il anmh jjm$:mwl JClg mi 0Mimn
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B. F. SCHWEIER,
THE COnSTITUTIOH THE Union AHD THE ENFORCEHERT OF THE LAWS.
Editor and ProprloUr.
VOL. LIV.
MIFFLINTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY, PENN., WEDNESDAY, M-IY 2, 1900
NO. 21.
t
tor
BY CHARLOTTE
mm
TTTTTtT I I I I I t t IH fHIIIIHtlHMtt
CHAPTER XV. (Continued.)
One day while the general and Sir Ba
il! were walking along the high road that
led to Arley, they met a huge lumbering
wagon on its way to the Hall. When
tbey drew near to It they found that it
was from the railway. The driver stop
ped when he saw Sir Arthur, and asked
if he was to drive through the park.
'What have you there?" asked the
general, in wonder.
"Ten packages, answered the burly
driver. "Would you like to see the book.
Sir Arthur?"
The general looked at It and found that
there were ten packages from South
wood. Then be remembered that, when
leaving there, several things in the cot
tage were packed up and left at the rail
way station to be forwarded to Brent
wood Martin Ray'a writing desk, his
favorite books, one or two things that
the girls prized, Hettie's music, and what
few mementoes remained of the dear,
dead mother. It occurred to Sir Arthur
that any knowledge of the arrival of
these things would be hateful to Hettie;
o he tore a leaf from bis pocketbook,
and on it wrote a note to Leah, telling
her that the packages -were from South
wood, and that they bad better be put
away in some remote corner of the bouse
until Hettie had quite recovered and the
tight of them would sot hurt her. He
gave directions that the wagon should
net go near the Hall.
"No one can tell," he said, "what harm
the sound might do to Hettie;" and Ba
sil was struck by his kindly considera
tion. Leah read the note and hastened tc
give the necessary orders. The pack
ages were stowed away in one of the un
used rooms of the western wing. One
of them, a square packet, attracted
Leah's attention. She unfastened the
canvas in which it was folded, and found
that it was her father's writing case.
If Leah could have known what the
desk contained, she would not have look
ed at it with such careless eyes.
She forgot all about the packages, Het
tie. though weak as a little child, hardly
able to see or hear, was out of danger,
and the doctors agreed that she bad tak
en the critical tnrn which leads to bealtb.
The terrible strain of anxiety was ended,
the great mental stress over. Everyone
in the bouse breathed more freely. Dur
ing her illness Hettie had endeared her
self to all. Her sweetness and patience,
the severity of her sufferings, her thought
for others, her loving gratitude, were
things to be remembered; and, when it
seemed certain that she would not die of
this terrible fever, the rejoicing was
great.
Once more the cheerful sound of merrj
voices was heard. Hettie, half amused,
half alarmed at ber own feebleness,
- slowly traced the path that led from sick
ness to health. Once or twice, when she
had so far recovered aa to be able to
take notice of what was passing around
her. Sir Basil had sent her, by Leah, a
few flowers. She took them without a
word and laid them down languidly. She
did not show the least desire to take
care of them, and made no remonstrance
when they were removed.
"You do not value them, Hettie," said
Lenh, laughingly, aa the flowers fell from
the white, trembling fingers.
"I value yon," said the weak voice.
"What a trouble I have been to you all!
How much better would it have been had
I died!"
And that was the burden of ber song
how much better would it have been hud
she died! She bad been so near death,
it seemed a pity to come back to life
again. It was a fatal state of mind for
an invalid, and one that proved sadly
prejudicial to Hettie.
The doctors again grew anxious, and
said that, if she were not roused from
this state, she would either die or lose
her reason. Her condition was worse
than illness. She did not gain strength;
she ate and slept but little. It was im
possible for her to have change of air,
as siie had still to be carried from one
room to another.
CHAPTER XVI.
"What shall I do to rouse her?" said
Leah to herself one morning, after her
Gsiiul conversation with the doctor. "She
is sweet-tempered, loving and grateful;
but she seems to have lost all desire to
live."
Suddenly Leah bethought herself of the
packages from Southwood. Surely among
them she would finvl something that, by
memory or association, would startle her
mind iuto activity.
Lenh went to the unused room in thi
western wiug where the packages lay and
the writing case was the first thing that
caught her attention. It was probable
there would be among her father's papers
something which would remind Hettie of
her old home and rouse her into a more
active state of mind. She opened the
case and found it filled with documents.
Ah. what was this? A letter in a square
envelope, on which was written, "For my
daughter Leah, written now that I know
I am dying, to be sent or given to her
after my death." She looked at it again,
mistrusted her eyes while she read the
words. She put it into the pocket of her
dress; she would read it when she had
finished her search. She would be all the
happier if that letter were a kind au.l
loving one. It had been a sore trouble tu
her that she had reached her father's side
too late, and that he had died calling for
her and she was not there.
A few minutes later she had gone back
to Hettie's room, with manv little nie
inentoes of home that she thought would
interest her. Then a visitor arrived, om
of the ladies of the neighborhood, to niak.
special inquiries after Hettie. When eh
left Leah remembered the letter.
It was rather early to have the lamps
lighted, though the rooms were gloomy
with a miserable yellow light. The
drawing room was bright and gay with
flowers. A fire burned in the grate: the
vivid flames rose and fell with a dazzling
light Leah stirred the fire, rousing, it
imo a yet deeper glare; then she opened
tne envelope: it was a long letter id
he half wondered what her father had
to say to her. She was lost to every
thing when she had read a few lines. Her
letter ran as follows:
"I have a story to tell you. Leah om
chat no one in the world knows but my
self, one that gives you a chance to re
deem yourself, to return sacrifice for sac
rifice. I do not demand it. I do not
fit fk tc When you have read what
M. UtAtMt
1 II I 1 1 M 1 1 11
I have to write the issue must lie in youi
band entirely.
J "In the summer time I was standing
before the cottage looking over the wall
attbe sea which washes the foot of the
gram bill. There came upon me, quite
suddenly and silently, the handsomest
young man I had ever beheld in my tire.
