f ,M2fe mm SllSlil ft' THE OONSTITDTION-THE UN I ON-AND THE ENFORCEMENT OF THE LAWS. B. F. BOHWEIEB, MIFFLINTOWN. JUNIATA COUNTY. PENNA.. WEDNESDAY. MARCH 2. 189S. VOL. LII no. i2 I A CHAPTER A. fjintofn Orcsham snrnng forward to lift the flowers which Mb L'Estrange had dropped. "Vm " nh wiid. "never mind them, 4 fresh flower is Terr nice. A flower th has once been in the dust has lost beauty." There was no trace of pain in the eleatf voice; it was rich and musical. Philippai L'Estrange, seated in the bright sunshinci heard the words that were to her a deatM warrant, yet made no sign. "I have no8 yet met my ideal," Lord Arleigh had said Captain Gresham picked up some of the falln flowers. "A Head flower from your hand, Miss) L'Estrange," he observed, "is worth al whole gardenful of living ones from any one else" She laughed again that sweet, musical laugh which seemed to come only from a) happy heart; and then she looked round The Duchess of Aytoun and Lord Arleigh) were still in deep converse. -Miss L, c rane turned to Captain Gresham. "I have been told," she said, "thai! there are some beautiful white hyacinth here: they are my favorite flowers. Shall we find them?" He was only too pleased. She bade m laughing adieo to the duchess and smile. at I.rd Arleigh. There was no trace o pnin or of sadness in her voice or face. They went a -ay together, and Lord Ar-i leigh never ".reamed that she had heard his remark. Then the lucbess left him, and he sat nnder the "treading beech alone. His thoughts -e not of the pleasantest na ture; he D not like the general belief in his an astching marriage: it was fair neither j of L'self nor to PhUippa yet how v put an end to such gossip? A.T..Jr idea occnrred to him. ConM it be possible that Thilippa herself shared the idea? He reproached himself for the thought, yet, do what he would, he could not drive i. Tkn micr.iinn haunted him: id made him miserable. If it was really so, 1 what was he to do? He looked around the grounds, and pres ent! v saw her the center of a brilliant group near the lake. The Duke of Ash wood was Dy her side, the elite of the guests had gathered round her. He went np to the little group, and again the same peculiarity struck him they all made way for him even the Duke of Ashwood, al though he did it with a frown on his face and an angry look in his eyes. Each one seemed to consider that he had some spe cial right to be by the side of the beauti ful Miss L'Estrange, and she, as usual when he was present, saw and heard no .one rhe. "Philippa," he said, suddenly, "the wat er looks very tempting would you like a row?" "Above everything else," she replied. And they went off in the little pleasure boat together. He rested on his sculls, and the boat .drifted under the drooping branches of a willow tree. He never forgot the picture Tthat then presented itself the clear, deep water, the green trees, and the beautiful face looking at him. "Norman," she said, in a clear, low voice, "I want to tell yon that I over heard all that you said to the Duchess of Aytoun. I could not help it I was so near to you." She was taking the difficulty Into her awn hands! He felt most thankful. "Did jou, Philippa? I thought you were engrossed with the gallant captain." "Did you really and In all truth mean what you said to her?" she asked. "Certainly; you know me well enough to be quite sure that I never say what I do not mean." "You have never yet seen the woman you would ask to be your wife?" she said, j cordiaj anj sincere liking. Then they be There was a brief silence, and then he ; nmf warm friends. The duke confided replied: I n Ixrd Arleigh he told him the whole "No, in all truth, I have not, Philippa." j itorv ot hig iOTe for jjjg. L'Eetrangc. A little bird was singing on a swaying know," he said, "that no one has so bough just above them to the last day f much influence over her as you. I do not her life it seemed to her that she remem bered the notes. The sultry silence weal ed to deepen. She broke it. "But, Norman," she said, in a low voice, "have you not seen me?" He tried to laugh to hide his embarrass ment, but it was a failure. "I have seen you and I admire you. 1 1 have all the affection of a brother for you, I'bilippa " and then he paused abrupt ly. "But," she supplied, "you have never thought of making me your wife? Speak to me quite frankly, Norman." "No, Philippa, I have not." "As matters stand between ns, they re quire explanation," she said; and he saw her lips grow pale. "It is not pleasant for me to have to mention it, but I must do it. Norman, do you quite forget what we were taught to believe when we were .children that our lives were to be passed together?" "My dearest Philippa, pray spare your self and me. I did not know that you even remembered that childish nonsense." She raised her dark eyes to his face, and there was something in them before which be shrank as one who feels pain. "One word, Norman only one word. That past which has been so much to me that past in which I have lived, even more than in the present, or the future am I to look upon it as what you call non eense?" He took her hand in his. "My dear Philippa." he said, "I hate myself for what I have to say it makes me detest even the sound of my own voice. Yet you are right there is nothing for cs but perfect frankness; anything else would be foviihb. Neither your mother nor mine had any right to try to bind us. Such things never answer, never prosper. I cannot myself imagine how they, usual ly so sensible, came in this instance to dis regard all dictates of common sense. 