jnnnn nnnnmjL-l'o im ''ii.iF''"-' " - '"-.-'-"-'"' '' X.i'''' ' ' - 'w'-' Iwttato 4 4 I NOHWEIER. THE CONSTITUTION THE DNION-AND THE ENFORCEMENT OF THE IA WH. Rdtter VOL. L. MIFFLINTOWN. JUNIATA COUNTY. PENNA.. WEDNESDAY. AUGUST 12. 18. NO. 35 i 5 :rzr a 'v -git Wfr&ft? " CIIArTEK V. Continued.) "Do not misunderstand me!" Cundall Answered. "I simply want you to tell her anil ber father ull this, nud be married a Gervase Ocelevp. I cannot be her hus band I have to'.d you I shall never ee her face again all I wish ia that she shall be under no delusion. As for the title, that would have no charms for me, and you cannot suppose that I, who have been given so much, should want to take your property away from you." "You would hare me live a beggar ol four charity! and that a charity which you may see fit to withdraw at any mo ment, as you have seen fit to suddenly dis close yourself at the most important crisis of my life." lie spoke bitterly, almost brutally to the other, but he could not rouse him to anger. The elder brother simply said: "Heaven forgive you for your thought! of me!" "And now," flervnse said, "perhaps you will tell me what you wish done. I shall of course inform Sir I'aul Haughton that, in my altered circumstances, my marriage -vita his daughter must be abandoned." Xo, no!" "Yes! I say. It will not take twenty four hours to prove whether you are right In your claim, for if I see the certificate of your birth It will be enough "It is here," Cuudnll said, producing It. "Had you kept silence no harm could have been done." "The worst possible harm would' have been done." "So one on earth but you knew this story until yesterday, and it was in your power to have let it remain in oblivion. But, though you have chosen to briDg It forward, there is one consolation still left it me. In spite of your stepping into my Shoes, in spite of your wealth, you will never have I. la Knugliton's love. No trick can ever deprive nie of that, though she may never be my wife." "Your utterances of this morning a. least prove you to be unworthy of it," Cundall answerer, stung at last to anger. "You have insulted me grossly, not only In your sneers, but also by your behavior. And I have lost nil compassion for you! I had intended to let you tell this story In your own way to Sir I'aul Knughton and bis daughter, but I have now changed my mind. When they return to town, after Ascot next week-, I shall call upon Sir I'aul and tell him everything. Even though you. yourself, shall have spoken rst." "So be it! I want nothing from you, not even your compassion. To-night I shall leave this house, so that I shall not be indebted to you for a roof." "I am sorry yon have taken It In this light," Cundall said, again calming him self, an he went to the door. "I would have given you the love of u brother, had you willed it." "If you give nie the feeling that I have for you. it is one of utter hatred and Con tempt! Kveti though you be my brother, I will never recoeniie you in this world, either by word or action, as anything but my bitterest foe." Cundall looked fixedly at him for one moment, then he opened the door and went out. Philip Snierdoii had watched' his friend enrefuily through the interview, and, although there was cause for his excite meut. he was surprised at the transforma tion that had taken place in him. He had always lievi. gentle and kind to every one with whom he was brought into contact; now he seemed to have become a fury. Even the loss of name, and lands, and love, seemed hardly sufficient to have brought about this violence of rage. "It would almost have beeu better to have remained on friendly terms with him, I think," be nhi. "Perhaps he thought he was only doing his duty in dis closing himself." "Perhaps so!" the other said. "Hut, as for being friendly with him I wish he were dead!" C'HAPTKU VI. Sir Paul Kaughtous Ascot party had been excellently arranged, every guest being specially chosen with a view to making an harmonious whole. Belmont was a charming villa, lying almost on the borders of the two lovely counties of Berkshire and Surrey, and neither the beauties of Nature nor Art were wanting. Yet, although Sir Paul's selection ol guests had been admirable, disappoint ment had come to him and Ida, for two who would' have Is-en the most welcome, Mr. Cundall and Lord Penlyn, had writ ten to say that they would not come. The former's letter had been very short, and the explanation given for his refusal was that he was again preparing to leave England, perhaps for a very long period. And Lord Penlyn's had been to the ef fect that some business affairs connected with his property would prevent him from Vaving town during the week. Moreover, it was dated from a fashion able hotel in the West End and not from Occleve House. When Ida reau mese it-nn .orely troubled, for she could not help Imagining that there was something more than strange in the fact that the man who was engaged to her and the man who had proposed to ber only a few nights ago ihould both have abstained from coming to spend the week v. Ufa them. At first she wondered if they could have met and qua rreled-but then she reflected that that was not possible! Surely Mr. Cundall would not have told Gervase that he had proposed to her and been refused. She went to her room that night tired Jd worried, but her night's rest wa. TIn the early part the flashing of light ing anV the roar of thunder (a storm having broken over the neighborhood) Vent her awake, and when she slept .be SfdP.o uneasily, waking often. Once .he started up and listened tremblingly, aa hTTipfhouse was full of visitors; It was, f aU times? the least one likely for harm to come Then she went back to bed and .ventoally slept again, though only to dream. Her brain must have iad been when he t rfd lhe could wS changed. rerT :ath.etTt .c4med darker, much dark PSflto K do Jlttle than "-l w u u am gnize nut form and sea ma dark, sad