' fir.'-.
T
B. F. SCHWEIER,
THE COnSTITUTIOnTHE URI0R-AI1D THE Ell FORCE BERT OF THE LAWS.
Editor and Prtprltr.
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faptaiti
BY B.
l.ynilitapy.omaDce.of.goiitl.irficji
CHAITEK XIX. (Continued.)
1'oor Miss Jane bad felt her nephew's
inih acutely, more than anyone would
tare believed, lue lew ne oaa
Drat with her bad entirely reinstated him
Id her good graves. She liked him for
kiniwlf; be was gentler, more consider
ate. ud more manly, than the old, trou
blesome Teddy; and he evoked mem
ory which endeared him to her especially,
(or be seemed to link old memories of fie
oast to realities of the present. A mem-
try, notably, of a smart young offl .-er of
light dragoons, whose presence i'e re
ralled by bis soldierly figure, hie clink
ing spurs and his off-hand manners and
his handsome face. This officer's epis
tles, on large letter paper, written in fad
rd ink, were treasured up. along, with a
miniature, in the most secret recesaes of
Mies Jane's bureau; also a lock of br. rn
hair, the very self-same shade as Ved
dy's. The smart young dragoon might
at7e been a burly, stout, red-faced squire
ay this time, discussing shorthorns and
turnips, addicted to snnbbing his wife,
bad he lived. But he had not; he had
died, saber in hand, on a far-away Sikh
battlefield, and a halo of romance and
regret forever enshrined his memory .
Time works wonders. Who can stand
against him? Esme has bowed to fate
at last. She has even, in a way, become
reconciled to Teddy'a death. She can
speak of it now quite calmly; for have
not three months elapsed since the day of
that fatal foray, and as yet no letter has
come from Captain Brabazon, and she
feels more drawn to him than ever now
for her dead brother is a bond between
them. Did not Teddy die in Miles arms,
with him alone beside him? She makes
every excuse that a fertile brain can con
trive for his unlooked-for silence. How
eagerly does she scan the mall news. How
early she is down the morning the South
African post is due, and she is always
disappointed. Even ruthless Mrs. Braba
ton herself feels a little pang of remorse
as, in answer to an unspoken appeal, she
ays. with a smile, "Nothing for you, my
dear, this morning," and then there is an
other long week to get through; "but it
will come, will surely come," she tells her
self, bravely. There are so many thing
that may have happened. The mails have
been lost, stolen or seized by the Boers.
The camp may be now beyond postal com
munication. She reads with blanched
cheeks of the battles. Miles waa there:
but Miles is safe, his name is not among
the killed or wounded. Still he may
be ill. And with thoughts and specula
tions of a more or less gloomy complexion
does she torture herself through seven
lays more.
Then the house is full of a subdued,
but busy, bustle, for Gussie is going tc
be married. It is to be a very quiet wed
ding, she tella everybody, apologetically,
and "Fred ia so anxioua to be back for
the cub-hunting." The trousseau is mag
niheent, though many of the dresses are
of a mourning type the pretty laven
ders and grays, and black and white
tulles. The presents are numerous and
costly, as has been previously stated. The
wedding takes place without the smallest
bitch in the program, one lovely Septem
ber morning. There was no waiting
bride, no missing bridegroom, this time,
air. Vashon, looking very red, and very
nervous, was awaiting his extremely self
possessed little bride for fully a quartet
of an hour. She came at last, escorted
by Flo, and followed by Esme. who waf
Dearly as white as her dress Esme, who
hould have stood at that altar herself
Just one year ago. Her face was thin,
haggard and woe-begone, her eyes had
lost their brilliancy, there were dark
marks under them, and her lovely colo:
bad entirely faded from her cheeks. Truly
people were beginning to whisper that the
beautiful Miss Brabazon was now a posi
tive wreck, and almost plain being noth
ing more than a very thin, pale, deject
ed looking girl. Augusta made a charm
ing bride and beamed and smiled gra
ciously on all her friends, aa ahe walked
town the aisle on the bridegroom's arm.
Bhe drove away from the chorda to By
ford, and traveled by the mall np to Lon
ion. Mr. Vashon, who had a shrinking
horror of being recognised aa a bride
groom, indignantly rejected the coupe
which was tendered by an obsequious
guard, and plunged, along with his Au
gusta, into a Pullman car full of other
passengers. Alas, poor ostrich! little did
Four off band manner, or a newspaper,
avail you. At the next station the beam
ing Miss Clippertons were in waiting,
with an enormous white bridal bouquet.
Gussie saw them eagerly searching the
carriages, and shuddered; she closed her
eyes, to shut out, if possible, what was
Mining. It was this: Hatty Clipperton's
milling face at the window, saying. "Oh.
there yon are, Mrs. Vashon. We brought
rou thia bouquet with our best, best
wishes. Be sure you send ns a piece of
take."
Over Mr. Vashon'a face and the faces
f the other passengers, permit us to drop
t kindly veil.
CHAPTER XX.
What does this picture convey to the
mind of even the most obtuse in such
matters? The scene before ns represents
t dull December afternoon, a leaden gray
iky, brown hedges, bare treea and damp
country lane. The only bit of color in
:he landscape ia the scarlet coat of the
young gentleman who. in splashy top
boots and leathers, is standing at the side
of the road with hi, horse'a bridle over
his arm, while with the other he endeav
ors to seise the hand of a tali girl in
black, whose face is turned away in an
apposite direction.
Emboldened by a wedding in the fam
Jy, Mr. Hepburn thought that surely he
might now come forward and urge his
uit. his courage permitting. He waa very
much in love, and had more than once
been on the point of asking the U-m-portant
question, when his courage failed
a .11 iu knm anbseanently.