1 have always looked upon the arrangemenl as mere nonsense; and I hope yon hav done the same. You are free as air and so am I." She made no answer, but, after a few minutes, when she had regained her self possession, she said: The sun is warm on the water I think we had better return ;" and, as they went back, she spoke to him carelessly about the new rage for garden parties. Eie noticed her going home more par ttcujaJ tft&a he h4 ra dca fecto. Phe was a trifle paler, and there was a languid expression in her dark eyes which might arise from fatigue, but she talked lightly aa usual. If anything, she was even kinder to him than usual, never evincing the least consciousness of what had happened. Could it have been a drenni? Never was man so puzzled a Lord Arleigh. When he was going away she asked him bout riding on the morrow just as usual i He could not see the slightest difference in her manner. That unpleasant little conversation on the lake might never have " place for all the remembrance of it that seemed to trouble her. Tacit, when he rose to take his leave, she held out her hand with a bright expression To the last the light shone In her eyes, and the scarlet lips were wreathed In smiles; but, when the door had closed behind him end she was alone, the hag gard, terrible change that fell over the yonng face was painful to see. The light, the youth, the beauty seemed all to fade from it; it grew white, stricken, as though the pain of death were upon her. She clasped her hands as one who had lost al) hope. "How am I to bear it?' she cried. "What am I to do?" She looked round her with the bewildered air of one who had lost her way with the dazed appear ance of one from beneath whose feet the plank of safety had been withdrawn. It was all over life waa all over; the love that had been her life was suddenly tak en from her. Hope was dead the past in which she had lived was all a blank he did not love her. That night, while the sweet flowers slept under the light of the stars, and the little birds rested in the deep shade of the trees while the night winds whis pered low, and the moon sailed in the sky I'bilippa L'Estrange, the belle of the season, one of the most beautiful women in London, one of the wealthiest heiresses in England, wept through the long hours wept for the overthrow of her hope and her love, wept for the life that lay in ruins around ber. She watched the stars until they faded from the skies and then she buried her face in the pillow and sobbed herself to sleep. CHAPTEK XI. It was when the sun, shining into her room, reached her that an idea occurred to Philippa which was like the up-springing of new life to her. All waa not yet lost. He did not love her he had not thought of making her his wife; bnt it did not foUow that he would never do so. What had not patience and perseverance accomplished before now? What had not Vuve won? She honed against hope. Each day she counted the kind words he had said to her; she noted every glance, every look, every expression. But she could not fiid that she made any progress nothing that in dicated any change from brotherly f nend ship to love. Still had she not hoped against hope, the chances are that she would have died of a broken neart. Then the season ended. She went back to Verdun Royal with Lady Peters, and Ixrd Arleigh to Beechgrove. They wrote to each other at Christmas, and met at Calverley, the seat of Lord Kineham. By this time some of Miss L'Estrange's ad mirers naa come to tne conclusion uiat there was no truth in the report of the engagement between herself and Lord Arleigh. Among these was his grace the Duke of Hazelwood. He loved the beau tiful, queenly girl who had so disdainfully refused his coronet the very refusal had made him care more than ever for her. When the Duke of Hazelwood made up his mind, he generally accomplished his desire; he sought Lord Arleigh with such assiduity, he made himself so pleasant and agreeable to him, that the master of ruw-h ctvi v mnn showed him his mnat believe in the absurd stories told about an engagement between yon, but I see plain ly that she is yonr friend, and that you are hers; and I want you to use your in fluence with her in my favor." Lord Arleigh promised to do so and he i intended to keep his promise; they were on such intimate and friendly terms that he could venture upon saying anything of that kind to her. The opportunity that Lord Arleigh looked for came at last. Philippa had some reason to doubt the honesty of a man whom she had been employing as agent. She resolved upon laying the matter before Lord Arleigh, and seeing what he thought about it. He listened very patiently, examined the affair, and then told her that he believed she had been robbed. "Philippa," he continued, "why do yon not marry? A husband would save you all this trouble; he would attend to your affairs, and shield you from annoyances of tiiis kind." "The answer to yonr question, 'Why io I not marry?" would form a long story,'" she replied. "Philippa, there is something that I wish to say to you something that I Ions have wished to say. Will you hear it now?" A tremor like that of the leaves in the wind seemed to pass over her. There was a startled expression in the dark eyes, a quiver of the crimson lips. Was it com ing at last this for which she had longed all her lfe? She controlled all outward signs of emotion and turned to him quite calmly. "I am always ready to listen to yon, Norman, and to hear what yon have to say." "I want ron to tell me why yon will not marry the Duke of Hazelwood. You have treated me as your brother and your friend. The question might seem imper tinent from another; from me it will not appear impertinent, not curious- simply true and kindly interest. Why will you not marry him, Philippa?" A quick, sharp spasm of pain passed over her face. She was silent for a min ute before she answered him, and then she said: "The reason is very simple, Norman because I do not love him." "That is certainly a strong reason; but, Philippa, let me ask you another ques tion why do you not love him?" She fiouMJMTt ntocMd. ".Wlu do JW not love me?" but prudence forbade it. "I cannot teU you. I hare heard you say that love is fate. I should imagine It must be because the Duke of Hasei wood is not my fate." He did not know what answer to make to that, K waa so entirely his own way of thinking. "But, Philippa." be resumed after a pause, "do you not think that you might love him If you tried?" "When you urge me to marry your friend, you ask me why I cannot love hlni. Norman, why can you not love me?" "I can answer you only in the same words I do not know. 1 love you with as true an affection as ever man gave to woman; but I have not for you a lover's love. I cannot tell why. for you are one of the fairest of fair women." "Fair, but not your ideal woman,' " she said, gently. "No, not my "ideal woman,' he re turned; "my sister, my friend not my love." . "Norman, will you tell me what yonr ideal of woman to like, that I may know her when I see her?" -Nay," he objected, gently, "let us talk of something else." But she nersisted. "Tell me," she urged, "that I may know In what she differs from me." "I do not know that I can tell yon," he replied. "I have not thought much of the matter. But If anyone asked yon to describe your ideal of what