VOL* xxxvii
Mrs. J. E. ZIMMERMAN.
Jackets. Capes and Jacket Suits.
All $5.00 and $6.00 jackets, $2.94.
/VII $7.50 and 8.50 jackets, 3.95.
All SIO.OO and 12.00 jackets, 4.98.
All $12.50 ladies' jacket suits, 7.98.
All $15.00 ladies' jacket suits. 9.50.
All $20.00 ladies'jacket suits,l2.so
One lot of ladies' jacket suits, 4.98.
(Ine lot of ladies' jacket capes—regardless of cost.
All Wool Blankets, Haps and Cotton Blankets.
All wool plain red and gray blankets —-$1.90, real value 2.75.
Ail wool plain white and gray blankets —$2.25, real value 3.
All wool plain red, black and white, red and black $2.40, ieal
value 3.50.
AH better j rade blankets at $2 98, 3.75 and 5.00, former prices
4.50, 5.00 and 6.50.
All bed haps— 7sc sl, 1 .50, 2, former pi ices 1. 00, 1.50, 2.00
ai d 2 50.
Ail cotton b'ankets— 4sc, 65c, 90c, former prices 50c, 75c, sl.
One lot $1 0. B corsets at 59c.
Of! per !***■» on all Wool Underwear, including
cent. nGuuCIIOn Men's. Women's and Children's.
M rs. J. E. Zimmerman.
Clean-up Sale
Continued!
$ 0 Balance of January Devoted to Bargain Selling. 0 0
Our stock is still too large for invoicing
and must be further reduced.
CLOAKS ALMOST GIVEN AWAY.
Special Clean-up Prices on Silks, Dress Goods,
Table Linens, Crashes, Underwear and Hosiery.
ALL WINTER GOODS SACRIFICED. -S§
REMNANT SALE-
Hundreds of Remnants of all kinds of Dry Goods
and ail odd lots at bargain prices.
L. STEIN Sc SON,
108 N. MAIN STREET, BUTLER, PA
CTRIVING COR EFFECT! & i,
vS£ Men don't buy clothing for the pur-vfv _ J / jjuf 1 M/£&)') Ij
or spending money. They
sto get the heat possible results for thefC A. • f, 0 7 .yik !
vfc money expended. Not cheap goods'®" /< "l / £m\ ,
goods as cheap as they can C-&/ Aplfiij
fTlsold for and made up properly.
v?Cyou want the correct thing at the cor-"J?C —— IA I
price, call and examine \ \ \ j
3C large stock of Heavy Weights, FalirTj \ wfj,' l||j jf
Winter Suitings and Overcoats \« I'ri
latest Styles, Shades and \j .j ® H|| ,7
\ I I
Fits and Workmanship J I
Guaranteed /
G F. K€CK,
142 NorthlMain Street, Butler, Pa
|| PAPES, JEWELERS. 51
Si i 4 72
£ I DIAMONDS, * 00
t WATCHES, J o
l 3 I CLOCKS, 5
5 J JEWELRY, J p
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u_ # We repair all kinds of S
° \ Broken Watches, Clocks, Jewelry, etc £ [J3
co ? Give our repair department a trial. £
z We take old gold and silver the same as cash, j
Z\ PAPE'S, j|
5! 122 S. Main St., Butler, Pa. J g
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Wick Building. Peoples' Phone 400
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ELY BROTHERS,
50 Warren St , New fork City.
Rev. John Reid, Jr.. of Great Falls, Mont.,
recommended Ely's Cream Balm to me. I
cau emphasize his statement, '"lt is a posi
tive cure for catarrh if used as directed." —
Rev. Francis W. Poole, Pastor CentralPres.
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Ely's Cream Balm is the acknowledged
cure for catarrh and contains no mercury
nor any injurious drug. Price, 00 cents.
Bullp-r Savings Bank
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Surplus and Profits - - $185,000.00
.ICS. L PURVIS President
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WM. CA MPRELL. Jr Caf l.icr
! B. 'lelier
DIKE'TORR -losppli L. urvls, .1. llenr>
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r M K
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H.O.HAYS. L.H.HAYS,
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Best Accommodations in Town.
West JeTerson street, Butler, Pa
People's Phone 109,
Bell's Phone 59"
Pearson B. Nace's
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Rear of
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The best of horses and first class rigs al
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ttest accommodations in town Jor perma
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A good class of horses, both drivers and
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under a full guarantee; and horses bought
pon proper notification by
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Telephone. No. 219.
jsiT
iHatj
■ / \/* > /\yv
Sale
$5.00 $4.00 and $3.00
HATS AT
SI.OO
Jno- S Wick.
Successor to Kl>. COLBERT,
242 S. Main St., Butler, Pa
Opposite P. O. 1
BUTLER, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY H, 1900
INHISSTEPS. j
:• «m\nt taouia i pnn 1:
3e3ao 9or' > p s+jm ::
g —— ; -
By ClurlesM. Sheldon. | •;
. . ("npuriuht'il awl i i/. ,'w.i hti thr • jjL -s.' ' '. .y;
. . Advanci Publishing Co. of Vhictuf <•> ——l • •
" v .. . . . • . MC4>CK..i'- - - - -
CHATTER IX.
