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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