...'-
B. F. SCHWEIER,
VOL. LIV.
MIFFLIXTOWX, JUNIATA COUNTY, FENN., WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 24, 190O.
NO. 7.
THE nnnTiTHTinM tuc UMiriM inn tut rumor rtirttr nc tuc i awe rrHnr Pmnrlntnr
CHAPTER X.
Long slm e the moon baa mounted the
heaven-; "w it is at its full. A myriad
stars k.- i -.inpn ny with it. the hush of
t'-"I'i nature pays homage to it. Sol
emnly. sl"Iy, from the old belfry tower
the twelve strokes of midnight have
s.,Mii li'l "ii tin- air.
Vera, li-ing cautiously from beside Gri
eMa. nliu is, ns usual, sleeping the sleep
of tin- jn-t. slips gently on to the bare
white ai ! which the moonbeams are
traveling delicately.
Sleep lias deserted her. Weary at last
of her efforts to lose herself and her hate
f il tli' ii-hts in unconsciousness, she determine-
to rise and try what study may
du f.r her. She steps lightly across the
ro'io. "pens the door and speeds with all
hn-fe 'ver the corridor, gaunt and ghost
ly in the dim light, down the grand old
ataircase. and enters a room on the left
of the library, where one day she made
the discovery that comfort was to be
fuuud.
Strik-int; a match, she lights a lamp
upon a side table and proceeds to exam
ltie the book shelves. Taking down one
that she thinks will please her. Vera
kneels upon one of the deep window
Milts, looks outward, trying to pierce the
soft and scented gloom.
The opening of the door rouses her. It
Is iiuite an hour later an hour forgotten
by her as she read. With a sudden start
she looks up, turning her face over her
shoulder to the door, to see who can be
coming in at this unholy hour. Her
heart grows cold within her as she sees
Seaton Iysart!
In silence they stare at each other.
Vera, indeed, so great is her astonish
ment, forgets to rise, but sits there curl
ed up among her furs, with a little frozen
look of fear and detestation on her per
fect face.
"I have disturbed you," says Seaton
at last, breaking the spell, and speaking
iu 11 distinctly unnatural tone.
"I did hope I should have found pri-vtn-y
somewhere, at some hour," says
she. coldly.
"I came for a book," says he, contrite
ly. "Now that I am here, will you per
mit me to say a few words in my own
defense?"
"Oh, defense!" says she, with undis
guised scorn.
"Certainly. I would prove to you how
entirely you have wronged me," saye-
firmlv. "I adnnMiri that once Mny
father expressed a wish that 1 should
marry you," coloring darkly, "always
provided you were willing to accept me;
and I" slowly "acceded to that wish."
"But why, why?" demands she, flash
ing round at him.
"I do not wonder at your question. It
seems impossible there should be a rea
son." replies he. coldly; "for ever since
the first hour we met you have treated
me with uniform unfriendliness, I had
almost said discourtesy."
"There is a reason, nevertheless," says
she, hotly. She has come a step or two
nearer to him, and her large, lustrous
eyes, uplifted, seem to look defiance into
his. "Your reason I can fathom but
your father's that, I confess, puzzles
me. Why should he. whose god Is money,
choose the penniless daughter of the
brother he defrauded to be "
"Defrauded?" interrupts Seaton. with
frown.
"Call it what you will," with an ex
pressive gesture of her hand "undertake
his defense, too; but the fact remains
that the Iniquitous deed that gave to
your father what should have been ours
was undoubtedly drawn up by my uncle.
I have heard all about it a hundred times.
Your father hardly denied It to mine
when last writing to him. His taking
us home to live with him was, I sup
pose, a sort of reparation. To marry me
to you, and thus give me back the prop
erty he stole is that a reparation, too?"
She is as pale as death, and the hands
that cling to the back of the chair near
her are trembling. But her lips are firm
and her eyes flashing. It occurs to Sea
ton. gazing at her in breathless silence,
that if she could have exterminated him
then and there by a look she would have
done it.
"You degrade yourself and me when
you talk like that," saya Seaton, who is
Bow as pale as she Is. "For heaven's
sake, try to remember how abominably
you misrepresent the whole thing. If my
father had a freak of this kind in his
head a desire to see you married to his
only son surely there was no discourtesy
to you contained in such a desire. It was
rather you must see that a well-meant
arrangement on his part. It was more."
boldly. "He loves me; in wishing to see
yon my wife he paid you the highest
compliment he could. I defy you to re
gard it in any other light."
"You plead his cause well it is your
own," fays she, tapping the back of the
chair with taper, angry fingers. "Why
take the trouble? Do you think you can
bring me to view the case in a lenient
li;ht': Am I likely to forget that you
y .a aided and abetted your father in try
ing to force me into this detested mar
rlnge?" "i'rny put that marriage out of your
head." says he, slowly. "You have taken
it too seriously. I assure you I would
not many you now if you were as will
iiiL' as you are unwilling. I can hardly
put it stronger."
"When my grandfather left this prop
erty to your father," she says, slowly,
"he left it purposely unentailed. Your
father, then, were you to cross his
wishes, could leave you, as I have been
left, penniless. To avoid that, you would
fall in with any of his views. You would
even so far sacrifice yourself as to mar
ry me:" Oh, the contempt in her tone!
There Is a long pause. Then Seaton.
striding forward, seizes her by both arms
and turns her more directly to the light
The grasp of his hands is as a vise, and
afterward it seemed to her that he
had. involuntarily, as it were, shaken
her slightly.
"How dare you?" he says. In 'w
"M -intuited tone. She can see that his
face is very white, and that it is with
litliculty he restrains himself; she is con
"ious, too, perhaps, of feeling a little
frightened.
Then he puts her quickly from him and
inns away.
"l'shaw, you are not worth it!" he
'".vs. his manner full of the most intense
elf -contempt.