Master, I will follow tlico whithcrtoever thoo
; goest.
The Saturday matinee at the Audi
torium iu Chicago was just over, and
! the nsnnl crowd was straggling to get
to its carriage before any one else. 'I lie
Auditorium attendant was shouting out
the number of different carriages, and
the carriage- doors were slamming as
the horses were driven rapidly to the
curb, held there impatient by the
drivers, who had shivered long in the
raw east wind, and tlun let go to
plunge for a few minutes intu the river
of vehicles that tossed under the ele
vated railway anil finally went whirling
off up the avenue.
"Now, then. <i - >4!" shouted tho Au
ditorium attendant. "Six hundred and
twenty-four!" he repeated as there
da.sh 'il up to the curb a splendid span
of black horses attached to a carnage
having the monogram "C. K. S." in
gilt letters on the panel of the door.
Two girls stepped out of the crowd
toward tii" carriage. Tho older one had
entered and tain 11 her . eat. and the at
tendant wan : till ho! din," (ho door open
for the younger, who stood hesitating
on the curb.
"Come, Felicia! What aro you wait
ing for? I shall freeze to death!" called
tho voice fro; 1 the carriage.
The jiii ( ide of the carriage hast
ily unpinned a bunch of English violets
from her dr and lir.m! ! them to a
siiiail lx>y who was Htanolng shivering
on the edge of the sidewalk, almost
under the horses' feet. He took them
with a look of asior.'-hmcnt ; 1 a
"Thank ye, lr;;ly!" : lid in Vant.'y buried
ji very grimy face in the bunch of per
fume. The gill stepped into the car
riage. the door ; lint with the incisive
bang peculiar to well made c-.rriagea of
this sort, and in a few 1 :cments the
coachman was speeding il: • horses rap
idly up one of the boulevards.
"You are always doing some queer
thing or other. Felicia," said the older
girl as the carriage whirled on 1 st the
great residences already brilliantly
lighted.
"Am I? What have I done that is
qneer now. Rose?" asked tl. » other,
looking up suddenly and turning hr
head toward her sister.
"Oh, giving those violets to that boy!
He looked : ■ if ho needed a good hot
supper more than a bunch of xiolets.
It's a wonder you didn't invite him
homo with us. I shouldn't have been
surprised if yon had. You are always
doing such qneer things, Felicia."
"Would it be queer to invite a boy
like that to come to Ihe house and get
a hot supper?" Felicia asked the ques
tion softly and almost as if she were
alone.
"Queer isn't just the word, of
course," replied Rose indifferently. "It
would be what Mme. Blanc calls outre
—decidedly. Therefore you will please
not invite him or oth< rs like him to hot
suppers because I suggested it. Oh,
dear! I'm awfully tired."
She yawned, and Felicia silently
looked out of the window in the door.
"The concert was stupid, and the
violinist was simply a bore. I don't see
how yon could sit so still through it
all," Rose exclaimed, a little impa
tiently.
"I liked the musy>,'' answered Felicia
quietly.
"You like anything. I never saw a
girl with so little critical taste."
Felicia colored slightly, bnt would
not answer. Rose yawned again and
then hummed a fragment :>f a popular
song. Then she exclaimed abruptly:
"I'm sick of almost everything. I
hope the 'Shadows of London' will be
exciting tonight. "
" 'The Shadows of Chicago!' " mur
mured Felicia.
" 'The Shadows of Chicago!" 'The
Shadows of London,' the play, the great
drama with its wonderful scenery, the
sensation of New York for two months.
You know \ve have a box with the De
lanos tonight."
Felicia turned her faco toward her
sister. Her great brown eyes were very
expressive and not altogether free from
a sparkle of luminous heat.
"And yet we never weep over tho
real thing on the actual stage of life.
What are the shadows of London on the
stage to the shadows of London or Chi
cago as they really exist? Why don't
we get excited over tho facts as they
are?"
"Because the actual people are dirty
and disagreeable and it's too much
bother, I suppose," replied Rose care
lessly. "Felicia, you never can reform
the world. What's the use? We're not
to blame for the poverty and misery
There have always been rich and poor,
and there always will be. We ought to
bo thankful we're rich. "
"Suppose Christ had gone on that
principle," replied Felicia, with un
usual persistence. "Do you remember
Dr. Brace's sermon on that verse a few
Sundays ago, 'For ye know the grace
of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though
he was rich, yet for our sakes he be
came poor, that ye through his poverty
might become rich?' "
"I remember it well enough," said
Rose, with some petulance. "And
didn't Dr. Bruce go on to say that there
was 110 blame attached to people who
ha«l wealth if they are kind and give to
the needs of the poor? And lam sure
the doctor himself is pretty comfortably
settled. lie never gives tip his luxuries
just becanso some people in the city go
hungry. What good would it do if he
did? I tell yon, Felicia, there will al
ways be poor and rich in spite of all we
can do. Ever since Rachel has written
about the oueer doings in Raymond
you have upset the whole family. Peo
ple can't live at that concert pitch all
the time. Yon see if Rachel doesn't
give it up soon. It's a great pity she
doesn't come to Chicago and sing in
the Auditorium concerts. I heard t >day
fhe had received an offer. I'm going to
write and urge her to come. I'm just
dviiiK to hear her sing."