I talked to him. It was infinite pleasure
to converse once more with one who be
lieved In me. I spent a pleasant hour
with him. He told me that he had been
educated abroad and had but just re
turned to England, where he was anx
iously studying politics, and that he want
ad to understand my political views.
"He oame once when I was out, and I,
returning borne, found him talking to
Hettie. He said that he was waiting for
me; but if ever I read passionate love in
a man's face- it was in bis. And then
only did I begin to care about who he
was, for Hettie waa changed, and I kaaw
that her heart had gone out to oh stran
ger. I made Inquiries. I found that bis
name waa Sir Basil Carlton pd that ha
was staying at Dene Abbey with my foe,
the Duke of Rosedcne. I found that my
mortal enemy. Sir Arthur Hatton. with
the girl who had once been my daughter,
but who had disowned me. waa witb him;
and once, in all your magnificence, I saw
you, Leah. You passed me on the high
road; you were in a carriage with the
duke and duchess, smiling, proud, beau
tiful. I heard that Sir Basil was your
over. I decided that I would watch
events and see for myself if that were
true."
Suddenly the blaze of the fire seemed
co die out. and the light faded. . Leah
could not see the letters; they swam in a
mist before her eyes. She rose mechan
ically and went to the fire; she stirred it
again. The flames flickered this time on
a face white as the face of the dead.
The firelight fell on the pages of the
letter when Leah opened it again, and it
seemed to ber as though the words were
written in blood, the scarlet flame leap
ing and playing in mockery over it. It
was a death warrant that she held in her
hands. She went on reading.
"Leah, give heed to my words. I do
not know why Sir Basil asked you to
marry him. I am sure that It was not
because be loved you. I am sure, too,
that be acted in all loyalty. He came
down to Southwood and saw your sister
quite accidentally; he fell in love with
her without knowing it. Hettie loves
him with her whole heart, and will love
no one else while she lives. . They parted
in sorrow and tears, both honest, both
true. Whether they wiU meet again I
know not I leave tbat with you. The
doctor has told me to-day that I have not
many weeks to live, and that nothing
can change my fate. Leah. I cursed you;
do this which I ask, and that curse will
fall harmless to the ground. When I am
iying, I shall send for you, and may be
able to- tell you this. When I am dead,
ask Sir Arthur Hatton to take Hettie
home; it will be safer, far better for her;
I can see it now. And, Leah, if you
would be truly noble, truly generous, if
you would make a glorious atonement for
tout selfish choice, if you would rise far
above the level of ordinary womanhood,
if you would change a curse into a bless
ing, If you would do that which will
bring music and beauty and brightness
into two lives, give np your love to Ilet
ti and let her wed him.
"Now, Leah, from your head, every
hair of which was once so dear to me, I
raise the curse I laid upon it. Whether
heaven gives the power to mortal man
to draw down a curse upon another, I
cannot say. If I bad that power I with
draw the words I uttered. Your sacrifice
will outweigh your selfishness; the good
you may do will outweigh the evil you
have done. And now, Leah, once the be
loved child of my heart, once the center
of my life and hopes, farewell."
She had reached the end of the letter.
i but ber senses were confused. Her brain
was dazed; she could not think or realize
her position. Her whole soul was steep
ed in the horror of full despair. Slowly
she again turned to the letter and re
read it. line by line, word by word.
It was her sentence of death; it wis
the warrant that cut her off from all
that was bright and beautiful in life.
The two whom she had loved and trusted
bad betrayed her. Granted that Basil's
betrayal bad been unconscious that he
had fallen in love without knowing it
he should have told her. He should have
trusted ber, and have let her decide.
"I should have given him his freedom,"
she said, with a great, tearless sob. ' "I
should have set him free."
And Hettie, tne fair young sister whom
she had nursed back from the very an
of death? Ah, well, she could not fcj
that Hettie had betrayed her. for she had
learned to love him without the faintest
suspicion as to whom he was; but. when
she saw him here, when she knew that it
was Leah's lover for whom she had learn
ed to care, she might surely have trusted
her then! Lover and sister had betrayed
her. Her head drooped; the fire flame
died. It seemed to Leah as though her
soul was leaving her body; a cold chill
and sense of darkness came over her.
"If it be death, welcome, death!" she
said, as the shadows closed around her.
CHAPTER XVIL
A month had elapsed since the fatal
day on which Leah bad read her father's
letter. She had made up her mind now
how to act. The doctors bad agreed that
Hettie would not recover until she had
had change of air, and it was arranged
that when the first breath of warm
weather came the family were to go to
.-he south of France. The Duke and
Duchess of Rosedene were already set-tli-d
tne re. so that there would be a
"hnma nam" after all Tiere had been
some mention of the wedding. Leah's i
beautiful face had paled, and a wistful j
'.ook bad come into ner eyes, one aaia ;
that the wedding must be delayed: there j
.-ould be no thought of marriage when
Hettie was In such a fragile state of .
health. She spoke calmly, and smiled j
when she remembered how little anyone,
knew of the pain at ber heart.
Tk iuu-a! had demurred allarhtly
when she refused to hear of the marriage
taking place, as bad been settled In tha
spring. I
"Delayed marriages are always un-
.ucky. Leah," he said to ber.
"Mine will not be so," ahe replied;
and he wondered at the strange smile on
ber face. I
He bad thought great deal lately
lbout bis favorite niece; ah waa so ter
ribly changed. He tried to believe that
it was due to her anxiety concerning Het
tie; but tbat waa hardly possible. She
had such a strange expression on her
face. He could not understand it, though
he watched her keenly. One thing In
particular struck him. Sha never spoke
of the future, and her Interest In every
thing seemed dead. She laughed and
talked; but, to hla eyes, there waa al
ways more or less of effort when she did
o. Her face would flush, and the light
n her eyes waa too bright.
Hettie noticed notblng; ner one great
-elief and source of gratitude waa that
ihe would not have to go through the
trial of seeing Sir Basil again. The doc
tor had aaid that she most go to Men
tone as soon as possible, and tbat in the
nea n time she must be kept perfectly free
from all excitement and must see no one.
