The Story of a Story. 5 | BT ALBERT LEE. * The editor sat at his desk, lazily sorting tho week's manuscript. He was smoking his after-luncheon cigar and humming quietly as he glanced at the various superscrip tions, watching unconsciously for any familiar handwriting or postmark. Presently there was a sharp rap at the door, followed almost immediate \ by the entrance of the assistant ai t editor, who bore every outward ap pearance of being extremely annoyed. "What's up now?" asked the editor. "I'm in a hole, Leighton," replied the assistant. "I can't get anything out of Von Beck." "What's the matter with Von Beck?" "Sprained his ankle, or fell off his bicycle, or something—l don't know! He's a week late with that illustration for Forbes's story, and the plates for that form have to be cast the first of next week. Here It is Wednesday, and he sends word he's laid up." The assistant art editor waved his arms in a gesture of despair. "He does not work with his feet, does he?" asked Leighton. "I wish he'd work a little with his head. I sent Johnny up with a note this morning, and he brought it back unopened. The janitor had orders not to let any one up to see Van Beck." "Well?" queried Leighton, patiently. "Well, what shall I do? I'd go up and haul him out of bed myself, if I could, but I can't. Chapman's away, and I've | got to stay here in the otfice. There's no use sending any more boys up. Suppose we throw out Forbes's story, and putin that article on toadstools — isn't this the toadstool season?" "Kot, Mac," retorted Leighton. "You I know we can't throw out Forbes, j I'd rather print the story without the : Illustration. But can't we get a hook on Von Beck some way ? He ought to be able to finish the drawing in : bed." "Of course," answered Mac, "if any- j body could go up there and pound the importance of it into his Dutch head." j Leighton looked with a pained ex- | pression at Mac, and then gazed j thoughtfully out of the window. A 1 gentle breeze was shaking the leaves of the potted geraniums on the tene ment fire-escape across the way. "You are not very busy this after noon, are you, old fellow?" resumed Mac, persuasively. "Nothing but manuscripts," an- j swered Leighton, turning from the geraniums. "Why can't you chase up to Von Beck's? You could take a batch of that stuff along with you, and read it on the elevated." Leighton turned in his chair, and asked: "Where does Von Beck live?" "Ninety-something street," said Mac, with alacrity. "I'll find out," and he rushed, shouting for his stenogra pher, down the little passage that led to his own department. Leighton sighed and picked up a pile of long, thin envelopes. He snapped a heavy rubber band around them, put on his coat, and, taking his straw hat. strolled out into the hallway, where Mac was fuming and expostulating with a weary looking young woman ■who had spent two minutes of vain search for Von Beck's address among the B's. Then Mac seized tho book himself, and scrawled the house and street number on a piece of paper. Leighton walked slowly through the narrow streets and across the City Hall park to the elevated railroad station, ami ensconced himself by an open window, In tno of the double seats of the rear car of the train. It was comparatively early in the after noon, and there wire few other pas sengers. He pulled out an envelope, opened the manuscript, and set to • work reading slow ly, unconscious of his surroundings. As he finished his study of each contribution, lie made a cabalistic mark upon the envelope, for the benefit of his clerk, and re placed it in the bundle on his lap. As the train drew uptown, the cars filled slowly anil finally at Fourteenth street some one took the seat next to Leighton. lio inerelv glanced in that direction, saw that it was a voung wuman lu a pink shlrt waT.-t and a sailor hat, moved a little closer to bis window, and proceeded with the reading of tho story that her approacn had interrupted, it was evidently not to his taste, lor he soon hciian glanc ing rapidly over the lust few type written pages, then folded the paper, marked the envelope and started on the next. He was conscious of the (act that his neighbor was stealing furitlve glances ov-r his shoulder, but this did uot annoy him she was welcome to such Information as her curiosity might acquire from his rupld turning of the pages, lie read steadily and scratched here and tin-re with his blue pencil, and looked occasionally out ut the wludow to keep bis bearings. lie disposed of Ntiveral articles ou sclentitlu and social subjects, which did uot seem to Interest his neighbor