a woman should be, you could do it," she pursued. Perhaps so, but at best it wuia ne bnt an imperfect sketch, bhe mutt ie young, fair, gentle, pure, tender of heart, noble in soul, with a kind of shy, sweet grace: frank, yet not outspoken; free from ull affectation, yet with nothing unwom anly: a mixture of child and woman. If I love an ideal, it is something like mat. And she must be fair, like all tne ladies Arleigh, with eyes like the hya cinth. snd hair ringed with gold, 1 sup- nose. Norman T Yes: I saw a picture once in xtome that realized my notion of true womanly loveliness. It was a very fair face, witn something of the Innocent wonder of a child mixed with the dawning love and mission of noblest womanhood, "You admire an ingenue. We have both nnr tastes: mine, if I were a man, would incline more to the brilliant and hand some." She would have added more, but a I that moment Lady Peters drew aside the silken hanging. "Mr dear children." she said, "I should ill play my part of chaperon If I did not remind you of the hour. We have been celebrating my birthday, but my birth day is part and gone it is after mid night." Lord Arleigh looked up hi wonder. "After midnight? Impossible! Yet 1 declare my watch proves that It is. It is all the fault of the starlight. Lady Peters; vou must blame that. Good night, Phil ippa," he said, In a low, gentle voice. bending over her. The wind stirred her perfumed hair un til it touched his cheek; the leaves of the crimson roses fell in a shower around her. She raised her beautiful pale face to his the unspeakable love, the yearning sor row on It, moved him greatly. He bent down and touched her brow with his lips. "Good night, Philippa, my sister my friend." he said. Even by the faint starlight he saw a change pass over her face, "Good night," she responded. "I have more to soy to you, but Lady Peters will be horrified if you remain any longer. You will call to-morrow, and then I can finish my conversation T "I will come," he replied gravely. He waited a moment to see if she would nass into the drawing room before him, but she turned away and leaned her arms on the stone balustrade. It was all over now. She had stepped down from the proud height of her glor ous womanhood to ask for his love, anf he had told her that he had none to giyi her Khe had lowered her pride. humiW iated herself, all in vain. "No woman," she said to herso.fi "would ever pardon such a slight or for. give such a wrong." At fi rat she Trent ns though her hear! would break tears fell like rain from he eyes, tears tnat seenieu to uuru "-'w fell; then after a tune pride rose gained the ascendancy. When the nassion of grief had stiW sided, when the hot, angry glow of woundj ed pride died away, she raised ner race i the night skies. swear" she said, "that I will be re vengedthat I will take such vengeancd on him as will bring his pride down tai lower than he has brought mine. I will never forgive him. I have loved him with a devotion passing the love of woman, t will hate more than I loved him. 1 wouiq have given my life to make him happy. X now consecrate it to vengeance. I sweaa to take such revenge on him as shall bring the name of Arleigh low indeed." And that vow she intended to keep. A week afterward Lord Arleigh receiv ed a note in Pbilippa's handwriting; it said, simply: "Dear Norman: Yon were good enougn to plead the duke's cause. When you meet him next, ask him if he has any thing to tell you. "PHILIPPA L'ESTRANGE." What the Duke of Hazelwood had to tell was that Miss L'Estrange had pronw Used to be his wife, and that the marriage waa to take place in August. He prayel Lord Arleigh to be present as his "besl man" on the occasion. CHAPTER XII. The great event of the year succeetlin was the appearance of the Duchess of Hazelwood. Mies L'Estrange, the belle and the heiress, had been very popnlarj her Grace ef Hazelwood was more rpu- tar still. If the duke had been asked to continue the history of his wedding day, he would have told a strange story how, when thev were in the railway carnage togetb er, he had turned to his beautiful young wife with some loving words on his lips. and she had cried out that she wanted air, to let no one come near her that she had stretched ont her hands wildly, as though beating off something terrible. They fell into the general routine ot life. One loved the other allowed herself to be loved. The duke adored his wife, and she accepted his adoration. At times, she would tease Lord Arleigh about his ideal woman; but that was al wavs in her husband's presence. "You have not found the ideal woman yet. Normnn?" she would ask him, laugh inglv: aad be would asawer. "No, not ret" Then the duke would wax eloquent and tell him that he really knew little of life that If he wanted to be happy he must look for a wife. "You were easily contented," the duch ess would say, "Norman wants an ideal. You were content with a mere mortal hs will never be." "Then find him an ideal, Philippa,' would be the duke's reply. "Ton know some of the nicest girls In London; find htm an ideal among them. Then to the beautiful face would come the strange, brooding smile. "Give ae time," would her grace of Haselwood amy; "I sbail find jot wta I tt vs. a beautiful, pure morning. For many years there had not been so bril liant a season to London; everyone seem ed to be enjoying it; ball sucjeeded ball; fete succeeded fete, iora Arisen naa received a note from the Duchess of Ha zelwood, asking him if he would call be fore noon, as she wanted to see him. He went at once to v eraun nouse, mum . . . a. il nf r ns -WWT t si OTt Ca tVOsrl tnm ini.i uv uuuicoa ei9'-t but would see him in a few minutes. Con trary to the usual custom, he was shown into a pretty morning room, one exclusive ly used by the duchess a small, octagonal room, daintily rurmsneu, u.n uiruu to a small rose-garden, also exclusively kept for the use of the duchess. He smiled to himself, thinking that in all probability It was some mistake of the servants; he pictured to himself the ex pression of Philippa's face when she should find him there. He looked round; the room bore traces of her presence around him were some of her favorite Bowers and books. He went to the long r rencn wmoow. wondering st the rich collection of roses, nd there he saw a picture tnat never ror- scok his memory again there he met his fate saw the ideal woman of his dreams at last. This was the picture he saw a beauti ful