syes fixed on her. Then he bent over and kissed her gently n the forehead more, as it seemed In her iream, with a brother', than a lover, kis. and said: "Farewell, forever! In this world" we two shall never meet gain." Then, as be turned to go, she saw be (kind him another form with it face ihrouded, but with a figure that seemed wonderfully familiar to ber, and, as be raced it, it sprang upon him. And with a shriek .he awoke awoka to see the bright sun .tuning outside and to notice that the band, of the clock pointed to nearly eight. And her first action wa. to kneel by the side of her bed and to thank heaven that it was only a dream. Her disturbed rest made her, perhaps i little paler than usual in the morning, but had thus only added a more delicate tinge to her loveliness. A a she stood talking to yonng Montagu on the veranda, this youth began to wish that he waa Lord Penlyn. It wa. at this time that, to the different (roups scattered about, there came a ru mor that a horrible murder bad been sommltted In London last night, or early that morning. A few persona, who had come down by the last special train, had beard some thing about it, but they did not know any thing of the details; and two or three :opies of the first edition, of the evening papers had arrived, but they told very lit tle, except that undoubtedly a murder had taken place, and that the victim wa. to ill appearances, a gentleman. "Get a paper, Montagu," the baronet aid, "and let us see what it is." He came back in a few moments, hav ing succeeded in borrowing a second edi tion from a friend, and he read out to them the particulars, which were by no means fulL It appeared that, after the storm la London was over, which was about three j'clock In the morning, a policeman going n his walk down the Mall of St. Jamea Park, had come across a gentleman lying by the railings that divide that part of It from the gardens, a gentleman whom he at first took to be overcome by drink. On shaking him, however, he discovered him to be dead, and be then thought he must have been struck by lightning. A further glance showed that this was not the case, as he perceived that the dead man was stabbed iu the region of the heart, that his watch and chain had been wrenched away (there being a broken piece of the chain left in the button hole), nd, if he had any, bis papers and pocket Sook taken. His umbrella, which was without any name or engraving, was by his side; hi. linen, which was extremely fine, was un marked, and his clothes, although drench ed with mud and rain, were of the best possible quality. That, up to now, was all the informa tion the paper possessed. "How dreadful to think of a man being nurdered iu such a public place as that!" Ida said. "Surely the murderer cannot long escape!" It was a glorious evening after a glor! ana day; and, some laughing and talking, tome flirting, and some discussing the lay's racing and speculating on that of the morrow, they soon forgot all about he tragedy. Not one of them supposed that the mur dered man was likely to be kuowu to them, nor that the crime had broken up their Ascot week. But when they had gone to their rooms to dress for dinner, they learned that the dead man waa "tnown to them. A telegram had come to 6ir Paul from his butler in London, saying: "The gen tleman murdered in St James Park last night waa Mr. Cundall. He ha been identified by his butler and servants." CHAPTER VII. About the same time that Sir Paui Raughton received the telegram from London, and was taking counsel with one or two of his elder guests as to whether he should at once tell Ida the dreadful news or leave it till the morning. Lord Penlyn eutered his hotel in town. His face, which usually bore a good color, was ghastly pale, his eyes had great hollows and deep rings around them, and even his ltpa looked as if the llood bad left them. He had come from his club, where, since it had been discovered who the vic tim of last night's tragedy was, nothing else but the murder had been talked about, as was also the case in every club and public place in London, and he now mounted the step, of the hotel with the manner of man who wa. either very weak or very weary. Lord Penlyn entered hi. room and took up a letter that wa. lying on his table, and proceeded to open it, throwing him self at the same time wearily into an arm ehair. He read it carefully from beginning to end, and then dropped It on the floor as he put hi. bands np to his head and wail ed: "Murdered! Murdered! When he had written this letter only an honr before." And then he wept long and bitterly. The letter ran: "My Brother Since I saw you last Sat urday I have been thinking deeply upon what passed between us, and I have come to the conclusion that, after all, it will be best for nothing to be said to any one on the subject of our father's first marriage, tot even to Miss Ranghton or her father. "I suggest this, nay, I command yon to do this, because of my love for her, a love which desire, that ber life may be with out pain or sorrow. I shall not witness ber happiness with yon, not yet at least. f r I do not thing i coma near mat; out, la tome future years. It may be that time wIl have so tempered my sorrow to me that I shall be able to see you all In all te each other. "Remember, therefore, what I, by my right as your elder brothei' which I exert for the fir3t and last time! charge yon to dc. Retain your position, still be to the world what you have been, and devote vour life to her. "Let us forget the bitter words we eacl spoke in our interview. Our Uvea are bound up in one cause, and that, and our relationship, should prevent their ever be ing remembered. Your brother, "WALTER." When he was calmer, he picked the fetter up again and read it through once more, having carefully locked the door before -ie did so, for be did not wish his valet to see his emotion. But the re-reading of it brought him nc peace, indeed' seemed