CHAPTER XI.
A gleam of moonlight coming through
.he open window puts the lamp to
hame, and compels Vera'a attention.
Uow sweet, how heavenly fair the gar
lea seems, wrapped in those pale, cold
seams! She can see it from where she
its on the deep, cushioned seat of tlr.'
dd-fashioned window, and a longing to
rise and go into it, to feel the tender
aight-wind beating on ber burning fore
lead, takes possession of her.
Catching up a light shawl to cover the
evening gown she wears, she steals, care
fully aa might a guilty soul, by Criwlda's
bed, along the dusky corridor, down the
itaircase, and past the servants' quar
ters, where a light nnder Mrs. Urunch's
ioor warns her that that remorseless foe
baa as yet refused to surrender herself
to slumber.
A small door leading into the garden
is close to this, and moving swiftly up
the narrow stone passage that brings ber
to it she opens the door, and so closing
t after her that she can regain the house
at any moment, she turns to find herself
alone in the exquisite perfumed silence
f the night.
How long she thus gives herself up to
the sweet new enjoyment of life she
hardly knows until she hears the aucieu
belfry clock telling the midnight hour.
It startles her. Has she indeed been
here so long? What if Griselda should
wake and be alarmed for her? She
moves quickly In the direction of the
house, and at last, regaining the inner
garden, begins to think her pleasant so
journ at an end.
She has neared the shrubberies and in
voluntarily turns her glance their way as
they lie upon her left; involuntarily, too,
she seeks to pierce the darkness that en
velops them, when she stops, and presses
her hand convulsively to her breast. Who
u It what is it, moving there, in the
mysterious gloom?
"Don't be frightened. It is I, Seaton,"
says a most unwelcome voice.
"Ah!" she says. She is angry beyoni'
loubt, and still further angered by tht
inowledge' that there is more of reliel
Jian coldness in the simple exclamation.
"I had no Idea you were here at all,"
ihe says, faintly, after a pause that has
frown sufficiently long to be awkward.
"I am afraid I have startled you. If I
and known I should not, of course, have
fou make it verj'barrr for me,"" she
lays, with a touch of passionate impa
uence. "That is unjust," says he, roused in
:urn. "To make your life easier is my
leart's desire."
"Are you succeeding, do you think?
Does it," with gathering scorn, "make
Tiy part smoother, when you compel me
:o see that you stay away, or only come
aere at hours inconvenient to you, be
cause because of me?"
She turns aside sharply, and walks a
)tep or two away from him. Somehow
it this instant, the growing chill of th
.irly night seems to strike more sharply
n her senses, and a shiver . not to be
suppressed stirs her whole frame.
"Yon are cold," he exclaims, coming
jp to her with a hasty stride. "What
madness It is, your being out at this
aourl Come, come back to the house."
She agrees silently to this proposition,
ind follows him across the grass to the
small oaken door that had given hei
?gress only to find it barred against her!
Seaton, having tried it, glances at hei
:n mute dismay.
"Grunch must have fastened it, on her
way to bed. The bolt is drawn," says
be, slowly.
"Do you mean that I can't get in?"
asks she, as if unable to credit so terri
ile an announcement.
"Oh, I dare say it can't be so bad as
:hat," hastily. "Only," hesitating, as if
hardly knowing how to explain, "the
front door is of course locked and chain
ed, and the servants, with the exception
if Grunch, all asleep at the top of the
bouse; a late arrangement of my father's,
ii the original servants' quarters He be
low. I am afraid, therefore, that if we
knocked forever, it would have no effect.
However, I can try to do something, but
n the meantime you must not stay out
bere in the cold."
"You may feel it cold. I don't," re
turns she .perversely. "Not so long as
the moonlight lasts, shall I find it lonely
either. I," raising her unfriendly, beau
tiful eyes to his "I assure you I shall be
ijuite happy out here, even thongh I stay
till the day dawns and the doors axe
open again."
"'Happy!'" As he repeats her word
be looks at her with a keen scrutiny. "A
word out of place, surely; given the best
conditions, I hardly dare to believe you
could ever be 'happy' at Greycourt."
"Happy or unhappy," says she, with
quick resentment, her mind being dis
tressed by this awkward fear of having
to pass the night from under any roof,
surely it can be nothing to you! Why
affect an interest in one who is as hate
ful to you as I am?" A little fire has
fallen into her tone, and there is ill-sup-pressed
contempt in the eyes she lifts to
his. Perhaps he is driven by it into an
anger that leads to his betrayal.
"Hateful to me! Do you think you are
that. Vera?" says he. in a low tone, but
one full of fierce and sudden passion
passion long suppressed. "Do you hon
estly believe that?" His manner is al
most violent, and as be speaks he catches
bo er hands in his, and crushes them
vehemently against his breast "I would
to heaven," he says, miserably, 'that
that were sol"
As If stupefied by surprise. Vera stands
motionless, her hands lying passively in
bis. She is aware that he is looking a.
her. with a new, wild, strange expression
in his eyes, but a horrible sense of being
powerless to resist him numbs all her
being. And suddenly, as she struggles
with herself, he bends over her, and
without warning lifts her hands and
presses warm," fervent kisses on the
small, cold hands. "
; Then she is aroused inaeeo i-
! . . . .1 t,. aharn movement
oaa leium bj.
wrenches herself free. -
"Don't," she cries, faintly: "U is in
sufferable! I cannot bear it!Have you
honnP loft?
I Her tone calms him, but something
I ... . u: .!,. frainst the idea or
WlIQin mm i"""" -.----- . lt-
apology. He loves her-let her know it.
He wW not go back from that, though
her scorn slJ him.
"There is nothing dishonorable," he
says, steadily. "I love you; I am glad
you know it. Despise me if you can, re-jet-t
me as I know you will, I am still the
better for the thought that 1 have laid
bare to you all my heart. And now
you cannot stay Here," he goes on quick
ly, as though fearing to wait for her next
words; "the night is cold and damp.