but by no means a common one. In the trellised arbor, which contained a stand nnd one or two chairs, was a young girl of tall, slender figure, with a fair. .nrwt far. Inexpressibly lovely, lilies and r.ses exquisitely blended eyes like blue hvacinths, large, bright and starlike, with lids and dark long lashes, so dark that they gave a peculiar expression to the eves one of beauty, thought and original ity. Ihe lip were sweet and snuiui, beautiful when smiling, but even more beautiful when in repose. The oval con tour of the face was perfect; from tho white brow, where the veins were so clear ly marked, rose a crown of golden hair, not brown or auburn, but of pure pale gold a dower of beauty in itself. Lord Arleigh looked at her like one in a dream. "If she had an aureole round her head, I should take her for an angel." he thought to himself, and stood watching her. It seemed to him that he had been there long hours, when the door suddenly op ened, and her grace of Hazelwood enter ed. "Norma n," she said, as though in snd dea wonder, "why did they show you iu here?" "I knew they were doing wrong," he re plied. "This is your own special sanctum, PhUippa ?" "Y'es, it Is indeed; still, as yon are here, you may stay. What do you think about my roses?" "They are beautiful." he replied, and then, in a low voice, he asked: "Philippa, who is.that beautiful girl out there among yonr flowers?" She did not smile, but a sudden light came into her eyes. It would be a great kindness not to tell you," she answered. "Y'ou see wha comes of trespassing in forbidden places. I did not intend you to see that youiu lady." "My dear Philippa, she is the ideal worn an herself neither more nor less." "Found at last!" laughed the duchess "For all that, Norman, you must not look at her." "Why not? Is she married engaged?" "Married? That girl! Why she has just left school. If you really wish tn know who she is I will tell you; but you must give me your word not to mention It." "I promlre," he replied. He wondered why the beautiful fne grew crimson and the dark eyes drooped. "She is a poor relative of ours," said the duchess, "poor, you understand noth ing else." "Then she is related to the duke?" he interrogated "Yes, distantly; and, after a fashion, we have adopted her. When she marries we shall give her a suitable dot. Her niotliet married unfortunately, "Still, she waa married?" said Lord Ar-1 leigh Yes, certainly; but unhappily marr.ed. Her daughter, however, haa received a good education, and now she will remain with us. But, Norman, in this I may trust you, as m everything else?" You may trust me Implicitly, he re plied. The duke did not quite like the Men of having her live with us at first and I do not wish it to be mentioned to him. If he speaks of it to you at all, it will be as my caprice. Let it pass do not ask any ques tions about her; It only annoys ner it only annoys him. She is very happy with me. You see, she continued, women can keep a secret. She has been here three weeks, yet you have never seen her before, and now it is by accident." But." said Norman, "what do you in tend to do with her?" The duchess took a seat near him, and assumed quite a confidential air. I have been for some time looking out for a companion, she said ; Lady I'eters really must live at Verdun Royal a housekeeper is not sufficient for that large establishment it requires more than that She has consented to make it her home, and I must have some one to be with me." You have the duke," he put in, won- deringly. "True, and a husband must, perforce, be all that is adorable; still, having been accustomed to a lady companion, I prefer keeping one; and this girl, so beautiful, so pure, so simple, is all that I need, or could wish for." "What is her name?" asked Lord Ar leigh. The duchess laughed. "Ah, now, manlike, you are growing curious! I shall not tell you. Yes, I will; it is the name above all others for an ideal Madeline." "Madeline," he repeated; "it is very musical Madeline." "It suits her," said the duchess; "and now, Norman, I must go. I have some pressing engagements to-day." "You will not introduce me, then, Phil ippa r "No why should I? Too would only disturb the child's dream." To lie Continued. Tl The shortest snd surest wnv to live with honor in the world is to be in reality whnt we would appear to be. This is the law of benefits lietween r.-.en the one- ought to forget at once what he has given and the other ought never to forget what he has received. Neatness, when moderate, is a virtue; but when carried to an extreme it nar rows the mind. Poverty wants some things, luxury muny, avarice all things. The future destiny of the child is al ways the work of the mother. What are' the aims which are at the si me time duties? They are the per fecting of ourselves and the happiness of others. Choose always the way that seems the bcBt, however" rough it may be; custom wil soon render it easy and agreeable. Contentment is a earl of great price, and whoever procures it at the expense of ten thosand desires makes a wise and happy purchase. Bb.. Tbrsw a Bilver Dollar la Wkert Copper. Were MiMinc The blind woman sat at the cornet of two of the busiest of the downtown streets. Tba hour was late, but throngs of people were passing. The electrte light glared into ber sight less eyeballs and made them ache Now and then she pressed them wear ily with her hand, but she stuok to ber post. It had been a bad dy fer her. The men and women who hurried by paid no heed, to her. The Uu cup pathetically held out was emity. No coppers rattled Into it The sky wa. gloomy and drops of rain fell nor and then. They hung upon the bwk of her extended hand and en the black shawl with which her head was covered. She was an old woman past 60. Bhe had been a mendicant long sn.ngh to be come used to failure. Her face allow ed no disappointment at her 111 suc cess. It was stony in Ms apathy. It was of an Irish type. One could tell without asking that her husband and sons were dead long ago. She wns living on because her religion forlmde self-destruction and she belonged to a race that seldom commits self-mur der. Perhaps life was dear to her aft er all. Who knows? It wns near to 11 o'clock and she listened with something like Interest to the tread of the many people from the theaters nnd hurrying to tbt'.r trains. They did not notice her. The doleful notes of ber hand oiin aroused no sympathy. Of all the hun dreds who went