only to increase his anguish. When the man servant knocked at bu door be bade him go away for a time, as he was engaged and could not be dis turbed; and than ha puMd an honr pac ing up and down the room, muttering to himself, starting at the slightest souud and nearly mad with his thoughts. These thoughts he could not collect; he did not know what steps to take next. What was he to tell Ida or Sir Paul or was be to tell them anything? The dead man, the murdered brother bad enjoined on him, in what he could Zl 7 ,1 til . a "J quest, that he was to keep the secret.! Why, then, then should he say anything? There was no need to do so! He was Lord Penlyn now. there was nothing to tell! No one but Philip, who was trust worthy, knew that he had ever leen any thing else. No one would ever know it. And he shuddered as he thought that, if the world did ever know that Walter Cundall had been his brother, then the world would believe him to be his mur derer! Xo! it must never be known that he and that other were of the same blood. He rang for bis man and told hiin to pack up and pay the bill, and take his things round to Occleve House, and that he should arrive there late; and the man seemed surprised at his orders. He was a quiet, discreet man, but as be packed his master's portmanteau he reflected a good deal on the occurrences of the past few days. First of all, he remembered the visit 01 Mr. Cundall on Saturday to Occleve House, and that the footman had told him that he had heard some excited conversa tion going on as be had passed the room. Was there any connecting link between Mr. Cnndall's visit to his master, and his master leaving the house and giving up Ascot? And was there any connection between all this and the murder of Mr. Cundall, and the visible agitation of Lord Penlyn? He could not believe it, but still it did seem strange that this visit of Mr. Cnn dall's should have been followed by such an alteration of his master's plans, and by his own horrible death. Lord Penlyn walked on to Pnll Mall going very slowly and in an almost dazed state, and surprised several whom h met by his behavior to them. Looking very wan and miserable, he walked on to "Black's," aud there he found the murder as much a subject of discussion as.it was everywhere else. (To be continued.) THE CHANCE PASSAGE. It Failed to Support the Scotchman in Hi Practice. An old Scotchman bad a rooiuiuatu in New York who was not fond of enrlj' rising, and never stirred from his bed until the breakfast bell raug. The old er man considered It bis duty to warn the young man agaiust the effects of Indolence, nud at the sume to impart -ellgious Instruction to lilin. Every morning the Scotchman arose at six o'clock, sliuved himself, ami when completely dressed shook his young friend aud addressed biui iu this mau ler: "Now, lad, you see what It is to gain time. Here I am, dressed ami ready for breakfast, with half au hour iu which to read a chapter iu the Bible aud to commit a verse to memory. which may serve a useful purpose dur- . lug the day. Now 1 shall opeu the good luMk at random, aud read any verse on which my eye chauces to light; and I think it probable that the verse will have some special application for the events of the day. Meanwhile, there you are, with barely enough time to dresaforbreakfast.aud not a minute to epare for good reflections." For a week or more this address waa repeated every morning with litle vart ation, aud the chance passage read j India Company as a gilt to the Km aloud. Then the young uiau gave the , j,eror of China. The case was mailt Scotchman a dose of bis own medicine, j ju the form of a chariot, iu which It waa a cold moruiug, wheu the was seated the figure of a woman. Scotchman, wearied by late hours the j This Ugure was of pure ivory and previous uight, overslept. The younger ! gold, and sat with her rlgot band roommate arose softly, dressed himself ! resting upon a tiny clock fastened tc .,i,.Lir .ni n roused him. I the side of the vehicle. A part ol "Here I am," began the convert to the new gospel of early rising, "iu complete j order for breakfast and ready to turn j to a verse in the good book which may j serve me a useful turu during the day.' "Well done," said the Scotchman., rub bing bis hands. "You know, too," continued the young man, without a smile on bis face, "that one's hands may be directed by some thing that is not blind chance to a verse which may be highly significant." "Certainly," Bald the Scotchman, pleased to perceive that his lesson had been aptly learned by the pupil. "Open the book and read the first passage which your eye catches. The young man opened the book, and without a pause or a smile read the fol- lowing verse from Proverbs: "He that blesseth his friend with a w rlslnir early in the morning. U shall be counted a curse to him. The serious Scotchman was taken back so completely by the sentiment that he demanded the book and had to read the veri.e through bis spectacles before he could lndieve that his com oanion was not deceiving him. vil hid.' be remarked gravely, I suppose' it was meant for my beneQt .p?vt'..i.--.