All the arrangements were made for
the journey; the Duke and Duchess of
Kosedeue were awaiting anxiously the
arrival of the sisters, when a complica
tion arose. The member for the county
had died suddenly, and this brought
about the very opening for which Sir
Basil bad longed. He waa determined
to contest the election, to secure bis seat
is Parliament, and then to make for him
self fame and the name of a statesman.
He was hot for It; politics was his vo
cation. Tills was an opportunity not to
be lost. Wkh some exertion and the help
of Sir Arthur Hatton, be felt sure of suc
cess. Of coarse he could not accompany
the sisters, aa had been arranged, to
France, so It waa decided that Sir Ar
thur should take tbem thither and remain
for a day or two, and then return at once
to help with his canvas.
The news affected the sisters different
ly. Hettie had dreaded the journey with
Sir Basil, yet had not liked to raise any
objection. Leah had told herself that
she should take her last look at his be
loved face on English soli. She made ao
remark when Sir Arthur told her of the
change In their plana; and be was blind
enough to think that her silence arose
from some little resentment against her
lover so little idea bad any one of the
true facte of the case. They thought
Leah very quiet for some days after that.
Who could guess that In ber own nund
she waa bidding adieu to the place ahe
loved so well?
Once ahe asked Sir Arthur to drive
her over to Glen Sir Basil had gone to
London on business. The general was
delighted at the request; he rejoiced to
think that Leah took so great an interest
in the improvements.
As be drove ber along the road he jest
id with her and teased ber; be did not
notice that she sat by bis side, cold and
pale as a marble statue, with such an ex
pression of bitter pain on her face as
would have startled even a stranger. She
was going to say good-by to the beauti
ful house tbat would never be her home
now. She wanted to look 'once more
on the lavish decoration, at the rooms
prepared for ber, which she would never
use. She tried to picture Hettie here
Hettie, with ber sweet face and golden
l air, who would be ao well suited to this
dainty, picturesque home; and she won
dered, aa she went through the rooms,
whether, when Basil waa established
there, with Hettie as his wife, be would
think of ber, whether he would remeru-b-r
ber asd ber great love, whether any
Idea would come to him of her suffering
or of ber broken heart.
"You look very ill and tired, Leah,"
said the general, in deep concern.
He had caught sight of her as she
came from the room that was to have
been ber boudoir, and she wss off her
euard. lie waa shocked at the white
fuce and the dark, haggard eyes. He
kissed ber lovingly.
"My dear Leah, what la the matter? Is
there anything more than fatigue?"
She raised her brave face to bis he
never forgot the look or the voice and
said:
"No, there Is notblng wrong; and I
have done nothing which could tire me."
She looked round for the last time up
on a scene that she was never to see
again; and, aa she drove back, ahe felt
that the pain at ber heart could never be
iharper.
(To be continued.)
Household Recipes.
RECIPES.
Sardine Fingers. Wipe the oil from
half a dozen sardines, scrape off tha
Hkin, spilt tbem In two and remove tne
bones, dip each In mayonnaise sauce;
lay them on a slice of buttered bread,
cover with a top slice, and cut the sand,
wlch in three strips lengthwise, pile on
a napkin and serve.
Cheese Foup. To one pint and a half
of rich milk add one cup of grated or
finely cut cheese, with a little salt, pep
per and butter. Set it over the fire
and bring It to a scald, then add two
well-beaten eggs. Let it remain but an
Instant over the fire after the eggs are
added, or it will curdle. Serve very hot
for a tea or luncheon relish.
Twin Biscuit. Prepare a milk biscuit
dough, roll out one-fourth of an Inch
thick and cut Into rounds. Spread one
half of the rounds with a little soft
butter.cover with the remaining rounds,
press together, brush with milk and
bake. Especially nice to serve cold for
luncheon.
Corn with Peppers. Drain a can of
corn and chop the kernels somewhat,
chopping with them two green sliced
peppers. Put the liquor back with them
and cook gently on the back of the
stove 15 minutes. Add a few spoons
of milk, teaspoon of butter and half a
teaspoon of salt. Serve.
Cheese Fingers. Roll out puff paste
Into a very thin sheet, rub over with Ice
water, cut in long, narrow strips; sprin
kle over with grated cheese: lay on
strips on top of the others, lay on a
greased tin and bake in a quick oven
fifteen minutes.
Baked Shad Roe. Put shad roe Into
boiling water, adding one teaspoonful
of vinegar and one teaspoonful of salt.
Cook for fifteen minutes. Pour off the
water and cover with cold water. Let
stand several minutes. Rest the roe In
a buttered pan. with one-half pint of
tomato sauce. Bake fifteen minutes In
a hot oven, basting often. Remove to
a platter and pour around one cupful of
tomato Bauce.
Salmon Cake. Open a can of salmon,
chop the salmon fine, and mix with a
teacupful of grated stale bread crumbs,
a sprig of parsley, a little salt and pep
per. Heat a cupful of milk, thicken
with a tablespoonful of butter rolled In
flour, add the salmon and stir over the
fire for ten minutes; take ftom the fire,
make in little flat cakes, dip In cracker
meal and fry in boiling fat.
Codfish Balls. Pick two cupfuls of
w,. i at, muiA.ii in nieces, mix with
ln.l 1-H - m
two cupfuls of mashed potatoes, a ta
blespoonful of butter, two of milk and
pepper to taste; form In little balls, dip
first in beaten egg. then in grated bread
crumbs, and fry in boiling lard.
A physician says that love Is measles
of the heart.
Those who love money seldom love
anything else.
I MRS. MANSFIELD, STRATEGIST.
L
HAVE made a discovery,
John," said Mrs. ManafielB,
looking up from ber knitting.
66
n
John Mansfield, retired merchant,
alderman and Mayor of Pimperne,
looked up from bis paper.
A discovery, my dear?" he said, as
suming bis best magisterial manner.
