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B. F. SCHWEIER,
MIFFliINTOWX, JUNIATA COUNTY, PENNM "WEDNESDAY, JUNE 27, 1900
NO. 29
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CHAPTER XI. (Continued.)
"Oh, it isn't advice not for world
would I give ber advice about aucb a
thing," says this sniaH creature, in en
tirely evident distress. "It 'a the respon
sibility of having brought them together.
fl a Willi Mr. Onncombe that would have
I been entirely different. I was safe there,
1 I whatever happened. And that's the only
I thing to be done now."
1 I "What is the only thing to-be doner
"Why. to beg Mr. Duncombe to come
tiaek to us. and at once! I never was
ijufte positively certain why he went
little quarrel or misunderstanding, 1 dare
Bay they would be Inclined now to regret
it. In any case, his presence would make
a great difference; if she has any sense
at all. she would naturally tarn to the
younger man. with all bis advantages.'
"Ami what's to be done with the colo
nel ?
"I suppose he will go back "to Aider
shot," she says, wistfully. "I am sorry
but but anything rather than this. And
even if he stays, Mr. Duncombe' s being
with us will make all the difference in
the world.
The counsels of the night only increas
ed her fears; and by next morning- she
iad quite convinced he fcelf that, unless
some immediate measures were taken.
Miss Peggy would persist in her folly,
and end by marrying a beggar.
"She Is simply at her tricks again she
can't help It," one says to this anxious
eyed mule of a creature. "And as for
Cameron, of course he likes to have a
pretty girl to talk to; what soldier
doesn't?"
"It isn't tricks at all." she says. "1
know quite well when Peggy Is merely
playing pranks I've seen ber at it too
often. But this is entirely different; her
Imagination seems to have been
taken captive; . you can see that in
the interest she displays about the
smallest matter connected with Scot
laud, or the " Highland people, or
the Highland regiments, for the
matter of that; and then, she is obedient
and submissive; she isn't pretending to
be a very proper youug dy with a wink
at you when she gets the chance; it is
real this time, or else I am mistaken, and
La I hope I am."
feyea on her!" one says, by way of pro
I. test agaiust this ridiculous fancy.
"Oh, that Is nothing." she answers. "A
a whole London season."
"But, even if it were true, where wonld
be the harm?" one naturally asks. "Cam
eron is very far from being penniless."
"He Is five-aod-forty. if he ia a day!",
she exclaims.
"How often must I point ont to yon
that at five-and-forty a man la Just at
the prime of his manhood the very prime
of his physical and intellectual strength?"
"Of course yon say that," she retorts.
"But ten years ago yon said the same
of Bve-and-thirty."
"And haven't I ten years more wisdom
fo add to my judgment? I tell you now
It Is five-and-forty. And I say that Ewen
Cameron is in bis prime. Mind yon, he
can make a poor thing of some of the
young fellows when they are out on the
hill."
These details do not seem to Interei.
this preoccupied person.
"If they bad ever met before, at some
one else's bouse," she said, absently.
"But it will look as If we had expressly
asked him to join our party, to to bring
this about. And how could we have
dreamed of such a thing? Peggy knows
as well as anyone else what her people
expect of ber; she has almost told me as
much."
"Well, now, yon see the results of cher
ishing historical prejudices and partisan
ships," one points out to her.
"I suppose you think it a joke?" she de
mands, indignantly.
"I do."
"Well. It Is not. Ton don't know Peggy
as I know her. The only thing Is. It can't
have gone very far; and I dare say. If we
could get Mr. Duncombe to come back to
the boat, she would return to her senses.
For she has common sense; she la a re
markably shrewd young woman. And
then, seeing the two of them together,
how conl.1 she help contrasting them?
Now, will you write to Mr. Duncomber
"If you like."
"Will yon telegraph?"
"If you like."
"Supposing he can get away, there are
plenty of towns where he could join ns.
Tewkesbury "
"Not Tewkesbury we shall be there
to-day." .
"Gloucester, then. Ton know, sbe
added, eagerly, "how anxious he was to
go down that open part of the Severn
with us, to see how the boat would an
swer. He ia sure to come along if you
nrge him."
CHAPTER XII.
Now. when all were together again In
the coffee room of this Worcester hotel,
one naturally now again glanced at Miss
Peggy to gather from her demeanor to
ward Coi.v Cameron whether there wet
any grounds for Queen Tita's suspicions.
. But nothing of the sort was 'risible. She
WIS ID ID UUUBUnu au.w .
J We had a busy morning before na: for.
of course, we could not set about rack a
aerious undertaking as tha aavlgatlea
he Severn without having the ship tvMJ
provisioned and equipped for
geneies. And what did this giddy-headed
schoolgirl know about parafflne oil, can
dles, soda water, two-shilling noTels.
fresh vegetables, preserved fruits,
pies, towing ropes, "tationery. telegram
forms and a hundred other tn'n?"''
bad to be thought of? We bade her go
about her business and bother M i
more. And then CoU Cameron fin,rt
. . . . ' Inn to
that tie tnougnt m. w M
aeek out aome spot from - tec--M
get a oetier uonuu "'"Vj
. anuaweU's and Fleetwood s forces tw
- ... kmidJ tO
the nattle or orcesrer. rar "
him. and a-ke.1 him if be was likely to
lie pasMiug by the cathedral, for that sne
would like to see again a rose-red haw-
thorn tree that she had remarked on te
previous day. and that she thought was
the most beautiful thing that she haa
met with In England. Of course, he M
atantly offered to escort her, aad taasa
two went away.