very much, fur she turned to 10-r afternoon paper, but Whell he picked up the only blue envelope lu the pack, addressed lu a heavy, rectangular hand, lie noticed that she folded the* "extra'' into u tight roll, and assumed a position so erect that she could easily look over his shoulder onto the page lu his hand These thlllKS he remembered afterward. At the time he was merely conscious of a i light Jarring against bis elbow. The manuscript was neatly typewrit ten. and be tinned to It with ple.nnre, alter the strain of dei IpherlUM thai |a»t essay on "Ksoterlu Buddhism." It was a love story, and he smiled un consciously at the conventional way in which It opened. His neighbor moved distinctly closer to him, with ;i kind of little jump. lie turned his head slightly, and she looked quickly out of the window on the far side of the car. Lelghton proceeded. It was about a man and a woman who had not seen each other for many years; they had loved in the early day, and the man was now trying to pick up the lost threads—"to rekindle the old Are." Lelghton again smiled when he came to that expression, and as he paused on the paragraph he was dis tinctly conscious that his neighbor's weight was largely resting on his left shoulder. He stole a glance out of the corner of his eye, and made sure that she was intensely interested in hla manuscript. Ho wondered why. It was a poor story, as stories go; he had no Idea of accepting it. It was decidedly below tha average in plot and construction; yet there was something in the style that he liked. He thought tho author might do better work after a time. All these ideas flashed through his editorial mind as he read. He knew he was not Interested in the story, and under ordinary circumstances he would have skimmed rapidly over the remaining pages; but he was strangely conscious that his neighbor was ab sorbed in It, and it occurred to him to let her read it through. If she was Interested mit, why would not the average reader be interested like wise? He wondered if the average reader really did enjoy that kind of sentimental, almost maudlin, rubbish. Seventy-five percent of magazine readers are women, he argued, and here was a woman who might be con sidered to represent the tastes of that 75 percent. Leighton, therefore, de termined to try the story on the dog, and, turning the pages slowly, he notiJ his neighbor's interest. Now that he was alert ho could feel her every move. She leaned forward, or sat erect, as the mild intricacies of the plot unwound themselves. At one point a very respectable old joke, which had been put into the hero's mouth, brought a smile of recog nition to Leighton's lips, and he saw in the mirror, across the car, that the young woman positively beamed, and even seemed to color. He made a mental note about old jokes in general. The sentimentalism grew more intense as the pages turned, the lover pleaded, the woman spurned him, the moon came up, soft strains of music "flitted across the silent air," and the young woman in the pink waist gripped her' newspaper, caught her breath and turned almost half around toward Leighton. He sur mised that she had read faster than he, and was watching to note the effect upon hfm of that last chaotic, heartrendering paragraph. He folded the manuscript slowly, conscious as he did no that tiie weight on his left shoulder was gradually re moved. He made some hieroglyphics on the back of tho envelope, and as he did so the guard shoute i his station from the doorway. Leighton gathered up his papers, rose, stole a quick glance at his neighbor, and started for the door just as the train pulled into the btation. Ho had seen that the girl was not bad looking, and her ryes shone with suppressed excite ment. Leighton began to doubt his editorial judgment, and. as he walked toward the stairway, ho determined to seek another opinion ou that story. Just then some one laid a hand on his arm, and he turned to find him self face to face with the young woman of the car. She was blushing, but she looked up at him with an air of quiet determination. "I beg >out pardon," she began, "I hope you will not think me too pre suming, but 1 simply could not help speaking t» you, 1 could not miss the opportunity. 