Felicia looked out of the window and
was silent. The carriage rolled 011 past
two blocks of magnificent private resi
dences and turned into a wide drive
way under a covered passage, and the
sisters hurried into the house. It was
an elegant mansion of graystone, fur
nished like a palace, every corner of it
warm with the luxury of paintings,
sculpture, art and refinement.
The owner of it all, Mr. Charles R.
titerling, stood in.tore an open urate nre
smoking a cigar. He htfd made his
1::;. uey in grain speculation and rail
road ventures ami was reputed to be
worth something over two millions.
His wife was a sister of Mrs. Window
of Raymond. She had been iui invalid
for 1 vera 1 years. The two girls, Rose
and Felicia, were tl. only children.
Rose was 21 years old. fair, vivacious,
educated in a fashionable college, just
entering society and already somewhat
cynical and indifferent, a very hard
young lady to please, her father said
sometime.; playfully, sometimes sternly
Felicia was 1 with a tropical beaut}
somewhat like her cousin, Rachel Wins
low, with warm, genert::impulses
just waking into Christian !' ling, ca
pable of :>ll sorls of expiessii a, a puzzl
to lier father, a source of irritation to
her mother and with a great, unsur
veyed territory of thought and action
in herself of which she was more than
dimly conscious. There was that in
Felicia that would easily endure any
condition in life if only the liberty to
act fully 011 her conscientious convic
tions were granted her.
"Here's a letter for you, Felicia,"
said Mr. Sterling, taking it out of his
pocket.
Felicia sat down and instantly opened
the letter, saying as she did so, "It's
from Rachel.
"Well, what's the latest news from
Raymond V" asked Mr. Sterling, taking
his cigar out of his mouth and looking
at Felicia, as he often did, with half
shut eyes, as if he were studying her.
"Rachel says Dr. Bruce has been
studying in Raymond for two Sundays
and has seemed very much interested
in Mr. Maxwell's pledge in the First
church."
"What does Rachel say about her
self?" .sked Rose, who was lying on a
couch almost buried under half a dozen
elegant cushions.
"She is still singing at the Rectangle.
Since the tent meetings closed she sings
in an eld hall until the new buildings
her friend Virginia Page is putting up
are completed."
"I must write Rachel to come to Chi
cago and visit ns.- She ought not to
throw away her voice in that railroad
town upon all those people who don't
appreciate her."
Mr. Sterling lighted a new cigar, and
Rose exclaimed:
"Rachel is awfully queer, I think.
She might set Chicago wild with her
voice if she sang in the Auditorium,
and there she goes on, throwing her
voice away on people who don't know
what they are hearing. "
"Rachel won't come here unless she
can <l<f it and keep her pledge at the
same time," said Felicia after a pause.
"What pledge?" Mr. Sterling asked
the question and then added hastily:
"Oh, I know! Yes; a very peculiar
thing that. Powers used to be a friend
of mine. We learned telegraphy in the
same office; made a great sensation
when he resigned and handed over that
evidence to the interstate commerce
commission, and he's back at his te
legraphy again. There have been queer
doings in Raymond during the past
year. I wonder what Dr. Bruce thinks
of it, on the whole. I must have a talk
with him about it."
'"He preaches tomorrow," said Feli
cia. "Perhaps he will tell us something
about it."
There was silence for a minute. Then
Felicia said abruptly, as if she had
gone 011 with a spoken thought to some
invisible hearer, "And what if he
should propose the same pledge to the
Nazareth Avenue church?"
"Who V What are you talking about ?"
asked her father, a little sharply.
"About Dr. Bruce. I say what if he
should iiropose to our church what Mr.
Maxwell proposed to his and ask for
volunteers who would pledge themselves
to do everything after asking the ques
tion, 'What would Jesus do?' "
"There's 110 danger of it," said Rose,
rising suddenly from the couch as the
tea bell rang.
"It's a very impracticable movement
to my mind,'' said Mr. Sterling sharply.
"I understand from Rachel's letter
that the church in Raymond is going
to make an attempt to extend the idea
of the pledge to the other churches. If
they succeed, they will certainly make
great changes in the churches and ii>
people's lives," said Felicia.
"Oh, well, lrt's have some tea first,"
said Rose, walking into the dining
room. Her father and Felicia followed,
and the meal proceeded in silence. Mrs.
Sterling had her meals served in her
room. Mr. Sterling was preoccupied.
He ate very little and excused himself
early, and, although it was Saturday
night, he remarked as he went out that
he would be down town late on some
special business.
•A'Don't you think father looks very
much disturbed lately?" asked Felicia
a little while after he had gone out.
'•()h, I don't know! I hadn't noticed
anything unusual,'' replied Rose. After
a silence she said: "Are you going to
the play tonight, Felicia? Mrs. Delano
will be here at half past 7. I think you
ought to go. She will feel hurt if you
refuse.''
"I'll go. I don't care about it. I can
see shadows enough without going to
the play."