It was not. aoweraavnnta
that the four of ns. I.llv l,?unging abent
"J y the bank, of the 8eren-
?. ,t wh,T? th bonchea
Into the river-beheld that long white
. of thin ow,r 'PProaca-
wg. When she came into the last lock
IT B..? bo"rd- nd- ho seen that
the additional towing line was attached.
nd the longest poles ready, we awaited
the openlug of the great gates. A pleas-
"' "'J 'or onr entrance Into the Sev
ern we could not have demanded. There
w"s soft southerly wind blowing up
stream, ruffling the wide yellow waters
and stirring the foliage of the high-wooded
bank; on the other shore the flat golden-green
meadows were glowing In the
sunlight; and far beyond them, and bc
, yond some darker lines of elms, the pale
j bine Malvern hills rose Into the shining
silvery sky. A brisk and breexy day.
sufficiently warm and sufficiently roof al
. together an auspicious setting forth.
' A most beautiful river the Severn la:
'and on this mellow afternoon the wind
had mostly died away; ao that the high,
red banks, all hanging in foliage, were
faithfully mirrored on the smooth surface
, of the stream, save where some chance
i puff would come along, breaking the oil
' russets and olive greens with a keen
! shaft of blue, the color of the overhead
sky. Subjects for a water-color painter
formed themselves at every turn and
winding: and. at last, when we came in
sight of the square gray tower of Tewka
bury Abbey, just visible above the trees,
and the ruddy houses of the town appear
ing here and there beyond the warm,
green meadows, the tower houses and
meadows and trees all aglow in the light
streaming over from the western skies,
we began to think that too much had
Avon and Thames and Rennet occupied
our artists, and that some of them whom
we knew and could name might do worse
than pitch their tents more frequently
just a little further west.
At dinner thar evening we refrained
from lighting the lajnpa, the twilight
without being so singularly beautiful.
Now. all this time Queen Tita had
said not a word about the possible com
ing of Jack Duncombe; perhaps she fear
ed that the mere suggestion might be
construed by Col. Cameron into a hint
that he ahould vacate his berth. That
was not so. as it happened; nevertheless,
his offer to quit was sufficiently prompt.
"Oh. Peggy." said she. that night after
dinner, in an off-hand kind of fashion,
"would yon be surprised to find an old
friend coming to join us at Gloucester?"
Miss Peggy glanced np in rather a
frightened fashion, for Cot. Cameron was
also sitting out there in the warm, still
night, contentedly smoking . his cigar,
jfneen Tita caught sight of that quick
' look the glow from the open door of the
saloon falling full on the girl's face.
"No," said she, gravely, "it isn't Mr.
A'Becket. It is strange we have heard
nothing of him."
, "Oh. well, I thought he might hare
some more Information to send yon, her
hostess remarked, in a. gt-neraj fciod of
way. "I don't think we study the guide
books as closely as we ought. However,
it isn't Mr. A'Becket. It's Mr. Dun
combe.'
"Ob, indeed." said Miss Peggy. "That
will be very nice."
"I am not sure be is coming." she con
tinued, "but we hare telegraphed to him:
and yon know bow anxious he was to see
how the boat would answer In going
down the Severn. So I shouldn't be sur
prised to find him turning up at Glou
cester." "In that case," said Col. Cameron, with
perfect good humor, "I must clear out.
I shall hate him heartily, I know, but
still I've had my turn "
"Oh, no, no, not at all." Queen Tita
said at once, and most anxiously. "Sure
ly, If this caravansary of a thing baa any
recommendation it ought to be able to
take in another passenger, and easily.
Why should not one of you gentlemen
sleep in the saloon? Murdoch can make
up an extra bed, he has often had to do
that for us on other boats; and all that
is necessary will be for you to choose
among yourselves which is the earliest
riser. What can be simpler thsn that?"
"And then his being on board would
one In so well just now," said Miss Peg
gy, with demure eyes. "There would
x Capt. Columbus. Murdoch, Mr. Dun
combe. Col. Cameron, you two, myself
yes. that would Just be right he could
cake our motto. 'We are Severn.' "
"Peggy," said Mrs. Threepenny-bit,
severely, "this is business: I won't be In
terrupted by your Irresponsible frivolity.
Well, now, supposing Mr. Duncombe
should be able to join us, he Is the new
comer, and should take his chance."
"But I have had my turn of the cabin."
CoL Cameron remonstrated, "and 1 as
sure you I shall be most comfortable in
the saloon. I should call the whole ar
rangement the height of luxury.
"But your things are all in your cabin,
and why should they e disturbed. Sir
Ewen?" said she.
"Just as you please," said he, "though
I don't know that it is wholesome train
ing for a soldier to find himself fixed in
such comfortable quarters. However, you
must promise me one thing that the mo
ment you find me in the way you will
''"OhTyes. I will tell you," said she, with
a little laugh. t
When this small community was entire
ly and snugly shut in from the dark and
silent world without, there was
hint ventured about a game of whist or
something of that sort.
"We should have to rnr "'
things off the table." said M. Threepenny-bit.
regretfully, "and theyare so
handy. PeKiry. why don't you bring out
vour banjo? What ha. made youo l-xy?
You ought to be ashamed of yourself:' .
TbHact was. Mto. reggy b"J
ever touched her banjo since Cot Cam-
" . oa boaH Whjr. we hardte
knew. But somehow she had always
seemed disinclined to open
case since Sir Ewen Cameron joined ox
And so she was on this occasion.
-IM. delightfully quiet here." she
aid. "it Is shame to spoil it by that
"TZ "aulte sure Cot .Cameron
never beard you sing
... ...o.t.,1 Insidiously.
Vtueeo - h like to bear
And I snoum
lt""": . obediently went and got
with the confidence sne
And when she had finished, and when
Queen Tita was begging her to sing "The
Uttle Old Cabin in the Lane," Col. Cam
eron said:
"Well. Miss Bosslya, when I have the
pleasure of receiving yon two ladies in
the North when old Dnncan. that is. my
factotum np there, geta your things out
f the dogcart, I shall be enormously die
appointed If I don't see that yellow leath---
case among them."
She looked np suddenly. "
"A banjo at InverfaskT she exclaimed.
In a kind of awe-stricken way. as though
the incongruity was quite startling to
her.
"Why not?" said he. simply.