UIU1, aUW M ..,, -
and until the next occasion when he met
the object of his adoration, he would rate
mmaeir soundly for his cowardice, and
pass valiant new resolutions "to do bet
ter next time!" But Mlsa Esme waa
so unaffected, so ready to accept him aa a
friend, and she looked him in the face
n frankly and yet so innocently with her
dark blue eyes, that hia tongue remained
tied. This particular afternoon fate M4
favored him. He was returning from
hunting when, in turning the corner of
road, he suddenly came upon gm U
grabajon
CROKER
mourning, .-vow was bis time. Now or
never! he said to himself imperatively,
aud trotting hastily forward before his
TgeuhaJ time lo co1' e jumped
off his horse and accosted her warmly.
. 21 " "he Iw"' Ai,l Pleased)
io see mm, and questioned him eagerly
about the run, about the people who
were out; but be quickly cut short all
nr quenea by an abrupt question of his
own.
"Never mind the hnnt now, 1 want to
ak yon something," he said, becoming
r.XCTvn17 red miserable looking.
and I m shot If I know how to put it.
Uo yon know why I have been so much
e at your place lately?" beating his
boo? with his hunting-crop as he spoke.
"Oh, yes," she replied, unhesitatingly.
"Of coarse I do," her mind at once re
curring to his friendship for Teddy, and
jbia sympathy in their trouble. "Of course
I know, and it has been very kind of
yon.
Mr. Hepburn stared at
for nearlv mmnta n ...
J don't believe you understand what 1
mean; though I think you might have
noticed it. I've been going to see you
all along, and no one else. The more 1
see of you the more I like you. And
and my father and mother and I want
to know if yon will marry me. I'm not
a bad fellow, and I'm awfully fond of
yon."
It was now Esme's turn to stare at him
in blank amazement. "Don't talk to me
in thia way," she said impatiently. "You
are making fun; you are not in earnest."
"I should think 1 waa in earnest. And
I hope you like me, even a little, Esme,"
venturing her name rather shyly.
"I do, I always did, aa Teddy'a friend,
but now now you have spoiled it all."
"Can't you like me as something more
than a friend of Teddy's?" appealing to
her with a wistful face, and endeavoring
to possess himself of her hand.
"No, I can be nothing more than a
friend to you always," she replied, ignor
ing his hand, and stepping back two
paces, perilously near the edge of a ditch.
"And why? why? Tell me the rea
son." "You know the reason," she returned,
now averting her face, which had borrow
ed its complexion from his scarlet coat.
"Yon have heard," she proceeded, in a
still lower voice, "of my cousin Miles?"
"Yea, but I don't mind a bit," very
eagerly, and quite misunderstanding her
meaning. "He treated you vilely. He
waa confounded
"Stop, stop, before you say anything
more," cried Esme, "and listen to what 1
have to tell yon." And thereupon, with
rapid, almost incoherent, utterances, and
faltering breathless sentences, she told
the whole story of Teddy's secret and
of Miles' mistake a tale which the young
man beside her heard with sinking heart
and remarkable and various changes of
countenance. When she brought her story
to a close he put this one abrupt end
crucial question:
"And you like him still?"
"Yes." in a very low voice.
"And would marry him after all?"
"'Yes," in a whisper.
"Then there is no more to be said," giv
ing his innocent horse an angry chuck
of the bridle. "Of course, if 1 had knowt
I wouldn't have made such an awful fool
of myself," turning away with ill-assumed
dignity.
"Yon are angry with me," said Esme,
tearfully, "and I don't know what I am
to say to yon," detaining him by ges
ture. "If I had known or dreamed of
thia, of course I would hare told you; but
I never dreamed of it, and now I sup
pose," with trembling lipa, "yon will hate
me, and never be friends with me again T"
Mr. Hepburn waa very much cut up;
but at the same time he had a soft heart,
and to see a very pretty girl with large
tears In her eyea, deploring the loss of
bia friendship, considerably cooled his in
dignation, and he hastened to assure her
that when he had got over it a bit he
would still be her friend. Of course it
was a facer. But he was not such a dog
in the manger as to grudge the other
fellow what he could not have himself.
"I don't understand It, you know, not
a bit; for Mrs. Brabazon told the mater
that you never bad cared a straw for him.
nor he for you. It was all a mere ques
tion of money, and you know, Esme, I
can give you heaps of that. The gov
ernor aaid he'd let na start with live
thousand a year. He ia very much taken
with you himself "
"I don't care for money," said the
young lady, hastily. "Mrs. Brabazon wa
quite wrong. I was not going to marry
Miles for money, nor he me, and 1 would
be proud to marry him without a shil-
"And live on love," suggested Mr. Hep
burn, whose heart was stiU very sore in
deed, and could not refrain from this one
PEme colored painfully, and was about
to make some angry retort when he add
ed "Forgive me. I cannot help it. 1 envy
that Mllea of yours. He ia a lucky fel
tow! ItVnot every pretty girl in these
daya that aaya she doesn't care for thou
sanda a year, and will take a chap with
out penny. .Well." with one foot now
T tf.r stirrup, holding out his hand,
"good-by." wringing her fingera in a vise
likTgrasp. -What can't be cured must
be endured," taking off hi. hat to her a.
uttered this truism; and nth
moment he waa trotting away down the
.d on hi. brown hunter, leaving Eame
"'xawre are oome thing, cannot he hid,
esoecially from a lynx-eyed lady, such M
SrT Brabazon. Mr. Hepburn's inf.W
n fo" her atepdaughter was one of
them. She waa alarmed ZZl
ater to casually overhear
tea, that "young Hepburn had sent his
tea J"u .d was going
Z" mediately, to Nice or Mont.
I r.X " What did it mean? Had be pro-
'terpen? of l"- UTS2
home and rang for Noke. toi se no
Br.b.aon to L
the doX" ..ioTr stepmother
thetant'she .p'pe.re "
.ent jl iue nui--K --- WAat
abroad. -er"j -
MIPFLINTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY, PENN., WEDNESDAY,
it means? Can yon tell me tue reason ot
this unaccountable conduct?"