There is the summer house over there,"
pointing in Its direction; "go and rest
there, till I call you."
Vera hastens to the shelter suggested,
and sinking down upon the one seat It
contains, a round rustic chair in the last
stage of decay, gives way to the over
powering fatigue,, that for the last hour
lias been oppressing her. Reluctantly
she does this, and quite unconsciously.
Obstinately determined to fight sleep to
the last, she presently succumbs to that
kindly tyrant, and falls Into one of the
most delicious slumbers she has ever yet
enjoyed.
How long it lasts she never knows, but
when next she opens her eyes with a
nervous start, the first flush of rosy dawn
is flooding hill and valley and sea. Some
thing lying at her feet disturbs all her
preconceived fancies. It must have slip
ped from her when she rose. Regard
ing lt more earnestly, she acknowledges
unwillingly that It is Sea ton's coat, a
light gray one. When she was asleep,
lost to all knowledge of friend or foe,
then be had come and placed that coat
across her shoulders.
Her eyes are large and languid with
sleep broken and unsatisfied, her soft
hair lies ruffled on her low, broad brow.
She looks timidly, nervously, around her
as one expecting anything but good;
her whole air is shrinking, and her whole
self altogether lovely.
To the young man standing in his shirt
sleeves, half hidden among the laurels
and looking at her. with admiration gen
erously mixed with melancholy in his
glance, she seems the very incarnation
of all things desirable.
He presses her hand and hurries her
over the short, dewy grass into the
shrubberies that form an effectual screen
from all observation of those in the gar
den beyond, and so on until they come t
the small oaken doorway through which
she had passed last night, and which has
proved more foe than friend.
Once inside the longed-for portal, her
first impulse is a natural one; lt is to run
as fast as her feet can carry her to ber
own room.
(To be continued.)
COACHMAN KEPT HIS DIGNITY.
ncldentally His Kmployer I ad Ilia
Way in a Roundabout Fashion.
This Is one of the many stories that
are floating about town concerning a
man very well known In the capital,
who Is spending the summer In Eng
land, says the Washington Post. lie
baa taken a country bouse orer there
for the season, and is living a grand
seigneur with a troop of dear only
knows bow many servants. These
English servants, no their American
master has discovered, are quits 'a
ITfce the menials terwhour V3i accus
tomed in M own country. ; They are
specialists. Each one of them is. hired
for some one particular work, and pro
fessional etiquette forbids them to
trespass on each other's preserves.
How strictly they keep them each to
bis own work the American did not
know till, sauntering idly out of the
bouse one day, he espied a watering
can, which had been left by a gardener
at a little distance from the mansion
on the edge of the drive. It occurred
to him that It would be amusing to
play at being a gardener. He would
water the flowers himself. So, calling
to a man servant, who happened to be
passing, he bade him fetch the water
ing can. The man straightened him
self up and touched his cap.
"Beg pardon, sir," he said. In a tone
of respect not unmixed with surprise,
"I'm the coachman, sir."
"All right," answered the American:
"bring me that can."
"Beg pardon, sir," repeated the man.
"but I'm the coachman, slrf
"Well, well," said the American. "I
know you're the coachman. Bring me
the can."
The coachman touched his cap again,
and repeated his former remark. Light
dawned on the American.
"Oh," said he, "you're the coachman,
are you? Well, coachman, you go round
to the stables and have my four-ln-hand
brought round at once."
The coachman saluted and walked
away. The coach and four drew up at
the door a few minutes later. The mas
ter climbed In.
"Now," said he, "drive me to that
watering can."
The order was obeyed. The horses
paused a hundred yards down the
drive.
"Get down and hand me the can.
now," ordered the mastet. .
A moment, later he waa contentedly
watering the flowers. He had the can.
the coachman's dignity bad been pre
served, and all was well.
No Book of Inatrnciions.
Weary Watklns I see here In the
paper about bow to git on a trolley
car and off.
Hungry Hlggins I bet you won't see
no piece about how to git on and off
of freight cars. That kind of thing
comes by nature, er It don't come at
alL Indianapolis Journal.
e lle-TliPeadin j.
An ingenious lady lias suggested aL
improvement in the method of holding
a needle for the pm-ose of threading
It. It Is to be held between the thini
and little fingers of the left hand iu
stead of by the thumb and forefinger,
palm uppermost. The advantage ol
this Is that the thumb and first flngei
can lie used to grip the smallest end ol
the thread aa soon as it protrudes from
the eye, a method, preferable to that ol
letting go the thread and 'endeavoring
to get bold of the end with the right
hand. This prevents the weight of tht
cotton from dragging the end out of th
eye again, .
Trick in Making Matches. ..
n. th almnle trick of cutting the
wood across the grain, or of cutting it
I with the grain at such an angle that
' it will split almost lengthwise when
friction Is applied, it is asserxeu iui m.
' matcn trpst is adding to Its profits by
enormous yearly sums.
HEROES OP TWO WARS
ROBERTS AND KITCHENER, WHO
Jne Baa ped Undying; Fame In ttaa
Celebrated March to Kandahar, tha
Other Won Glory on the Bloody
Band of the Bondan. j
The seriousness of the war situation
In South Africa has stirred up England!
as' she has not been stirred up before
In three-quarters of a century and has
led to her ordering to the scene of host
tillties two of her ablest generals.
Field Marshal Lord Roberts, and Ma J.
Gen. Lord Kitchener, the one the hero
of Kandahar, in Asia, and the other
the hero of Omdurman, in Africa.
Lord Roberta, who will assume chief
command in South Africa, Is the Idol
of the British army, aud'ls popularly
known as "Bobs." He is regarded by
the military authorities of the leading
countries of Europe aa the foremost
British commander of the Victorian
era, his celebrated forced march to
Kandahar constituting one of the fin
est feats of English arms in modern
times.
