. . . . f
J - V . I - ' 1 ,- ,
' -if
B. F. SCIIV7EIER,
THE COnSTITUTIOn-TIIE UniOn-AUD THE EllFORCEtJERT OF THE UV3S.
Editor and Pr-prUUr
VOL. IiV.
MIFFLTNTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY, PENN., WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 12, 1900
NO. 1.
i I . J . -
. . - t V
. . -r - . ., ... ........ v. ... . . : ...
Tvixt Ijfe
PRHNK
CHAPTER L
The Lecture Hall and Literary Insti
lute. Monkton a long, rectangular room,
lit with six gas jets on hanging T-shaped
fittings; the drab walla decorated with
half a dozen maps; the coloredrepreaenta
tion in sections of a very early steam
engine; an ethnological chart; and othei
Instructive works of art. At one end a
small stage,, opening fourteen feet bf
eight, flanked by red curtains, and fur
Dished with si footlights and a drop
scene, showing Athens, the worse foi
many, falls; a grand piano below the pros
cenium by way of orchestra. The body
of the hall ranged in parallel lines with
red-cushioned seats, on which are closely
pressed the relatives and friends of pupils
connected with Mrs. Vicary Shepherd's
High School and Academy for the daugh
ters of gentlemen. An overflow of bash
ful youths line the walls right and left.
Three very warm-looking gentlemen, each
with a packet of programa in his hand
and a white fa Tor in his buttonhole, arc
endeavoring, with smiling assiduity, ta
find places for a crowd of late comers.
There is a general inspection of pink
programs, and a buzzing is heard. Even
the professors speak in hushed tones, fot
the general effect of the hall, despite the
stage, is thst of a Methodist chapel. A
lady explains to a gentleman who seems,
by some accident, to have come there
without knowing why what is toward:
"It's a High School, you know. Mrs.
Vicary Shepherd I'm sorry to see that
she's not here; she is indisposed, I'm told
this entertainment bas been got up to
demonstrate the advantage of the elocu
tion and deportment class."
"Oh. I see."
"She wrote to the great tragedian
what is his nsme? on the subject. Here
la his reply on the back of the program.
It was he who suggested what should be
acted."
Yoa don't say so! And what is the
play he recommends?"
"'She Stoops to Conquer.' My little
Hilly takes the part of Diggory. She's
only twelve, yon know. Mrs. Vicary
Shepherd assured me that, if she bad
only been a year or two older, she should
have asked me to let her play old Mar
low." "Ah. indeed! Then all the performers
re eh young ladies?"
"Oh, of course; and, naturally, Mrs. I
Vicary Shepherd haa carefully revised ;
the play for the use of her pupils. Ah!
th.r i. xrimm Tinwion ih..n....i. mi !
tress. lVs roin to beein now." '
Misa Tinkleton plays an elaborate son
ata of Schumann brilliant, but rathei
long. An awkward pause in which the
hurrying of feet, some giggling, and a
confusion of whispering, tongues are
heard coming from the other side of Ath
ena. A Vwce from the same remote part
ska, "Are yon ready now, young ladies?" I
to which a general reply of "No, no! not
yet, not yetr in accents or terror, creates
titter among the audience. Misa Tinkle
ton, with admirable presence of mind, at
tacks another sonata; but before she geta
to the foot of the page a bell rings, and
the curtain rises in three spasmodic jerks.
Applause from the parents and friends
sf the young ladies, who are discovered
In the characters of Mr. and Mrs. Hard
castle, facing each other, and in doubt
whether they ought to begin before Miss
Tinkleton has gone through her sonata.
Then Misa Tinkleton stops in the middle
Of br with confusion. The play pro
ceeds, the rigid Mr. Hardcastle and the
rigid Mrs. Hardcastle exchanging their
quid pro quoa with the regular intonation
Of well-learnt lesson, and the audience
already assuming an air of calm repose
nd heslgnation, when a vociferous halloo
beyond the red curtain, followed by the
brisk entrance of Tony Lumpkin on the
scene, fairly galvanizes the audience into
life. The entrance is clearly unrehears
ed, for Mrs. Hardcastle incontinently for
gets her part. What doea that matter?
Everyone is occupied with Tony, and he
has the sense to turn the silence to effect.
There he stands, a strapping, black
eyed young fellow with a red wig, stand
ing looking audaciously at the audience
as he cracks his riding whip and whistles
through long row of white" tenth. Sud
denly, aa If recollecting an engagement,
he says, "I'm off," and crosses the stage
with an unseen wink to Mrs. Hardcastle,
and a quickly whispered line that she is
to take up. As be goes off. battling stout
ly with Mrs. Hardcastle at the end of the
scene, everyone in the audience consults
the program. "Surely that cannot be
Miss Vanessa Grahame!" is on every
one's lips. But it is, though Nessa her
self, who, taking advantage of Mrs. Vie
arv Shepherd's absence, has determined
to play the part as she conceives Gold
smith Intended it to be played, and, in
defiance of Mrs. Vicary Shepherd's ex
press injunction that she should not dis
figure herself, has painted her pretty face
and especially her dainty nose with
ochre and rouge, and bidden her pretty,
waving, chestnut hair with a red wig sent
Sown with the costumes from Bow street.
What Is more, she haa got hold of an un
abridged copy of the play, and ss deter
mined to say every word of it
The second scene is set. And here, to
the terror of Miss Tinkleton at the piano,
Nessa introduced the song of the "Three
Jolly Pigeons," which Mrs. Vicary Shep
herd had cut out, without a moment's
hesitation. Moreover, she introduced a
step dance in the final chorus of "Tor
toddle, tonoddle. torrol," as if unable U
contain the exuberance of her spirits.