"Pray what la the nature of this re
markable occurrence?"
"I find tbat Miss Ansom has a photo
graph "of yourself, which she treasures
in secret."
"What do you mean, my dear?" ex
claimed' Mr. Mansfield.
This morning," explained MsaJ
Mansfield, "I entered Miss Ansom'a
room and found ber absorbed In tha
contemplation of some object which
she held. She had evidently not beard
my knock, but the noise of my entrance
startled ber, and, as she hastily bldj
something in a drawer, a photograph
fell to tbe'floor. She snatched it up.
flung It Into the drawer, and closed It,
but not before I bad recognized It aa
your photograph. I pretended not td
have noticed the photo, preferring ti
have an explanation from you."
Mr. Mansfield waa the picture of
helpless amazement.
Miss Ansom, It must be exjrialn.d)
was a bright and charming young ladyj
whom Mrs. Mansfield bad recently en
gaged as a companion.
"I am quite at a loss to explain the1
affair," said Mr. Mansfield, In tones)
quite unlike those of the Mayor of
Pimperne. "Possibly it waa given to!
ber by a mutual friend.7
"Then why should she rrake a mys
tery of it, and gloat over it in pri
vate?" demanded Mrs. Mansfield
grimly.
"My dear," said Mr. Mansfield, with
a return of dignity, "I do not under
stand you! If I mistake not It was
something she bid in the drawer she
'gloated' over,- not the photograph."
"I am not sure which It was," said
Mrs. Mansfield, with strained calm
ness. Now that the first shock of amaze
ment was over, Mr. Mansfield's pom
posity returned rapidly. '
"Ah, very possible, my dear, Mlsa
Ansom. whom I have every reason to
think Is a young lady of good discern
ment and sound judgment, has found
something In my public life which she
has been good enough to admire. Miss
Ansom has bad every opportunity of
studying my work for the past three
months, and also the genral course of,
municipal life In what, I think, may be
regarded as a noble borough. What
more natural, then, that this young
lady, seeing the portrait of a gentle
man, clad In the robes and Insignia of
the office of chief magistrate of this
borough, displayed In the photograph
er's window, and, recognizing In that
gentleman myself, should purchase
tbat photograph?"
Mrs. Mansfield listened with immov
able features.
"A very good explanation," she com
mented, "if It had been one of your
official photographs. But the one in
Miss Ansom's possession Is one of
those you had taken about two years
ago, before you were elected mayor.
We ordered only a few of tbem, I re
member, and I thought we bad dis
posed of tbem all. The question Is
bow did Miss Ansom obtain one? I did,
not give It to ber."
"Then I can only say tbat you must,
be mistaken, my dear," said Mr. Mansn
Held, with asperity. "On your own
confession you only saw It for an In-:
tant. How can you be certain that it
was a photograph of myself?"
"If you think my eyes deceive me,
perhaps you will believe your own!,
The photo Is still In the drawer; Miss
Ansom has bad no opportunity of re
moving It, for I sent ber on an errand.
It is in the first drawer of her dressing
table, if you wish to satisfy your curi
osity." "Mrs. Mansfield, do you think tbat I
am going to steal into a lady's room
slid pry Into ber private affairs 7' cried
the magistrate, rising. "You forget
yourself , madam!"
Mr. Mausfleld went upstairs In high
dudgeon to make some alterations In
bis dress preparatory to going out.
He was forced to acknowledge him
self quite at a loss to account for that
photo being in Miss Ansom's posses
sion, which admission was rather ex
traordinary on his part.
He prided himself on his keen sight,'
bis strict impartiality, and his firmness
In discharging bis magisterial duties.
But an exhibition of tnese qualities
was not confined to the bench. Of the
latter be bad made a lavish display in
bis home, as Mrs. Mausfleld found to
ber cost.
It was only twelve months ago tbat
bis unbending will had driven their
only son. Jack, to South Africa.
Mr. Mansfield bad determined that
bis son should marry rank and beauty
In the person of a daughter of a local
magistrate.
But handsome Jack Mansfield elect
ed to manage his own matrimonial af
fairs, and upset all bis father's brill
iant plans by falling In love with a
pretty nobody, whom Mr. Mansfield
had never set eyes on a governess in
a bouse where he was visiting.
j Finding all arguments, persuasions
hnd commands alike useless, Mr. Mans-
; Held finally told hla son he must either
. (Tall in with his wishes or leave his
1 pome forever, and look for no further
. assistance from himself. Jack chose
the Utter course, and within a week
1 Let saU for South Africa.
! The loss of her only son waa a sourcs
of great grief to Mrs. Mansfield. But
all her tears, pleadings and reproaches
could not prevail on her husband to re
lent, and as time rolled oh her Importu
nities ceased.
IL
Having dressed himself to his satis
faction, Mr. Mansfield left the room.
Suddenly his progress was checked
by the sight of a wide-open door. What
'tempting fiend could have left the door
of Miss Ansom's room so Invitingly
open, displaying, as It did. the very
drawer In which the much-discussed
.photograph was supposed to lie?
. Mrs. Mansfield had. as she well knew,
struck her husband's weak spot when
she mentioned curiosity.
"It would be the work of a moment,"
he reflected, "to take Just one glance
Into that drawer to satisfy myself of
the truth of Jane's story."
With a cautious look round, he noise
lessly enter the room, partially closing
the door behind him. He opened the
drawer boldly, and yes, there It was
the very first thing that caught hla eye
his own photograph I
It was as bis wife bad stated, one of
the few be bad bad taken about two
years ago.
; Horror! Somebody was coming!
; A light step on the stairs, and a sweet
voice bumming the refrain of a song,
heralded the approach of Miss Ansom
herself!
i What was to be done? Could he al
low her to find him in ber room, prying
'about like a curious housemaid? He,
Alderman Mansfield, Mayor of Pim
perne! There was only one thing to be
done.
Miss Ansom entered and closed the
door behind her. Mr. Mansfield could
hear ber moving about the room, still
singing lightly to herself.