-nti.Mn.,in- I'll let you sleep another morning. Aim at perfection in everything, j though In most things It is uuattaln- j able; for they who aim at It and per- ; severe will come much nearer to It than j those whose laziness and despondency make them clve It uo as unattainable. ; According to a Frenchman, who i has been experimenting, a single hair can carry a weight of more than six ounces. The highest velocity of a cannon ball ia estimated at 1C3C teet per second The earth -n its daily evnlntion has a velocity of 1507 feet a second at the rquator. An old law has been entorced io Philadelphia to prevent the passaze ot wagons on P"".v p. m. on Sunday. The largest oak tree now standing in Gieat Britain is that known as the "Cowtnorpie."' It is seventy-eight fee' in cirenmference at the ground and abrat 146 feet high. -T be vital statistics of Stenben. Me., lor the 12 months jutt closed slicw a curious coincidence. Daring the year there were in a town 16 births, 16 deaths and 16 marriages. Search is being made in the subter ranean rooms of the great Kremlin IV., am named "tho terrible." Eight hun dred famous, bat lout manuscripts are sappow d to be hidden there. From July 28, 1896, to January 1, 1896, the United States patent office granted 531,619 patents. As many as 6,686 patent for improvements in plows have been granted at Washing on. 11,1 ' "' " "-'i " LIABLE TO ARREST. hoopla of All Oesupatlon Iu Danger ! til. Clutch of the Blneroat. Sot long ago Paul Bourget, who is upposcd to know all about "Love as r-he Is Taujjht" in Paris and else where, gave the public an interesting little exercise in the chances which the various professions and occupa . . . . , . r , tions offer tiie naked and dimpled little archer for getting in bis hauds. The wise French romancer did not Joal in sugar-coated generalities. He gnt down to business and juggled with II 14 u res as glibly as a census ex pert or a statist cian on crime. liourget is not alone in his pen.'h nt for (Inures and vital statistics. He has the company of no less a person than the general superinten dent of the Cnicago police. The lat ter has done well, just as well in fict as liourget, for the chance that a man or woman stand of being "pinched," according to the classification of the profession, is almost as vital a kind of statistic as Is that showing the cor responding likelihood of being loved. Therefore, the table presented by the general superintendent of police showing the number of arrests for the vear ending December 31, 18H2, as class! tied by ocupations, is an in teresting one. The good man of the cloth may say lliat this has no direct personal in terest to fciia; that is all very well for him to study it from the stand point of a teacher and preacher, but that in his profess on there is not the slightest possible chance of hissuCer ing the indignity of incarceration. Hut the deadly parallel of Chic igo statistics of arrests puts the preacher on an exact par with o;gan-grinders, stevedores bath-house keepers, act resses errand boys, riyers,draughls men. pavers publishers and stereo typers. Only two-thirds as uiaui uistillers, mid wives, nurses, mill wrights, ropeiuakers, superintendent? or "corporations" have been put down on the station dockets as ther have been ministers of the gospel. Of course tt.e class which leads the list in anests as well as in love is the great mass des gnate.1 under the head or "no occupation." Of these there were I'f.tti'J arrested. Following close upon this uunilter arc: Labor ers, l!,758; housekeepers, 4,-Jti8; teamsters, 3,"i:i; clerks, 3,014; ped dlers, '2,2'20; saloon geepeis, 1.S3-I painters, 1,104. These comparisons are not without their surpri-es to the classes con cerned. Dropping into the thiee flgure column, bartenders lead the list with Ul l, followed by mercbanti ! to the number of fto; butchers, 8-2; ; agents, 785; waiters, 74; and m:i I chiiifsts, 711. Actors who are neat I at the head in the lovestricken list, come in for t he modest role of arrests . in the l notch, in close proximity tc i the roofers and brass finishers, i Witlidl the comparisons to be made in these lists are well calculated tc ! ill biicw iims die ncu LaauiHivu n s,KM.k gouje of Uie profciM,on and give them a more modest opinion of their good behavior and stand in before the law aud the publia A Wonderful Ttlnc-Kecplnir Auto niatun One of the most wonderful time, keepers known to the horologist wa made in London about 100 years age and sent l.v the President of the East the wheels which kept track of the flight of time were hidden in the hi. dv of a tiny bird, which had seem ingly just alighted upon the lady's finger. Above was a canopy so ar ranged as to conceal a silver bell. This bell was fitted with a miniature hammer of tl.e same metal, and, al though it appeared to have no con nect, on with the clock, regularly struck t he hours, and could be made to repeat by touching a diamond but ton on the lady's bodice. In the chariot at the ivory lady's feet there was a golden figure of a dog, and above and in front were two birds, apparently living before the chariot. This beautiful ornament was made j alt l st ellt,rew r BOd. and wa? j elaborately decorated with preciou i stones. St. Louis Kepublifc j ! Improvement In Photography. A recent improvement in photog- I raphy enables t he artist to overcome to a considerable extent the difficult? of preserving the natural expression of the sitter during the necessary period of exjosure. it seems that, notwithstanding this period has been greatly shortened in various ways, j Particularly by the adoption to such an extent of the magnesium light. with its uni uie advantages, nervous na-s is so prevalent among those who sit before the cameria that the oper ator has still found the interval too prolonged for the perfect accomplish ment of his work, llerr llaag of Stuttgart claims to meet and over come -the trouble in question by means of a change in the manage ment of the magnesium light, mak ing for his puri ose what are called lightning cartridges which cause a tremendous development of lumin osity and are set alight in one-tenth of a second by means of electricity. The so-called natural photographs taken by this process are said to pre serve the mental expression and mo meutary p'.ay of the features with extraordinary clearness and exacti tude. Merited Punishment. In a Williamsburg, i. C, justice rourt, a prisoner was charged with larceny .of a bott'e of beer from a bar loom. He oh.ected to being tried before the justice, and asked that hi cae be heard by some other justice of the peace. The court demanded his grounds of objection, to which the prisoner replied that be did not propose to be tried for stealing beer from a bar-room before a magistrate who was in the hahit of dead-beating for drinks around the bar-rooms of that township. To this the court, with great dignity.and emphasis, re plied: "You accuse me of doing that? Then you are a d d liar. ind I fine you tS for contempt cf court" "?