Lord Frederick S. Roberts was born
in and was educated at the Royal
Military College at Sandhurst. He was
only 19 years old when he went to In
dia and entered the Bengal artillery as
a lieutenant. Here he lnbored un
known to fame until the Indian muti
ny, when he was attached to the col
umn which was sent to attack Delhi,
the forces of the rebellion. The posi
tion of the small British force before
the capital of the Insurrection was for
months a perilous one. righting was
of daily occurrence, the mutineers hav
ing an inexhaustible supply of ammu
nition. Roberts came under fire for
the first time in a skirmish, when eight
of his party were killed and thirty
wounded. Soon afterward. In another
of the engagements near the walls of
the city, the young lieutenant was hit
by a bullet near the spine as be was
helping the drivers keep the horses
quiet while limbering up the guns. A
leather pouch had somehow slipped
behind his back and prevented the bul
let penetrating deeply. .
At the Relief of Lncknow. '
After the capture of Delhi Roberts
Joined the army of Sir Colin Camp
bell, which advanced to the relief .of
Lucknow. When the relieving artii
got close to the rebel lines outside
Lucknow Sir Colin, wishing to let the
British commander, Outrani, . know of
his progress, wanted a flag raised ou
the mess house. Within plain view of
the mutineers, Lieut. Roberts climbed
to the top of the building, -and,; amid
& rain of shot, raised the flag on the
trrr.(ti)eaest,to J'-foe.. It 'C
away.- and be replace 'jsr" ASIn H
was shot away, nif he raised it again.
Rut it was not for this deed that Rob
erts won his Victorian Cross. That
was done at Khodagunge, Jan. 2, 18oS.
He saw In the distance two sepoys go
ing away with a standard. Tutting
spurs to his horse he overtook them.
1'hey turned and presented their mus
kets at bim, and one of the men pulled
the trigger. It snapped, missing tire,
ind the sepoy was cut down by ILJj-
rts' sword. The other mutineer rode
away, and the youug lieutenant
brought the standard back to camp.
1'he same day he rescued a wounded
comrade under almost similar circum
stances. In the years that followed the muti
ny Roberts saw almost continual serv
ice. He was at t'mebyla, In the fron
tier campaign. In 1863; In 1S6T he had
charge of the embarkation of the force
for the Abyssinian campaign. In 1871
ind 1872 he was the senior staff offi
cer In the Lushai campaign, and from
1S73 to 1S78 he was quartermaster
general. All his promotions were "for
merit."
It was toward the end of 1878 that
'.he great opportunity of Gen. Roberts'
career came to him. The Ameer of
Afghanistan rebelled against the au
thority of Great Britain, and Roberts
was sent at the head of the army to
subdue him. He carried the enemy's
stronghold at Telwar Kotal with a
splendid rush at odds of almost 10 to
I. The next year the news of Sir
Louis Cavagnari's murder in Kabul
horrified all England, and Roberts was
called upon to lead another avenging
force. With 6,000 men he cut his way
straight through the hostile land, and
In thirty days placed the British flag
above the citadel of Kabul, after rout
ing the Afghan army, which outnum
bered the British by twelve to one.
Then after re-enforcemeuts bad been
sent to him he began one of the most
famous marches in history over tow
ering mountain ranges and through
hostile territory, straight from Kabul
to Kandahar 300 miles in twenty
days. At the end of the march be
crushed Ayoob Khan, and the whole
empire rang with the praises of the
man who a few months before had
been almost unknown.
Since then Roberts has advanced
through' successive stages to the po
sition - of' commander-in-chief of - the
forces In Ireland. Now In his alxty
seventh year he is called upon to face
the hardest task of bla military ca
reer. Kltchaner, Haro of the Bondan.
Xord Kitchener, chief of staff to
Lord Roberts, Is England's latest and
most popular war hero. His success
ful conquest of the Egyptian Soudan
woa (or bla a famo In England te- be
FIELD MARSHAL ROBERTS.
compared with that of Admiral Dewey
In this country. In return for the
services Gen. Kitchener rendered his
country in Egypt he was raised to the
peerage and was voted a gift of $150..
000 by the Ho,s of Commons.
He was born in Kerry County, Ire
land In 18,11. and at the age of tweuty
received his commission as lieutenant
of engineers. For a long time he was
In the civil service iu Egypt, but In
18S2 'entered the regular service in
Egypt under Sir Evelyn Wood, who
was then engaged in the reorganiza
tion of the Egyptian army. ' He re
ceived an appointment on the Intelli
gence staff when the troubles In the
Soudan made necessary the dispatch
of 'trustworthy English officers to
Dongola in advance of Lord Wolse-
MA J. KK.. KITCUK.VEB.
ley's Nile expedition fifteen years ago.
There Kitchener was always the one
selected for any work-that demanded
great- force of character, combined
with tact and resourcefulness la deal
ing with Intrigues of disloyal officials
or winning over the chiefs who waver
ed between fear" of Egyptian power
and a hankering after the good things
promised by Mahillsin.
With the Nile expedition Kitchener's
promotion was rapid. He became one
of the two majors of cavalry In 1884,
was made" lieutenant colonel In 18Mo
and became colonel in 1888. He Was
In command of a brigade of the Egyptian-army
in the operations near Sua
klm In. December. 18SS, and was pres
eiit In the engagements at Gemalaah
and at Toskl. in 1889.
'. At the-beginning" of the" campaign ol
180(5 for the' reconijuest of the Soudan
Kitchener was made conimander-ln-ehief
of the forces In Egypt. He led a
successful expedition up the Nile
against the Khalifa, safely conducting
bis 'troops .,ap iN facts' and through
marauding tribes-.aid. owning, deserts
itntll Orodiirmnn ws reached." Hera
the Anglo-Egyptian troops and the
dervishes, the latter being cut down
like grass before the scythe. In one
charge the dervishes lost 4,000 men
and when the battle was over 16,000 of
their dead and dying strew the ground.