' "She is taking off ber bat and Jack
et." be thought. "In a few minutes
she will leave the room. Then I can
slip out unobserved."
Everything, no doubt, would have
happened Just as be wished, bad Tiny
Mrs. Mansfield's darling pugjnot fol
lowed Miss Ansom Into the room.
The snKt of Investigation was strong
In Tiny. In the course of his present
explorations he naturally looked under
the bed. He Immediately sent up an
ear-splitting .series of barks and yelps,
at the same time dancing about with
every canine token of delight.
Mr. Mansfield responded to Tiny's
joyful recognition with silent curses,
and. bearing Miss Ansom's expressions
of surprise, and tbat she was approach
ing the bed to learn the cause of Tiny's
excitement, he slowly emerged with
a very red face and a very ruffled ap
pearance generally.
"Don't be alarmed. Miss Ansom, 1
beg," he cried, seeing that that lady
looked dangerously like shrieking.
"Er my unexpected appearance fills
you with amazement, no doubt."
"Mr. Mansfield !" she ejaculated. In
tones of incredulous astonishment.
"Er I must, of course, explain, and
humbly apologize for my despicable
conduct!"
His worship then proceeded, with
abrupt and Jerky sentences, quite de
void of their usual flowery trimmings,
to explain his presence in her room.
Greatly to his relief, she did not look
very angry when be had finished. She
said nothing at first, but. opening the
fatal drawer, produced somewhere
from Its depths two more photographs,
which she put into his hands, saying:
"You see, I have photographs of oth
er members of the family as well." v
Mr. Mansfield gazed at tbem In aston
ishment. Tbey were pictures of bis
wife and son!
"Why, who gave you these. Miss
Ansom?"
"Jack," she replied simply, with low
ered eyelids and a pretty flush on her
face.
"Jack!" be cried. "My son?"
"Yes," she whispered..
"But I I don't understand! I was
not aware that you bad ever met him!
He Is In South Africa!"
"It was for my sake he went there,"
she replied softly.
There was Bilence for a few minutes.
"Then you are the young er lady
whom my son wished to marry In op
position to my wishes?" said Mr. Mans
field severely.
"Yes," she murmured.
Mr. Mansfield thought deeply for the
next few minutes. After all, he liked
Miss Ansom Immensely; and If be still
proved obstinate she would, of course,
leave the house, and perhaps this
morning's ridiculous adventure might
be mentioned, and yes, he would be
merciful.
. "Well, Miss Ansom, I need hardly say
tbat your story has astonished me be
yond measure. But I will not disguise
from you the fact that during the time
yon have been with us yon have won
my highest esteem, and. In fact, I re
gard you with feelings of paternal af
fection. We must write to that young
scamp and have him home. Mean
while With a cry of Joy Miss Ansom flung
her arms around his neck and Imprint
ed a kiss on hla nose.
At that moment the door opened, and
Mrs. Mansfield stood on the threshold,
with bands uplifted In horror. . She
could not have timed her entrance with
greater precision had she been wait
ing, with eye at the keyhole.
"John! Mlsa Ansom!" ahe gasped.
Mr. Mansfield looked frightened.
"My dear," be cried nervously, "I an
going to write and tell Jack to come
home. This young lady has promised
to be his wife. She is, in fact, the
young lady about whom wa had that
foolish quarrel."
a. ook Mr. Mansnetd quite a quartet 1
of an hour to make his wife understand !
clearly the facts of the case. But when
she did understand she burst Into tears
and rapturously embraced Miss Ansom,
assuring her of ber undying affection.
Mr. Mansfield at length managed to
slip away, congratulating himself on
the success with which be had extri
cated himself from an unpleasant posi
tion. After alL he was glad of an ex
cuse to welcome his boy home again. ,
But perhaps If be bad heard whaj
passed between his wife and futurs
daughter-in-law when 'tbey heard the
ball door close behind him he would
have realized that they had scored on
all points.
"Dear, darling Mrs. Mansfield." cried
Miss Ansom, embracing Mrs. Mansfield
afresh. "How good of you to have me
here as your companion, and then tq
devise this clever plot! Why, It wat
quite a drama I"
"In which yon played your part very
well, my dear!" replied the old lady,
patting the girl's cheek affectionately.
To Dispel the Fog.
The latest Invention Is a fog-dispellcr.
The apparatus consists of a horizontal
outlook pipe eight feet In length and
eight inches In diameter. At the mouth
of the tube Is a wide flange; the rear
end is covered with a thick disc of
glass. About two feet from the rear
end a pipe enters the tube from below,
at an obtuse angle with the forward
section.
This connection la made through a
sort of turn-table, which permits the
outlook tube to be pointed in any direc
tion desired, up or down, from one
side to the other. The pipe below con
nects with a blower down in the ves
sel. When the - dlspeller Is In use, the
blower sends a powerful stream of air
up through the pipe Into the tube, and
the current hurtles Into the fog, boring
a hole through It, as it were.
. The action of the suspended moisture
is twofold. The fog Is rolled back io
every direction. " the high pressure ol
the blast produces a cooling influence,
the moisture in suspension condenses
and falls In rain. A great cone of cleat
atmosphere, witb Its apex at the mouth
of the tube, results.
The eye of the pilot Is at the glass at
the rear of the tube, and be gazes into
the bowels of the fog. With Its aid a
pilot can readily pick up his buoys In a
fog. and keep an eye out fov vessels
ahead.
Witb a powerful blower, the inventor
hopes to make the fog-dispeller useful
at 1,000 feet.
No cl:hn is made that the dlspeller
would be practicable except when the
vessel Is going at a slow rate of speed,
which Is customary when there Is foggy
weather. Philadelphia Inquirer.
HOW DIPHTHERIA' IS 'SPREAD.
A Borrowed Lead Pencil I Frequently
the Vehicle of Contagion.
Tne apparently harmless act of bor
rowing a lead pencil is recognized by
the medical faculty as a prolific means
of propagating disease. Many people
still cling to the time-honored practice
of moistening the writing end of the
pencil in the mouth before they proceed
to write.