"I? I, Mrs. Brabazon?" stammered
game, faintly. "Why should yon ask
"Come, come, thia fencing ia no nse.
The man was head over ears in love with
yon. Is It possible that he has gone away
without speaking?" ahe aaked in a tone
of resentful wonder.
To thia ahe received no answer. Bsme
sat quite still, her eyes glued on one par
ticular pattern in the carpet, and made
no reply. However, ahe had become ex
tremely and painfuUy red.
"He proposed to you, 1 see. And
when?" demanded Mrs. Brabazon, au
thoritatively. "Last week," returned Esme, in a low
voice, not daring to raise her eyes.
"And what did yon say, might I be per
mitted to ask?" proceeded Mrs. Braba
zon in convulsive tones.
"I said nor replied Esme, scarcely
daring to apeak above her breath.
"You said nor almost screamed her
stepmother, now rising to her feet. "Said
no, to the heir to twenty-five thousand a
year, to the finest emeralda in England!
Oh!" casting her bonnet on the bed with
such furious Impetus that it rolled off it
t the other side, "I can't believe it. Vou
could not not be so wicked, it is im
possible." To this harangue Eame made no reply.
evidently ahe had been quite capable of
this outrageous deed. After glaring st
her down-faced companion for some sec
onds Mrs. Brabazon said hoarsely:
"I should like to know what you said
to nlm, and why you refused him; in fact,
I insist upon hearing yoifr reasons," de
manded the lady, with a lurid gaze.
Visions of her beautiful castle in the
air, her atepdaughter's high position in
the county, and her own increased impor
tance, were now dispersing like mists be
fore the sue.
"Your reason, miss, at once," with aa
imperious gesture.
"My reason was," returned Esme,
tremulously, "was was because oi
Miles!"
"Because of Miles! Forsooth, and a
pretty reason! Do you mean to say you
would hold to your engagement still, and
marry him if he would have you, yon
idiot?"
"I would," rejoined the victim, firmly,
raising her eyes now for the first time.
"And what would you say if Miles
would not have anything to do with youl
What would you say if you were told
that, now the money was gone. Miles waa
not such a fool as to marry a girl without
a penny? What would you say if Miles
broke off the match?"
"I would simply say nothing, for I
would not believe it," returned Esme. also
rising, and casting a tall, pale reflection
into a mirror in an opposite wardrobe.
"I suppose if you saw It in bis own
handwriting you would believe it. Seeing
is 'believing. Will'' that convince you?"
taking a letter from her desk and handing
it to Esme.
(To be continued.!
Notes of Inventions.
A Portugese Inventor has secured
nl t.U. I mAKn t9 hunt.
i . .1 Tka anKomu
Is to fasten a small Ugnt in the collar
I f the Hunting aog. so as io iigm ine
(way for him through the underground
haunts of these animals.
. James F. Bromley, of Scranton. Pa..
has invented an automatlo swing
vhich needs no "working" to propel It.
The start is made by touching a, but
ton, and after that tne swing runs it
self, each forward motion imparting
the Impetus for the return.
1 A new bard coal Durning engine,
i,rhlh la an M tn hftVe 0Te&t0r SIn?ed
and power with less fuel, is being tried
experimentally oy ine rciimjnanu
Railroad, and if satisfactory several
of them will. It is understood, be put
into service on the Long Island Road.
According to the London Mull, a pho
nograph which shouts so loud that its
words can be heard for ten miles was
recently tried at Brighton. The ma
chine is the invention of Horace L.
Short, of that place, and it is designed
for use in the coast service particu
larly. In some cases It would take the
p'ace of a light house.
A new type of reflector lamp Is be
ing placed on the market by the Kdl
son people, and it Is said to be very
efficient where the light ie wanted in
one direction rather than diffused. The
bulb is of what is known as the um
brella shae and the back is coated
with a substance which reflects the
rays and whfch is at the sam- time un
affected by the heat generated by the
George Lans, of the Chlcaieo Arm of
Lans, Owen & Co., has devised a can
teen for the use of soldiers in the trop
ical countries, or anywhere in fact, by
the means of which water is always
maintained at a pleasant temperature
for drinking. This is done by means
of a coating, the composition of which
is Mr. Lans" secret. He has also In
vented a canteen for horses, to be
strung on the saddle or swung on the
axles of the batteries or army wag
ons. Personals.
lenor Alvarez Calderon. the new Pe
ruvian Minister at Washington, has
placed two of his sons and two neph
ews as students at the Maryland Agri
cultural College at Hyattsvllle. The
will take the regular course In agri
culture and mechanics.
Miss M. E. Braddon has written ovei
sixty novels since 1862. Previous tc
entering upon her literary career she
appeared on the stage, having made
her debut at the Brighton Theatre
Koyal in 1857. During the five montht
following her Initial performance sh
Impersonated 58 different characters
Her stage name was Mary Leyton
Though she is now known to the put
lie as Miss Braddon. she Is really Mr?
Maxwell and a widow.
Sims Reeves is 82 years of age anc
still singing. Though he was a choir
master at 14, his first appearance on
the stage was in 1839.
By the recent death of Mrs. R. II.
Eddy In Boston, a contingent bequest
of $30,000 left by her husband becomes
available for the erection of a statue
of John Paul Jones In Portsmouth, N.
cousin of Dr. Livingstone. Mrs,
MacQueeny, who was Kate Livingstone
Is alive at the age of 104, at Salon, In
the Isle of Mull
The World's Progress.