And sorely stranger things than that
have happened In this odd mixture of a
world.
CHAPTER XIII.
"Do you know what true wisdom la?"
"No." -.
"Would yon tike to bo told?"
"Yes." .
"Then I will tell you," says this most
amiable and obliging philosopher. "I will
tell yon," she says, blandly. "True wis
dom consists la recollecting how well off
yosj are. It sounds simple, doesn't it?
Tet people never do It It's only their
miseries) they pay any heed to. The tooth
ache, or an overcharged bill, or an ill
fitting dress will Tex them beyond any
thing; bnt when they don't have these
worries or any other, they forget to be
grateful. They don't realize their good
fortune. They don't reflect how glad they
ought to be that at the present moment
there Isn't a bit of dust In their eye. and
that their boots aren't pinching their
toes. You know not what the physiolo
gists say . that when you are not coo
sicous of having any body at all, when
you don't seem to be aware that you havt
not a head or a hand or a foot, then ev
erything is going well, and you are in
perfect health; you know that?"
"I've heard something of the kind."
"But people in that happy condition
never think of congratulating them
selves," she says. "They take it all aa
a matter of course; they forget how lucky
they are. When they have rheumatism,
they make a mighty fuss, but when they
haven't it, they don't recollect that it's
a very nice thing to be able to. walk, or
move your arms, juat as you please. Now.
that is true wisdom, to remember how
well off you are, and how many ailments
you might have, and haven't, and to-be
very grateful and thankful and content
ed. "Yea, Miss Marcus Aurellus. that is all
very well, for you," one says to ber. "You
aught to be content, certainly. Look at
your position. You are young, you are
passably good looking "
"I thank you," she says. In her cool
American way.
" You have excellent health and spir
its, you have an abundance of friends
and well-wishers, you have nothing in the
world to do but look pretty and please
people. It would be a singular thing If
you were not content. What more would
you like? Would you like to be an an
gel?" "Ah. I see I can't make yon under
stand," she says. "It Isn't at aU being
merely content ; you should make your
self happy by thinking of the various
anxieties and ailments and distresses that
you have suffered from or might suffer,
and that yon are now free from; it Isn't
content. It is congratulation. Say," she
continues. In her usual Inconsequent fash
Ion, ."why is your wife so anxious that
Mr. Duncombe aftoaM come Mat to fie
boatT "' r-
She puts this question In an unconcern
ed manner, and with downcast eyes; In
fact, she is now pretending to sketch, on
the printed fly-leaf of a novel, some sim
ulacrum of a withered tree on the other
side of the stream.
(To be continueo.i
VERSATILITY OF REAL TALENT.
People of Brains Wkoae Gmlaw Shows
ia Manx VtrioM Uaea.
"It'a a wonder to ma that there are
lot more Hopklnaon Smiths la thla
world," remarked a man who reala
everything.
"Heaven forbid," ejaculated his
hrland, woo prides himself on never
reading a new book.
"Oh. I mean like Hopklnaon Smith In
liversity of talents." the first man has
tened to explain. "8mlth, yon know.
egan life aa a civil engineer and really
lid some notable work In that line,
rhen ha made himself famous writing
tovela and painting pictures, and now
le'a broken into the lecturing business.
Vow, I believe that plenty of people
ould do the same thing If they only
rried. A man who baa braina of one
sort usually has braina of another sort.
I remember that Hetty Green once said
to me, 'You can't put a a mart person
Into a pint cap.' I thought of that the
other night when I went to a Browning
study class at Jenkln Lloyd Jones
Church. If there la anything-1 usually
steer clear of It la a Browning club, but
a friend dragged me off to thla. 'Well,
I said aa we came away. It Jenkln
Lloyd Jbnea wasn't a pretty good
preacher he would make a more than
middling actor.' To hear Jonea read a
dramatic poem la like going to a first
class play. He Imitates first one char
acter and then another, and roars out
the lines like a trained actor.
; "I know a physician here In the citj
who Is prominent in his profession, and
la also one of the best violinists I evei
heard. He had an offer once from Set
del of a place In the New York orches
tra. "Lorado Taft writes art essaya better
than be makes busts. Ralph Clarkson,
the painter, la writing a book. One of
the beat newspaper reporters In Chi
cago haasbeen a high-salaried preacher,
a first-class lawyer, a soldier, a school
teacher, and an actor."
"Gome to count 'em up. It does seem
that braina do not work in pigeon-holes,
doesn't It? We haven't mentioned the
famous examples, ..JUkaGoethe art
Gladstone and BoeebevyY and our own
Channcey Depew and Ben Franklin,
and even George Washington, who
could fight and survey land and govern
the country and run a farm and culti
vate the graces of a Virginia geD tie
man." Chicago later Ocean.
Last year the Winnebago Indians,
on the reservation near Sioux City,
Iowa, feasted on 301 dogs obtained
from the dog pound tn that city, at a
coat of about five cents a dog.
In Switzerland a telephone can be
rented for SS a year.
The cost of educating a pupil In the
public schools of Chicago In 1877
amounted to J8.41. It has been steadily
increasing each year until the record
of 1898 showed a coat per pupil of
118.44.
k The Squire's Hobby.
FOB tern years people bad been
waiting for Squire Harding to
marry. East and west be waa
known aa "the catch" of Oakdale.
In the first place, be waa very hand
some; then he waa very wealthy; and,
anally, be waa Irreproachably connect
ed, and aa the moat wary young lady
of Oakdale said, there waa "nothing
disagreeable about him." No; the men J
bbuu uini chjuvv aanimi mtmm m (
rate ufan," and the women voted that :
he waa "nice." Yet. when pretty G.adys
nearly cried her eyea out. '
Thla la the way it waa: wnen toe
squire bad come and built the band-'
so in cat house In town, what a "flutter
ing there waa among the dove-cotes!"