The act finished, and Athens is once
more in view. There i commotion in
the auditorium. The ladiea are surprised,
they cannot understand how Mrs. Vicary
Shepherd couid allow sucn a penormance
o be given. Deportment and eton
rere all very well in their way. and Oli
rer Goldsmith was, undoubtedly, a very
txceUent writer, but really such lan
mage! And how Miss Grahame, a young
ady who, in a few years, would have a
xsltion in society with three thousand a
rear, how could she so forget
Little Milly's mamma ta quite aura tlM.
er daughter would not hare PVd
art to tbat dreadful manner, it Ja
moat serious thing to have such a perm
In a school where her example, though.
)f course, contemned, might possibly in
Suence her fellow-pupils.
Meanwhile a couple of young gentle
men who have been madly in love with
Nessa for the past two years, and three
r four others who have seen her to
night for the first time and have not that
xcuse, loiter outside the hall to see her
and Qeath
4
BRRRBTT
pass to the omnibus that is waiting
take her and the rest of the boarders to
& school at Westham. She comes down
after the small fry, with her arm linked
!n Miss Tinkleton's.
The full moon is right overhead; Its
Ught glistens on her white teeth and
parklea in her dark eyes aa she laughs.
8he is clearly trying to make the poor
governess forget her trouble, and, indeed,
succeeds in raising a faint smile on her
lugubrious countenance. But though she
la laughing and full of fun, Nessa is not
hoydenish. Those who have not seen her
before to-night csn hardly believe that
It was she who played Tony. They ex
pected to find her a red-faced, romping,
heavy-sided tomboy; they see a pale-faced
young lady, dressed with striking ele
zance, whose every movement is graceful
But there's no mistaking thosJbig, fear
less eyes, and that capital Jbt of whit'
teeth.
Mrs. Vicary Shepherd accepted only a
limited number of pupila as boarderar
)ost as many, in fact, as could be stowed
sway in the six rooms on the second floor
of Eagle House. Among the many duties
of a meek-spirited resident governess.
Miss Tinkleton bad each night to see the
young ladies in bed before retiring to her
own. She had visited five of the rooms
and extinguished the light in them, when
she came to the last in the corridor that
night. That was Nessa's. Miss Tinkle
ton passed it with a slight cough and
went downstairs, Nessa having long ago
emancipated herself from a rule that was
only to be suffered by children.
Five minutes later, the doors Hp the
passage began to creak, and heads were
cautiously thrust out; then the white
robed young ladies, seeing the course
clear, crept out, treading on their soft,
bare toes, clasping the wraps thrown over
their shoulders with crossed hands on
their bosoms, and made their way noise
lessly toward the end room on a visit to
their heroine, Nessa. With infinite pre
caution, one turned the handle, while the
rest clustered together for common sup
port, and did their best to keep from tit-.
tering audibly. But they ceased to giggle
altogether when the door was opened,
for there before them was the most unex
pected spectacle to be found in this world
of surprises. Nessa. who had never be
fore been known to cry, was seated on
her bed with a handkerchief up to her
eyes, and her bosom heaving with stilled
sobs. Her hat and jacket lay on a chair.
m nau not oegun to unaress. 1 wo
were -open, and her roomT never
too tidy, was littered from end to side
with things taken from the open drawers
and put down anywhere.
"I can't help it," she said, brushing the
tears away impatiently and heaving hei
breast with a long, fluttering sigh; "and
now it's all over, 1 wish I hadn't done it.
I like Mrs. Vic and old Tinkleton. Oh,
I love you all, and there's no one else in
the world I care anything at all for, or
anyone who cares for me. I'm glad yon
hare come. I've been trying to think
what each of you would like best for
keepsake. Now you shall choose for your
selves. I know you like that pearl set,
Dolly." She rose in her qnick, impulsive
way to get the trinkets, but Dolly re
strained her, and clinging to her arm.
made her sit down again
"You're not going away, dear," she
said.
"Oh, no!" murmured the others, echo
ing ber tone of remonstrance.
"Yes. T am." said Nessa; "that'a why
I'm such a goose. I can t bear to think
of saying good-by, it has been such a
jolly term, hasn't it?'
"Do you think Mrs. Vic will be so very
angry"
"Of course she will. Tinkleton says
I've ruined the reputation of the school.
"Oh, but you can make some excuse."
"I never did in my life," Nessa said,
bristling up. "I will tell her I am very
sorry and so I am; but that isn t mak
ing an excuse."
"Oh. she won't let you go away."
"She cannot prevent my going, and sh
won't try to. I'm not a girl now; I'm
a woman, and it's time I left school. I
know all the professors can tell me; 01
at any rate all I choose to learn; and I'm
unmanageable. How is Mrs. ic to pun
ish me when I do wrong? She can't put
me in a corner, or send me to bed. And
I always am doing wrong."
The voices mingled in unanimous dis
sent. "Mrs. Vic saya I am. She teUa me J
encourage those horrid little wretches
who stare at me in church and throw let-
tor. Into the srarden; and those professors
! are quite as bad if she only knew it.
worse, i naie mem. u u -. .
m.b tnve in that cowardly way. I think
all men are mean and horrid, don't you
rwillv?"
"Vearlv all." Dolly admitted, with re
luctance. "Of course, papa is nice, and
so are brothers."
"And uncles," suggested another.
HlnJ anm conftins. " hinted a third.
"Oh. thev don't count," said Nessa. "1
cannot remember my papa, and I don't
think that I have a single relative in all
the world."
"Not one?"
"No. A stepfather is not a relative,
and," she added, bending her pretty
brows, "I'm glad of it, because I hats
him with all my heart."
CHAPTER II.
' "Oh, Nessa r eaclaimed a school gW
chorus. ,.
"I know he is a coward, and r behevt
be ta as wicked a man as ever lived. Ah,
if you only knew!"