Five boats of the submarine type
will be built for this government on
the lines of the Holland. This will give
this country a submarine flotilla equal
in numbers to that of France, and if
all reports are true, of greater effl
clpncy The finest lightship afloat will be soon
stationed on the Diamond Joals. Its
entire operation will be elec trie, al
though provision ia made for supply
ing the Hghts with oil In case of acci
dent to the electric plant- Her mooring
tackle will be something marvelous, ev
er precaution being taken to prevent
her from being moved by the wind or
Waves.
MY CREED.
' I count the day aa lost that I have
done
No loving deed nor word of kindness
said.
While ever near me, wheresoe'er I go.
Are sad hearts waiting to be comforted.
May God forbid that e'er my llfrs should
close
To Judge him who In weakness goes
astray;
Nay, let me rather with a tender hand
Help him to seek and find the bet
ter way.
I hate all selfishness and greed of gain;
So may I atrlve to make my own life
free
From selfish deeds, and with my nelgh
. bor deal .
As I would ask that he should deal
with me.
And at the last. If only I may feel
That full of helpfulnts my life hath
been,
I will have peace; for this I know la
true.
He serves God best who loves his
fellow men!
A WIDOW'S FRIEND.
It coat ten thousand dollars a year
more or less, to live at the Renwood.
But it was worth It.
The Renwcod was the most aristo
cratic apartment house in the city.
There may have been other buildings
whose stairways were made of finer
marble, whose plate glass was a trifle
heavier and whose telephone wires got
crossed less frequently, but they were
not occupied by people with such large
incomes and such Irreproachable rec
ords as was the Renwood. It was a
great feather In one's cap to have the
name of living there.
There waa nothing like it for gaining
social distinction.
Families that had recently found the
way to wealth and were still on the
lookout for the road that led Into so
ciety's exalted sphere, had been known
to resort to every plan that could be
devised by inventive minds for reach
ing the desired haven without avail; but
as soon as they took rooms at the Ren
wood all prejudice was swept away and
they sailed triumphantly on to their
goal.
If a woman gave a tea and the soci- .
ety columns of the newspapers con- '
tained paragraphs descriptive of the
"assemblage of wit and beauty at the
home of Mrs. Mark, who is residing at
the Renwood this winter," that good
woman's reputation as a social leader ,
was straightway established.
When somebody else waa shopping .
tnd said, "Send It to the Renwood," the '
clerks knew at - once that they were
dealing with a person who sclntllated
as one of the most sparkling lights in :
that upper world of which they caught '
faint glimpses over the counter now and
then, and they humbled themselves ac
cordingly. It was considered a great honor to
to respond with any one who was dom
iciled at the Renwood, and Renwood
women frequently received notes which
they were compelled to answer through
common courtesy. The recipients of
these replies, however brief and formal
they might be, always tcok particular
pains to show them and to remark cas
ually: "I have received a letter from my
friend, Mrs. Blank, who lives at the
Renwood," and everybody, even In the
fourth and fifth circles of our great
complex social system, seemed to take
on an air of excluslvenesa from the
little transaction and felt themselves
raised several degrees In the estimation
of the world.
But it required a great deal of wire
pulling to secure accommodations at the
Renwood. People who wished to re
side there had to put In their appli
cations months beforehand. Just as
would-be Incumbents of appointive gov
ernment offices and lucrative positions
in corporations file their petitions and
await their turn.
The Renwood contained but twenty
five apartments, and as people seldom
moved and the list of applications was
lengthy, It seemed a foregone conclu.
alon that there were a good many anx
ious aspirants who would pass through
time and eternity without finding shel
ter beneath the Renwood'a roof.
Another thing that made admission
difficult to any except recognized social
lights was the rigid examination
through which each new tenan' was
required to pass. ' Men who had come
through civil service examinations with
an average of 99 p. c, and still others
who had taken their degrees at West
Point. Annapolis and Yale fell down on
the questions put to them by the pro
prietor of the Renwood.
Age, pedigree, occupation and amount
of wealth possessed were sworn to be
fore a notary public, and those Inter
esting family histories were pasted in a
follo-slxed morocco-leund book which
was kept on a special table In the re
ception room, where other residents of
the Renwood might refer to It at any
time and see Just whom they were as
sociating with.
It would be difficult to determine who
was responsible for the ultra exclusive
ness ot the Renwood.
It certainly waa not the proprietor.
He was a plain, unassuming man, whose
tastes were Inclined decidedly toward
simplicity rather than ostentation, and
when he bought the site of the Ren
wood and put up his fine building he
had no Intention of making It other than
a first-class apartment house which
should rank with others of its kind.
He proposed to conduct his business
in a modest, quiet way, and when he
found that his house was becoming a
regular Mecca for the swell set, the
shock of the surprise very nearly In
capacitated him for business. The first
member of the fashionable clans to
ome to him was Mrs. Clyde Moore.
After that the Renwood seemed to
;row Into favor without any special
ffort from any one.
Mrs. Moore unconsciously served as a
brilliant orb which attracted numerous
satellites to circle round her, and be
rre Mr. Merrick waa aware of what
waa taking place his fortune waa made.
The unexpected social maelstrom In
which he found himself helplessly float
ing around was very bewildering.
The Renwood like many another
thing whose popularity can never be
explained had acquired unparalleled
celebrity without any adequate cause,
so far as he could see, and- it took him
some time to lqarn to accept the situ
ation philosophically.
There were a good many times when
he longed for a brief period during
which he could once more assume the
careless habits of former days, but his
business acumen bade him cater to
Fashion, who had -takeo him firmly
within her grasp, and he stood valiant
ly at his post, managing his property
and collecting his wonderful rentals.
. Up to last November there had been
no changes made In the place for a good
many months. Then the family that
had occupied apartment No. 19 for the
past two years went to Denver and
gave somebody else a chance. The
lucky one who was first on the list was
a woman.
She passed through the examination
with one mark to her discredit; she was
a widow.
Somehow the Renwood had always
discriminated against widows.