"That's a doleful remark for a girl
19 years old to make," replied Rose,
"but then you're queer in your ideas
anyhow, Ft licia. If you're going up to
see mother, tell her I'll run in after the
play if she is still awake."
Felicia went up to see her mother
and remain with her until the Delano
carriage came. Mrs. Sterling was wor
ried about her husband. She talked in
cessantly and was irritated by every re
mark Felicia made. She would mft list
en to Felicia's attempts to read even a
part of Rachel's letter, and when Fe
licia offered to stay with her for the
evening she refused the offer with a
good deal of positive sharpness.
So 1 licia started off to the play not
very happy, but she was familiar with
that feeling, only sometimes she was
more unhappy than at other times. Her
feeling expressed itself tonight by a
withdrawal into herself. When the
company was seated in the box and the
curtain was up, Felicia was back of
the others and remained for the even
ing by herself. Mrs. Delano as chaperon
for a half dozen young ladies under
stood Felicia well enough to know that
she was "queer," as Rose so often said,
and she made no attempt to draw her
out of the corner, and so Felicia really
experienced that night by herself one
of the feelings that added to the mo
mentum that was increasing the coming
on of her great crisis.
The play was an English melodrama
full of startling situations, realistic
scenery and unexpected climaxes. There
was one scene in the third act that im
pressed even Rose Sterling.
It was midnight on Blackfriars
bridge. The Thames flowed dark and
forbidding below St Paul's rose
through the dim light, imposing, its
dome seeming to float above the. l build
iiK > surrounding it. Th-' li *e of a
child c::i::.- upon the bridge an«s stood
there for a moment, peerin r aixKit as
if looking for some one. Sever:il persons
r;' crossing the briilge. but in one of
the recesses about midway of the river
a woman stood, leaning out over the
parapet with a strained agony of face
and figure that told plainly of her in
tentions Just as she was stealthily
mounting the parapet to throw herself
into the rivi r the child caught sight of
her. ran forward, with a shrill cry more
animal than human, and, seizing the
woman's dress, dragged back upon it
with all her little strength. Then there
came suddenly upon the scene two other
characters who had already figured in
the play, a tall, handsome, athletic gen
tleman dressed in the fashion, attended
by a sliui figured lad. who was as re
fined in dress and appearance as the lit
tle girl clinging to her mother was
mournfully hideous in her rags and re
pulsive poverty. These two, the gentle
man and the lad, prevented the at
tempted suicide, and after a tableau on
the bridge where the audience learned
that the man and woman were brother
and sister the scene was transferred to
the interior of one of the slum tene
ments in the east side of London. Here
the scene painter and carpenter had
done their utmost to produce an exact
copy of a famous court and alley well
known to the poor creatures who make
up a part of the outcast London hu
manity The rags, the crowding," the
vileness, the broken furniture, the hor
rible animal existence forced upon
creatures made in (rod's image, were so
skillfully shown in this scene that more
than one elegant woman in the theater,
seated, like Rose Sterling, in a sump
tuous box, surrounded with silk hang
ings and velvet covered railing, caught
herself shrinking back a little, as if
contamination were possible from the
nearness of this piece of painted canvas.
It was almost too realistic, and yet it
had a horrible fascination for Felicia
as she sat there alone, buried back in a
cushioned seat absjrbed in thoughts that
went far beyond the dialogue on the
stage.
From the tenement scene the play
shifted to the interior of a nobleman's
palace, and almost a sigh of relief went
up all over the house at the sight of the
accustomed luxury of the upper classes.
The contrast was startling. It was
brought about by a clever piece of stag
ing that allowed only a few minutes to
elapse between the slum and the palace
scenes. The dialogue continued, the
actors came and went in their various
roles, but upon Felicia the play made
but one distinct impression. In reality
the scenes 011 the bridge and in the
slum were only incidents in the story
of the play, but Felicia found herself
living those scenes over and over. She
had never philosophized about the
causes of human miser}'. She was not
old enough. She had not the tempera
ment that philosophizes. But she felt
intensely, and tins was not the first
time she had felt the contrast thrust
into her feeling between the upper and
the lower conditions of human life. It
had been growing upon her until it had
made her what Rose called "queer" and
the other people in her circle of wealthy
acquaintances called "very unusual."
It was simply the human problem in
its extremes of riches and poverty, its
refinement and its vileness, which was,
in spite of her unconscious attempts to
struggle against tho facts, burning into
her life the impression that would in
the end transform her into either a
woman of rare love and self sacrifice
for the world or a miserable enigma to
herself and all who knew her.
"Come, Felicia! Aren't you going
home?" said Rose. The play was over,
the curtain down, and people were go
ing noisily out, laughing and gossiping,
as if "The Shadows of London" waJ
simply good diversion, as it was put on
the stage so effectively.
Felicia rose and went out with the
rest quietly and with the absorbed feel
ing tkat had actually left her in her
seat oblivious of the play's ending. She
was never absentminded, but often
thought herself into a condition that
left her alone in the midst of a crowd.
"Well, what did you think of it?'
asked Rose when the sisters had reached
home and were in the drawing room.
Rose really had considerable respect for
Felicia's judgment of a play.
"I thought it was a pretty picture of
real life."