B.ondes and brunettes aucceeslvely set
their caps for him. but In Tain. 'The
squire confessed to certain old ladlej
that he bad "hoped to be able to fill his
dear Matilda's place;" but. beyond a
few civil attentions, no young lady of
Oakdale could boast of him aa a con
quest.
This fact showed the man a Uttle dull .
and unappreclative, for nowhere In the
country la a prettier, more Intelligent
and domestic set of girls than In the
nice agricultural village of Oakdale.
But the squire bad hia Idiosyncracy
his bobby. It was that of health. ,
He bad uttered a vow never to marr
a woman who was not perfectly! (
healthy. On thla point he was un
changeable. Let scarlets and purples
flaunt, let ringlets wave and smiles
brighten, the squire turned neither to
the left nor right. His standard of the'
Ideal female physique seemed never to
be approached.
Most people thought Oakdale girls
buxom and blooming enough, bat the
squire's obeerrant eyea saw erysipelas
In burning cheeks, consumption in nar
row shoulders, dropsy la the plump
forma. It waa only when he beheld
Gladys Ray that this exacting man
was satisfied and enthusiastic.
She had Juat come from a year's atay
with her grandparents In New York,
and waa barely sixteen. Pretty well,
that Is no word for It. She waa just as
lovely aa a new-blown roco. And sht
waa aa good aa she was pretty, and as
loving aa she waa good; and every one
would have seen It waa out of the
sneetloa for her to marry Squire Hard
tag, a worldly man of forty, with a
shrewd eye for the mala chance.
She waa just aa unselfish as a sun
beam, aa Impulsive aa a kitten, as
gnllsksas aa a violet, and cared nothing
for the peadtloa Squire .Harding could
olfar ale wife. She never knew what to
amy. to aim vpeu ba camera CletnaUg
Cottage, aa ber bom waa called wis
afraid of bis baas voice, and shy of hia
fiacetlouaneas; and yet be came and
earn, and ber father encouraged his
OIL and Gladys waa told aba must
agree te marry him.
If net, because business waa dnlL and
there waa a mortgage on Clematis Cot
tage, and there waa no sense In a girl
refusing such a chance. Of course, she
would never have another like It In a
lifetime
Thus ber father talked common sense
to ber, and Gladys protested with her
ancommon sense, and said she did not
want to be rich, and the squire's money
would not make ber a bit happier, and
that It would be a dreadful thing to
make ber miserable aU the rest of her
nfe.
She had no mother, but ber brothers
protested, telling her that she was a
goose; and at last the poor girl waa
tiara assi Into making a half promise
that, "perhaps, aome time, she would."
But ber father at once set In motion
preparations for the wedding, and aent
for Aunt Phoebe.'
Aunt Phoebe waa an uncommonly
akniful needlewoman, bnt what was
more In Gladys case she waa a person
with a heart.
Though she had known the grimmest,
hardest and bitterest of experiences, her
trials had not hardened her aga.nst the
grief a and sorrows of youth; and the
moment she saw the face of her niece
be knew that something waa wrong,
and she determined to And out what it
One morning abe went Into Gladys'
chamber 'and found the girl hastily
putting away a letter a letter post
marked New York, and directed to her
self, la the boldest and handsomest of
chlrography. Having put the letter
under lock and key, Gladya turned si
lently to be measured for a new em
broidered waist.
"Are yon tired. Gladys?" Aunt Phoe
be asked.
-A Uttle." replied the girl.
"Didn't you rest weU last nlghtr
"Not very."
"Gladys, you are my dear dead sis
ter's child! TeU me what alia yon."
"Oh, auntie, my heart aches f
And she put her face on the broad,
womanly shoulder and burst Into tears.
"There, there, dearie! I knew it was
a heart trouble. TeU auntie aU about
tt. I don't beUeve yon want to marry
Squire Harding."
"I don't I don't!" sobbed Gladya. :
"Law, child, what makes you. then?"
"They all aay I ought. But. oh,
auntie, I love somebody else, and that
makes It ao hard!"
And Gladys, weeping, blushed to the
tips of her fingers.
"WeU," ejaculated Annt Phoebe,
potting the embroidered waist away;
"here's a pretty state of things."
"tt would be different If I didn't
know of anything better," moaned
Gladya. "Bnt Dick waa ao kind and
gentle. He made my. Ufa Just beautiful
all toe nut six montha. Whoa I came
sway from grandpa's Dick said be
loved mo dearly, bnt be waa poor, and
could not marry now though be would
be true to me, and try to got a place la
the world. Ho ia young only twenty
ne but grandpa saya be la aa exceir
taU yeuagjuaa. and aare odo weU.
Yet It'a of no use no use at all to say
anything to father about Dick. They
are : determined that I ahall marry
Squire Harding, and I don't care for
him I don't care for him at all!"
"Then you aha'n't marry him I I'll
put a stop to this work, sure aa my
name la Phoebe Ray! I don't know bow
now. but I will:"
No. Aunt Phoebe did not know bow
the task was to be accomplished, but.
with eyea and ears alert, she soon ac
cumulated a fund of Information bear
ing upon the case.
One morning she presented herself at
Squire Harding's djor. and waa shown
into his private room, where be re
ceived his clients.
"It's early, squire, but I wanted to see
you alone, before the duties of the
Jay." ahe observed.
"Sit down, madam alt down." said
the squire.
"The subject of my call la my niece."
"Ahf
"Yea. I suppose you will be deeply
Interested In this?'
"Certainly, certainly! Anything which
concerns my pretty Uttle Gladys! An,
that la an uncommon girl, Mrs. Ray
so gentle, so fair, so healthy "
"Ahem!" croaked Aunt Phoebe, omln
Misly. "What, dear Mrs. Rayl Ia not Mis
Gladys well':"
"Far from It."
WBAT TBI POOR CHILD SOrPBHS &o
WOKDS CAB TILL."
"Tou amaze me! Haa some outrage
ma disease approached that lovely
ilrir
Aunt Phoebe shook her head, and sol
imnly said:
"Chronic" -
"What what ia ItTV
"A heejt troubkr pronounced Aunt
cwaeboy- aoismnly-Wbat - the - poor
shlld suffers from It no words can tell."