The practice of borrowing pencils Is
now believed to be responsible for
many cases of diphtheria and tonsllltis
which could not be otherwise accounted
for. Physicians have, therefore, begun
to warn their patients against putting
the points of lead pencils in their
mouths before they write.
The practice of "swapping" and bor
rowing lead pencils Is more common
among children than adults. The spirit
of camnraderle which makes pupils
grow "chummy" and social in the pub
lic schools sometimes causes lead pen
cils to become common property among
groups of school children. A child who
Is recovering from any throat disease
might, therefore, be the Innocent means
of communicating the malady to Its
companions. A well-known throat spe
cialist, who has practiced in the hos
pitals of New York and Brooklyn, said
yesterday:
"Physicians are now beginning to
give their attention to the cause and
prevention of diseases more than ever
tbey did before. The rules of common
sense are being Instilled Into the par
ents of the young patients, and a doctor
of to-day, when called to attend a child
puts its parents through a very rigid
cross-examination as to the habits of
his little patient It Is often found tbat
the disease has been communicated by
some harmless act which most people
would not notice. Children are very
democratic. A pupil at a school will
moisten a lead pencil In bis mouth and
begin to write. A companion will bor
row the pencil, and the first thing he
will do in nine cases out of ten will be
to put the borrowed pencil In bis mouth.
I have traced several cases of tonsllltis
and diphtheria to this cause, which at
first sight appeared inexplicable. Even
the seeds of consumption may be sown
by this means."
Regarding the habit of moistening the
lead pencil before writing, the super
intendent of a large pencil factory said
yesterday:
"It Is a mistake to suppose tbat mois
tening the lead of a pencil makes it
write better. It spoils the pencil, as it
hardens the lead, yet people will per-
E' it In the uncleanly habit of thrusting
rrowed pencils In their mouths."
w York Journal.
Got the Rats Drank.
Bate In large numbers had been de
stroying wheat, corn and other grains
(on the farm of Patrick Ryan, near
(Cumberland, Md. Traps, shooting, poi
son and other devices for getting rid of
.them failed. Then Mr. Ryan hit upon
the novel plan of getting them drunk.
He secured a large barrel and pmced
'corn In It, weli soaked with whisky.
Thla the rata ate rapidly and when Mr.
Ryan went to the barrel the next morn
ing he -Daund eighty-five intoxicated
rata, which be soon killed.
Mask: la HC Peter's.
The music sung In St Peter's, at
Borne, Is entirely manuscript No vo
calist or musician la permitted to have
hla part In hla hand, except while he la
actually performing it.
SERMON
V
Ret. Br. Calmagc
suljael: Rallgtoaa Cr.t u Plea Far tha
AHlna Away With tha Dngmallc ami
For 4ha Subatltollar ot m Creed
raundsU oa Faith In Cut law
(Copyright lWMll
Washikotox. D. C At a time when tha
ld discussion of creeds is being vigorously
and somewhat bitterly revived this dis
course ot Or. Talmaga bos a spmsinl In
terest. The text is John xi., 44, "Looa
liim and let tilui go." !
Mv Bible Is. at the Dlaca of tills text.
written nil over with lead pencil marks
made at Bethany on the ruins of the house
of Mary and Martha and Lazarus. We dis
mounted from our Horses on tue way up
from Jordan to the Dead Sea. Bethany
was the summer evening retreat of Jesu.
Alter spending the day laths hot city of
Jerusalem Ha would come out there almost
every evening to the houso of His three
friends. I think the occupants of that
house were orphans, for the father nud
mother are not mentioned. But tbe son
and two daughters must have inherited
property, for It must have been, judging
from what I saw of the foundations and
the slse of the rooms, an opulent home.
Lasarus, tbe brother, was now at the head
of the household, and bis sisters depended
on him and were proud ot him, for he was
very popular, and everybody liked him,
and these girls weresplendldglrls Martha
a ilrst rate housekeeper and Mnry a splr-'
Ituelle, somewhat dreamy, but affectionate,
and as good a girl as could be found In all
Palestine. But one day liasaras got siek.
The sisters were in cousternatlon. FatheiJ
gone and mother gone, they feel very ner
vous lest they lose their brother also. DisJ
ease did Its quick work. How tha gtrH
linng over his pillow! Not muon sieeu
about that bouse no sleep at ail. ;
From the characteristics otherwise de
veloped I judge that Martha prepared the
medicines and made tempting dishes of
food for the poor appetite ot tbe sufferer,
bat Mary prayed and sobbed. Worse and
worse gets Lazarus until tbe doctor an
nounces that he can do no more. Tha
shriek that went up from tbat household
when tne last Dreatn naa been drawn and
tbe two sisters were being led by sym
pathizers into the adjoining room all those
ot us can Imagine who have had our own
hearts broken. But why was not Jesus
there, as He so often had been? Far away
In tbe country districts, preaching, healing
other sick, how unfortunate that this omni
potent doctor bad not been at tbat do
mestic crisis In Bethany. When at last
Jesus arrived In Bethany, Lazarus bail
been buried four days, and dissolution had
taken place- In that climate the breath
less body disintegrates more rapidly than
In ours. It Immediately after decease the
body had been awakened Into life, unbe
lievers might have said be was only in a
comatose state or In a sort of trance and
by some vigorous manipulation or power
ful stimulant vitality bad been renewed.
Nol Four days dead.
At the door of the sepuloher Is a crowJ
ot people, but tbe three most memorable
are Jesus, who was the family friend, aud
the two bereft sisters. We went Into the
traditional tomb one December day, and
it is deep down and dark, and with torches
we explored It. We found it all quiet that
afternoon of our visit, but the day spoken
of In the Bible there was present an ex
cited multitude. I wonder what Jesus will
do? Ha orders tha door of the grave re
moved, and then He begins to descend the
steps, Mary and Martha elose after Iliin
and the crowd after them. Deeper dowii
Into the shadows and deeper! The hot
tears of Jesus roll over His cheeks and
plash upon tbe backs cf His hands. Were
ever so mauy sorrows compressed Into so,
small a space as in that group pressing ou
down after Christ, all the time bemoaning
tbat He had not come before?