- -- f ' i -Viai'ir mi "TT MEN WHO FIGHT FIRE HOW THEY ARE TRAINED FOR THEIR WORK. fcrllla In tha Art of Bcaltnr High Uaildlag-a Haadle Loss Ladders wltat Wonderfwl Kaaa and Calurlt Mo Tint Ia Lost, awtrfsl and Agile Athlete. Every plpeman, cuglneman, and truckman In the service of the tire de partment of large cities is drilled week ly lu the duties f a book and ladder company. Not only the men serving on the hook and bid ders know how to lower a man or wo man by means ef a rope from a burn ing building, but when a plpeman or engineman Is need ed he is as well trained as any to take an active pert In saving life, and can do It as well as he can handle an engine or turn a hose where It does the most effectlvf vouR-HEX u wora. 1EK DRILL. AltBOBgh thl drill usually takes place at every hook bud ladder house on some day of; rvery week. It never ceases to be an Interesting sight to the neighbors and paaaersby. Men aud boys are never too busy to stop and watch the blne hlrted men as they nimbly run up the ladder, and then pass it on to the win dow above. When Marshal Horan and Capt Thomas O'Connor, of hook asd bidder No. 8. at Chtcace. gave the order foi 8A Visa LIFE .WITH TBI NET. a drill one day last week four men 1m-, l mediately began to get themselves ready. They wore Lieut. James Cun ningham, John Tierney, Patrick Sulli van, and William Thompson. The first thing done by the quartet was to bring Into the alley open which the engine house is ultuated four long ladders Then they all fastened a broad leather belt about their waists. These were about six inches wide, and tn front had tremendous book of steel. "Up you go," called Capt. O'Connor, and the four-men pompier drill began. The sixteen-foot ladders, with which (he men practice when playing that lives are to be saved and that aU egress by stairs 1 stopped by smoke and flame, were seized as though but a featherweight. At the top of each lad der la a long inn hook. This Is notch ed so that it will catch In any width window sill. Ibe first man to mount fastened the lader securely to the sec end story window and swiftly ran up the rounds. As soon as he reached the top he opened the big hook at his belt and snapped It about the top round. Then he put out his hands for the next lUSLI MAN LADDII BMU. ladder, and it was quickly handed op to him. This he raised high tn the air, hand over hand, fastened It on the third floor window, tried Its strength to se that It was secure, then quickly ran up. As he went up this he was followed uni the first ladder by the second mtii waiting below. As he reached each floor bis manoeuver was the earned When he reached the top of the second ladder the second man was at the top of the first. Both men hooked them selves safely and put out their hands for the Udder below. Quickly It was passed from the third maa at the foot to the one on the top of the first ladder. By him It went to the fire maa shove. Then the third man ran briskly ay and the fourth and last one began the mount. By the time he had reached the top of the ladder that stood firmly noon the ground his brother firemen he &artA Mdprjf - r - ' - ' - ri - i f tr x j- " u i irf ins ill i I man at the top. Here It was fastened to the summit of the tower, and the first man to mount was soon looklug I.OWKMSO MAX FROM A WIHDOW. below to Capt. O'Connor for orders. "All the way down!" shouted tbs Captain. And without one moment for breath the descent began. Each man came down from the top of the bidder upon which he had stood, and snap went three books upon tbs round of the ladder. The ladder at tho top waa as a wisp of hay In the pow erful arms of the man at the tbrd floor window. He took It from Its place and quickly lowered it to the man below. This one passed It on with the same rapid movement, and In a second more It was on the ground and resting against the building. Down ran the three men. The one who had removed the ladder stepped aside, and his place was taken by the next to dismount. The same course was taken until the three others were eaiely pa tiie groonj once more and the four ladders stand ing against the firehouso. The "two men drill' is very similar, iicept that only two ladders are used, one man paaslng up the lower ladder to the man above him, and then run ning up the two Udders and in turn receiving the lower one from his com rade. The "one man drill" Is perform ed with one ladder. The fireman fixes It to a window above him, mounts io the sill of the upper window, raises tho ladder another story, and so on until hr has reached the height desired. The rope drill, likewise, always at tracts curious crowds. The noose of a rope la pUced around the waist of the person to be lowered, and the fireman who lowers him gives the rope two or three turns around the hook in his belt. Then he pays It oht as slowly or as fast as desired. Persons are taken from buildings with ropes, or dropped into nets, when flames or smoke pre vent the use of stairways or ladders. The net Is a circle of woven rope about four feet across. The rope Is au Inch thick and the men lies are clone. Ten or more men take hold of the net, aud the persons rescued are dropped Into It. When the firemen execute this drill they drop from a hole feet first into the net with the precision of circur acrobats. "It's a fine thing," said the Marsha). "But It don't always work. Ou a dark, bhtck night we hate to use it, for we can't always tell that we are directly under the one that la to Jump, and then It Is fatal." Officiates at Royal Weddings The Most Reverend Edward White Benson, ninety-third archbishop of Canterbury, has officiated at the great- l est number of royal marriages. Arch bishop Benson