"You don't aay so! Can it bet Why,
C supposed
"She looks healthy, I know. But
Gladys la like ber mother's family; they
ill had hearts I mean they aU suffered
torn heart troubles. Why, I could tell
ou of Bufferings but I won't. I won't
laraas your feelings by describing
a hat a source of dreadful misery a
leart difficulty la But I know; I've
lad my share of their pains."
"You -you have that tendency,
aiadam?"
' Dreadfully I AU the family haa more
r less. I teU you. squire; and my niece
-she's a dear, good girl, and I want her
Co do weU; but It really did seem to me
is If you ought being so strict In your
lotions of health to know the truth."
"Heart disease! Why,, It often proves
luddenly fatal, doesn't it?"
"Oh. yes; people usually die with It.
And then there's faintlnga, and pining
iway, and fit "
"Lord bless my soul! This Is serious,
my dear madam! I I have openly de
clared that I wUl not marry a sickly
!eraon. It is strange It is very objec
tionable to me that Miss Gladys' fath
er has not Informed me."
, "He doesn't know, and wouldn't be
leve a word of It. Gladys has never
said a word to him about her heart.
But I am her aunt her mother's own
dster and It Isn't a week since my
ilece confessed to me how she suffered.
( suspected It before she uttered a
word for, as I say, It'a In her family,'
ind I know the signs."
"Yes, yes! Well, now, my dear lady,
what course ought I to pursue, under
hese remarkable circumstances? With
uy peculiar vlewa on the subject of
lealtb my very decided views I real
y cannot be expected to proceed aa If
f the circumstances were different."
"I don't know anything about that I
nnnot advise you. But I feel aa If I
iiad done my duty."
"But I can I honorably retract? Can
I withdraw my proposal?"
"My brother-in-law Is of a very
choleric temper; I cannot say. But you
might be called away."
"I am called away. I have argent
business In Liverpool, aag I am the
man who should be on the spot. No In
Jlrcct agency wlU avail. I shall go
ibroad at once, Mrs. Ray. And Mhis
Gladys she Is very pretty no doubt
may supply my place. In the course or
a year, with some one who who has
not the peculiar and Vf-ry decided
vlewa on health that I hold. And you
since you seem a lady of uncommon
sense and superior ldeaa of the fitness
of things will, perhaps, use yonr Influ
ence to to "
"Certainly, to smooth my niece's
pathway, of course."
So the conversation came pacifically
to an end, and two days later the squire
sailed for Liverpool. The news came
to the Raya Uke a thunderbolt, for the
father and son had prospectively se
cured a large slice of good fortune from
Gladys wedding the rich squire. Bui
be waa gone for a year or more, report
said and after a furious and senseless
anger against Gladya the poor girl was
loft la peace.
When Annt Phoebe went home to nor
qui seaside dwelling at Bayport ahe
took Oiadya with nor oa a visit, and
one day she privately wrote a leter to
Dick Archer, who, - She bad learned
through. Gladys' grandfather, waa a
most promising young man.
The result of this letter was to bring
the young gentleman alaa to Bayport
oa a vtalt, and the young people had
plenty of time In which to plight their
rowa and take wise counsel with good
Aunt Phoebe.
Through her Influence. Archer wa
scon prosperously established In life,
and now. In happy motherhood, happy
and rosy with ber own rosy babies,
Gladya. the wife of a good husband,
haa far less heart trouble. Waverley
Magazine.
STRAWBERRIES FROZE HARD.
Spoon Womldn't Break Theaaaad Tbey
Flew to AU Dtrectioaa.
It waa while she yet knew UtUe about
the mysteries of the culinary depart
ment But she had ail the ambitior
of a youthful bride and when be said it
would be nice to have some of the first
strawberries of the season with 1c
cream she cheerfully acquiesced and
prepared the dish herself, saya the De
troit Free Press.
The occasion waa a small family par
ty, with the rector and a vestryman
thrown In. AU-went merrily till the
Ice cream and strawberries were
served. Of course it was his little.
nephew that first tackled the toothsome
mixture. A strawberry Hew straight
across the table from him and took the
astonished vestryman In the eye.
"Leave the table," shouted the boy's
father; 'I'U tend to you when we get
home," and the boy went tearfully tc
the back yard.
The father was so angry that he bad
made rather a vicious stab at bla cream
A strawberry like a bullet hit the rector
on the end of the nose and caromed to
the ear of the hostess. The father was
In the first sentence of an abject apoi-.
ogy when the rector's spoon made a
slip and a solidified strawberry whizzed
on a bee line, hit grandma on the jugu
lar and then sUd down the wrong side
of the neatly folded 'kerchief that made
her look like a Quakeress.
There is no better behaved family
In the city, but the host was getting
very red and his voice was not steady
as he Intimated a desire to call game
and settle down to eating. He made a
dive with his spoon, the rest followed
his example, and the air was full of
frozen strawberries. Everybody looked
anxious to fight when the bride divert
ed the wrath to laughter.
'My goodness!" she exclaimed, "1 see
it all now. What a ninny! I put those
strawberries id whole Instead of crush
ing them, and they're as hard aa hall
stones." Then the rector gratlously explained
what a large percentage of water there
Is In the strawberry, and facetiously
asked the vestryman if hia eye was
black. The vestryman responded thai
the rector's nose waa red, grandma said
that she waa.- over her chill -and -tha.
small boy waa caUed in to a double por
tion of bis dessert
THE DOUKHOBORS IN CANADA.
CnpXeeaaat Ex perlence of the Roaaiaa
Refuace la Their New Home.