The other women in the house, espec
ially Mrs. Hannibal Wade, who had
gradually grown to be regarded as a
leader, and who had helped to revise
the latest catechism, objected to them.
"If you can help it, Mr. Merrick,"
Mrs. Wade said to the proprietor one
day, when she was Inflicting one of her
confidential talks upon him, "never
take widows In the house."
"The most of them have worried one
man Into the grave or the divorce
court, and their sole object in living is
to entrap other victims. I am afraid I
shall have to give you warning now,
Mr. Merrick, that if you ever take a
widow Into the Renwood I shall be
forced to leave you."
The friendly advice and admonition
ought to have been sufficient cause for
the Instant dismissal of the case of the
widow. Mrs. Raynor, but she averaged
such an extraordinary percentage on
other points that the genial landlord
could not summon the hardihood to re
fuse her admission.
Mrs. Wade chanced to be away at the
time and Mrs. Raynor had been oc
cupying apartment No. 19 for more
than a week when she came home.
One of Mrs. Hannibal Wade's strong
points was a display of fine indignation
whenever occasion demanded it, and she
came out with unusual brilliancy in her
chosen role when she examined the
records in the morocco-bound book
and learned what had been done In her
absence.
She went to the proprietor about it
at once.
"I see," she said, "that you have
broken the rule which waa tacitly
agreed uoon some time ago between
you and your patrons and have let No.
19 to a widow. It Is needless to state
that I am greatly surprised at such a
breach of faith on your part. Can you
give me an explanation. Mr Merrick,
that will justifv such a course?"
"Well. Mrs. Wade;" returned the pro
prietor, phlegmatically, "I am sorry if
I have offended you, but I fail to see
how I have violated any agreement.
"This Mrs. Raynor came to see me
several months ago about taking a
suite of rooms here and I promised to
let her know as soon as there was a
vacancy. I assure you, Mrs. Wade,
that even vou can take no exception
to her. She is good-looking but not
so handsome as yourself," be added,
diplomatically.
"She Is 45 years old, and unencum
bered. She belongs to an excellent
family and is rich enough to start a
national bank of her own if she cared
to do so. I wiBh you would call on her
Mrs. Wade, I am sure acquaintance
would banish prejudice."
But Mrs. Hannibal Wade's righteous
wrath was not to be appeased by any
excuses which the unlucky landlord
could oroduce in his own defense.
"No," she returned, "I do not care to
know her. She may be all right, but
she is not to be trusted and ought not
to have been nermitted to come here.
"However, it is not too late to remedy
the evil. Surely, Mr. Merrick, you can
eject her from the house on some pre
text or other at the end of the month.
If you don't I am afraid you will have
trouble."
As a general thing the latest arrival
at the Renwood were accorded a royal
welcome. Teas, dinners, and receptions
were elven In their honor, and they
were installed In thetr new quarters
with great eclat.
But no such hospitality marked the
coming of Mrs. Raynor. To be sure,
the great events of the Renwood'a so
ciety calendar came and went as usual,
but the handsome widow was religious
ly excluded from them all.
"She means mischief," said Mrs.
Hannibal Wade. "She will bring dis
credit udoii our house. It Is our duty
to Issue a bull of social excommunica
tion. Perhaps that will bring Mr. Mer
rick to his senses."
The general animosity manifested
toward Mrs. Raynor became more
active as the end of the first month
drew near.
This Intense bitterness was greatly
aggravated by the outspoken admira
tion of the men, who wert strongly dis
posed to champion the cause of the
woman who had apparently done noth
ing to merit such severe condemna
tion of the men who were strongly dis
creet remonstrance which Mr. Hanni
bal Wade urged against the injustice
of the case which prompted his wife to
seek another Interview with Mr. Mer
rick. "That Mrs. Raynor has now been here
a month," she said, "and I trust you
have hit upon some plan whereby we
may get rid of her."
"No," said Merrick, slowly; "I can't
say that I have."
"I hope you understand the case, Mr.
Merrick," she said, severely. "'There is
munity at Renwood. You have rented
an apartment to a woman who has no
natural protector and who smiles and
flirts with our husbands, sons and
brothers, who, I am sorry to say, seem
to be highly gratified by such pro
ceedings. -"Mr.
Merrick. I. with the other influ
NOVEMBER 7, 1900
ential families now here, have made
Renwood what it la. I am proud of it
I am proud of living at Renwood. I
should hate to go elsewhere. But I
shall leave at once if Mrs. Raynor does
not."
"As I. understand it," said Mr. Mer
rick, cautiously. "You object to Mrs.
Raynor simply because she is a wid
ow?" "Certainly. As I have said before,
she haa no natural protector. She has
nothing to do but make trouble for
other people. I consider her danger
ous." "Well," said Mr. Merrick, dejectedly,
"I'll see what can be done about It."
A few minutes after Mrs. Hannibal
Wade had left the room Mrs. Raynor
came In. The widow's handsome blonde
face was flushed, her eyes were swol
len and the bit of a handkerchief she
carried in her hand was limp and damp
as If with tears.
- "Mr. Merrick," she said, "I have
come to complain to you about the way
I am treated here. What have. I done
that I should be so ostracized? I nev
er heard of anything like It. I have
long wanted to live at the Renwood,
Mr. Merrick, because of the unusual
advantages your patrons enjoy, but
if this thing is to continue. I must go
away. It is breaking my heart."
She raised the web of a handkerchief
to her eyes. Mr. Merrick swore for a
moment In silence.
"Madam," said he, at length, "I'll
stand by you If every family moves out
to-day and I have to put 'for rent'
sfgns in every window. I won't see a
woman imposed upon in this way. They
objest to you. Mrs. Raynor, because you
are a widow."
"Because I am a widow!" repeated
Mrs. Raynor, applying the white web
to her eyes again. "Good gracious, 1
can't help that."