"I mean tho acting," said Rose, an
noyed.
"The bridge scene was well acted,
especially the woman's part. I thought
the man overdid the sentiment a little. "
"Did you? I enjoyed that. And
wasn't the scene between the two cous
ins funny when they first learned that
they were related? But the slum scene
was horrible. I think they ought not to
show such things in a play. They are
too painful. "
"They must be painful in real life,
too," replied Felicia.
"Yes, don't have to look at
the real thing. It's bad enough at tho
theater, where we pay for it. "
Rose went into the drawing room
*iut began to eat from a plate of fruit
and cakes on the sideboard.
"Are you going up to see mother?"
asked Felicia after awhile. She had re
mained in front of the drawing room
fire.
"No," replied Rose from the other
room; "I won't trouble her tonight. If
you go in, tell her I am too tired to bo
agreeable."
So Felicia turned into her mother's
room. As she went up the great stair
case and down tho upper hall the light
was burning there, and the servant who
always waited 011 Mrs. Sterling was
beckoning Felicia to come in.
"Tell Clara to go out," exclaimed
Mrs. Sterling as Felicia came up to tho
bed and kneeled by it.
Felicia was surprised, but she did as
her mother bade her and then inquired
how she was feeling.
"Felicia," said her mother, "can
you pray?"
The question was so unliko any her
mother had ever asked before that Fe
licia was startled, but she answered:
"Why, yes, mother. What makes
Von ask such a question?"
"Felicia, lam frightened. Your fa
ther—l have had such strange fears
about him all day. Something is wrong
with him. I want yon to pray."
"Now? Here, mother?"
"Yes. Pray, Felicia."
Felicia reached out her hand and took
her mother's. It was trembling. Mrs.
Sterling had never shown innch tender
ness for her younger daughter, and her
strange demand now was the first real
of any confidence in Felicia's
character.
The girl still kneeled, holding her
mother's trembling hand, and prayed.
It was donbtfnl if she had ever prayed
aloud before. She must have said in
her prayer the words that her mother
needed, for when it was silent in the
room the invalid was weeping scftly,
and her nervous tension was over.
Felicia staid some time. When she
was assured that her mother would not
need her any longer, she rose to go.
"Good night, mother. Yon must let
Clara call mo if you feel bad in the
night."
"I feel better now." Then as Felicia
was moving away Mrs. Sterling said.
"Won't you kiss me, Felicia V"
Felicia went back and bent over her
mother The ki>- was almost as
to her as the prayer had b u. Wli. ii
Felicia went «intof the r<>,>m. her cheeks
were wet with tears. She had not cried
since she was a little
Sunday at tlie Sterling man
sion was generally very quiet. The trirl "
nsnally went to chnreh at 11 o'clock
service. Mr. Sterling was n>it a mem
ber, lint a heavy contributor, and ho
generally went to church in the morn
ins. This time he did not come down
to breakfast and finally sent word by a
servant that he did not feel well enough
to go out. So Rose and Felicia drove
up to the door of the Nazareth Avenue
church and entered the family pew
alone.
When Dr. Bruce walked out of tho
room at the rear of the platform and
went up to the pulpit to open the Bible,
as his custom was, those who knew
him best did not detect anything un
usual in his manner or his expression
He proceeded with the service as usual.
He was calm, and his voice was steady
and firm. *His prayer was the first inti
mation the people had of anything new
or strange in the service. It is safe to
say that the Nazareth Avenue church
had not heard Dr. Bruce offer such a
prayer during the 13 years he had been
pastor there. How would a minister be
likely to pray who had come out of a
revolution in Christian feeling that had
completely changed his definition of
what was meant by following Jesns?
No one in Nazareth Avenue church had
any idea that the Rev. Calvin Bruce,
D. D.. the dignified, cultured, refined
doctor of divinity, had within a few
days been crying like a little child, 011
his knees, asking for strength and cour
age and Cliristlikeness to speak his Sun
day message, and yet the prayer was an
unconscious, involuntary disclosure of
the soul's experience such as Nazareth
Avenue people seldom heard and never
before from that pulpit.
In the hush that succeeded the prayer
a distinct wave of spiritual power
moved over the congregation. The most
careless persons in the church felt it.
Felicia, whose sensitive religious nature
responded swiftly to every touch of
emotion, quivered under the passing of
that supernatural power, and when she
lifted her head and looked up at the
minister there was a look in her eyes
that announced her intense, eager an
ticipation of the scene that was to fol
low.
And she was not alone in her atti
tude. There was something in the
prayer and the result of it that stirred
many and many a disciple in Nazareth
Avenue church. All over the house men
and women leaned forward, and when
Dr. Bruce began to speak of his visit to
Raymond in the operifhg sentences of
his address, which this morning pre
ceded his sermon, there was an answer
ing response in the church that came
back to him as he spoke and thrilled
him with the hope of a spiritual bap
tism such as he had never during all
his ministry experienced.
"I am just back from a visit to Ray
mond," Dr. Bruce began, "and I want
to tell you something of my impressions
of the movement there."