officiated at the three following royal weddings, namely: Her royal highness Princess Beatrice to the Ute Prince Henry Maurice, of Batten berg, on the 23d of'july. 1886, at Wlp plngham Church, in the Isle of Wight; her royal highness Princess Louise, eldest daughter of the Prince of Wales, to the Duke of Fife, at the Chapel Royal, St. James, London, July 22, ISM, and his royal highness George Frederick, Duke of York, to Princess Victoria May of Teck, at the same chapel July 6, 1893. He will In all prob ability officiate at a fourth royal wed ding July 22 next that of Princess Maad, of Wales, to Prince Charles, of Denmark. Perennial Vbttt Plants. There are several plants or tne wneat family which are perennial, and reap pear In the same fields or localities front year to year Indefinitely. Palmer "Ton can never convince m that women will succeed In politics. Polk "Why?" Palmer "How are yeu ever going te keep them from talking T" TarladelpMa North American. The people who ge to hen eaght to hava wtaa they weold haYe ataa tan to Man the heart wtttv "-.'m' "i I . REV. DR. TALMAGE, The Eminent Divine's Sunday Discourse. Subject: "The Glow of Sunset." Text: "Abide with us. tor it Is toward evening." Luke xxiv., 29. Two villagers, having concluded their errand in Jerusalem, have started out at the city gate and are on their way to Emmau.s, tins piace of their residence. They go with a tad heart. Jesus, who bad been their ad miration and their joy, had been basely massacred and entombed. As, with sad faue and broken heart, they pass on their way a stranger acccstB Iheiu. They tell Him their anxieties and bitterness ot soul. He ia turn alks to them, mightily expounding the Sariptures. He throws over them the fnsoina tion of intelligent conversation. They for get tb time nnd notice not the objects they pass, and before they are aware hAve enme up In front of their bouse. They pause be fore the entrance and attempt to persuade the stranger to tarry with tbem. They press upon Him their hospitalities. Night iscoming on, aud He mny meet a prowling wild beast or be obliged to lie unsheltered from the new. He cannct go much farther now. Why not stop there and continue their pleasant conversation? They take Him by the arm, and they Insist upon His coming in, address ing Him in the words, "Abide witn us, (or It Is toward evening." Tbeoandlesare lighted; thetable In spread; pleasant socialities are enkindled. They re joice in the presence ol the strauger guest. He a"ks a blessing upon the bread they eat, and Ha hands a piece of it to each. Suddenly and with overwhelming power the thought Hashes upon the astonished people it is the Lord! And as they sit In breathless wonder, looking upon the resurrected body of Jesun, He vanished. The interview ended. He was goue. With many of us It is a bright, suushlny day of prosperity. There Is not a oloud lu the sky; not a leaf rustling iu the forest; no chill in the air. tint we cannot expect all this to last. He is not an intelligent man who expects perpetual daylight of joy. The sun will alter awhile near the horizon. The shadows will lengthen. While I speak many of us stand In toe verv hour described lu the text, 'Tor it is toward evening." The re quest of the text is appropriate for some be fore me, for with thi ni it is toward the even ing ot old age. They have passed the meridian of life. They are sometimes startled to think how old they are. They donot.however.liketo have others remark upon it. If others sug gest their approximation toward venerable appearance, they say, "Why, I'm not to old, after all." They do. indeed, notioethat they cannot lift quite so much as once. They cannot walk quite so fast. They canuot read quite so well without spectacles. They cannot so easily recover from a cough or any occasional ailment. They have lost their tiu-te for merriment. They are sur prised at the quick passage of the year. Tliev say that it only seems a little while ago that they were boys. They are going a little down bill. There Is gometbiug in their health, sinx-tbiug in their vision, something In their walk, something in their ohanging associations, something above, something beneath, something within, to remind them hat it is toward evening. The great want of all suoh is to hare Jesus ab.de with tbem. It is a dismal thing to tie getting old without the rejuvenating influ ence of religion. When we stepon the down grade of lite and see that it dips to the verge of the co:d river, we want to behold some one near who will help us across it. When the Bight los s its power to glance and gather up, we need the faith that ran illuminate. When we feel the failure of tht ear, we neea the clear toues ot that voice which in olden times broke up the silence of the deaf with cadence of mercy. When the axmeu of death hew down whole forests of strength and beauty around us and we are left in soli tude, we need the dove of divine mereyto sing iu our branches. When the shadows begin lo fall nud we I eel that the day is far spent, we need must of nil to supplicate the strong beneficent Jesus in the prayer of the villagers "Abide with us, for It is toward evening. The request of the text is an appropriato exclamation fcrsill thosewhonreapproached In the gloomv hour of temptation. There is nothing easier than to be good natured when everything pleases, or to be humble when there is nothing to oppjse us. or forgiving when we nave not ben assailed, or honest when we have no inducement to fraud. But yon have felt the grapple of some tempta tfou. Your nature at some time quaked aud groaned under the infernal force. You felt mat the devil was after you. You saw your Christian graces retreating. You feared that you would lull In the awful wrestle with siu and be thrown into tbf dust. The gloom thickened.