"Of course you can't." returned the
proprietor, sympathetically. "That is,
you haven't helped It, although I
wouldn't be afraid to wager you could
have done so a score of times."
The pretty hand that held the tear
bedewed handkerchief trembled vio
lently. "Oh, Mr. Merrick," she said, and
there was a pitiful little quaver in her
soft voice that made honest Mr. Mer
rick sink back in his chair in a tre
mor of sympathy.
"You don't know what we poor wid
ows have to bear. We are always un
der suspicion and the awfulest things
are imputed to us, whereas we are real
ly the kindest, most sensible, most
honorable women In the world."
"I'm sure of that," replied Mr. Mer
rick. ""And they have trampled upon my
feelings and my reputation solely be
cause I am a widow," she went on
mournfully. "Oh, Mr. Merrick, it is
an awful thing to be a widow."
"I haven't a doubt of it," said Mr.
Merrick, promptly, "and I can't keep
one In mv house."
"Then I'll have to leave the Renwood
after all the trouble I've taken to get
In here."
"I didn't say that," returned Mr.
Merrick, slyly, "I said I wouldn't keep
a widow."
Mrs. Hannibal Wade came down an
hour later to consult Mr. Merrick
again.
The widow was sitting close beside
him, and Mrs. Wade looked at het
scornfully. The mutiny had reached
a climax and there was no longer any
necessity for preserving even a sem
blance of forbearance.
"Mr. Merrick." she said, "have you
come to a decision in the matter? Shal1
she go or stay?"
"Stay," was the prompt reply.
"And on what conditions, pray?"
"On the condition that she becomel
my wife." said Mr. Merrick.
MARK TWAIN.
Mr. Clemens Is Home After Many
Tears' Stay in Knropr,
Mark Twain is home after his long
stay in London. During the years he
has made his home abroad he has been
at times reported as slowly starving tc
death, and at other times as banquet
ing sumptuously with dukes, earls and
emperors. In 1S07 and 1S9S Mr. Clem
ens was feted at Vienna ns no othei
American had been feted. On one of
these occasions he addressed his audi
ence in the German language. The
great humorist Is now J5, but has not
yet laid aside bis pen. His recent work
abows no signs of decrepitude. Hi
financial prospects are good, and hit
health was never better than at pres
ent I How a Japanese Hero Died.
j A lieutenant of engineers at Ticn-tsln,
I with three sappers, crept up in the dark
and placed a charge of guncotton at
tne nuge gate, mere was 10 oe an
electric wire to fire the gun cotton, but
It failed somehow; and, as daylight was
dawning already, the four Japanese felt
that their maneuver was In danger of
falling, so one of them fired the charge
with a match, blowing himself to death
and glory and giving entry to the allied
army.
Easy-Going Mexican Business Men.
Most of the business houses in Mex
ico are closed for an hour and a half
In the middle of the day.
MARK TWAIN.
SERMON
V
Rev. Dr. Ztim
Subject: The Rolilen Cair or Modern Idol
atry The Rpilit of Oreeil lenttOTB
ThoM Who Are in Its Graup Mone?
Got Wrongfully la a Curse.
(Copyright 1W1M
Washington, D. C In this discourse
Dr. Talmage shows how the spirit of
greed destroys when it takes possession
of a man and that money tcot in wrong
ways is a curse; text, Exodus xxxii, 20,
"And he took the calf which they had
made and burnt it in the fire and ground
it to powder and strewed it upon the
water and made the children of Israel
lrink of it."
People will have a god of some kind,
and they prefer one of their own making.
Here co e the Israelites, breaking otf
their golden earrings, the men as well as
the women, for in those times there was
masculine as well as feminine decoration.
Where ti. I they get these beautiful gold
earrings, coming up, as they did. from the
desert? Oh. they borrowed them of the
Egyptians when they left Egypt. These
earrings are piled up into a pyramid of
glittering beauty. "Any more earrings
to bring?" says Aaron. None." Fire is
kindled, the earrings are melted and pour
ed into a mold not of an eagle or a war
charger, but of a silly calf; the gold cools
down, the mold is taken away, and the
idol is set up on its four legs. An altar
is built in front w the shining calf. Then
the peoi - throw uo their amis and gy
rate and iek and dance vigorously and
worship
Moses has been six weeks on Mount
Sinai, and he comes bark and hears the
howling a ' sees the dancing of thesd
golden calf fanatics, anil he lor-es hi pa
tience, anil he takes the two plates of
stone on which were written the Ten Com
mandments and flings them so hard
against a rock that they split all to pieces,
W hen a man gets angry, he is i-.pt to
break all the Ten Commandments. Moses
rushes in. and he takes this calf god and
throws it into a hot tire until it is melted
all out of shape and then pulverizes it
not by the modern appliance of nilro mu
riatic acid, but by the ancient appliance of
niter or by the oid fashioned tile. He stirs
for the people a most nauseating dntt.
He takes this pulverized golden calf ..d
throws it in the only brook which is ac
cessible, and the people are compelled to
drink of that brook or not drink at all.
But they did not drink all the glittering
stuff thrown on the surface. Some of it
flows on down the surface of the brook to
the river and then Hows on down" the river
to the sea, and the sea takes it up and
bears it to the mouth of all the rivers, and
when the tides set back the lemains of
this golden calf are carried up into the
Potomac and the Hudson and the Thames
and the Clyde and the Tiber. And men
go out and they skim the glittering sur
face, and they bring it ashore aiv.1 thty
make another golden calf, and California
and Australia break off their gold'm fai
rings to augment the pile, and in the tires
of financial excitement and strug'e all
these things are melted together, ami
while we stand looking and won-.!eri;ig
what will come of it, lo, we find tint the
golden calf of Israelitish worship has be
come the golden calf of European and
American worship.