He paused, and his look went over
his people with yearning for them and
at the same time with a great uncer
tainty at his heart. How many of his
rich, fashionable, refined, luxury loving
members would understand the nature
of the appeal he was soon to make to
them V He was altogether i» the dark
as to that. Nevertheless he had been
through his desert and had come out of
it ready to suffer. He went on now aft
er that brief pause and told the story
of his stay : u Raymond. The people al
ready knev something of that experi
ment in tli First church. The whole
country lie 1 watched the progress of
the pledge . , it had become history in
so many lives. Henry Maxwell had at
last decided that the time had come to
seek the fellowship of ether churches
throughout the country. The new dis
ciplesliip in Raymond had proved to be
so valuable in its results that Henry
Maxwell wished the church in general
to share with the disciples in Ray
mond. Already there had begun a vol
unteer movement in many of tho
churches throughout the country, act
ing 011 their own desire to walk closer
in the steps of Jesus. The Christian
Endeavor societies had with enthusiasm
In many churches taken the pledge to
do as Jesus would do, and the result
was already marked in a deeper spir
itual life and a power in church influ
ence that was like a new birth for the
members.
All this Dr. Bruce told his people
simply and with a personal interest that
evidently led the way to his announce
ment, which now followed. Felicia had
listened to every word with strained
attention. She sat there by the side of
Rose, in contrast like fire beside snow,
although even Rose was as alert and
excited as she could be.
"Dear friends," he said, and for the
first time since his prayer the emotion
of the occasion was revealed in his
voice and gesture, "I am going to ask
that Nazareth Avenue church take the
same pledge that Raymond church has
taken. I know what this will mean to
yon and nie. It will mean the complete
change of very many habits. It will
mean possibly social loss. It will mean
very probably in many cases loss of
money. It will mean suffering. It will
mean what following Jesus meant in
the first century, and then it meant
suffering, loss, hardship, separation
from every thing un-Christian. But
what does following Jesns mean? The
test of discipleship is the same now as
then. Those of you who volunteer in
the Nazareth Avenue church to do as
.fesns would do simply promise to walk
in his steps, as he gave us command
ment. ''
Again Rev. Calvin Brace, pastor of
Nazareth Avenue church, paused, and
now the result of his announcement
was plainly visible in the stir that went
over the congregation. He added in a
quiet voice that all who volunteered to
make the pledge to do as Jesus would
do were asked to remain after the
morning service.
Instantly he proceeded with his ser
mon. His text was from Matthew viii,
10. "Master, I will follow thee whither
soever thou goest."
It was a sermon that touched tho
deep springs of conduct. It was a rev
elation to tho people of the definition
their pastor had been learning. It took
them back to the first century of Chris
tianity. Above all, it stirred them be
low the conventional thought of years
ns to the meaning and purpose of church
membership It was such a sermon as a
man can preach once in a lifetime and
with enough iu it for people to live on
all through a lifetime.
The service closed in a hush that was
slowly broken. People rose hero and
there a few at a time. There was a re
luctance in the movements of the peo
ple that was very striking.
Rose, however, walked straight out
the pew, and as she reached the aisle
she turned her head and beckoned to
Felicia. By that time the congregation
was rising all over the church.
Felicia instantly answered her sis
ter's look.
"I'm going to stay," she said, and
R< had heard her speak in tho same
manner on other occasions and knew
that Felicia's resolve could not bo
changed. Nevertheless she went back
into the new two or three stei>s and
faced her.
"Felicia." she whispered, and there
was a flush of anger on her cheeks,
"this is folly What can yon do? Yon
will bring disgrace upon the family
What will father say? Come."
Felicia looked at her, but did not an
swer at once. Her lij»s» were moving
with a petition that came from a depth
of feeling that measured a new life for
her. She shook her head.
"No: lam going to stay I shall
take the pledge. lam ready to obey it
Yen do not know why I am" doing
this."
Rose gave her one look and then
turned and went out of the pew and
down the aisle. She did not even stop
to talk with her acquaintances. Mrs.
Delano was going out of the church
just as Rose stepped into the vestibule.
"So yon are not going to join the
doctor's volunteer company?" Mrs. De
lano asked in a queer tone that made
Rose redden.
"No. Are you? It is simply asburd.
I have always regarded the Raymond
movement as fanatical. Yon know
Cousin Rachel keeps us posted about it. "
"Yes; I understand it is resulting in
a great deal of hardship in many cases.
For my part, I believe Dr. Bruce has
simply provoked a disturbance here. It
will result in splitting Nazareth Avenue
church. Yon see if that isn't so. There
are scores of people in the church who
are so situated that they can't take such
a pledge and keep it. I am one of
them." added Mrs. Delano as she went
out with Rose.
When Rose reached home, her father
was standing in his nsual attitnde be
fore the open fireplace, smoking a cigar.
"Where is Felicia?" he asked as Rose
came in alone.
"She staid to an after meeting," re
plied Rose shortly. She threw off her
Wraps and was going up stairs when
Mr. Sterling called after her:
"An after meeting? What do yon
mean ?"
"Dr. Brace asked the church to take
the Raymond pledge."
Mr. Sterling took his cigar ont of hi?
mouth and twirled it nervously be
tween his fingers.
"I didn't expect that of Dr. Bruce.