Mow all the whispering and all the cry-i
Ing and all the sounds of shuffling feet araj
Mopped. It is the silence of expectaooy.
Death has couquered, but now the van
quisher ot death confronted the scene.
Amid the awful bush ot the tomb the fa
miliar name which Christ had often bad
upon His lips In the hospitalities of the vll-t
lage home en mo back to His tongue, aud
with a pathos and an almightiness of w'ilol
the resurrection of the Inst day shall only
be an echo He cries, "Lazarus.come forth!"
The eyes of the slumberer open, and lid
rises and comes to the foot of the steps and
with great difficulty begins to ascend, foe
the veremnuts of the tomb are yet on him;
and bis feet are fast, aud his hands are
fast, aud the Impediments to nil his move
ments n re so great that Jesus eommauds:
"Take off these cerements! Remove these
hindrances! Unfasten these graveclottirs!
Loose mm and let hi in gol
Oh, I am so glad tbat after the Lord
raised Lazarus He went on and commanded
tbe loosening of the cords that bound his
feet, so that he could walk, and the venk
log off of the cereinont that bound his
bauds, so that he could stretch out his
arms in salutation, and the tearing off ot
the bandage from around his jaws, so that
he could speak. What would resurrected
life have been to Lazarus if he had not
been freed from all those crlpplements ot
his body? ! am gla I tbat Christ com
manded bis eomplete emancipation, say
ing, "Loose him and let III in go."
The unfortunate thing now Is that so
many Christians are only half liberated.
Tbey have baen raised from the death and
burial of sin Into spiritual life, but they
yet have the graveclothes on tbem. They
are like Lazarus, hobbling np the stairs ot
tbe tomb bound band and foot, and the
object of this sermon is to help free their
body and free their soul, and I shall try to
obey the Master's command that comes to
me and comes to every minister of re
ligion, "Loose him and let Mm go."
Many are bound band and foot by re
ligions creeds. Let no man misinterpret
me as antagonizing creeds. I have eig it
or ten of them a creed nbont religion, a
creed about art, a creed about social lite,
a creed about government, and so nn. A
Creed is something that a man believes,
whether It be written or unwritten. The
Presbyterian Church Is now agitated
about Its creed. Some good men in It are
for keeping It because it w framed from
the belief of John Calvin. Oilier good men
in it want revision. I am with neither
party. Instead of revision I want snlwtl
tutlon. I was sorry to have the question
disturbed at all. The ereed did not hinder
us from offering the pardon and the com
fort of the Gospel to all men, and the West
minster Coufession has not interfered with
me one minute. But now tbat the elestrie
lights have been turned on the Imperfec
tions ot that creed and everything that
man fashions Is Imperfect let us put the
old creed respectfully aside and get a brajd
new one.
It is Impossible tbat people who lived
hundreds of years ago should fashion an
appropriate creed for our times. John
Calvin was a great and good man, but he
died 336 year ago. I could call the names
of twenty living Presbyterian ministers of
religion who could make a better cree I
than John Calvin. Tbe nineteenth century
ought not to be called to sit at the feet of
the sixteenth.
"But," you say, "it Is the same old Bible,
and John Calvin bad that as well as Mm
preseut student of the Scriptures.' Yes;
so it is the same old sun in the heavens,
but In our time It has good to maklui;
daguorreotypes and photographs. It Is
the same old water, but in our ceutury It
has gone to running stenm engine. It Is
the same old electricity, but In cur time it
has In -come a lightiuug fooled errand buy.
, bo it is the old Biblo, but new applications,
new uses, new Interpretations. Yon must
I remember that during the last 300 year
words have changed their meaniug, ami
ome of tbem now mean more and some
I I do not think that John Calvin believed,
as some sny n did, in the damnation of In
I fants. although some of the recent hot dls-
I pntns would seem to imply tbat there I
bucu a I mug aa ijq iuuiubuuu wi
A man who believes in the damnation of
infants himself deserves to lose heaven. I
do not think any good man eould admit
such a possibility. What Christ will do
with all tbe babies In the next world I con
clude from what Ha Old with the babies la
Palestine when He hugged them and kissed
tbem.
When some of you grown people go oat
of this world, your doubtful destiny will be
an embarrassment to ministers officiating
at your obsequies, who will have to be
cautious so as not to hurt, surviving
friends. But when the darling ehlldrea go
there are no "Its" or "buta" or guesses.
Wa must remember that good John Oak
vln was a logician and - a metaphysician,
and by the proclivities of his nature put
some things in an unfortunate way. Logic
has Its use, and metaphysics has Its use,
but they are not good at making creeds.
What a time we have bad with the
dogmatics, the apologetics and tbe her
meoeutlcst Tbe defect in soma of the
creeds Is that tbey try to tell us all about
the decrees of Ood. Now, the only bumaa
being that was ever competent to handle
that subject was Paul, and be would not
have been eompetent had he not been In
spired. I believe In the sovereignty of Ood,
and I believe in man's tree agency, but no
one can harmonize the two. It la not
necessary that we harmonize them.
Every sermon tbat 1 bava ever beard
that attempted such harmonization waa to
me as elear as a London tog, as clear as
mud. MvTrotber of tbe nineteenth cen
tury, my brother ot tha sixteenth century,
give us Paul's statement and leave out
your owu. 1
Better one ctapter of Paul on that sub
joot than all of Calvin's institutes, able
aud honest and mighty as tbey are. Do
not try to measure either the throne of Ood
or the thunderbolts of Ood with your little
steel pen.
What do jou know about the decrees?
You cannot pry open the door of Ood'1
eternal counsels. You cannot explain the
mysteries of Ood's government now, njiieii
less the mysteries of His government live
hundred qulntllllon ye nn ago.