1 saw you reading the story, and 1 felt 1 must ask you about it." These words were rattled out as fast as she could speak thein. She paused, breathless. Leighton smiled. "What is it that 1 can tell you about the story?" he asked. "To be perfect ly frank, I noticed }oti were Interested in it on the train. Perhaps you will questions for me, too," and he led the way to one of the benches ou the platform and asked her to sit down. "1 hope you did not think I was dreadful rude to look over your shout dt r that way," she began, "but " "Not at all,'' laughed Leighton. "That was natural. It was entirely pardonable." "Yes, it was." she said, "because 1 am Miss Ida Barker." I.eightoit looked at her with a pleasant but perfectly blank ex pression. He did not see the coiitin - tton. He had never heard of Mies Darker. He felt for a moment as If lie our, lit *" base kuowu at once who Miss Marker was. The young woman looked at him as if she, too, felt ihui he ought to have known. If she hud said she was the Duchess of Murl borough, ur tie* president of th>* W. C". T. U., she would have offered bliu some ground on which to base ain HI mil uu derstanulna. but the name Barker conveyed absolutely noiblug to I I iKhtoli. Besides he wus lu a liurry to nnd Von B< >k. lie was alMiut to tell Miss darker that lie was pleaded to meet her, when she re suiued! ' Will you tall m« what you reall." tbiuk of the story?" ""1 hat's Just what 1 should like to have you toll me," he replied. "But what good would that do?" she asked. "What difference does it make what I thintc of my own story?" "Your story?" exclaimed Lelgiiton. "Yes, my story. I just told you I was Miss Barker." Leighton stared at her for a mo ment; then a great light burst upon him. He jerked the blue envelope out of the package, opened the manu script quickly and saw written across the top of it Miss Barker's full name and address. He colored slightly, aud said: "I had not connected you with the story at all. Miss Barker. In fact, this is the first time I have looked at the author's name. How very odd that you should lave caught me in the act of reading it." Then, with a smile, "Do you think It is altogether fair to hold up a defenseless editor in this way?" "I suppose not," she admitted, "but I thought if you did not want the story, you could give it back to rue now, and that would save you the trouble of mailing it and of writing me one of your complimentary little fibs. Besides, it is not often that one gets a real live editor into one's hands, just fresh from one's own manuscript." "Very true," said Leighton, look ing vacantly at the blue envelope. His confidence in his editorial judg ment was returning. He felt better. Miss Barker, afte-* all, was not, as lie had imagined, a representative of the great class of magazine readers. She had turned out to be the most prejudiced audience he could have had. He gave a little sigh of relief. "It is not usually a profitable under taking," he began, "to tell an author, especially a woman, the truth about her literary work; but if you will assume the responsibility, I will tell you honestly wheiein lie the faults and the merits of your story." "I will assume the entire responsi bility," she replied, eagerly, "and con sider it a privilege." "Very well, then," said Leighton, and he at once proceeded to give Miss Barker a little impromptu lecture on the art of story writing. He was earnest and forceful in his manner, and she listened attentively. She did not like some of the things he said about her work, but she could see that they might De true. He praised what he had liked in her story, even more than it deserved, and then ho gave her a few words of advice on her future work. "Don't be too ambitious," he said. "Leave to others to write about heroes and heroines who love and die. Write of what you know about, and see before you. Remember that there is force in simplicity. Don't lay the color on too thick. Tell your little tale, and the color will find its way in of itself. You have no idea how many people, all over the coun try, are cudgelling their brains for intricate plots, when they would add vastly to the wealth of literature if they would only write of the simple things they see before them. Believe me, you can make a better story out of w hat you yourself have been doing to-day than you can with the antics of two love-sick puppets of your im agination. Gather your material, so far as you i an, from real life; then dress it to suit your fancy. Yet don't git confounded by that old fallacy that fact is stranger than Action. It is not. The startling stories served up to us as facts are the ones most cleverly coated with fiction. Use your imagination, but don't let your imagination use you. If you are go iug to tell me the story of the day's events, pick out tho salient points, and make them a trifle more prom inent by a little justifiable exaggera tion. Just as an actor is made up with paint for the glare of