- The first iu lic.itiousot the night were seen ia all the trembling of your sou', in ail the Infernal suggestions of" Satan, in all tbe surging up of tumultuous passions and excitements. You felt with awful em phasis that it was toward evening. In thn tempted hour you need to aslc Jesus to abide with you. You van beat back the mon ster that would devour you. You can un horse the sin -that would ride you down. You can sharpen the battieax with which J ou split the head of helmeted abomination. Who helped Paul shake the brazen gated heart of Felix? Who acted like a good sailor when all the crew howled in tbe Mediter ranean shipwreck? Who helped tbe martyrs to be firm when one word of recanta tion would have unfastened the withes of the stake and put out the kindling fire? When the night of the soul came on and all the denizens of darkness came riding upon tbe winds otperdition who gave strength to the soul? Who gave oalmneas to tbe heart Who broke the spell of infernal enchant ment? He who heard the request of the vil lagers, "Abide jrith us, for it is toward even ing." One of the forts of France was attacked, and the outworks were taken before night. Tfce besieging army lay down, thinking there was but little to do in the morning, and that the soldiery in the fort could be easilv made to surrender. But during the night, through a back stairs, they escaped into the country. In the morning the besieging army sprang upon the battlements, but found that their prey was gone. So. when we are assaulted in temptation, there is always some secret stair by which we might get off. God will not allow us to be tempted above what we are able, but with every temptation will bring a way of escape thnt we may be able to bear it. Tbe prayer of the text is appropriate for all who are anticipating sorrow. The great est folly that ever grew on this planet ts the tendency to borrow trouble, bat there are times when approaching soriow is so evident that we need to be making special prepara tion for its coming. One of your children has lately become a favorite. The cry of that child strikes deep er into the heart than the cry of all tbe oth ers. You think more about it. You give it more attention, not because it Is any more of a treasure than the others, but because it is becoming frail. There is sometbiug In the cheek, in the eye and in tbe walk that makes yon quite sure that the leaves of the flower are going to be scattered. The utmost nurs ing and medical attendance are Ineffectual. The pulse becomes feeble, the complexion lighter, the step weaker, tbe lituzh fainter. No more romping for that one through hall nd parlor. The nursery Is darkened by nn approaching ralamity. The heart feels with mournful anticipation that the sun ts going down. Night speeds on. It is toward evening- You have long rejoiced in the care of a mother. You have done everything to make her last days happy. You have run with quick feet to wait upon her every want. Her presence bas been a perpetual blessing in the household. But the fruit gatherers are look ing wistfully at tbat tree. Her sonl is ripe for heaven. The fates are ready to flash open for her entrance. Hut your soul sinks si the thought of a separation. You cannot bear to think that soon yon will be called to take the lest look at that face which from tne first hour bas looked upon yon with af fection unchangeable. But you see that life Is ebbing and the grave will soon hide her from your sight. You sit quiet. You feel heavy hearted. Tbe light is fading from tbe sky. The air is chill. It Is toward evening. You had a considerable estate and felt In dependent. In five minutes on one fair bal ance sheet yon could see just how yon stood U the. world. Bat there earns BomnllcatlQjia, Something that you imagined Impossible happened. Tbe best friend yon had proved traitor to your Interest. A sudden erasb of National misfortunes prostrated your credit. You may to-day be going ou in business, but vou feel anxious about where you are stand ing and fear that the next turning ot the wheel will bring you prostrate. You foresee what you consider certain defalcation. You think of tbe anguish of telling your friends yon are not worth a dollar. You know not now you will ever bring yonr children home from school. You wonder how you will tand the selling of your library or the mov ing into a plainer house. The misfortunes 3f life have accumulated. You wonder what makes the sky so dark. It is toward even Jig. Listen to Paul's battle shout with misfor 'uua. Hark to mounting Latimer's firesong. Look at the glory that basrott the dungeon and filled the eatth and heavens with the ;rah of the falling mauuc?es ot despotism. And then look at those who have tried to 3ure themselves by human proscriptions, at tempting to beal gangrene with a patch ot court plaster and to stop the plngueof dying empires with the quackery of earthly wis dom. Nothing can speak peace to the soul, nothing can unstrap our crushing burdens, nothing can overcome our spiritual foes, nothing can opeu our eyes to see the sur rounding horses and cuariots of salvation that till all the mountains, but the voice and command of Him who stopped one nl'bt at Emma us. The words of the text are pertinent to us all, from the fact that we are nearim; the evening of death. I have beard it said tbat we ought to live as though each moment were to bft our last. I do not believe that theory. As far as preparation is concerned, we ought always to be ready; but we canuot always be thinking of death, for wo have duties in life that demand our attention. When a man is selling goods, it is his busi ness to think of tbe bargain ho is making. Wheu a man is pleading in the courts, it is his duty to think of the interests of his clients. When a clerk is adding up his ac counts, it Is his duty to keep bis mind upon the column of figures. Ho who tills up bis life with thoughts of death is far from being the higbest stylo of Christian. I knew a man who used to often say at night. "I wish I might die before morning!" He became uu infidel But there are times when we can