But now that tbe old creeds have been
put under publio scrutiny something radi
cal must be done. Home would split them,
some would carve tbem, some would elon
gate tbem, some would abbreviate them.
At the present moment lu tha preseut
shape they are a hindrance. Lazarus Is
alive, but hampered with the old grave-'
clothes. If you want one glorious church,
free and unincumbered, take oft the cere
jments ot old ecclesiastical vocabulary.
Loose ber, and let her go!
I Again, my text baa good advice concern
ing any Cbrlstlau hampered and bothered
and bound by fear of his own dissolution.
To suoh the book refers when it speaks of
those who through fear of death wore ull
their lifetime subject to bondage. The
most of us, even if we have the Christian
hope, are cowards about death.
Backed up by the teaching of your Bible,
just look through the telescope some bright
night and see bow mauy worlds there ure
and reflect that alt you have seen, com
pared with tbe number of worlds In exist
ence, are less than the augers of your right
hand as compared with all the lingers of
the human ra'e. How foolish, then, for us
to think that ours Is-the only world lit tor
us to stay In.
One of our first realizations in getting
out of this world, I think, will be that In
this world we were very much peot up aud
had cramped apartments aud were kept ou
the limits. The most, eveu of our small
world, Is water, and the water onyj to the
hum in race, "Don't come here or you wi'l
drown." A few thousand feet up the at
mosphere Is uuinhnbitaiile, aud the at
mosphere says to tbe human race, "Don't
come up here or you cannot breathe." A
lew miles down the earth Is a furnace ot
(Ire, and the lire says, "Ooa't come here or
you will burn." The caverns of the mount
alus are full of poisonous gases, aud the
gases say, "Dou't come here or you will ba
asphyxiated."
Aud pneumonias and pleurisies ana eon
sumptions and apoplexies go across this .
earth lu nooks, in droves, la nerds, aud It
Is a ttorld of equluoxes and cycioues and
graves. Yet we are under tho deiusiou
that It is tho only plaoa lit to stay in. Ws
want to stick to the wet plauk lo inldocenu
while the great ship, the City of Ood, of
the Celestial Hue, goes sailing past ami
would gladly take us up !u a lifeboat. My
Chrlstlau friends, let me tear off your de
spondencies and frights ubout dissolution.
My Lord commands me regarding you,
Buying, "Loose him, aud let him go."
Heaven Is ninety-five per cent, better
than this world, a thousaud per ceut. bet
ter, a million per ceut. better. Tike tho
gladdest, brightest, most jubilant dnys
you ever had on earth and compress them
all into one hour, aud that hour would be
a requiem, a fust day, a gloom, 11 horror,
as compared with tbe poorest hour they
have had in heaven since tbe first tower
was built or Its first gates swung or Its
first song caroled.
"Oh," you say, "that may be true, but I
am so afrul t of crossing over from this
world to the next, aud I (ear the suapplug
of the cord between soul aud body." Well,
all the surgeons and physicians and sol
eotlste declare tbat tbere Is no pangnt tha
parting ot the body and soul, aud all the
restlessness at the closing hour of life Is
Involuntary and no distress at all.
"But," you say, "I fear to go becauao
the future la so full of mystery." Well, I
will tell you how to treat the mysteries.
Tbe mysteries have ceased bothi-rlug me,
(or I do as tbe judges of you r courts often
lo. They bear all tbe arguments lu the
case, and tbey say, "I will take thess
papers and give you my decision next
week." 80 I have heard all the argumeuts
In regard to the next world, aud soma
things are uncertain and lull of mystery,
and so I (old up the papers and reserve
(until the next world my decision about
them. I can there study all the mysteries
to better advantage, (or the light will be
better and my (acuities stronger, and I
will ask tbe Christian philosophers, who
have had all the advantages of beaveu for
centuries, to help me, aud I may be per
mitted myself bumbly to ask tbe Lord, aud
I think thJre will be only one mystery left;
that will be how one so uuworthy as myself
got Into such an enraptured place.
, The only part of the jouruuy I mads
years ago to Palestine that I really dread
ted was the landing at Joppa. That Is tho
port of entrance for the Holy Laud, aud
there are many rocks, aud In rough weath
er people cannot land at all. The boats
taking the people from the steamer to the
docks must ruu between reefs that looked
to me to be about llfly feet apart, anj one
misstroke of an oarsmau or ao unexpected
wave has sometimes been fatal, and
hundreds have perished along those
reefs. Besides that, as we left Port
Said tbe evening before, nn old trav
eler said: 'Tho wind Is just right to
give you a rough lauding at Joppa; Indeed
I think you will not be able to Inud at all."
The fact wns that wheu our Mediterranean
steamer dropped anchor near Joppa aud
we put out for shore In the small boat, the
water was as still as though It Lad beeu
sound asleep a huudred years, and we
landed as easily ns I entered this pulpit.
Well, your fears have pictured for you an
appalling arrival at the end of your voyage
of life, and they say that the seas will ruu
high and tbat the breakers will swallow
you up, or that If you reanh Caunau at all
it will be a very rough landing.
The very opposite will be true if you
bnve the eterual Oo.l (or your portion.
Your disembarkation (or the promised
land wilt be as smooth as ws ours at
Palestine. Christ will meet you far out at
sea and pilot you Into complete safety, uuj
you will Innd with a hosanna on one aids
of you and a halleluiah on the other.
"Land ahead!" Its fruits are waving
O'er the hill ot (adeless greeu
I the living waters laving
tores where heavenly forms are sejn,
: Ls and storms I'll fear no more
When on that eternal shore.
Drop the anchor, furl the saiil
1 am safe within the vuill
Accidents are often another name for
carelessness.
Must women would rather be admir
ed for their beauty than be respected
for their sense.
The man who weeps for every one
will soon become blind.
True patriotism always begins at
home.
The resolute make the'r own terms
with men and with things.
TW.n't Inmn at w 1 1 1 u , .i pAn a
I one you'll outjump yourself.
Written words are the pictures of
thought.
Learning unapplied Is like seed put
away to decay slowly on the shelf of
Indolence.
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