The Khalifa and his chiefs were fugi
tives and have recently been killed.
Kitchener, on returning borne after
tliis brilliant expedition, became the
popular idol. He is the youngest ma
jor general ia the British army.
OPPOSED BY THEIR OWN SEX.
ttcason Why Women Fail of Recogni
tion in bepartmenU.
"Why Is it that women are practical
ly debarred from receiving promotions
to the higher places in the government
service?" asked a government clerk of
a iiuarter of a century's experience.
The question was put to several ladles
In the Treasury Department. Before
any one of them had time to reply the
questioner proceeded to answer his
own interrogatory.
"It is because they are held back bj
members of their own sex," he said.
"Some time ago a lady In one division
I know of was so favorably regarded
that she would have been made chief
of that division, but as soon as her
prospects became known her fellow
clerks of the same sex became Indig
nant and united In a protest They de
clared that they could never work un
der her; that they would a thousand
times rather have a mnn than a woman
to 'boss' them. They wouldn't allow
her to 'lord it over them.'
"That Is only a sample of many
cases. Women can lie depended upon
to antagonize women under such cir
cumstances. Not only did they do so
in the case I have cited, but they act
ually gave the marble heart and the Icy
hand to this woman after they defeat
ed her prospects of promotion. I am
satisfied that one of the most influen
tial obstacles to women in their effort
to secure equal recognition with men
conies from their own sex."
The man who had asked and answer
ed the questions then moved off before
his audience of lady clerks had an op
portunity to reply to his assertions.
Washington Star.
Art.
"Spreader pawned bis overcoat to gel
canvas to paint a picture."
"Did he sell the picture T'
"Yes; what be got for lt just enabled
him to get his overcoat back." Indian
spoils Journal.
The Unfashionable Creed.
"Uncle Christopher, what was the
primitive church?"
"Well, lt was a church which valued
Its poor members as much as it did Its
rich ones." Indianapolis Journal.
Salt Water Breed of Toads.
J. Marsden, the agricultural commis
missioner of Hawaii, will develop a sea
toad, for the use of certain island dis
tricts where standing fresh water Is
scarce. Mr. Marsden is a firm believer
In evolution and will follow lines sug
gested by Darwin. Already toads have
been produced in brackish waters. This
tells the commissioner that he cannot
fall. For the next culture he will make
the water still more salty, and at about
the fourth or fifth breeding will try
pure sea water. He Is confident that
the plan will work out correctly. In
the undertaking Mr. Marsden has re
ceived much encouragement from Prof.
Koebele, the government entomologist,
and from other fxi en da-
John L Blair, In his earlier days
owned a Western railroad along tht
route of which he established a seriet
of lunch rooms, at which employes of
the road were to be charged 50 centi
and all passengers 75 cents. Mr. Blali
once dined at one of these places, and
concluding his meal, laid down a hall
dollar. "Hold on!" cried the cashier
"you don't belong to this road." "1
know that." replied Mr. Blair, "tha road
belongs to me."
The skipper of a sailing vessel had at j
passenger an estimable but sot very
courageous minister and two carelest
young men given to mischief. A sever
storm came up, and although the young
men were frightened enough, their ter
ror was nothing to that of the poor min
ister, who was Indeed a pitiable object
"See here, sir," said the skipper at last
with kindly severity, "do you want ni
to think you're more afraid of going to
heaven than those young men are ol
going to hell?"
During the Congress of Vienna each
of the several monarchs present was
the guest of some nobleman. On one
occasion Baron Rothschild was invited.
He modestly went to take hie place, not
among the more exalted guests. When
they discovered Rothschild, however
they all arose and saluted bim, except
the King of Prussia. Some one asked
the king why he did not salute the great
European banker. "Did I not?" he re
plied; "well, I suppose it was because
I was the only one who did sot owe bim
anything."
The Senate has always been con
trolled by lawyers, and Blaine was at a
disadvantage because be did not be
long to the profession. The law-lords
were disposed to disparage and flout
him, but he was disrespectful to the
verge of Irreverence. "Does the Sena
tor from Maine think I am an Id jit
(Idiot)?" roared Thurman, in reply to
an Interrogatory Blame put to him one
day In the Pacific Railroad debate.
"Well," bellowed Blaine, ''that depends
entirely on the answer you make to my
question!"
Probably the easiest college examina
tlon on record ts that recorded in the
"Life of Dean LIddell." Christ Church
was the resort of many gentlemen com
moners who passed on their family, not
their scholastic attainments. Still, they
had to be examined, and one of them,
wio han set to attend a course ol
lectures on the atmosphere, came before
r..- -, -. - .(inquiry into
flIy jiuniaif unac lfHng. "Well,
Mr. ," said Gordon,' "what Is the
atmosphere composed of?" After much
hesitation the man replied, "Zinc."
"Thank you," said Gordon, "that wUl
do. Good-morning."
While at Harrow, Dean Vaughan was
returning home late one evening, when
he caught sight of a boy who ought to
have been fast asleep in bed. As soon
as the boy saw the dreaded figure he
ran for dear life, with Dr. Vaughan In
hot pursuit. He succeeded In catching
the boy by one of his coattalls, when
there was a sudden wrench, and the
youngster was off again, leaving a coat
tall In the head's hands. The master
made sure that he would now find out
the culprit next morning, and did not
pursue further. But next day, to his
blank astonishment, every boy of the
sixth form had only one tall to hie coat.