Did any of the members stay?"
"I don't know. I didn't," replied
Rose, and she went up stairs, leaving
her father standing in the drawing
room.
After a few minutes he went to the
window and stood there looking out at
the people driving on the boulevard.
His cigar had gone out, but he still fin
gered it nervously. Then he turned
from the window and walked up and
down the room. A servant stepped
across the hall and announced dinner,
and he told her to wait for Felicia.
Rose came down stairs and went into
the library, and still Mr. Sterling paced
the drawing room restlessly.
He had finally wearied of the walking
apparently and, throwing himself into
a chair, was brooding over something
deeply when Felicia came in.
He rose and faced her. Felicia was
evidently very much moved by the
meeting from which she had just come.
At the same time she did not wish to
talk too much about it. Just as she en
tered the drawing room Rose came in
from the library.
"How many staid?" she asked. Rose
was curioT*. At the same she was skep
tical of the whole movement in Ray
mond.
"About a hundred," replied Felicia
gravely. Mr. Sterling looked surprised.
Felicia was going out of tho room. He
called to her.
"Do you really mean to keep the
pledge?" he asked.
Felicia colored. Over her face and
neck the warm blood flowed as she an
swered, "You would not ask such a
question, father, if you had been pres
ent at the meeting." She lingered a
moment in the room, then asked to ba
excused from dinner for awhile and
went up to see her mother.
No one ever knew what that inter
view between Felicia and her mother
was. It is certain that she must have
told her mother something of the spir
itual power that had awed every person
present in the company of disciples from
Nazareth Avenue church who faced Dr.
Bruce in that meeting after the morn
ing service. It is also certain that Fe
licia had never known such an experi
ence and never would have thought of
sharing it with her mother if it had not
been for the prayer the evening before.
Another fact is also known of Felicia's
experience at this time. When she
finally joined her father and Rose at
the table, she seemed unable to tell
them much about the meeting. There
was a reluctance to speak of it, as one
might hesitate to attempt a description
of a wonderful sunset to a person who
never talked about anything but the
weather. When that Sunday in the
Sterling mansion was drawing to a
close and the soft, warm lights through
out the dwelling were glowing through
the great windows, in a corner of her
room where the light was obscure Fe
licia kneeled, and when she raised her
face and turned it toward the light it
was the face of a woman who had al
ready defined for herself the greatest
issues of earthly life.
That same evening, after the Sunday
evening service, the Rev. Calvin Bruce,
D. D., of Nazareth Avenue church, was
talking over the events of the day with
his wife. They were of one heart and
mind in the matter and faced their new
future with all the faith and courage
of new disciples. Neither was deceived
as to the probable results of the pledge
to themselves or to the church.
They had been talking but a little
while when the bell rang, and Dr.
Bruce, going to the door, exclaimed as
he opened it: "It is you, Edward!
Come in!"
There came into the hall a command
ing figure. The bishop was of extraor
diary height and breadth of shoulder,
but of such good proportions that there
was no thought of ungainly or even of
unusual size. The impression the bishop
made on strangers was first that of
great health and then of great affection.
He came into the parlor and greeted
Mrs. Bruce, who after a few moments
was called out of the room, leaving the
two men together.
The bishop sat in a deep easy chair
before the open fire. There was just
enough dampness in the early spring of
the year to make an open fire pleasant.
"Calvin, you have taken a very seri
ous step today,'' he finally said, lifting
his large dark eyes to his old college
classmate's face. "I heard of it this
afternoon. I could not resist the desire
to see yon about it tonight. "
"I'm glad you came." Dr. Bruce sat
near the bishop and laid a haud on his
shoulder. "You understand what this
means, Edward?"
"I think I do—yes; 1 am sure." Tho
bishop sj>oke very slowly and thought
fully. He sat with his hands clasped to
gether. Over his face, marked with
lines of consecration and service and
the love of men, a shadow crept, a
shadow not caused by tho firelight.
Again he lifted his eyes toward his old
friend.
"Calvin, wo have always understood
each other. Ever sine© our paths led us
in different ways in church life we have
walked together in Christian fellow- |
ship."
"It is true." replied Dr. rtrnr<»
j an emotion lie made no attempt fo Con*
ceal or subdue. "Thank Goa for it. 1
prize your fellowship moro than any
man's. I have always known whr.t it
meant, though it lias always been n.ore
than 1 deserve."
The bishop looked affectionately at
his friend, but the shadow stm resf-?d
on his face After a pause ne spoke
again
"The new disciplesliip means a crisis
for you in y. tr work. If yon keep this
pledge to do all things as Jesus would
do, as 1 know yon will, it requires no
prophet to predict some remarkable
changes in your parish." The bishop
looked wistfully at Bruce and then con
tinued "In fact, Ido not see how a
perfect upheaval of Christianity as we
now know it can lie prevented if the
ministry and churches generally take
the Raymond pledge and live it out."