Couldn't you tell ns, dearT
"Well, papa was a soldier a geacrsi.
fon know, an he was killed in batt:e
when I was quite a tiny little thing; and
mamma was very young and very pre tty.
and very rich, because papa left ber ev
. .
erything. Ana s, - .
year. old. she "nt
And
when l was
neueve mr. ' M " - - . u
Mr. Ileamonu mj ---
her fortune, and reany u.u
for
.11 f know sne-was uww'
. k -.mo tn see me at scnoui.
. t
Te cried' o-vTrmr.; she heid me in her
.rrns. She did not Hve two years after
her marriage; my stepfather broke her
heart" - " ; .
wih ,i don't anow, uc.
' j
, Tdo rm sure of it I bare
r Redmond, ana he look, like .
J! L.m w.k a woman's heart"
' "Yse,
Man MY.
man who would break a woman
ZZri oarVaay yo- would think
him handsome: bur. oh.
he has those
long, sleepy, treacherous eyes, and those
lines down here by the mouth, don't you
know, that people get who are alwaya
trying to conceal a wicked thought with
"Oh, I hate those people who are al
ways smiling. They get a shiny look on
l heir faces, don't they? Go on, dear."
' T have only seen him four or five
times, but that ia often enough for me
and for him, too. He knows what I
think of him and hates me, and fears
me, too, I'm certain. That ia why he
has kept me all this time at school why,
he would keep me here until he haa no
longer any legal control over me. He
thinks he Is safe while I am here that
in this artificial life I can learn nothing
about the real world. But he ia mis
taken, as he shall find. Wait a mo
ment." .
Nessa went to one of the boxes and re
turned with an imposing document tied
with pink tape. ,
"Look at this," she said. The girls
gathered closely round her, and looked
at the blue foolscap in breathless awe.
ibis is a copy of mamma a will. I sent
to London for it If s very short. See,
mamma leaves all her estate, real and
personal,' to me, her only child, Vanessa
Grahame; bat here," turning the page
with evident satisfaction in the crackle it
made, "here is the codicil. Mamma has
evidently been told that she must provide
a guardian for me during my minority,
and make some disposition of her prop
erty in case I should die before coming
of age. And here she makes James Red
raond my sole guardian, with power to
draw eight hundred pounds a year from
the invested capital, to provide for my
education and personal requirements.
And further, in the event of the said
Vanessa Grahame dying before the age
if twenty-one I in only eighteen now,
you know all the property goes to that
horrid stepfather, the aforesaid James
iedniond. Now, what do you think of
hat?"
"Your poor mamma could not have lov
J him, or she would have left him some
noney, wouldn't she, dear?" said Dolly.
"Of course she would; but how is it
that leaving nothing; to him in the will,
she leaves me to his tender mercies in
the codicil? Can y-ui explain that, any
of you?
None of them could."
"I can explain it," said Nessa, raising
her voice in excitement; "this codicil is
forgery"
"Oh, Nessa r
"It Is, and it's just the sort of forgery
a cunning coward would make. He had
not the courage to forge a will making the
who'e estate his; but he had just enough
to substitute his own name for one that
mamma had written, and so get a nice lit
tle income for ever so many years out of
the money for my schooling and clothes.
He could do that without raising suspi
cion. What have X cost? Not two hun
dred a year; that puts him in possession
of six hundred pounds, besides the use of
my house, Grahame Towers."
She drew a letter from her pocket with
impressive gravity, and, opening it, read:
" My dear Nessa' what right has he to
call me his dear Nessa? 'I have not
nominal but an actual anthority to con-
trot your movements, and while that au
thority is mine I intend to keep you at
Eagle House or some similar-establish
ment. - Yours, etc.. James Itedmond. The
letter i dated from my own house, Gra
hame Towers. It came this morning,
just before we were going to the rehears
al You can imagine my indignation !"
(To be continued.)
Personals.
The citizens of Victoria, B. C, have
presented to Rear Admiral Beaumont
ih massive eold nUKKet and a sword
which was made especially for him in
London. The Rear Admiral has just
been promoted to the command of the
Austrialian station.
! Count Von Waldersee receives J500
a month as commanding officer of the
Germans in China, besides $750 a month
as Field Marshal and $2500 a month for
what la known as "table money."
Vina Clara Barton, head of the Re
Cross Society, has placed with a firm
'at Kittrell, N. C. an order for 1.000.000
strawberry plants. Thea planta will be
distributed among the fruit growers
of Texas, who suffered ao severely from
the great September storm.
The statues of Alexander Dumas,
fils. and of his grandfather, the General
which will be ready to unveil In a few
months, ere to be placed close to the
monument of Dumas, the novelist, in
the Palace Malesherbes, in Parla. This
locality is soon to lose Its old name,
and will soon be known aa the Place dea
Trols Dumas, so that the memory of the
celebrated family will be well perpet
uated in Paris.
General W. F. Draper, of Milford,
Mass., has received from the King of
Italy the grand cordon of the order
of Saints Maurice and Lazare aa a token
of appreciation of the former Ambassa
dor's services during his mission in
Italy. The grand cordon Is one of tht
highest decorations conferred by the
Italian Court
Odds and Ends.
An ox can carry 200 pounds weight on
a day'a Journey, a camel 400 pounds.
In Australia the atreet railway sys
tems of the towns are, for the most part
owned by the municipalities.
Klectrlc fountains have become very
popular especially aa attractions for
amusement parks. In England, especial
ly, they have lately been Installed In
large numbers.
Prussian blue does not come to us
from Prussia. It is a chemical product
of which England makes her full share.
Irish stew Is not an Irish, but an Eng
lish dish and Turkish baths did not
originate' in Turkey, but in Russia.
A resident of Plymouth, Mass.. Dr.