An old Irish laborer walked Into the
luxurious studio of an artist, and asked
for money to obtain a meal. He ex
plained that he had just been discharged
from the county hospital, and was too
weak to work. He was given a quartet
and departed. One of four young ladles,
art students, who were present, said:
"Mr. Madder, can't we hire that old
man and sketch him?" Madder ran out
and caught him. and said: "If you
can't work, and want to make a dollar,
come back to my rooms. The young
ladies want to paint you." The Irish
man bcsltaten. so Mauaer remarnea:
"It won't take long, and It's an easy
way to make a dollar." "Ol know
that." was the reply, "but Ol was
a-wonderln' how th' dlvll Ol'd git th'
paint off af therward."
HORSES NOT YfcT SUPERSED-D.
Automobile. Will Continue Too Ex
pensive for Common llee.
When the bicycle became so populat
leverul years ago the enthusiasts ill lin
ed that the death knell of the horse had
been sounded They argued that it
didn't cost anything to keep a bicycle,
while a horse, when he wasn't being
used, was eating bis bead off. But the
horse survived and the bicycle fell from
popular favor. Now the automobile
appearsonthe scene, and weagaln bear
talk of a h irseless age. "To be sure,
the automobile Is very expensive a
yet," the enthusiast will tell you, "but
that condition of affairs cannot last
long. See how the bicycle was forced
down in price." Then be will tell you
that the horse Is doomed. He forgets
that the mere cost of an automobile is
only an item. A Philadelphia lawyer.
Who has just returned from Paris,
which Is automobile crazy, rays that
the cost of maintaining one would bank
rupt the ordinary citizen. "There are
plenty "to choose from," lie remarked,
"with steam, gasoline, petroleum ot
electric motors. These range in price
from $300 for a motor cycle to $3,0uU
for heavy rigs sutable for carrying
four persons and a driver. While In
Paris I busied myself to the extent of
finding out how much lt cost to operate
one of these carriages. For a year It's
about as follows: Gasoline, $87.50; lub
ricating oil, $5.45; repairs to carriage.
$102.50; repairs to machinery, $185;
repairs to tires, $27.50; sundries, $&4.H0;
depreciation, $150; tax, $50; servant,
$200. That makes a total of $872.75.
Remember, this is for Paris, where my
calculations are based upon the actual
I experience of a friend of mine. But
I they can't vary mnch in this country."
I Philadelphia Record.
SERMON
Y
Reo. Dr. Calmagc
abject: Ucht of the Fae The Marvel!
of the Hainan Kye Prove the Infinite
'Wisdom of the Creator Divinely Con.
trurted Llfhtlieuees of the Soul.
(Copyright, Lout' Klopacb. 19IM.)
WiiHixoTo. D. C In this discourse
Talmagrt, In his own way, calls attention
to that part of the human body never
perhaps discoursed upon in the pulpit and
challenges as all to the study of omnis
cience. Text, Psalm xclv., 9, "He that j
formed the eye, shall He not see?1
The Imperiul organ of the bnman system
Is the eye. All np and down the Bible Ood
honors it, extols it, illustrates it or ar
raigns It. Five nuDdred and thtrty-fonr
times Is it me'ntloned in the Bible. Omni
presence "the eyes of the Lord are in
every place." Divine care "as the apple
of the eye." The clouds "the eyelids of
the mornlnp." Irreverence "theeye that
mocketh at Its Father." Pride "oh, bow
lofty are tlielr eyes." Inattention "the
fool's eye In the eodsot the earth." Divine
Inspection "wheels fall of eyes." Sud
denness "In the twinkling of an eve at
the last trump." Oiivetlo sermon "the
liclit of the body is the eye." This morn
ing's text, "He that formed the eye, shall
He not see?"
The surgeons, the doctors, the anato
mists ami the physiologists understand
much ot the glories of the two great
lights of the human race, but the vast
multitudes go on from cradle to grave
without any appreciation of the two great
masterpieces of the Lord Ood Almighty.
If Ood liml lacked anything of Inllnlte
wisdom. He would have failed in creating
the human eye. We wander through the
earth trying to see wonderful sights, but
the most wonderful sight we ever see Is
not so wonderrul as the instruments
through which we see it.
Ic has beeu a strange tiling to me for
thirty years that some salentist with
enough eloquence and magnetism did not
go through the country with illustrated
lecture on canvas thirty feet square to
startle and thrill and overwhelm Christen
dom with the marvels of the human eye.
We want the eye taken from all Its tech
nicalities and some one who shall lay aside
all talk about the pterygomaxlllary As
sures, the sclerotica and the chiasma of
the optic nerve and In plain, common par
lance which you and I ami everybody can
understand present the subject. We have
learned men who have been telling us
what our origin is and what we were. Oh,
if some one should come forth from the
dissecting table and from the classroom
of the university and take the platform
and asking the help of the Cres'or
demonstrate the wonders of what we are!
If I refer to the physiological facts sug
gested by the former pnrt ot my text, lt is
only to bring out in plainer way the
theologlcnl lessons ot the latter part of
my text, "He that formed the eye, shall
He not see?"
I suppose my text referred to the huinac
eye since It excels all others In structure
and adaptation. The eyes ot llsli and rep
tiles and moles and bats are very simple
things because they have not much to do.
There are Insects with a hundred eyes, bat
the hundred eyes have less faculty than the
two human eyes. The black beetle swim
ming the summer pond has two eyes under
the water and two eyes above the water,
bat the tour insectlle are not equal to the
two human. Man plaiv - ij;1 hfuid.Qi I
-".I mux. ..mi a uiur
eUlp.uofit,a;hita
moth cave ot Kontuvuni nW
developed organ of sigut, aa 3cu,'Jr
theeye, which If through some erovtoe of
f'e mountain they should go iuto the un
liglit might be developed into positive eye
sight. In the first chapter ot Oenesls we And
that Ood without any consultation created
the light, created the trees, created the Unit,
oreaied the fowl, but when He was about
to make man He called a convention of di
vinity, as though to imply that all the
powers of Oodhead were to bo enlisted in
the achievement. "Let us make man."