A remarkable story comes from Can
ada about the Doukhobors, who, aftei
many vicissitudes since they were ex
pelled from Russia, were brought ovet
at the expense of the Canadian gov
ernment and sent into the Northwest
to make population and raise wheat
for the maintenance of the Canadian
Pacific railway. They had hardly put
foot In the country. In a state of abso
lute poverty and depeudence, when
they were beset by the ministers of the
many rival sects that abound In Can
ada to Join their different denomina
tions. ' Satisfied with their own simple
and practical form of Christianity, they
repelled aU the overtures made to
them, and so came to be regarded as
Uttle better than heathen. Then petty
persecution began. The patriotic
British Immigrants and settlers In
their vicinity accused them of dis
loyalty for not participating in the re
joicing that followed the relief of
Ktmberly, the relief of Ladysmith. and
other events in South Africa, follow
ing up their accusations by acta of
menace and violence. They were also
described as anarchists because they
would not work for less than custom
ary wages, and inflammatory litera
ture, which would have as much ef
fect among them as a lighted torch
thrown Into water would have, was
said to be sown broadcast among
them. A portion of the French press
took up the cry and went for them on
reUgious and racial grounds', and al
together the poor Doukhobors found
themselves very much between the
devil and the deep sea. They found
not only the people among whom they
had come inhospitable, but the climate
unpropltlous, and began looking about
for some escape to more civilized and
favorable surroundings.
Good fortune sent some California
land agents their way, and, after some
of tbem bad been down and seen the
country, they returned and prepared
their people to migrate to tbe new land
of promise. But they reckoned with
out taking count of the Canadian gov
ernment The Ottawa authorities first
of all set those well-la ten tloned per
sons who had persuaded the Doukho
bors to take shelter under the British
flag to Induce them not to leave the
aubglacial paradise in which they had
been planted; but It was of no avail.
Then force, and of a particularly mean
kind, was used. It was represented to
the United States agent at Pembina on
the frontier that the Doukhobors were
engaged under contract to work in
California, and the road was blocked
to them in that way; and so, willy
niUy, they are constrained to remain
British subjects. Instead of becoming
American citizens. The situation as it
presents Itself to their minds must sug
gest a curious contract The gates of
despotic Russia were opened to let
them out; the doors of a "free" British
colony are barred against their de
parture. What kind of loyalty they
must now entertain toward Canada
and the British flag would be worth
finding out
6ERMOM
Y
Rw. Br. Caliiur :
Subject: Chrlat Our Refuge a Mrage
or Comfort. Coininendlns: the Uek- I
lor or the lilselple to Thoce Who Are i
Uurdeued With Sorrow.
(Copyritflit 1MUU.1
Washington, D. C l)r. Talro.-,:, in
the following dis. urse, which ne nas sr :
for publication this week, gives a prescrip
tion for all anxiety and worriment. and
illustrates the divine ynithy for all who
are in any kind ot struggle. ' The te t is
Matthew xiv, 12, "And Ilia disciples went
and told Jesus." 1
An outrar-Mius assassination had just,
taken place. To apease a revengeful
woman King Herod ordered the death of
that noble, self-sacfih.ng prophet. John
the Baptist. The group of the disciples
were thrown into grief and dismay. Thev
felt themselves utterly defenseless. There
was no authority to which thev ould ap
peal, and yet grief must always hud ex
pression. If there be no human ear to
bear it. then the agonized soul will crv it
tloud to the, winds and the woods and the
iraters. But here was an ear that was
billing to listen. There is a te 1 ,rr pa
:hos and at the same time a most admir
tble picture in the words of mv text.
'They went and tc i Jesus." lie could
jnucrsianu an ineir gnct. and lie inline
iiately soothed it Our burdens are not
nore than half so heavy to carry if anot l.ei
ihoulder is put under the oilier end of
them. Here we lind Christ. His brow
lhadowed with griet, standing amid the I V? ,hat "wr. mn,v come on: nmI f?r
jroup of discitile . who. with tears al, ;nis reason there is a long procession reach
riolent gesticulutu.is and wringing ol j n ,'lown .the time mto the valley nf
hands ami outcry of bereavement, are ex- "widows. This emigration f",ni "le into
pressing their woe. Uapl.ael. -with hi ! 'termty is so vasf an enterprise that we
skillful' brush, putting upon the wall of a '?nnot understand Every hour we hear
palace some scene ot sacred storv. gav i clang of the sepulchral gate. The
not so skillful a stroke as when the plain ! Tnl,,5,t lle t,roI;en- T,,e ground must be
hand of the evangelist writes. "Thev went
inn told Jesus."
The old Goths and Vandals once caire
down upon Italy from the north Eu
rope, and they upset the gardens, anil
they broke down the statues and s 't
way everything that was good and beau
tiful. So there is ever ami anon in .he
history of all the sous and daughters of
our race an incursion i.f rouili handed
troubles that corne to plunder anil ran
iack and put to the torch all tiiat 111. m
highly prize. There is no cave so dcen'v
:left into the mountains as to afford us
ihelter, and the fool of fleetest courser
cannot bear us beyond the quick pursuit.
The arrows they nut to the string ny with
unerring dart until we tall pierced and
(tunned.
I teel that I bring to you a most appro
priate message. I mean to bind up all
four griefs into a bundle ind set them on
Sre with a spark from Kid's altar. The
prescription that cured the sorrow of the
disciples will cure all your heartaches. I
have read that hen Godfrey and his
inn y marched out to capture Jerusalem,
is they came over the hills, at the tirst
flash of the pinnacles of that beautiful
:ity. the army that had marched in si
.ence lifted a shout that made the earth
:reinble. Oh. you soldiers of Jesus Christ,
inarching .n toward heaven. I would that
to-day, by some gl.am from the palace of
jod's mercy and Goil's strength, you might
tie lifted into great rejoicing and that as
the prospect of its peace breaks - your
"nraptured gaze you might raise one glad
bosanna to the Ird!