by, carrying with them wealth, health, happiness and foshlou, not even one gave her a thought. Thty passed and as time went on the streets became quiet. Suddenly from the side deor of a sa loon came a girl, who staggered slight ly. She waa a pretty girl, not more than 18 years old, and dressed In gaudy clothing that was expensive and jet seemed cheap. A flood of light poured about her as she stood In the doorway and shewed a wayward wisp of brown hair that fell across ber cheek. "Geod-nlyht, Bill."' she called gayly, and lurched down the sidewalk. She hummed a rag-time song as she walked along. The face was reckless, but not hard. She winked Impudently at a grinning policeman who met her, stopped to stnre Into a restaurant win dow, lingered In front of a saloon and deliberated whether she would or would not take another drink, decided that she would not and so came to the blind woman on the corner. When she saw the bent form, the gray hair anl red, sightless eyes. Into which the elee tric light still glared, her face softened. She stood for a moment and gazed. With a woman's quickness she took in every detail of the shabby attire and all the long record of patient suffering written In the thin, wrinkled cheeks, "Thank God," she said unconsciously aloud, "mowmer is dead." She stopped, unfastened a flashy green purse with gold gilt trimmings, took out a silver dollar and dropped It Into the empty cup. The bRnd one started at the heavy elink of the coin and raised ber hand In a muttered Irish blwslng. Then she hurried away with lowered face and waa lost tn the shadow of a tall buiWhir. AS WE USED TO BE.' German rhy.lclaii Say Mankind Wae Formerly with. Rails A nAtx Rwnuii nhvsiHsn. Dr. E.- expreese9 his conviction that ages ago the bodies of mankind were cov- rred with hair, and that It present dis appearance Is due to the fact tha Its absence was regarded as a beauty, and hence that In the choice of mates pref erence was always given to those that bad the least of It. "As to the physio logical functions of hairs," says Dr. Exner, "t Is admitted that they are modified sense organs, which have lost all connection with the nerves. It is rrohable that In primitive man the dis tribution of the hatr upon the body' was hregukir, and that the length, col or, structure and thickness of the hair varied with functions for which It was Intended. The hair which has been left ope the body In the pt-ooees of evolution haa been left there for a definite purpose. Certain hairs Berve as orgem or. touch, nwaoij -j lashes, the bulbs of widen are sur rounded by a notwork of nerve nores. snd In a less degree the hairs of the eyebrows. Both these serv te pro tect the eyes, for, being sensitive, they give warning of danger, so that reflex closure ef the Kds Is produced. The eyebrows also prevent drops of sweat from running Into the eyes, while the eyelashea keep out dust. . , . In animals the hair serves to maintain and regulate the heat of the body, but In man tne hair of the scalp alon i serves this purpose. Hair Is Itself a poor conductor ef heat, and retains air, also a poor conductor, In Its inter stices. The fact that the forehead not covered wtth hair, Exner explains on the theory that in the contest be tween the natural tendency of the hair to protect the head against changes of temirrature aad the tendency of hu man nature toward beauty, the latter has prevailed more easily, because tie non-conducting proper ties of that por tion of the skull are Increased by the air containing frontal sinuses, and that that portion of the head is easily protected from the heat of the aun by Inclining the bead forward." Bhe Fixed Is. Laura The epochs of time are named after the greatest thing that oc curs during the period. For Instance, we have the Iron age, the electrical age, and the steam age. Nonle I think this Is the kiss age, then. Pittsburg News. The Doc in the Bible. The dog Is mentioned thirry-three tin. a in the Bible. One Woman's Way. ' Mrs. Skinner Oh, but I wish I was a man. Mr. Skinner "Why so, my dear? Mrs. Skinner I was just thinking to day If I was only a man, how b.ippy I could make my wife by giving her a diamond necklace for a birthday present. f ome Tbtnk It SemHasT to Bide 1 Comanoa Street Cars. "That ene-hatf ef the inhabitant-, of Kew York baa ne conception, ef the manner In which the other half exist) goes without saying," remarked a soci ety woman recently, "but I never real ized how differently the Uvea, habits and occupations of the rich ef oar ewa differ from those ef 'nous eutres,' who aee only moderately well off, until the other day, at a sort of drawing-room debating dub that we started this win ter the various methods of transit were under discussion, when Mrs. Midas, who wa- my neighbor, said to me: " 'I emtio t speak from experience la any of the matters, for I hjrve never been in a public conveyance In my life, except, of course, the raflreads. " 'bit you mean to say,' I exclaimed, ford could not realize that a woman of r0 years ef age. living la New York all ber days, could, whatever might be her condition, really live so far apart from the great maee of ber fellow creatures, 'that you have never been in an omni bus or a street car? " 'Never,' she answered. " 'But the elevated railroads,' I per sisted. 'What do y.a do when you wish to go a lone distance?' " 'I drive,' she replied, looking mildly astonished. 'Surely you do not climb those stairs and go Into those awful things?" "No wonder that these people feel aa if they were made of different clay from the rest of humanity. No aristo crat In Europe could hold herself more proudly aloof from the hoi polio! than do such women who by the power of money and the money alone are thus alienated from their kind. Such class distinctions between those who have and those who have not, based upon nothing but sordid coneiderations, are undoubtedly widening the breach be tween the rich and the poor In this country." "They. mean well, these rich women," said a hard-working philanthropist who had devoted years to the people and their needs, not merely bodily, but socially and Intellectually. "And we greatly need the money that they give, but 1 do wish they would not drive dawn to our clubs wtth their carriages and footmen. I do not like te say that It was Inappropriate and tended to de stroy rather than foster the feeling of friendship and self-respect that we are trying to have established, hut I tried to suggest to