Put a whole ton of emphasis on that word
"us." "Let ns make man." And If Uod
called a convention of divinity to e rente
man I think the two great questions iu that
conference were bow to create a soul and
how to make an appropriate window foi
that emperor to look out of.
fee bow Ood houored the eye before II
created ft. He cried until chaos wiih irrad
iated wlih the utternnep JLet there be
light!" In other word, before Ho Intro
duced man Into this temple ot the world
He Illumined It, prepared it for the eye
sight. And so after the Inst human eye
has been destroyed in the final demolition
of the world stars are to fall, and the snu
is to cease Itsshintng, and the moon is to
turn Into blood. Ia other words, after the
human eyes are no more to be prollted by
their shining the chandeliers of heaven are
to be turned out. Ood to educate and tc
bless and to help the human eye set on the
mantel of heaven two lamps a gold lamp
and a silver lump the one for the day and
the other for the night.
To show how Ood honors the eye look nt
the two bulls built for the residence of the
eyes. Seven bones making the wall foi
each eye, the seven bones curiously wrought
together. Kingly palace of ivory Is const t
ered rich, but the halls for the residence ol
the human eyes are richer by so much if
bumaa bone is more sacred than elephan
tine task. See bow Ood honored the eyes
when He made a roof for them, so that the
sweat of toll should not smart them and
the rain dashing against the forehead might
not drip into them; the eyebrows not beud
ing over the eye, but reaching to the right
and to the left, so that the rain and the
sweat should be compelled to drop upon
the cheek Instead of falling into this di
vinely protected human eyesight.
See bow Ood honored the eye In the fact
presented by anatomists and physiologists
that there are 800 coutrivuuees in every
eye. For window shutters, the eyelids
opening and closing 30,000 times n day, the
eyelashes so constructed that they have
their selection ns to what shall he admitted,
saying to the dust, "S'.ay out," and saving
to the light, "Come In." For inside cur
tain the iris or pupil of the eye, according
as the light Is greater or less, coutraetlng
or dilating. The eye ot the owl Is blind In
the day time, the eyes of some creulure.
are blind at night, but the human eve so
marvelously constructed it cau see both by
day aud by night.
Many of the other creatures of God can
move the eye only from side to side, but tt e
human eye, so innrvelottsly constructed,
has one muscle to lift the eye, nud nuotlier
muscle to lower the eye, and another mus
cle to roll It to the right, and another mus
cle to roll It to the left, and another mus
cle passing through l pulley to turn it
round and round, an eluboratd gearing cl
six muscles as perfect a-i Ood could make
them.
There Is also the ret Inn gathering the
rays ot light and passiug the visual tin
pression itlong the optic nerve about ttie
thickness ot the lampwick, passing the
visual Impression ou to the Mensoriuiu and
on Into the soul. What a delteate lens,
what an exquisite screeu, what sort
cushions, what wonderful chemistry of the
human eye. The eye wnshed by a sdow
Stream of moisture whether we sleep or
wake, rolling Imperceptibly over the peulile
Of the eye and emptying into n bone ot the
Dostrtl, a contrivance so wouderlnl that it
can see the sun 95,000,000 ot miles iiwiiv
and the point of a pin. Telescpe an I
microscope in the same contrivance. The
astronomer swings and tnovesthis w.iy and
that and adjusts and readjusts the tele
scope until be gets it to thu right focus.
The microscoplst moves this way and that
and adjusts aad readjusts the u.ngn!rviug
glass uutll lt Is prepared to do its work,
tat the human eye without a touch be
holds the star and the smallest Insect. The
traveler along the Alps with one glance
taking In Mont Blanc aud the luce of ui
watch to see whether he has time to climb
It. Oh, this wonderful camera obscura
which you and I carry about with as, so
from the top of Mount Washington as can
take in Mew England, so at nlgbt we can
sweep into oar vision the constellations
from horizon to horizon. So delicate, so
leml-lnQnlle, and yet the light coming 95,
DOO.OOO miles t the rate of 200,000 miles a
econd is obliged to halt at the gate of the
ere, waiting until the portoullls be UfteJ.
Something hurled '95,000,000 miles and
striking an Instrument which has not the
agitation of even winking under the power ,
ol the stroke. .
There also- Is -the merciful arrangement
at the tear gland by which the eye is
washed and through whljh rolls the tide
which brings the relief that comes in tears
when some bereavement or great loss
strikes us. The tear not an augmentation
ol sorrow, bat the breaking up of tuearo
tlc5 of frozen grlet in the warm gulf stream
of consolation. Incapacity to weep is
madness or death. Thank Ood for the tear
glands and that the crystal gates are so
easily opened. Oh, the wonderful hydrm
llo apparatus of the human eyel Divinely
oonstruated vision. Two lighthouses at the
harbor of the Immortal soul umler the
Oilnlng of which the world sails In and
Irops anchor.
What an anthem of praise to Ood is tht.
nximan eyel The tongue is speechless and
clumsy instrument of expression as com
pared with It. Have you not seen the eye
Bosh with indication, or kindle with en
thusiasm, or expand with devotion, or melt
with sympathy, or stare with fright, or
leer with villainy, or droop with sadness,
or pale with envy, or Are with revenge, or
twinkle with mirth, or beam with love? It
Is tragedy and comedy and pastoral and
lyric In turn. Have you not seen its up
lifted brow of surprise, or its frown of
wrath, or its contraction ot pain? If the
eye say one thing and the lips said anoth
er thing, you would believe the eye rather
than the lips. The eyes of Archibald Alex
ander and Charles O. Finney were the
tuightlest part of their sermons. George
Whltelleld enthralled great assemblages
with bis eyes, though they were crippled
with strabismus. Many a mliitaiy cuief
taln has with a look hurled a regiment to
victory or to death. Martin Luther turned
bis great eye on an assassin who came to
take his life, and the villain fled. Under
the glanoe of tbo human eye the tiger,
with Ave times a man's strength, snarls
back into the African jungle.