tin- foot lights, so should fact br> assisted by fiction before it is submitted to the light of public scrutiny." Leighton feared he might be grow- Tug eloquent, and broke off his lecture abruptly, lie slid the manuscript into the blue envelope," and handed it to Miss Barker. Then he rose and said he must go. She thanked him and hoped sh> bad not taken too much of his time; but she felt as she spoke that her manner was affected and distant. She was not thinking of Leigh ton she was thinking of what lie hail said. He put her on a train. Then he hastened for tho dilatory Von Beck. About two weeks later anotßer long blue envelope found its way t<> Leigh ton's desk. lie recognised the hand wrtttng on It and rlppe I It open, ex pec ting to lind a revision of the love story. But the manuscript bore a dif f< rent title. A little note slipped out of its folds; "Dear Mr. Leighton: "I have followed your advice about writing of things 1 know aud have i een. I have accepted your sugges lion about using the events of one of my own days. IVrhaps you will re no in be r iho dav. "Blncerely tours, "IDA HAItK Kit.' Except for the introduction and a few corrections by the ulltor, this is the story- New York Independent. Ilusr Arm* l's|>lur..<l by Otis Sinn, Perhaps one of the iicaiest and pluckiest acts done In the South Afrl cm war was that performed by Oapt 1 .amhurt, when he entered Klerks dorp, the original capital of tb- Trans vaal, and Induced a g.-u.-nil and 'hhi men lay down their aruts to him. lie was entirely unarmed and ouprotcci 1.1 and arrived with only s stick and a suiti" to lake the town. After lengthy it 4>>ttaitoti» he, by consummate tact, pei uaded the coiumauduiit and tb« liieddiosi to surrender, which they did. Iti was Inundated with letters of ihiii sratulatlou front many tilth.•r.c Includ ing laird Huberts. Black uud Wthle, Girls' Schools in France. Since 1880 68 colleges for girls have been established in France. Before that time there were no municipally supported schools for the higher edu cation of girls. Of the G8 institutions 48 are lyceums and 28 are colleges. The lyceums all take day pupils, and there were 8431 enrolled last year. The colleges had 3593 pupils. Girls of the wealthier fmilies still are educated in convents, however, as being most ex clusive. Socliets in Frocks. Let me remind you that there Is hardly anything which so aids a dainty toilet as a faint and elusive perfume. This can be easily obtained by making large satchets to be laid in one's frocks while they are not in use. or, better still, satchet powder may be used in the lining of the bodices and also about the edge of skirts for housewear, which gives a most delightful result. Floral leaves for perfuming the bath give a fragrance to the skin for hours after using.—Vogue. New Feather Bonn. There is an entirely new departure In feather boas. The new boa is a sort of mixed affair, like all fashionable furs and neck trimmings this year. The upper section is made of the or thodox ostrich feathers, but this only reaches about to the bust, and from there down the boa is subdivided into a mass of tails of irregular length. These are made of short pin feathers from the breast or stomach of the bird and are ornamented at the ends with feather balls and tassels. Sometimes a black ostrich boa is trimmed with green and black cock's feathc-rs. Gray is still the favorite color, but a new shade of russet promises to be much worn with the stylish castor and "cafe au lait" gowns. Fantastic Fancies. Alglon belts are of colored lather, green, blue, gray, scarlet, yellow cr lilac, in suede, morocco, aim oihor leathers. They have wide buckles of leather set In frames of brass or silver, finely chased and chiselled. Myrtle and laurel leaves and the eagle's head between outstretched wings are the usual decoration. Sarah Bernhardt wears one of these ceintures —ceintures are a fad of Sarah, and she wears them invariably low in front to accentuate her lithe, slender figure. A luxuriously useful trifle is a deer skin reticule, with initials of the wearer wrought in pearls, coral, dia monds or turquoises. The perfume shops have a new freak. Knots of flowers are tied with ribbons of the same color to the necks of the flasks of the perfume, *o Indicate the contents. Violets, heliotrope, lily-of the-valley, etc.. makj very orr.am ntal labels. —New York Commercial Ad vertiser. C'ttHivat lng \ttract I vcn«*s«. A woman can make or mar her at tractiveness. She can. by an utter dis regard of hygienic laws, and a neglect of toilet accessories, lore entirely that charnt of face and form that