Mrs. Croesus, who has taken so "much Interest and donated such a barge sum to our library, that It would save her so much time If she came down In the 'L.' " 'My dear Mr. T.,' she exclaimed, 1 would not go lot one ef those slums for the world without John and Thomas te protect me,' a remark which shewed how hopelessly ignorant she was of the real meaning and scope of our work." New York Tribune. Will Say "Madam." Hence for tli the employes of an East ern railroad company who have occa sion to address women patrons of the load will uee the word "Madam," In stead of "Lady," a change that educat ed persona will appreciate, whatever the reasons that dictated it. One of the company said by way of explana tion: "It has become a growing and wry noticeable evil among the con-' (factors particularly of late that women- patrons of the road were addressed as "Mrs.,' sometimes as 'Miss,' not in frequently as 'Lady,' and occasionally as 'Madam,' and It was often the case that the person addressed as 'Mrs.' should have been addressed as 'Miss,' If strict propriety were observed, and v!ce versa, and Individual complaints of such cases have been reported. By the adoption of a uniform greeting, such as 'Madam, It relieves the con ductor and motorman of the responsi bility of distinguishing between 'Mrs.' and 'Mlse,' and at the same time pre vents any possible offense being given." M- ke a Fly Look Twelve Miles Lionar. Pref. Elmer Gates, of Washington, fays he has worked out a process by which objects can be magnified to a i7.e SOO times greater than by any of the microscopes now In use. Hie Invention,- he claims, will revolutionize microscopy, and will advance science to a point hitherto unheard of. Hla discovery, he says, will be ef special value In bacteriology and the study of the cellular tissues. 1 ne proleeeor ae- Clares that he has succeeded vhere all other scientists have failed in discov ering a way by which the magnified .'mage projected on a lense can be mag nified by a second as If it were the original object. To do this has been the aim ef scientific photographers and ralcroscoplsts for many years. Prof. Gates dees net take the public Into his confidence sufficiently to divulge the details of his Invention, but he says he will be ready to give It to the world In a few weeks. The power of the new Instrument Is mentioned as 8,000,000 diameters. Washington dispatch te Indianapolis Journal. It Was Successful. "Ah, doctor; glad te see you. I've been anxious te hear about that opera tion you were telling me of the other day. Hew did It come out?' "Oh, beautifully! It was one of the beet bits of work I ever did. auccese-pul In every way." Very "And the patient bow did be stand "Well, he died." Cleretod Leader. The Med era Chaporva. "h, yae, I hire my chaperon by the year and she eoate me A Tory tidy turn." "She must be highly cultivated." "She Is. She can jump, run and wree- tie, snd you never saw 4 cleverer worn- an with Dealer. her fists P' CTereiand Pieia The Proper Way to Do. Brown How ia your friend Green getting along tn the grocery business 7 White He's not making hla salt. Brown Why, what' tbe trouble? White Oh, nothing; he buys It. A bad memory la the skeleton In the liar's closet. A headstrong man la as apt to be wrong as be la light. . riral in ten aa ha rival tn leva aa ne No man bates feavtea a, rival In buai: SERMONS OF THE DAY "Stirring Folks Vp" Fourteenth Sermon In the Mew York Herald's Competitive Series Is bv a Pennsylvania. Minister. ' Xtr. Talmage On Ordinary People. ' "Ahab, whom Jezebel his wife stirred up." I. Kings, xxl., 25. A large part of the evil and a larger part of the good in the world would never be ' done but for the doers being stirred up to It. Life is much like the sea; there seems al- ' ways some wind to smite the surface or : some stealthy undercurrent to send its rest- ! lessness up from the depths. j The lesson is many sided; if fully consid ered It covers the whole complex question I of life's relationships. It is not one part of the world against the other; part of the world giving, the other ever receiving Im pressions, tor one who is stirred up by evil may be a constant impulse to another's good. j No matter how weak one may be or how , dependent on others, there is still some . power going forth consciously or uncon- j sciously which makes more positive the I good or evil of the world's conflicting ' forces. I We find ourselves pressed by life's im- ', pulses or irritations. Its attractions and repulsions find ready allies In our inclina- i tions, and often we fail because we under- ! estimate the opposing forces, or we joyously ...... t : a t. .. . ... .. KBnA i ii.i . n . nsefulness we had thoueht bevond our powei'. The example of Jezebel the Lady Mac- ' beth of Scripture, the "new woman" of ; nearly three thousand years ago is not ; chosen because women are more prone to stirring up to evil than men, though blessed is the woman who "stirs up" her husband 1 whenever he needs it, and hanpy is the man who never stirs up bis wife to any thing but good. We are ready to condemn Jezebel for having stirred up Ahab to evil, but we of ten lose sight of how Ahab influenced Jeze bel. His negative weakness provoked her positive badness. We sometimes comfort i ourselves that we are not bad because we do not great sins, forgetful that onr very weakness may provoke some one else into sinning. Ahab wanted a piece ot ground that was near the royal palace. It was the property of Nabotb, who, with true ancestral rever ence, refused to part with it. Piqued ly Kaboth's refusal, Ahab went to bed, turned his face to the wall and refused to eat. Ahab, the king, peevish as a child because be could not have his own way! It was then Jezebel's murderous plans were formed. Allah's peevish sulkiness stirred up the wickedness of Jezebel. Had lie been noble she could not have been so evil. "Whom Jezebel his wife stirred np" stirred up to evil. Had that power been turned to good even weak Aliab might have been one of the world's helpers. The power for great evil reveals the pos sibility of great good; the power in the direction of wrong is the measure of bene.'lt if turned in the opposite direction. Who can estimate what the world would have lost had not Wendell Phillips heard his true hearted wife say, "Wendell, don't shilly-shally!" That put an end to possible vacillation. Was Lady Palnierston's "stir ring np" worth while? Klie spent her life in "placing and