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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.