Isaac I Wood, has a couple of apples
from an orchard at Kamloops. British
Columbia, just the ordinary fruit of that
region. One of them measures 15 In
ches In circumference and weighs 23
ounces, and the other is nearly aa large.
Dr Wood saw at the agricultural fair
at 'Kamloops an apple which weighed
The city of Bern, Switzerland, la mtk
,., th socialistic experiment of build
in! f ree-or practically free workshops
for artisans.
A wideawake American has erected
steam pumps on the Jordanand 1. sup
ntvinK churches all over Europe with
genuine Jordan water.
a l.ree Dublin manufacturer baa a
room entirely furnished with Irish peat
The clrpeta on the floor, the curtains at
.TJLe.fxJw. and paper on the wall are
. me - 1,. ,ko-
, made from in
i nlr,' "V qOO 000 women In Spain work
d oaV laborer. $60,000, worn-
-- " Watered as day servants that
they work for their food and lodg
ing. There is no such class anywhere
:1Mlcrobe light is the latest Parla in-
JnttonT A French chemist Raphael
nubolhaa found a way of nourishing
vessels, wn. - Z.
" ItaTlnten-lty
U being jlre free
give tt a "nUno r
aa bright as.
the moon. He expects to
intensity, and believes that i
irons neat -wiu
At least
In lionolull
15 auknnoblles are in usa
1 i nnrtDiu rammi? ni? nDivinu I
A UUUDliD VlinMIu VI vlIMUH.
B3i
B was a minister of the Episco
palian fold an "Anglican priest,"
as he would have expressed It
and he believed most ardently In the
wisdom and advisability of a celibate
priesthood.
"The church demands and should re
ceive absolute singleness of devotion
from her priests," was the way he
stated the matter to bis friends.
She was an artist, firm in the belief
that a real devotion to art admitted of
no other loves or devotions.
One cannot serve the gods and at a
family altar," was her manner ol
stating the case.
They' met upon the transatlantic
steamer coming over, and the lnevlta
bls happened.
He bad been In England, studying the
seml-monastlc orders of the Anglican
church in that country. She had been
sketching In France and Germany,
closing her trip with a flying visit to
London and Liverpool. He was from
New York; she from Chicago. Their
principles were exactly alike, only they
didn't know it- But it only took them
ten days to discover this fact
He was attracted to her because of a
certain high pureness of face and bear
ing which set her far apart from the
merry, charming, but decidedly flirta
tious other women who sat at her table
and bis. She came to the conclusion
that be undoubtedly "had something In
him," because of the quiet reserve of
his manner. A long acquaintance with
Art bad taught ber tbat It Is the face
as the picture which holds something
in reserve that usually proves worthy
of study and cultivation. Besides, the
high vest and large silver cross, which
stamped blm as a ritualist among rit
ualists, and, therefore, mostly likely a
jisi
jcrra a loss
THB BOCKISO DECK.
believer In celibacy, made ber feel per
fectly, delightfully safe In enjoying his
company. Mlrable Anneston often
found It necessary to be extremely care-
ful In her Intercourse with the other
sex. She was a pretty girl and decided
ly charming; since she did not Intend to
marry or thought she did not which
amounted to the same thing it be
hooved her to be careful bow she
raised false hopes.
Rupert Hazard Father Hazard, as
he preferred to be called felt corre
spondingly safe In talking with Miss
Anneston, because self -consciousness
seemed to be so entirely lacking in her
make-up. They began by talking about
art, literature, and the deeper prob
lems of social economics. Tbey didn't
begin to talk of love, even In the ab
stract until Liverpool had been left
behind for seven days. The young
woman who bad made and broken two
engagements in that time led them In
this direction unconsciously.
Neither of them were gossips, but the
thing seemed Incredible to people who
hadn't crossed the ocean often enough
to become accustomed to this sort of
phenomena that they couldn't help
thinking of It having been Informed of
the fracture of the second engagement
by their respective stateroom stew
ards and several other persons.
As the young woman, apparent
ly well on the way toward a
third deep-sea engagement, passed by
the sunny corner where they were com
fortably discussing the condition of the
poor In London. New York and Chi
cago, Mlrable spoke out suddenly.
"Doesn't it seem strange that people
will play and trifle with the most sacred
and holy things of life?" she said, with
musing tone.
The Rev. Rupert Hazard came out of
his reverie concerning the good work
which the church was destined to ac
complish among the poor of his own
parish neighborhood and sighed.
"It does, it does," he returned, seri
ously. This was the opening wedge. From
love In the abstract to the question of
love of a more ordinary and personal
aspect was but a little step. (It sever
is.) A day later they were telling each
other why love was not for them. Two
days later each knew that the other had
decided never to marry. Three dayt
later the Accomplished Traveler, over
bearing a fragment of their conversa
tion, smiled sympathetically as" she
promenaded on. -
"Do you know," the young clergyman
waa savine. "that while cellbacv has
I always seemed almost necessary foi
'. the nriesthood to me (It had seemed ab-
solutely necessary until a few days be
fore), I fail to see how an unmarried
and, perhaps, lonely, existence will
cause you to paint better pictures.
YYhjl" ira girl s cone waa earn-
ox
i
est as It waa astonished. "I don't sea
bow you can think otherwise. Art de
mands all the best of one, and no second-rate
or second-hand devotion. If one
is really to serve and minister to the
beautiful. But It bas always seemed to
me," she added, meditatively, "that an
unmarried minister bas lost a fine
chance, at least of getting close to the
hearts of his people. I wonder which
of ns Is right or neither, or both?"