keeping'' her husband in bis proper positioD. What a rare tribute was paid by General Charles H. Taylor to the memory of Eben D. Jordan when in a Boston Olohe editorial he said, "So man of my acquaintance ever possessed a rarer gift ot developing the gifts of other men, and no one ever helped others with more j-atience and generosity." He stirred up to their best possibilities those whom he met; be made them by his help what, possibly, they never could have been without him. Are those who are near you weak and sinful because you have not stirred them up to be their best selves? The world will ever be grateful to Dr. W. Robertson Nicholl for his persistent stir ring up of Ian Maclaren. He gave bira no rest until he led the world to the "Bonnie Brier Bush," which, like the bush Mones saw, is aglow with God. Despondent we sometimes are because all tbe world seems against ns. If we put ourselves in right relations with fiod He will give us of His power and we shall be masters, not ser?ants, ot fate. Most happily it has been said: Likethe winds of the sea are the waves of fate As we journey through life; 'Tis the set of a soul That decides its goal. And not the calm or the strife. How are you using the forces which eome upon you? Have you so "set the sails" that the very winds which are In tenOed ro drive yon far out on the tempest tossed sea shall helo you into a harbor ot safety? Are the burdens so numerous and heavy that tliey press you to tlie earth? Tben learn of the fiililed hero who by every touch gained increase of strength. Jesus "set His face steadfastly to go to Jerusalem" because His soul was set on doing God's will. Paul said, "All things work together for good to them that love God." To a soul set on doing right even the opposing forces will bring benefit. From the naggings of a jealous wife John Wesley learned lessons of patience, from the stormy days of companionship with scolding Xantippi Socrates drew lessons of self-discipline. We Influence by what we are. Not our seeming but our being sends forth Its influ ence to stir up to right or wrong. You have watched the groundswell as the waves dashed, surging and moaning, upon the rockv shore, and though there was no vis- 11.1 ..a.. Iman. a . V. a nrr ....... f.. nf on tne ocean. So we influence and are in fluenced. You have taken in your hand an opal the sympathitln stone. It was dull and colorless until the warmth ot your hand caused it to glow with radiance of color. So there are lives about us; dull and unin teresting they seem, but the stimulus of . V. .. .. t, 1 . ..ill m.U than, aliinA a a TOir""' You are ttirrlng folks np to what? Horace R. Goodchild, Pastor Baptist Church, Clarion, Penn. ORDINARY PEOPLE. Dr. Talmage Discourses I'pon Ordinary or Inconspicuous 1'eople. Text: "Salute Asyncrltus, Phlegon, Her nas, Pntrobas. Hermes, Phllologus and Ju lia." Romans xvi., 14-15. Matthew Henry, Albert Barnes, Adam Clark, Thomas Scott, and all the commen tators pass by these verses without any especial remark. Tbe othertwenty people mentioned in the chapter were distin guished for something and were therefore dismissed bv the illustrious expositors; but ' nothing is said about Asyncritus, Phlegon, ' Hernias, Patrobas, Hermes, Phllologus and ' Julia. Where were they born? tto one i knows? When did they die? There is no j record of their decease. For what were ! they distinguished? Absolutely nothing, ! or the trait of character would have been j brought out by the Apostle. But they were ! good people, because Paul sends to them , his high Christian regards. They were or I dinarv people moving in ordinary sphere, attending to ordinary duty, and meeting j ordinary responsibilities. I What the world wants is a religion for i it ! .. ltd,... ha in H il TTniteH ' States 70,000,000 people, there are certainly t jrumiirv im-uiiit-. Al ici" " . - ..t ,nrn tlian 1 OO0.OUU extraoro inury : nnu then there are 69.000,000 ordinary, and we do well to turn our backs lor a utile wmie upon the distinguished and conspicuous people of the Bible and consider in our text the seven ordinary. We spend too much of oir time in twisting garlands for remark- ables, and building thrones for magnates, and sculpturing warriors, and apotheosiz ing philanthropists. The rank and file ot the Lord's soldiery need especial help. The vast majority of people will never lead an army, will never write a State Con stitution, will never electrify a Senate, will never make an Important invention, will never decide the fate of a nation. You do not expeet to: you do not want to. You will not be a Hoses to lead a nation out of bondage. You will not be a Joshua to pro- lon tn- dy8bt nntU yon ean shut five i . ... v m -n k . at John to unroll an Apocalypse, xou win not be a Paul to preside ov -r an apostolio college. You will not be a Mary to mother a Christ. You will more probably be Asyn critus, or Phlegon, or Hernias, of Patrobas, or Hermes, or Phllologus, or Julia. Many of you are women at the head of households. Every morning you plan for the day. The culinary department of the household is yonr dominion. You docida all questions of diet. All the sanitary regulations of your house are under your supervision. To regulate the fool, and the apparel and the habits, and decide the thousand questions of homo life is a tax npon brain and nerve and general health absolutely appalling if there be no divine alleviation. They who provide the food of tho world decide the health ot the world. You have only to go on some errand amid the tav erns and hotels of the United States and Great Britain to appreciate tho fact that a vast multitude of the human race are slaughtered by Incompetent cookery. Though a young woman may havo taken lessons in music and may have taken les sons in painting, and lessons in astronomy, she is not well educated unless she has taken lessons in dough! They who decide the apparel of the world, and the food ot the world, decide tho enduranco of the world. Then there are all the ordinary business men. They need diviuennd Christian help. When we begin to talk about business iifn we shoot right oft" and talk about men who dbl business on a largo scale and who sold millions of dollars of goods a year; and tho vast majority of business men do not sell a million dollars of goods, nor halt a million, nor a quarter of a million, nor tho eighth part of a million. Put all the business iwn of our cities, towns, villages and iii'i'iibor hoods side by side, and you will find that they sell less than a hundred thousand dol lars' worth of goods. All thi-s" m":i In or dinary I jsiness life want divine Ik-;. You see how the wrinkles aro printing un the countenance the story of worrimmit and care. You can not tell how old a bnsin-.