Pull aside this curtain, and you see the
golden calf of modern idolatry. It is not.
like other idols, made out of stocks or
stone, but it has an ear so sensitive that it
can hear the whispers on Wall street ami
Third street and Utate street, and the
footfalls in the Bank of England and the
flutter of a Frenchman's heart on the
bourse. It has an eye so keen that it can
see the rust on the farm of Michigan
wheat and the insect in the Maryland
peach orchard and the trampled grain un
der the hoof of the Russian war charger.
It is so mighty that it swings any way it
will the world's shipping. It has Its foot
on all the merchantmen and the steam
ers. It started the American Civil War
and under God stopped it, and it decided
the Turko-Russian contest. One broker
in September. lHtiit. in New York, shouted.
"One hundred and sixty for a million ?" 1 1( j. them a'n(1 wh(m a man who
and the whole continent shivered. lheln,., P,,nt ,lf i.;. hnine ininniiv. hut
golden calf of the text has, as fai
ar.aiJ -mer" I
. lea ia concerned, its rii;ht front foot
j Kew York, its left front foot in Chicago.
its right back foot in Charleston, its left
j back foot in Xew Orleans, and when it
I shakes itself it shakes the world. Oh. this
: is a mighty god the golden calf of the
I world's worship!
I But every god must have its temple, and
this golden calf of the text is no excep-
tion. Its temple is vaster than St. Paul's
' Cathedral in England, and St. Peter's in
Italy, and the Alhambra of the Spaniards,
and the Parthenon of the Greeks, and the
Taj Mahal of the Hindoos, and all the
cathedrals put together. Its pillars arc
grooved and fluted with gold, and its
ribbed arches are hovering gold, aud its
chandeliers are descending gold, and its
floors are tessellated gold, and its vaults
are crowded heaps of goM nnd its spire
... .. . , ..
and domes are soaring gold, and its organ
pipes are resounding gold, and its pedils
are tramping gold, and its stops pulled out
are flashing gold, while, standing at the
head of the temple, as the presiding diety.
are the hoofs and shoulders and eyes and
ears and nostrils of the calf of gold.
Further, every god must have not only
its temple, but its altar of sacrifice, and
this golden calf of the text is no exception.
Its altar is not made out of stone as other
altars, but out of counting room desks
and fireproof safes, and it is a broad, a
long, a high altar. The victims sacrificed
on it are the Swartouts and the Ketf-hams
and the Fisks nnd ten thousand other
people who are slain before this golden
calf.
What does this god care about the
groans and struggles of the victims before
it? With cold, metallic eye, it looks on
and yet lets them suffer. What an altar!
What a sacrifice of mind, body and soul!
The physical health of a great multitude
is flung ou to this sacrificial altar. They
cannot sleep, and they take chloral and
morphine and intoxicants.
Some of them struggle in a nightmare of
stocks, and at 1 o'clock in the morning
suddenly rise up shouting: "A thousand
shares of New York Central one hun
dred and eight and a half, take it!" until
the whole family is affrighted, and the
speculators fall back on their pillows and
sleep until they are awakened again by a
"corner"' in Pacific Mail, or a sudden
"rise" of Kock Island.
Their nerves gone, their digestion gone,
their brain onc, they die. The gowned
ecclesiastic comes in and reads the funer
al service, "Blessed are the dead who die
in the Lord!" Mistake. They did not
"die in the Lord;" the golden calf kicked
them.
The trouble is. when the men sacrifice
themselves on this altar suggested in the
text they not only sacrifice themselves,
but they sacrifice their families.
If a man by a wrong course is determ
ined to go to perdition, I suppose you
will have to let him go. But he puts hi
wife and children in an equipage that if
the amazement of the avemies, and the
driver lashes the horses into two whirl
winds, and the spokes Hash in the sun and
the golden headgear of tne harness glearm
until black calamity takes the bits of the
horses and stops them and shouts to the
luxuriant occupants of the equipage, "Gel
out!" They get out. They get down.
That husband and father flung his family
so hard they never got up. There was
the mark on them for life the mark of a
split hoof the death dealing hoof of the
golden calf.
Solomon offered in one sacrifice on one
occasion 22,000 oxen and 120,000 sheep
But that was a tame sacrifice compared
with the multituoe 01 men who are sac-
fiiicine themselves on this altar of the I Gold is an Idol worshiped in all cll
their families ' mates without a single temple, and by
with them. The soldiers of General Have- all classes without a single hypocrite,
lock in India walked literally ankle deep I Repentance is the result of fear more
in the blood of "the house of massacre, I often than of love.
where 20.) white Women and children had i Cunning, at least, is either tha wla
been slain by the sepoys. But the blood dotn of a fool or sharper,
about this altar of the golden calf flows up Great talkers are not always the moat
to the knee, flows up to the girdle, .flows instructive and interesting.
NO. 48
to the shoiiiifer, iiows to the lip. Ureat
('(Hi of heaven and earth, have mercy on
those who immolate -themselves on this
altar! The golden calf has none.
Still the degrading worship goes on, and
the devotees kneel and kiss the dust and
count tneir golden beads and cross them
selves with the blood of their own sacri
fice. The music rolls on under the arches.
It is made of clinking silver and clinking
gold and the rattling specie of the banks
and brokers' shorai and the voices of all
the exchanges. The soprano of the wor
ship is carried by the timid voices of men
who have just begun to speculate, while
the deep bass rolls out from those who for
ten years have been steeped in the seeth
ing cauldron. Chorus of voices rejoicing
over what they have made; chorus of
voices wailing over what they have lost.
This temple of which I speak stands open
day nnd night, and there, is the glittering
god with his four feet on broken heart,
and there is the smoking altar of sacrifice,
new victiros every moment on it. and
there are the kneeling devotees, and the
doxology of the worship rolls on, win!;,
death i lands with moldy and skeleton arr
beating time for the chorus Jtto,
more!"