and ought to give ourselves to the contemplntiou of that solemn moment when to tho soul lime ends nnd eternity begins. We must go through that one puss. There is no round about way, uo bypath, rto oircuitous route. Die we must; and it will be to us a shameful occurrence or a time of admirable behavior. Our friends may stretch out their hands to keep us back, but no implorution on their part cau binder us. They might offer large retainers, but death would not take the fee. The breath will fail, and the eyes will close, aud the heart will stop. You may hang the couch with gorgeous tapestry, but what does death care for beautiful curtains? You mny bang tbe room with tbe fiuest works of art, but what does death caro for pictures? You may till the house with the waitings ot widowhood and orphanage; docs denth mind weeping? This ought not to be a depressing theme. Who wants to live here forever? The world aas always treated me well, nnd every day I feel less and loss like scolding nud complain ing. But yet I would not want to iimUe this my eternal residence. I love to watch tho clouds and bathe my soul in tho blue sea of heaven, but I expect when the ttnnament ts rolled away as a scroll to see a new henveu, grander, higher and morn glorious. You ought to be willing to exchange your bo.ly thnt has headaches and sideaches and weak ness innumerable, thnt limps with the stone bruise or festers with tne tlioru or flames on the funeral pyre of fevers for au incor ruptible body and an eye that blinks not be fore the jasper gates and tho great whito throne. But between tliat.'nnd this there is an hour about which no man should be reckless or foolhardy. I doubt not your courage,but I tell you that you will want something bet terthaua strong arm, a good aim nud a trusty sword when you come to your last battle. You will need a better robe than nny you have in your wardrobe to keep you warm in that place. Cir u instances do not make so much dif ference. It may be a bright day when yos push off the planet, or It may be a dark night and while '.he owl Is hooting from tbe forest. It may be spring, and your soul my go out among the blossoms, apple orchards swinging their censers In tho way. It luny be winter and the earth in a snow shroud. It may be autumn and the forests set on lire by the retreating year dead nature laid out In state. It may be with your wifo'u hand in your hand, or yon ma; be ia a strnnua hotel with a servant faithful lo the last, it may be iu the rail train, shot off the switch and tumbling lu loug reverberation dovn the embankment crash, crash! I know not the time, I know not the mortCj but the days of our life are being subtracted away and we shall come down to the time when we have but ten days left, then nine days, theu eight days, then seven days, six days, flvo days, four days, three days, two days, one day. Then hours three hours, two hours, one hour. Then only minutes loft five minutes, four min utes.three minutes, two minutes, one minute. Theu only seconds left four seconds, three seconds, two seoonds, one second. Oonel The chapter of life euded. The book dosed. The pulses at rest. The feet through with tbe journey. Tbe hau ls closed from all worif. No word on the lips. No breath in the nostrils. Hair combed back to lie uu disheveled bv any human hands. The mus cles still. The nerves still. Tho lungs still. The tongue still. All still. You might put the stethoscope to the breast and hear no sound. You might put a speaxiug trumpet to the eiir, but you could not wake tho deaf ness. No motion.no throb.no life. sjtlll still! Ho death comes to the disciple! Wh it It tbe sun of life Is about to sei? Jisu-istbe day spring from on high, tbe porpetunl morn ing of every ransomed spirit. What If tho darkness comes? Jesus is the ligut of the world and of heaven. What though this earthly house does crumble? Jesu9 has pre pared a house of many mansions. Jesus is the anchor that always holds. Jesus Is tbe light that Is never eclipsed. Jesus is lhe fountain that is never exhausted. Jesus is the evening star, hung up amid the gloom of he gathering night. You are almost through with tbe abase and backbiting of enemies. They will call you no more by evil names. Your good deeds will no longer be misinterpreted nor your honor fllohed. Tbe troubles of earth will end in the felioltiee. Toward evening. The bereavements of earth will soon be lifted. You "fill not much longer stand pouring your grief in the tomb, like Kachel weeping for her children or Iiavld mourning for Absalom. Broken 'beurts bouud up. Wounds healed. Tears wiped away. Borrows terminated. No nioru hound ing of the dead march. Toward eveningl Death will come, sweet as slumber to the eyelids of tbe babe, as full rations to a starving soldier, as evening hour to the ex hausted workman. The sky will take on its sunset glow, every oloud a Are psalm, every lake a glassy mirror, tho (uresis transfigured, delicate mists climbing the air. Your friends will announce it; your pulses will beat it; yourloys will ring !t: your lips will whisper it, "Toward evening!" Exeter Church Sold for S 1,7. The Church of the Second Congregational dociety of Exeter, N. H., has been sold at auction for ?45. Tbe edillce was built in 1824 at a cost of 410,000. The site must be cleared for the erection of a new building within three weeks. All fn::d, whan e(.si: i, uro more remarkable for tbe:r thiuncss tiiau for anything elne. While tbu world l isls Hie sun will gild the mo -ntuin tops licf.re it shines npon the plain. The anci-u Evptiar.s hoaorn 1 a cat when dead, llicy kuov whou u cat most deserved it. The man who lays his bnuiH npon a woman, snvo iu the way of kindness, is a wretch whom 'twero gross tluttery no tame a cowurJ. The man who dues not Ioj'jl ahead, will toon hava to fail bucli. The happiness coiifists not in tbe tnulliiudrfof irian h but in tho worth and choice.
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