-ss mau is by looking at him. Gray hairs at thirty. Now, what is wanted is grace divine grace for ordinary business men, men who are harnessed from morn tilt ni'it and ail the days of their life harnessed in busi ness. Not grace to lose a hundred thou sand, but grace to lose ten dollars. Not grace to supervise two hundred and fifty employes in a factory, but grace to super vise the bcokkeeper and two salesmen and the small boy that sweeps out the store. Grace to invest not tho eighty thousand dollars of net profit, but too twenty-livo hundred of clear gain. Such a grace, as thousands of business men have to-day keeping them tranquil, whether goo sell or do not sell, whether customers payor do not pay, whether tarill is up or tariff is down, whether the crops arc luxuriant ot a dead failure calm iu all circumstances, and amid all vicissitudes. That is the kind of grace we want. Then there are all tho ordinary farmers. We talk about agricultural life, an I im mediately shoot off to talk about Cincin natus, the patrician, who weut fn.m the plow to a high position, and after he got through the dictatorship, in twenty-one days, went back again to the plow. Wtiat encouragement is that to ordinary farm ers? The vast majority of them none ot them will be patricians. Perhaps ii't- - -them will be Senntors. If any" ol them have dictatorships It will bo over lorty or fifty or a hundred acres of tho old homestead. What these men want Is grace, to keep their patience while plowing with balky oxen, and to keep cheerful amid tho drouth that destroys tho corn crop, and that enables them "to restore the garden the day after the neighbor's catties have broken in and trampled out thostra wherry- bed, and gone turougu t'.ie. i.ima-iieaa patch, and eaten up the sweet corn in such large quantities that they must be kept from tno water lest tney swell up and die. Grace in catching weather that enables them, without imprecation, to spread out the hay the third timi. altuougli again, and again, and again, it lias been almost ready lortnemow. A crace to uoefjr tne eow with hollow horn, and the sheep witii the foot rot, and the horse with tho dis temper, and to compel the unwilling acres to vleld a livelihood for the family, and schooling for the children and little extras to help the older boy in business, and some thing for the daughter's wedding outfit, and a little surplus for the time when the ankles will get stiT with age, and the breath will be a little short, aad the swinging of the cradle through the hot har vest Held will bring on tho old man's ver tigo. Better close up about t in mnntus. I know Ave hundred lariners just ns noble as he was. What thev want is to know that they have the friendship of that Christ who often drew His similes trom tlielar mer's life, as when He said: "A sower went forth to sow," as when He built His best parable out of the scene of a farmer bov coming back from his wanderings, nnd the old farmhouse shook that niglit with rural jubilee; and who compared himself to a lamb In the pnsture Held, and who said that the eternal God is a farmer, de- olaring: "My Father is the huse.indman." StCome, now, let us have a religion foi ordinary people in professions, in occupa tions. In agriculture, in the household, in merchandise, tn everything. I satntt across the centuries Asyncritus, riilogon. Hermas, Patribas, Hermes, Phllologus and Julia. First of all, if you feel that you are or dinary, thank God that you are not extra ordinary. I am tired und sick, an I h ired almost to death with extraordinary peo ple. You know as well as I do. mv brother and sister, that the most of the useful work of the world is done by unpreten tious people who toil right on by people who do not get much approval, nnd no one seems to say, "That is well done." The weather of life is not so severe on the plain as it is on the high peaks. Tiie world never forgives a man wiio knows r-r gains or does more than it can know or g on ot do. If, therefore, you feel that yoc cm ordinary, thank God for tho defense-- .tad tranquility of your position. Then remember, it you have only what is called an ordinary home, that tho great deliverers of the world have all come trom such a home. And there may be seated, reading at your evening stand, a child who shall be potent for the ages. Just unroll the scroll of men mighty in church nnd St ite, and you will Hud they nearly o'l' came from log cabin, or poor homes. Genius almost always runs out in the third or fourth generation. You can not find in all history an instance where the fourth generation of extraordinary people nmount to anything. Let us all be content with .such things as we have. God is just as g-vd in what He keeps away from us as in what He gives us. Even a knot may be useful if it is at th. end ot a thread. For !ny inn is but to sel 1 I to PUMell - I ib-l'I v . ve his r;ink Wedlocks l!ke wi not properlv judged of till the id ghiss. I.-..J1 v.., ... il ...s- .'ive what we sutler, sprinn, generally from wh-t we have re. Fathers, iheir hildrcn :nui themselves abas-, that wealth a husband for their daughters h iose. The kindest mil hanpi -st p ic will find occasion to forb-ar. and son"-' h ig overy day they live to pity and perhaps for give. A man who covers himself with -j-s: apparel ami neglects his mind, is like one who Illuminates 111" outside, ot His lion and sits within in the dark. It is in vain that a man is born forttf, nate if ho Im- unfortunate in his m iarriage soul that V Negligence is the rusl of the corrodes through nil her best re solution. Blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, nnd though a late, a stir" reward t-uc-coeds. If vou wish to be li'-l 1 in cs'eem, you must associ-. t" only wi h lliosc who are estin'.abl '. One of the godlike thirgs of this world is the venen tion done t hui-.an worth--by the hearts of men. Fire pr.d sword are but slow engines of destruction in t'i mpal is n Willi the babbler. , . . , , There is no dispute managed without 1 x passion and yet there is scarce a d pute worth a passion. X . to - Ht- X ' i ( A P - jC--' V w asm 'i ' t- .'-A '. - .j
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers