of war,
0i!abllng rather than killing. It wai
urged that the great speed, d'.rectnet
pnd small caliber would result in the
Inflicting of a smail, cleau-cut wouud
vhich easily would close and heal, the
pullet passing clear through the body.
the effect ou the head of Coffey, ai
hough the bullet passed through and
ut at the forehead, was to shatter tht
Upper skull In pieces.
Some army offlcera Kay that the med
'cal report of I:ij. Gerard will declare
lie effect Inljimm. It is c'aimed that
iie shortness of the range inn respon
lible for the explosive "fleet, and tha'.
it a longer d.'stnnco the wound would
lave beou clean cut I.k-nt Thonip
ion, chief of the ordnance otfioe depart
.ient of the Missouri, however, said:
"The new rifle -s been -r"g:irded as
iore humane than the Springfield rifle.
. consider it 'ess humane v hen the
jail pierces a vital organ. Its contact
tvlth fluid matter, according to a pe
mliar law of vibration, has an explo
live effect In a bone vibration Is not
established, and the hole would be
:lean. In experiments enns filled with
tones have had clcnu holes made In
lliem, but cans filled with water and
tones have been burst. Ill muscles nnd
joiios only will wounds be less painful
md fatal."
The riilo is known as the "magazine,
tinrtel 1S'.'2, caliber i'.O." It may be
ised as a single loader magazine arm,
tr as a single loader with magazine
n reserve. The magazine holds five
iartridges. The bullet Is a hardened
cad slug, Jacketed with tlilu cupro-
JXITEP STATE MAOAZTXK KIFI.K AND
CAKTltlDGE.
nickeled steel, to enable it to take the
rifling at the high velocity 2.mO feet
t second. The charge is from thirty to
forty grains of smokeless powder. The
tiullet welgha 220 grams and Is five di
imeters In length.
Too Much for Electricians,
North Adams, Mass., continues to ba
jnzzled over a queer crnnklsm of elec-
:rlclty in Its vicinity. Although when
:ho great four and one-half mile Iloosac
runnel was built no ores, ningnptie or
therwise, were encountered, thero was
rcneral expectation that rich ore pock
Ms would bo found; fer a yet unex
plained reason not an electrician hn
jocn discovered who can send a tele
rraphlc message from portal to portal
f that runnel, be such wiro run Inside
f an ocean cable through the huge cav
irn or out of it Therefore such mcsv
tngee have to be sent on wires strung
in poles over the top of the mountain,
ully nine miles, and that Is the way
ngolng and outeoming passenger and
"relght trains are heralded to the keop
irs of the two tunnel approaches.
Managing? a Daughter.
First You can't do It; the man whf
Jan must be more than mortal.
Second Give her her own way; it
will save her the trouble of taking it
Third I'ay for her dresses if you can
afford It Her dressmaker will sue If
you don't.
Fourth If she takes a fancy to any
man you don't want her to marry, tell
her your heart Is set on her marrying
him anfj swear she shall never marry
any other. You can then give her a
free hand and she wouldn't have htm t'
4e was the only man left
Fifth If there is any man you want
her to marry, kick him out of your
house, forbid the servants to admit
him, distribute man-traps and spring
(tuns and bulldogs all around your
grounds, lock her In her room and vow
If she marries him you won't leave hef
a penny. You will not have to wait lonf
ifter that for the elopement
Sixth If she has no voice encourage
her to sing whenever you give a party.
It will attract attention to her and give
four guests an excuse for compliment
Ing her. Never mind the neighbors.
Seventh If you are a poor man, teach
ronr daughter how to dance and play
the pfano. She can learn cooking and
Iressmaklng and those things after ah
Is married. Peck's Sun.
Dae to Imagination.
Pome writers of sea songs were poor
Sailors. "I'm on the sea! I'm on tha
sea!" wrote "Barry CornwalL" as if
life on the ocenn wave were a Joy. Bui
It was his Imagination that wrote tha
Song, for he was the sickest of sailors
end detected the sea.
"I had it from Mrs. Proctor," says
Santley, the singer, "who told me thai
she used to tease him, humming a
train of his Jovial sea song as he lay,
t very log, hnddled In shawl and a tar
paulin, crossing tha Channel, witB
barely sufficient animation left to ntte
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