Then came the big storm, and after
that all things looked different Mlra
ble was anything but a coward, but she
couldn't help feeling a little nervous
as the great ship trembled and stag
gered and rolled under the force of the
tremendous waves. The young minis
ter, whose faith was of the real and
assertive kind, soothed and reassured
her as' she sat trembling but silent In
the music room looking' out at the angry
waters; The girl was duly comforted
and strengthened, and the pleasant
feeling of half dependence and Intima
cy, both of his thoughtful kindness,
lasted even" after the sun had decided
to shine again. And the young minis
ter had also learned something while
the storm was raging. It was with a
really meek and humble heart tbat be
assisted her to the upper deck, just as
soon as this was possible, and stood
by ber side as she took mental notes of
the waves and their form ana color
"Mil-able" he said presently he had
learned her name some days befor
have a confession to make to yon
have found out the Lord bas taught
me that my vlewa upon the question
of celibacy have been mistaken. I now
agree with you that a clergyman is bet
ter with a wife, and I hope I hardly
dare hope, but still I long to that you
will be my wife, some day, by and by."
Tbey were quite alone on the rocking
deck. The weather waa still too rough
for others less interested In art and
one of Its exponents to venture out
The rlL meditating, found thajl .she
too, had cnanged ber opinions In regard
to several matters.
"If I tell you," she said at last, as
bravely, as shyly, "that I no longer be
lieve that love and marriage lessen
one's chances of becoming a great art
ist you must not fancy that it is be-
' cause I am ready to say yes to the ques
! tlon you may want to ask me, possibly.
some time. But it has seemed to me.
I lately "
' "Dear one, let me ask that question
! now," the man at her side broke In, Im
'pulslvely. "Will you, dear child and
sweetheart, promise to become my
wife?"
Again the girl was silent .thinking,
thinking. She no longer believed, as
she bad said, that an unmarried exist
ence was necessary for the highest art
but still she thought of the picture she
was longing to paint the wondrous
I thing of graces, nymphs, perhaps, even
bacchanals and wondered how It
would do for a minister's wife to paint
and exhibit this thing. And yet with
love in the balance
Sbe turned to blm, smiling.
"I will not promise now," sbe said.
quietly; 'It is far too early and we
know far too little of each other for
me to make any such promise, for one
thing, and, besides, I have a picture I
must paint first It will take me until
well on Into next summer. (All this
happened last autumn.) And you must
not write to me, nor ask me to write to
you, until the end of June anyway.
Then, If you want to risk the trip on
such slight encouragement you may
come to Chicago, and If you care to
ask me that question again I may pos
sibly think about it"
The next day be came, and soon ber
studio will be In New York Instead of
Chicago, and there will be a new name
upon the door. Chicago Tribune.
. Not Her Station.
It is -characteristic of the perversity
sf human Intelligence to find the most
amusing things In the midst of the
most serious circumstance such as
railway accidents, for Instance.
It is related that a solemn-faced
woman was once riding on the train
from Brookfleld to Stamford. Some
where between the two stations an ac
cident occurred, and the train rolled
d vwn an embankment
The solemn-faced lady crawled from
beneath the wreckage, and asked of a
broken-legged man who waa near:
"la this Stamford T' -
"No, ma'am," the man gasped. "This
is a catastrophe!"
"Oh, dear!" she answered. "Then I
hadn't oughter get off here, bad I?"
London Spare Momenta.
A Beggar's Plea.
"Could you spare a few cents for a
sick child, ma'am?" said a woman to a
young lady who waa about to get on a
street car In Bellefield.
Being of a sympathetic nature, the
young lady looked In ber purse and
found she could spare a A-ceat piece.
The coin waa handed to the beggar,
who took it and said: '
"Thank you, lady. If 11 be a blessing
to the child. ItH buy him a pint a pint
of milk," she added as an after thought
The car came Just then, and aa the
young lady mounted the steps aha said:
"O, don't get milk for the cbsid; get
him the pint"
The ' woman scowled and the caa
rolled on. Pittsburg ' Chronicle-Telegraph.
-
A foosUh woman nsrar appears ts
worn advantage than she otoes la a
rx-ooods
Margaret Armstrong has made a dec
orative cover for Myrtle Reed's Later
Love Letters of a Musician, which
succeeds Love Letters of a Musician
from the press of G. P. Putnam's Sons.
Miss Sally Pratt McLean Greene's
Vesty of the Basins Is an elaborately
Illustrated edition by Harper eV Broth
ers. The pictures are reproauctiona or
photographs taken by Clifton Johnson,
Who, following the directions of th
utbor, went over the scenes of the
ovel In Maine.
Apart from Its Intrinsic merits. The
Ueloon Farm bas a pathetic interest
fa being one of the last pieces of work
lone by the late Maria Louise PooL
ft Is, moreover, very characteristic of
the author. It seems odd -that Miss
Tool should have begun her career as
i novelist comparatively late in life.
for she bad to a high degree the story
telling faculty.
Master Christian, Marie Corelll's new
novel, was published through Dodd,
Mead & Co. The advance orders for
the book. It Is said, have been very
neavy, while news comes from Eng
land that, as far as this author Is con
cerned, the advance orders there have
been unprecedented. The first editions
t the book, English and American,
will together comprise 150,000 copies.
From Longmans, Green & Company
comes Jane Austen, an Essay In Criti
cism, by Waltej Herrtes Pollock. Mr.
Pollock's criticism Is pure praise, but
lovers of Miss Austen may feel that
this Is Inevitable In dealing with ber
books. Of course, he can find little to
tell us about her life that Is new,
though by dint of much browsing he
bas collected one or two facts hitherto
unpublished. Nothing concerning her
Is too small to Interest blm. He even
levotes himself to puzzling out the
meaning of some "family gibberish"
with which, it appears. Miss Austen
and her sisters were wont to amuse
themselves when corresponding with
one another. Mr. Pollock touches also
upon the novels of Miss Austen's con-
temporaries Miss Edgeworth, Miss
Burney and Miss Ferrler to whom al
lusion Is made In a sub-title of his book.