But those best appreciate the value ot
theeye who have lost lt. The Emperor
Adrian by accident put out the eye of his
servant, and be said to his servant: "What
shall I pay you, in money or In lands any
thing you ask me? I am so sorry I put
your eye out." But the servant refused to
put any financial estimate on tbe value of
the eye, and when the emperor urged and
urged again the matter he said: "Oh, em
peror, I want nothing but my lost eye!"
Alas for those for whom a thick aLd Im
penetrable veil Is drawn across the face of
the heavens and the face of one's own
kindred.
That was a pattetic scene when a blind
nan lighted a torch at night and was
found passing along tbe highway and some
one said, "Why do you carry that toreh
when you can see?" "Ah," said he, "I
can see, but I carry this torch that others
may see me and pity my helplessness and
not run me down." Samson, tbe giant,
with his eyes put out by tbe Philistines,
Is more helpless than tbe smallest dwarf
with vision undamaged. All the sym
pathies of Christ were stirred when He
saw Bartimeus with darkened retina, and
the only salve He ever made that we read
of was a mixture of dust and saliva and a
prayer with which He cured the eyes of a
blind man from His nativity. The value
of tbe eye shows as much by its catos
trophe as by its healthful action. Ask the
man who for twenty years has not seen the
sun rise. Ask tbe man who for half a century
has not seen the face of a friend. Ask in
tbe hospatal the victim of ophthalmia.
Ask tbe man whose eyesight perished In a
powder blast. Ask tbe Bartimeus who
never met a Christ or tbe man born blind
who is to die blind. Ask him-.
1 nil'1
nal tortttt-rr .. . ...
blindness, and after awhr.Ptin vyo was
entirely gone. His physlolsn warned him
that if he continued rending and writing
be would lose tbe other eye. But be kept
on with bis work and said after sittlug in
total darkness: "Tbe choice lay before me
between dereliction of a supreme duty and
loss of eyesight. In such a case I could not
listen to the physicians, not If jKsculnplus
himself had spoken from bis sanctuary. I
could not but obey that Inward monitor. I
know not what spoke to me from heaven."
Who of us would have grace enough to sue,
rlflce our eyes at the call of duty?
But, thank Ood, some bave been enabled
to see without very good eyes. General
Havelock, the son of tbe more famous
General Havelock, told me this concern
ing his father; In India, while his father
and himself with the army were encamped
one evening time after a long march. Gen
eral Havelock called up his soldiers and
addressed thorn, snylng In words as near
as I can recollect: "Soldiers are their 200 or
300 women, children and men at Cawnput
at the mercy of Nana Hablb, and hi
batohers. Those poor people may any hotit
be sacrificed. How many of you will go
with me for tbe rescue of those women and
children? I know yon are all worn out,
and so am I. But all those who will march
with me to save those women and children
hold up your band." Then Havelock
said: "It Is almost durk, and my eyesight
Is very poor, and I cannot see your raised
bands, but I know they are nil np.
Forward to Cawnpurt" That hero's eyes,
though almost extinguished tn the ser.viue
of Ood and his country, could see acrosf
India and across the centuries. But let
anybody who has one good eye be thank
ful and all who bave two good eyes be
twice as thankful. Take care of your eyes
and thank Ood every mornlug when you
open them for capacity to see the light. I
do not wonder at tbe behavior of a pool
man In France. He bad been born blind,
but was a skillful groom in the stables.
The recoil of this question Is tremen
dous. We stan 1 nt tbe ceutre of a vast cir
cumference of observation. No privacy.
On us, eyes of cherubim, eyes of seraphim,
eyes of archangel, eyes of Ood. We may
not be able to see tbe Inhabitants ot other
worlds, but perhaps they may be able to
see us. We have not optical Instruments
strong enough to descry them; perhaps
they have optical instruments stroup
enough to descry us. Tbe mole cannot see
tbe eagle midair, but tbe eagle mtdskycan
see the mole midgrass. We are able to see
mountains and caverns of another world,
but perhnps the inhabitants of other worlds
cad see tbe towers of our cities, the flash
of our seas, tbe marching of our proces
sions, the white robes ot our weldings, the
black scarfs of our obsequies. It pusses
out from the guess into the positive when
we are told In tbe Bible that tbe inhabit
ants of other worlds do come to this.
Are tbey not all ministering spirits sent
forth to minister to those who shall be
heirs ot salvation?
But human inspection and angelic in
spection and stellar inspection and lunar
Inspection and solar inspection are tame
as compared with the thought ot divine
inspection. "fc'ou converted me twenty
years ago," said a colored mau to my
rather. "How so?" said my father.
"Twenty years ago," said the other, "in
the old school-fiouse prayer-meeting ot
Bound Brook you said in your prayer,
'Tiiou, Ood, seet m,f nud I bad no peace
under the eye of Go-1 until I became
n Christian." Hear It: "The eyes of the
Lrd are in every place." "His eyelids try
the children of lire." His mes were as a
flume of lire." "I will guide thee with Mine
eye." Oh, the eye of God, so full of pity,
so full of power, so full of love, so full ol
Indignation, so lull of compassion, so full
of inerCjl Uow it peers through the dark-
ueshl
The basest kind of servitude is to
be obliged to flatter those whom we
can't help but despise.
In love of home the love of country
has its rise.
A crack in the wall may b? very
small, but you can see a great deal
through it.
To be obviously and anxiously care
ful regarding the correct thing is not
the- correct thing.
Poverty Is not pestered with false
friends.
.Tears never yet wound up a clock
or worked a steam engine.
We should treat our friends as we
do ourselves; for a friend Is another
self.
! No man is living as God means that
be should who is not living to help
' others live.
r.
i'
J