He paused as if he were waiting for his
friend to say something, to a6k some
question, but Bruce did not know of
the fire that was burning in the bishop's
heart over the very question that Max
well and himself had fought out
"Now. in my church, for instance,"
continued the bishop, "it would be
rather a difficult matter, I fear, to find
very many people who would take a
pledge like that and live np to it Mar
tyrdom is a lost art with us. Our Chris
tianity loves its ease and comfort too
well to take up anything so rough and
heavy as a cross, and yet what does fol
lowing Jesus mean? What is it to walk
in his stei>s?"
The bishop was (soliloquizing now,
and it is doubtful if he thought for the
moment of his friend's presence. For
the lirst time thure flashed into Brnce's
mind a suspicion of the truth. What if
the bishop should throw the weight %f
his great influence on the side of the
Raymond movement! He had the fol
lowing of the most aristocratic, wealthy,
fashionable people not only in Chicago,
but in several large cities. What if the
bishop should join this new discipleship I
The thought was about to be followed
by the word. Dr. Bruce had reached
ont his hand and. with the familiarity
of lifelong friendship, had placed it on
the bishop's shoulder and was about to
ask him a very important question
when they were both startled by the
violent ringing of the bell. Mrs. Bruce
had gone to the door and was talking
with some one in the hall. There was a
loud exclamation, and then, as the
bishop rose and Dr. Bruce was stepping
toward the curtain that hung before
the entrance to the parlor, Mrs. Bruce
pushed it aside. Her face was white,
and she was trembling.
"Oh. Calvin! Such terrible news!
Mr. Sterling—oh, I cannot tell it! What
a fearful blow to those two girls!"
"What is it?" Dr. Bruce advanced
with the bishop into the hall and con
fronted the messenger, a servant from
the Sterlings. The man was without
his hat and had evidently run over with
the news, as the doctor lived nearest of
any friends of the family.
"Mr. Sterling shot himself, sir, a
few minutes ago! He killed himself
in his bedroom! Mrs. Sterling''—
"I will go right over. Edward"—Dr.
Bruce turned to the bishop—"will you
go with me? The Sterlings are old
friends of yours."
The bishop was very pale, but calm,
as always. He looked his friend in the
face and answered: "Aye, Calvin. I
will go with you, not only to this house
of death, but also the whole wayof hu
imra sin and sorrow, please God."
And even in that moment of horror
at the unexpected news Calvin Bruce
understood what tho bishop had prom
ised to do.
[TO BE CONTHTOBB.I
GOT HIS CLEAN CLOTHES.
Be Had No Money, but Had Nerve and
mi Easy C'h in mm nil.
That th>re are more ways than one
to accomplish a thing If a man only
has the necessary nerve is illustrated
by the experience of a young man.
The young man tells the story himself,
BO there is no betrayal of confidence
In printing It.
It seems that he had a big bundle of
collars and cuffs and shirts at a Chi
nese laundry a night or two ago, some
articles in which he needed very much.
The night was the furthest In the
week from his pay day, and he was
"broke." Still he had to have clean
linen iu order to keep an important en
gagement.
"I didn't know what to do," he said
In relating the incident "I felt sure
that the Chinaman wouldn't extend
credit to me, for It Is a well known
thing that Chinese laundrymen never
'trust.' At last I hit upon a scheme.
Going to my room, I bundled up all
the soiled linen I possessed. Hurry
ing around to the laundryman's, I pro
duced the bundle.
" 'Sixty-five cents!' he exclaimed
blandly, holding out his hand for the
coin.
"I picked up the clean linen and, de
positing the bundle of soiled on his
counter, started for the door as if my
life depended on my being half a mile
away within five minutes.
" That's all right!' I shouted back
In reply. 'Just mark It on that bundle,
and I'll pay you for both together!'
"Then 1 was gone, but not before I
caught a glimpse of the laundryman
hastily unwrapping the bundle I had
left, as If ho was anxious to see wheth
er or not the contents were worth the
G5 cents I had 'hung him up' for. He
was evidently satisfied, for he didn't
yell for the police or make any com
motion, as I was afraid he might do,
and I had all kinds of freshly launder
ed collars and cuffs and shirts to wear
that night. And all on account of a
bit of nerve."—Philadelphia Inquirer.
Creature* of Circumstance.
Once upon a time there was a Boy
whose Neighbors were all very sordid.
Those Neighbors would not suffer the
Boy to destroy their property, no mat
ter what the occasion.
So the Boy grew up without ever
having achieved any Halloween pranks
to speak of.
"Alas!" cried the Boy, when he had
become an obscure and unimportant
Man. "We are what circumstances
make us!"
This fable teaches us to be kind to
children.—Detroit Journal.
Matle n failure of the Job.
"Why did she marry him?"
"Because she thought he needed re
forming."
"And why did she leave him?"
"Because lie still needed It."
As usual, she had learned that as a
reform measure marriage is not always
a glittering success.—Chicago Tost.
For the Sake of Hi* Hobby.
"What makes you work so hard day
and night?"
"I want to get rich," juiswered the
Industrious man. "I want to save up
enough money to enable me to put in
all my time advocating an equal dis
tribution of. wealth." Washington
Star.
A Lnnd Hint.
"Mr. Secretary, what is that crowd
down there singing?"
" 'Rally Round the Bar'l, Boys.' "
"Is that a new song?"
"No. It's a loud hint." Cleveland
Plain Dealer.
Mo O