The Bookman.
DEATH LURKS IN CACTUS.
rut Pluto of Arizona Produce
Llqaor That la Maddening.
Distinctive among all the curious
flora of Arizona, where the vegetable
oroductlena of the tropics, the temper?
fate and Thw-frtgra'iBes. aroVaSde by
side, la the Cereus giganteua, called
by the Indiana and Mexicans the sa-
buaro.
Scattered over the waterless plains
and rocky, gravelly mesas In every
part of the territory, these largest spec
imens of the cactus family point their
eandelabrallke arms straight toward
the cloudless skies, not. Infrequently
attaining a height of fifty feet
The body of the sahuaro is composed
f thin pieces of wood arranged In the
form of a Corinthian column, covered
and held together by the outside fiber.
Thla fiber la a pale green. At some
distance from the ground large
branches put out, while the whole sur
face la covered with sharp, prickly
thorns. A large purple blossom springs
from Its apex In May, which ripens In
to a pear-shaped fruit by the last of
June.
This fruit, which tastes a great deal
like a fig. Is highly prized by both In
diana and Mexicans, who bring It to
the ground by the aid of a long booked
pole. Part of the fruit Is eaten while
ripe, the rest is dried in the sun
boiled down to a Jam.
Until the advent of the missionaries
to the PImas and Papagoes, some twen
ty years ago, the gathering of the sa
huaro was the signal for the most
bloody orgy of the year. All of the
tribe 'contributed material for the sat
urnalia, each bringing bis quota of
fruit to the medicine men. This was
mixed with water and allowed to fer
ment then boiled a highly Intoxicat
ing beverage being the result. When
all was ready, the women, dressed In
their best congregated on top of the
wickiups, ten or twenty huddling to
gether for safety from the bucks, who
deliberately proceeded to drink them
selves Into a state of frenzied intoxica
tlon. Joining hands, they began a glo
rious war dance, the dancing being
mostly of side Jumps, which made the
earth tremble like an earthquake. Dur
ing these bibulous feasts a number of
the braves were frequently killed.
The sahuaro Is short-lived, usually
beginning to decay at Its base before
attaining Its growth. Nearly all the
trees are perforated with boles made
by the birds in their quest for water.
The Girl and Her Vocation.
"The future wage-earning girl should
have In her mind during the latter part
of her school life the selection of ber
profession," writes Margaret E. Sang
ster In the Ladles' Home Journal. "I
think It well for her, too, very frequent
ly, but with intention, to cast about
among her friends for suggestions, to
ask the kind offices of one and another,
and to make known her need of Im
mediate employment so soon as sbe
leaves school. Many good positions are
lost because of Indecision, or false
pride, or unwise reticence on the part
of those who seek them. The mental
attitude of the girl in search of employ
ment should be neither indifferent nor
patronizing; she should set in motion
every legitimate means, and let those
who may be able to assist her know
something of her situation. They can
help, and she can seek with much great
er hope of success if the goal In view
be something definite."
Bacillus to Destroy Rodents.
In view of the presence In Europe of
the plague, and the prominent part
played by rats tn spreading it the Pas
teur Institute In Paris has cultivated a
AA a11)ti whfMi ifoarrvvv. mfp fl-hd
IvT1Mv-wvMv "
rata by wholesale.
I
There Is usually a woman connected
with ail great undertaking.
SERMON
T
Ret. Br. Calmago
Sohjaet: Lack of Fattens-Faith. Hope ana
Vharlty Bloom In Many Mean, worn
the Oram of Patience Is Wanting Fltj
TtathT Than Condemn, the Erring.
CprrlahtMal
Washington, D. C This discourse of
Dr. Tahnage ia a full length portrait of a
virtue which all admire, and the lessons
taoght are very helpful; text, Hebrews x,
JbvJ'Ye have need of patience."
Yes, we are in awful need of it. Some
of ns have a little of it, and some of us
have none at all. There is less of this
grace in the world than of almost any
other. Faith, hope and charity are all
abloom in hundreds of souls where you
find one specimen of patience. Paul, the
author of the text, on a conspicuous occa
sion lost his patience with a coworker,
and from the way he urges this virtue
upon the Hebrews, upon the Corinthians,
upon the Thessalonians, upon the Ro
mans, upon the Colossians, upon the
young theological student, Timothy, I
conclude he was speaking out of his own
need of more of this excellence. And 1
only wonder that Paul had any nerves left.
Imprisonment, flagellation, Mediterranean
cyclone, arrest for treason and conspir
acy, the wear and tear of preaching to
angry mobs, those at the door of a thea
tre and those on the rocks of Mars hill,
left him emaciated and invalid and with a
broken voice and sore eyes and nerves a
jangle. He gives us a snap shot of him
self when he describes his appearance and
his sermonic delivery by saying, "In bodily
presence weak and in speech contempti
ble," and refers to his inflamed eyelids
when, speaking of the ardent friendship of
the Calatiana. he savs. "If it had been
possible, ye would have plucked out your
own eves and have siven them to me."
We all admire moat that which we have
least of. Those of us with unimpressive
visage most admire beauty; those of us
with discordant voice most extol musical
cadence; those of us with stammering
speech most wonder at eloquence; those
of us who get provoKea ac irines ana are
naturally irascible appreciate in others the
equopoise and the calm endurance of pa
tience. So Paul, with hands tremulous
with the agitations of ajifetime, writes of
the "God of patience" and of "ministers
of God in much patience" and of "patience
of hope" and tells tbem to "toiiow alter
patience, ana wants tnem to run witn
patience," and speaks of those "strength
ened with all might to all patience," and
looks us all full in the face as he makes
the startling charge, "Ye have need of
patience."