In the first-place I commend the oeha
rior of those disciples to all burdened
louls who are unpardoned. There comes
t time in almost every man's history when
he feels from some source that he has an
irring nature. The thought may not havi
ueh heft as to fell him. It may be onlv
ike the flash in an evening cloud just after
t verv hot summer day. One man to get
rid of that impression will go to jiraver,
another will stimulate himself by ardent,
spirits, and another man will dive deeper!
in secularities. But sometimes a man ean-j
not get rid of these impressions. The face
is, when a man finds out that his eternitvl
is poised upon a perfect uncertainty, and)
that the next moment his foot may slip
le must do something violent to make him
self forget where he stands or else fly for
refuge.
Some of you crouch under a yoke, and
yon bite the dust when this moment you
might rise up a crowned conqueror. Driven
nd perplexed as you have been by sin. go
and tell Jesus. To relax the grip of death
from your soul and plant yonr unshackled
feet upon the golden throne Christ let the
tortures of the bloody mount transfix
Him. With the beam of His own cross'
He will break down the door ft your dun
geon. Krom the thorns of Mis own crown
He will pick enough gems to make your
brow hlaze with eternal victory. In every
tear on His wet cheek, in every gash of
His side, in every long, blackening mark
of laceration from shoulder to shoulder,
in the grave shattering, heaven storming
death groan 1 hear Him say, "He that
;ometh unto Se I will in nowise cast out."
"Oh." but you say. "instead of curing
my wound you want to make another
wound namely, that of convietio..!" Have
you never known a surgeon to come and
find a chronic disease and then with sharp
caustic burn it all out? So the grace of
God comes to the old sore of sin It. has
long been rankling there: but. by divine
grace, it is burned out through these fires
of conviction, "the flesh comin" agfn as;
the flesh of a little child;" "where sin
abounded, grace much more aboundeth."!
With the ten thousand unpardonable sins
of vour life, go and tell Jesus.
fou will never get rid of your sins in
any other way, and remember that the
broad invitation which I extend to you
will not always be extended. King Al
fred, before modern timepieces were in
vented, used to divide the day into three
parts, eight hours each, and then had three
wax candle. By the time the first candle
had burned to the socket eight hours had
Sone, and when the second candle had
urned to the socket another eight hoursj
had gone, and when all the three candles
were gone out then the day had passed.
Oh, that some of ns. instead of calculating
our days and nights and years by any
earthly timepiece, might calculate them
by the numbers of ooportunities and lacr
cies which are burning down and burning
out, never to be relighted, let at last we
be amid the foolish virgins who cried.
"Our lamps have gone out!"
Again, 1 commend the liehavir.r of me
disciples to all who are tempted. I have
heard men in mid-life say they had never
been led into temptation. If you have
not felt temptation, it is because you have
not Lied to do right. A man hoppled anil
handcuffed, as long as he lies quietly, docs
not test the power of the chain, but when
he rises up and with determination re
solves to snap the handcuff or break the
hopple then he finds the power of the ir;m.
Ana there are men who have lieen for ten
and twenty and thirty yerrs bound hand
and foot by evil habits who have never
felt the power of the chain because they
have never tried to break it. It is very
easv to go on down with the stream and
with the wind lying on your oars, but just
turn around and try to go against the
wind and the tide, and you will tind it is
a different matter. As long as we go down
the current of our evil habit we seem to
get along quite smoothly, but if after a
while we turn around and h- 1 the othei
way, toward Christ and pardon and
heaven, on, then how we have to lay to
the oars! You will have your tempta.ir
You have one kincl, you another, you an
other, not one person escaping.
Again, I coi.imend the behavior of th"
disciples to all those who are abu d n- '
to the slandered and er --Tiled. When
Herod put John to death, the disciples
knew that their own heads were not safe.
And d- you know that every John has a
Herod? There are persons in life who di.
not wish you viry well, loiir -isfort'inc-are
honeycomt to tbem. Through their
feeth they hiss at you, misinterpret -Jr
motives, and would be glad to see you up
set. .No man gets through lite without
r-- """i " ":" i.i
fter you homed and husked and hoofed I , A bad womnn is more than a match
to gore and trample you. and what are ! r"r tr" "evil.
you to do? I tell you plainly that all whe Tion't be molded by yonr clrcum
serve Christ must suffer persecution. It if I stances: mold them.
the worst sign in the world for you to lie I Envy won't let a m.-n have peace an ..
be able to say, "I have not an enemy in where.
the world." A woe is. pronounced in the I There Is nothing more d.-ir-roenu-i rr
4ible against the one. of whom everybody a young man than love cf notoriety.
if you arc at peace with all
the world and erervhodv
likes you and
; tpproves your work." it is because you art
i in idler in the Lord's vineyard and art
; aot doing your duty. All those niio hav
I aerved I'lirist. however eminent, all have
j been maltreated t some stage of their ex
. perience. You know it was so in the time
! rf George Whitefield . when he stood and
nvited men into the kingdom of God.
i rt'hat did the learned Dr. Johnson aav of
lim? He pronounced him a miserable
nountehank. How was it when Robert
-au stood and spoke as scarcely any unin
ired man ever did speak of the glories
i n neavenr Ana as lie stood Sabbath at-
I ;er Sabhath nreachina on these theme.t
lis face kindled with the glory. Tohn
i -vstcr. a 'hristinn man. said of this man,
; 'Kobert Hull is onlv acting, and the smile
n his face is a reflection of his own van-
: ty." .Tohn Wesley turned all England
ipsiile down with Christian reform, and :
.et the punstei-s were after him. and the
, neanest jokes in England were perpetrated
ibout John Weskv. What is true of the
)ulpit is true of the new: it is true t the
tree4: it is true of the shop and the store.
All who live aodly in Christ Jesus must
niffer ierseoution.
1 And I set it down as the very worst sign
n all vnur Christian eioerienee if yon nre
inv of vnu at pe.ine with all the world.
Tile relitrion of Christ is war. It is i
?haMenire to "the world, the Hesh and the
ievil." and if von will buckle on the whole
ii-mor of Ood yon will find a great host
lisputing your path between ''is ami
ieaven.