Some people are very much surprised at
the actions of people' in the Stock Ex
change, New York. Indeed it ia a scene
sometimes that paralyse description and
is beyond the imagination of any one who
has never looked in. What snapping of
finirer and thumb and wild gesticulation
nnd raving like hyenas, and stamping like
buffaloes, and swaying to and fro, and
jostling at . running one upon another,
and deafening uproar, until the president
of the exchange strikes with his mallet
four or five times, crying. "Order, order!"
and the astonished spectator goes out into
the fresh air feeling that he has escaped
from pandemonium. What does it all
mean? I will tell yon what it means. The
devotees of every heathen temple cut
themselves to piec s and yell and gyrate.
This vociferation ind gyration of the
Stock Exchange is all apnropriate. This
is the worship of the golden calf.
l.ut my text suggests that this worship
has to be broken up. as the behavior of
Moses on this occasion indicated. There
are those who say that this golden calf
spoken of in the text was hollow and
merely plated with gold. Otherwise
Moses could not have carried it. 1 do
not know- t. But somehow, perhaps by
the assistance of his friends, he takes up
this golden calf, which is an infernal in
sult to God and man, and throws it into
the fire, and it is melted. And then it
conies out and is cooled off. and by some
chemical appliance or by an old fashioned
file it is pulverized, and it is thrown into
the brook, and as a punishment tne people
are compelled to drink the nauseating
stuff. So you may depend upon it that
God will burn and He will grind to pieces
the golden calf of modern idolatry, and He
will compel the people in their agony to
drink it. If not before, it will lie on the
last day. 1 know not where the fire will
begin, 'whether at the Battery or Lom
bard street, whether at Shoreditch or
West End, but it will be a very hot blase.
All the Government securities of the Unit
ed States and Great Britain will curl up
i.i the first blast. All the money safes and
deposit vaults will melt under the first
touch. The sea will burn like tinder, and
the shipping will be abandoned forever.
The melting gold in the broker's window
will burst througn the melted window
ulass into the street. But the flying popu
lace will not ston to scoop it up. The
cry of "Fire!" from the mountain will
be answered by the cry of "Fire!" in the
plain. The conflagration will burn out
from the continent toward the sea and
then burn in from the sea toward the
land. .eir York and London, with one
cut of the red scythe of destruction, will
go down. Twenty-five thousand miles of
conflagration! The earth will wrap itself
round and round in shroud of flame and
lie down to perish. What then will become
of your golden calf? Who then so poor
as io worship it? Melted or between the
upper and nether millstones of falling
mountains ground to powder. Dagon
down, Moloch down. Juggernaut down,
golden calf down!
The judgments of God. like Moses in
the text, will rush in and break up this
worship, and I say let the work go on
until every man shall learn to speak truth
with his neighbor, and those who make
engagements shall fell themselves bound
iroes on wishing to satiate his cannibal ap-
iietite bv devouring widows houses, stia
II,
lv the law of the land, be compelled to
exchange the brownstone front for the
penitentiary. Let the golden calf perish!
Itut if we have made this world our god,
when we come to die we shall sell our idol
demolished. How much of this world
are you going to take with you into the
next? Will you have two pockets one
ill each side of your shroud? Will you
cushion your casket with bonds and mort
gages and certificates of stock? Ah, no!
The ferryboat that crosses this Jordan
takes no baggage nothing heavier than
an immaterial spirit.
Where are the men who tried War
ren Hastings in Westminster hall? Where
are the pilgrim fathers who put oat for
. iiiiti ; , , c uit; iiir , ritt on, nut, uu
America? Where are the veterans who on
the Fourth 0f jiVi 1794, marched from
Xew York park to the Battery and fired
a salute and then marched back again?
And the Society of the Cincinnati, who
dined that afternoon at Tontine Coffee
House, on Wall street, and Grant Thor
hum, who that afternoon waited fifteen
minutes at the foot of Maiden lane for the
Brooklyn ferryboat, then got in and was
rowed across by two men with oars, the
tide so strong that it was an hour and
ten minutes before they lauded? Where
arc the veterans that fired the salute,
and the men of the Cincinnati Society w';r
that afternoon drank to the patriot i!
toast, and the oarsmen that rowed tin
boat, and the people who "were trans
ported? Gone! Oh, this is a fleeting
world, it is a dying world. A man who
had worshied it all his days in his dy
ing moment described himself when he
said. "Fool, fool, fool!"
uen your parents have breathed their
last and the old, wrinkled and trembling
hands can no more be put upon your head
for a blessing. God will be to you a father
and mother both, giving you the defense
of the one and the comfort of the other.
For have we not Paul's blessed hope that
as Jesus died and rose again, "Even so
them also which sleep in Jesus shall God
bring with Him?" And when your chil
dren go away from you, the sweet darl
ings, you will not ki.-s them and my good
by forever. He only wants to hold them
for you a little while. He will give them
back to you again, and He will have them
all waiting for you at the gates of eternal
welcome. Oh, what a God He is! He will
allow you to come so close that you can
put your ; nis around His neck, w hile He
in response will put His arms around your
neck, and all the windows of heaven will
be hoisted to let the redeemed look out
and see the spect--'- of a rejoicing Father
nnd a returned prodigal locked iu that
glorious embrace. Quit worshiping the
golden calf, and bow this day before llim
in whose presence we must all appear
when the world has turned to ashes.
When shriveling like a parched scroll,
The flaming heavens together roll,
When .ouder yet and yet more dread
Swells the high trump that wakes the
dead
An ImltafJ' to equal an original,
must ae a great deal better.
There may be no cure for love but
seasickness la a good alterative.
Gentleness comes the closest to a
cure for fear.
No matter how pure you are. It ien't
healthy to be suspected.
Lying is the easiest of all habits to
acquire, and the hardest to get rid of.