The recording annel. makimc a pen out
of some plume of a bird of paradise, is not
getting ready to write opposite your uui
anything applaudatory. All your sublime
equilibrium of temperament is the result
of worldly success. But suppose things
mightily change with you, as they some
time, do chance, xou Demn to o uuwu
hill, and it is amazing how many there are
to help you down when you begin to go in
that direction. A great investment fails.
The Colorado ailver mine ceases to yield.
You get land poor; your mills, that yield
ed marvels of ' wealth, are eclipsed by
nilta with ncwltf invimted machinerv: you
eee under the feet the bears of Wall
sorter.- KoVlhe first time-"hi yovJcJife-yaai-a!
heed to botrow money, aad no one ur will
ing to lend. Under the harrowing worri
ment you get a distressful feeling at the
base of your brain, insomnia and nervous
dyspepsia lay hold of you. Your health
enea down with Tour fortune; your circle
of acquaintances narrows, and where once
you were oppressed by the fact that you
had not time enough to return one-half of
the social calls made upon you now the
card basket in your hallway is empty, and
your chief callers are your creditors and
the fnmilv nhvaician. who comes to learn
the effect of "the last prescription. Now
you understand how people can become
pessimistic and cynical ana aespairiui.
Yon have reached that stage yourself.
Now vou need something that you have
not. But I know of a re-enforcement that
vou can have if you will accept it. ion
der comes up the road or the sidewalk
messenger of God. Her attire is unpre
tending. She has no wings, for she is not
an angel, but there is something in her
countenance that implies rescue and deliv
erance. She comes up the steps that once
were populous with the affluent and into
the hallway where the tapestry is getting
faded and frayed, the place now all empty
of worldly admirers. I will tell you her
name if you would like to know it. Paul
baptized her and gave her the right name.
She is not brilliant, but strong. There it
a deep quiethood in her manner and a
firmness in her tread, and in her hand is a
scroll revealing her mission. She comes
from heaven. She was born in the throne
room of the King. This is Patience. "Y
have need of patience."
First, patience with the faults of others.
No one keeps the Ten Commandments
equally well. One's temperament decides
which commandments he shall come near
est to keeping. If we break some of the
commandments ourselves, why be so hard
on those who break others of the ten? Ii
you and I run against one verse of the
twentieth chapter of Exodus, why should
we so severely excoriate those who run
against another verse of the same chap
ter? Until we are perfect ourselves we
ought to be lenient with our neighbor'
imperfections. Yet it is often the case
that the man most vulnerable is the most
hypercritical. Perhaps he is profane and
yet haa no tolerance for theft, when pro
fanity is worse than theft, for, while the
latter is robbery of a man, the former i
latter is robbery of a man, tne tormer u
robbery of God. Perhaps he is given to
. . ' , . i i r i
defamation and detraction and yet feele
himself better than some one who is
guilty of manslaughter; not realizing that
the assassination of character is the worst
kind of assassination. The laver for wash
ing in the ancient tabernacle was at its
side burnished like a looking glass, so that
those that approached that laver might
see their need of washing, and if by the
gospel looking glass we discovered our own
need of moral cleansing we would be more
economic of denunciation. The most oi
those who go wrong are the victims of cur
curastances, and if you and I had been
rocked in the same iniquitous cradle, and
been all our lives surrounded by the same
baleful influences we would probably have
done just as badly, perhaps worse.
We also have need of patience with slow
results of Christian work. We want to
see our attempts to do good immediately
successful. The world is improving, but
improving at so deliberate a rate; why not
more rapidity and momentum? Othei
wheels turn so swiftly; why not the gos
pel chariot take electric speed? I do noi
know. I only know that it ia God's way.
We whose cradle and grave are so near to
gether have to hurry up, but God. whe
manages this world and the universe, ii
from everlasting to everlasting. He takei
SOU years to do that which He could do in
five minutes. His clock strikes once in s
thousand years. While God took only (
week to fit up the world for human resi
dence, geogolgy reveals that the founda
tions of the world were eons in being laid,
and God watched the glaciers, and the fire,
and the earthquakes, and the volcanoes ai
through centuries and millenniums the)
were shaping the world before that las!
week that put on the arborescence. ' A
few days ago my friend was talking with
geologist. As they stood near a pile o)
rocks my friend said to the scientist, "1
suppose these rocks were hundreds oi
thousands of years in construction?" And
IU geologist replied, "Yes, and you might
say millions of years, for no one knows
but the Lord, and He won't tell."
If it took so long to make this world at
the start, be not surprised if it takes a
long while to make it over again now mac
it ha. been ruined.
The Architect has promised to recon
struct it and the olan. are .11 nd
at just the right time tt will be so com
plete that it will be fit for heaven to move
in, if, according to the belief of some of
my friends, this world is to be made the
eternal abode of the righteous.
The wall of that temple is going up. and
my only anxiety is to have the one brick
that I am trying to-tnake for that wall
turn out to be the right shape and smooth
on all sides, so that the Master Mason will
not reject it or have much work with the
trowel to get it into place. I am respon
sible for only that one brick, though you
may be responsible for a panel of the door
or a carved pillar or a glittering dome.
So we are God's workmen, and all we
have to do is to manage our own hammer
or ax or trowel until the night comes in
which no man can work, and when the
work is all completed we will have a right
to say rejoicingly: "Thank God, I was
privileged to help in the rearing of that
temple! I had a part in the work of the
world's redemption."
Again, we have need of patience under
wrong inflicted, and who. escapes it i
some form? It comes to all people in pro
fessional life in the shape of being misun
derstood. Because of this, ho many peo
ple fly to newspapers for an explanation.
You see their card signed by their own
name declaring they did not say this ot
did not do that. They fluster and worry,
not realizing that every man comes to b
taken for what he is worth, and you can
not, by any newspaper puff, be taken fot
more than you are worth nor by any news
paper depreciation be put down, lhers
is a spirit of fairness abroad in the world,
and if you are a public man you are classi
fied among the friends or foes of society.