Again. T commend the behavior of the
lisriples to all the bercavpd. How many
n garb of mourning! How many emblems
f sorrow you liehold everywhere: God
las His own way of taking apar' a fam
ly. We must get out of tiie way for com
ng generations. W4 must get off the
i Tiiist lie peonled. The dust must press our
I velids. "It is appointed unto all men
I Mice to die." This emigration from time
j into eternity keeps three-fourths of he
, families of the eartli in desolation. The
lir is rent with farewells, and the black
, tasseled vehicles of death rumble through
f ?vcry street. The body of the child that
r was folded so cl.isply to the mother's heart
lis put awav in the cold and the dnrkness.
' The laughter freecs to the Girl's lip. and
the roe scatters. The bov in the harvest
, Held of Shunem sav?. "Mv head, my
head!" and they .rry him home to die on
f the Ian of 'a mother. Widowhood stan-ls
1 with tragedies of woe struck into th- pal
! or of the check. Orphanaee cries in vain
I 'or father ami mother. Oh. the grave is
Tuel! With teeth of stone it clutches for
! ts prev. Between the closing gates of the
j lepulchcr our hearts are mangled and
; ?ruslied.
But Christ is always near liefore you.
j behind you. within you. :- mother ever
: :hrew her arms around her child with such
.varmth and ecstacv of affection as Christ
las shown toward you.
Close at hand, nearer than the staff upor
.vhich you lean, nearer than the cup you
mt to your lip. nearer than the handker
chief with which you wipe away your tears,
I preach Him an ever pi-esent, nil sympa
;hizing. compassionate Jesus. How can
rou stay away one moment from Him with
rour griefs? Go now. Go and tell Jesus.
it is often that friends have no power
:o relieve us. They would very much like
:o do it, but they cannot disentangle our
inances. they cannot cure our sickness
ind raise, our dead, but glory lie to God
.hat. lie to whom the disciples went has all
imver in heaven and on earth, and at- out
?all He will balk -our calamities and at.
rust the right time, in the pres?nce of an
ipplauding earth and a resounding heaven, '
will raise our dead. He is mightier than
Herod. He is swifter than the storm. He
s grander than the.sea. He is vaster than
?ternity. And every sword of God's om
aipotence will leap from its scabbard and
;he resources of infinity be exhausted rath
r than that God s child shall not be de
livered when he cries to Him for rescu.
tiu.ipose yonr child was in trouble. How
much would yo.11 endure to get him out?
Von would say. "1 don't care what it will
ost. I must get him out of that trouble."
Do you think God is not so good a father
is vou? Seeing vnti are in troub.e and
having all power, will lie not stretch out
His arm and deliver you? lie will. He is
mighty to save. He can level the mount
ain and divide the sea. and can extinguish
the lire and save the soul. Not ilim of
oye. not weak -of arm. nut feeble, of re
sources, but with all eternity and the uni
verse at His feet. Ho and tell .Jesus. Will
you?
Ye whose cheeks are wet with the night
dew of the grave, ye who cannot look up,
ye whose hearts are dried with the breath
of siro-co, in the name of the religion ol
Jesus Christ, which lifts everv burden and
wipes away every tear and delivers every
captive and lightens every darkness, I im
plore you now go and K 1 Jesus.
A little child went with her father, a
sea captain, to sea, and when the first
itorm came the little child was very much
frightened, and in the night rushed out ol
the cabin and said. "Where is father,
ivhere is father? ' Then they told her.
'Father is on din-k guiding the vessel and
ivatehing the storm." The little child im
mediately returned to her fierth and said.
'It's all right, for father's on deck."
O ye who are tossed and driven in thif
world, up by the mountains and down by
the valleys and at your wits' ends. I want
vou to know the Ixird God is guiding the
ship. Your Father is on deck. He will
brins you through the darkness into thf
harlur. Trust in the Iird. Go and tell
lesu-:.
If you go to Him for pardon anil sym
pathy, all is well. Even thing will bright
en up, and jov will come to the heart, anil
sorrow will depart, your sins will Is- for
given, and your foot will touch the up
ward path, and the shining messcngerf
that report aliove what is dime here will
tell it until the ti"eat. arcln-s of i ,od re
sound with the glad tidings if now with
?ontrition and full trust fulness of soul you
ivill only go and tell Jesus.
But 1 am oppressed as I think of those
who may not take this counsel and may
remain unblessed. I cannot help askiufi
what will be the destiny of these people
Xerxes looked off on his army. There were
J.Ooo.OoO, perhaps the finest army ever mar
shaleil. Xerxes rode along the lines, re
viewed them, came bai k. and stood on
lome high point, looked off upon the 2,000,
NK) mi-n and burst into tears. At that mo
ment, when every one si;;iposed he would
be in the greatest exultation, i,e broke
down in grief. They a-ked him why h
wept. "Ah." he said. "I weep nt lie
thought that so soon all tins host will Ik
lead." So I think of the-e vast Hipula
pions of imtiiiirtat men and women and re
iilize the tact that soon the places which
Vnow them now will know them no more,
pnd they will be gone whit her. whither)
There is a stirring nit a which the poel
4ut in very pec i!:,ir verse v hen lr- said:
rTis not for man to trifle: lite is brief.
And sin is here;
Our age is but the f.illni': of a f,
A lri'pii;tg t( ar.
Not mam- lives. I. -it only one Iiav we
i hie. onlv one :
How sai red snnnl-l that one life e ver lie
That 11.11 iti.v span!
T'.p nnimnl that first succumbs to
xtrrine cold is the horse.
Tin- man who can't blush is no worsi
off than a mule.
Violent grief Is like a straw fire; it
soon exp.-ml.s itself ami leaves no ashes.
Uttle sins always g'.ow up.
He who is sauey would be brutal if he
dared to.
i:- content with doing; with calmness
the little which depends upon yourself,
and U-t all els., be to you as if ft were
not.
Necessity Is stronger than any law
or gospel.
peaks well.
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