If you are a friend of society, you will find
plenty of adherents, and if you are the
foe of society you cannot escape reprehen
sion. Paul, you were right when you said,
not more to the Hebrews than to us, Ye
have need of patience." I adopted a rule
years ago which has been of great service
to me, and it may be of some service to
your Cheerfully consent to be misunder
stood. God knows whether we are right
or wrong, whether we are trying to serve
Him or damage Mis cause, wnen you can
cheerfully consent to be misunderstood.
many of the annoyances ana vexations m
life will quit your heart, and you will come
into calmer seas than you have ever sailed
on. The most misunderstood being that
ever trod the earth was the glorious Christ.
The world misunderstood His cradle and
concluded that one so poorly born could
never be of much importance. They
charged Him with inebriety and called
Him a winebibber. The sanhedrin misun
derstood Him, and when it was put to
the vote whether He was guilty or not of
treason He got but one vote, while all the
others votea Aye, aye. iney misun
derstood His cross, and concluded that if
He bad divine power tie would ettect nia
rescue. They misunderstood His
. . . .... , 1 1 s
grave, ana declared mat rus Douy nan
been stolen by infamous resurrectionists.
He so fully consented to be misunder
stood that, harried and slapped and sub
merged with scorn, lie answered not a
word. You cannot come up to that, but
you can imitate in some suiall degree the
patience of Christ.
There are enough present woes in the
world without the perpetual commemora
tion of past miseries. If you sing in your
home or your church, do not always choose
tunes in long meter. Far better to have
your patience augmented by the considera
tion that the misfortunes of this Ufa must
soon terminate.
This last summer I 'stood on Sparrow
nui,
lill, four miles fro Moscow. It-was -. ' ;';
nntza the city iudh he ws.i auouk uasp- .-!
ture. His "army had been in long marches .
add awful fights and fearful exhaustionav- -and
when they came to Sparrow hill the .
shout went up from tens of thousands of
voices, "Moscow, Moscow I" I do not
wonder at the transport. A ridge of hills
sweeps round the city. A river semicir
cles it with brilliance. It ia a spectacle
that you place in your memory as one of '
three or four most beautiful scenes in aO
the earth. Napoleon's army marched OS
it in four divisions, four overwhelming tor
rents of valor and pomp, down 8parrow
hill and through the beautiful valley and
across the bridges and into the palaesav
which surrendered without one shot el
resistance because the avalanche of troops
was irresistible. There is the room aa
which Napoleon slept, and his piDow,
which must have been very uneasy, fee,
oh, how short his stay! Fires kindtsd fcs
all parts of the city simultaneously drove
out that army into the snowstorms under
which 93,000 men perished. How soon did
triumphal march turn into horrible duiaa
litionf
To-day while I speak we come on a high
hill, a glorious hill of Christian anticipa
tion. These hosts of God have had a long
march and fearful battles and defeats have
again and again mingled with the victor
ies, but to-day we come in sight of the
great city, the capital of the universe, the
residence of the King and the home of
those who are to reign with Him for ever
and ever. Look at the towers and hear
them ring with eternal jubilee.
Look at the house of many mansions,
where many of our loved ones are. Be
hold the streets of burnished gold and
hear the rumble of the chariots of those
who are more than conquerors. So far
from being driven back, all the twelve
gates are wide open for our entrance. We
at e marching on and marching on, and our
every step brings us nearer to the city.
At what h we shall enter we have no
power to foretell, but once enlisted amid
the blood washed host our entrance is cer
tain. It may be in the bright noonday or
the dark midnight. It may be when the
air is laden with springtime fragrance or
chilled with falling snows. But enter we
must and enter we will through the graoe
offered us as the chief of sinners. Higher
hills than any I have spoken of will guard
, tnat city. More radiant waters tnan I
j saw in the Russian valley will pour through
I 1 1 . i m. . i: x : a -
that city. More radiant waters than I
that great metropolis. No raging confla
gration shall drive us forth, for the only
fires kindled in that city will be the fires
of a splendor that shall ever hoist and
never die. Reaching that shining gate,
there will be a parting, but no tears at the
parting. There will be an eternal farewell,
but no sadness in the utterance. Then
and there we will part with one of the
best friends we ever had. No place for
her in heaven, for she needs no heaven.
While love and joy and other graces enter
heaven, she will stay out. Patience, beau
tiful Patience, long-suffering Patience, will
at that gate say: Good bye. 1 helped you
in the battle of life, but now that you have
fained the triumph you need me no more,
bound up your wounds, but now they
are all healed. I soothed your bereave
ments, but von nass now into tha reun
ions of heaven. I can do no more for you.
and there is nothing lor me to do in a city
where there are no burdens to carry.
Good-bye. I go back into the wor. 1 from
which you came up to resume my tour
among the hospitals and sick rooms and
bereft households and almshouses. The
cry of the world's sorrow reaches my ears.
and 1 must descend. Up and down that
poor suffering world I will go to aasuass
and comfort and sustain until the world
itself expires and on all its mountains and
in all its valleys and on all its plains there
is not one soul left tbat has need of pa
tience." A man can carry his mind with him
as he carries his watch; but like the
watch, to keep it going, be must keep
it wound up.
There are too many Christians who
are only leavened in spots.
Defer no time, delays have danger
ous ends.
When a young man has made up bis
mind to go to the devil, he seldom fails X
to do it , A -
' There is no cure for laziness except,'
death, and it takes a good deal of thatv
There is no doubt that the troubles
sent by Providence are always bene;
cial If taken in a proper spirit, but
troubles brought on by our own or i
others ill-doing are not necessay
salutary at alL
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- - - - iii , - v .,; i , - -, ,