nature ob viously intended should be hers. It will do no wornun harm to know that a few drops of soothing lotion will transform a pair of rough hands 11<> soft, white ones; that systematic care of tho complexion will keep It smooth and ward off wrinkles, and that an eagerness to read clever books and to know things. and .t lively inten st in the current events of the day will brighten the eyes as nothing else can, except it be the sympathy <■! th<' man she loves. The woman possessing this knowledge is far more charming and attractive than sho in whose path no beautifying whims have ever come. And the woman who applies this knowledge is the one who will develop Into the entertaining, Interesting grandmother of the next gent ration, as dainty and as youthful as was the mother of the past generation. Collar Trimming*. Cloak anil cn.it collar are very much trimmed on the Inside v.ith shirred silks. The sliiri'lnga have tuck so as to give them a full aud becoming surface, ami Increase the collar wraruth, also. This suggests at on< ' a desirable way to render tin- tollnr of a rape ~r coat needing to !><• furbinht'd up a bit. It Is also a serviceable idea to copy the new high collars, which have He novelty of ha\ing one part linpo.-od upon the other iu this way. Instead ol the high collar in one piece that we are familiar with, the first collar Is only abt .t half It - for iner height, but a fitted flaring upp< r section is added, as the lilted bottom tiouuc i Is added to a skirt on the wry tame principle. ThU upper part of the collar t* ruche.l on the nliit . mid sometimes has s double silk ruHI - -t.Hiding up oil lh« edge of which there Is some other nar row edge trimming. This all makes for a high, dri-i»y fi ini!ug-lu of tin face. and Is most comfortable during our whiter winds, N«w Willis* lilt Is. A stylish hat ha* a crumpled crown of nhrtiup pink r.diolr velvet, und a brim llued with the mine, with a flat rosette ranting on tht- hair on the left side, wlieie It Is caught with a paste buckle. The edge of tl e brim Is drapetf with bla. k chlfT i-> embroidered with Ma k chenille, and long Ida. k ospieys cm iv uur the hr . a . .ili.a . An exquisite picture hat Is made ot. black velvet, trimmed with long blacli ostrich feathers of the finest quality, and black moire antique ribbon. The brim is edged with gathered velvet, and is bent into the most becoming curves. In the centre there are aig rets of ostrich feather, and the moire ribbons are folded round the crown. A toque has the new fiat crown of folded chiffon to match the sable brim in color, and it is covered with ecru lace in raised design of rose petals. The scalloped edge of the design wraps over onto the fur. At the back there is a scarf of chiffon, with sable tails on the ends, which hang over onto the hair at the back, and in front there is a long gilt buckle, set with black crystals. A Woman** Duck Farm. The chicken farm is a thoroughly ex ploited occupation for women, but the duck farm has the comparative merit of novelty. Miss Frances E. Wheeler, of a little town in New York state, is the proprietor of the farm, and finds it a paying investment. Miss Wheeler was a stenographer, but too steady work at the typewrit er caused her hands to become dis abled for some time, and it became nec essary to do something else. The little home near Lake Champlain was on the banks of a tiny river; and not far away was a large summer-resort. Dis covering that tho hotel found it diffi cult to procure fancy ducklings, Miss Wheeler saw her opportunity, aud in stalled an artificial incubator. Tho first season 300 ducklings were sup plied to the summer resort. This sea son more than 1200 have been sold. The present "plant" comprises three incubators, each of 300 eggs capacity. Miss Wheeler has done much of the work herself, having only one man to help her, and attends to all business details. The ducks are fed with such cleanliness and special care that they command fancy prices because of their superior flavor. Maniml Training for Girts. A girl may begin to study manual training after the excellent kitchen garden system: she will enjoy the set ting of tiny tablesand the hangingout of dolls' washing, and the making of little beds, and at the same time she will be learning neatness and order, accuracy of touch, and a dainty way of doing housework. Sewing, too, that discipline through which every girl must pass, may be redeemed from drudgery, and made a pastime if it is regarded as a part of an education in handicraft, and taught so as to awaken an interest in it. The old way used to be to set a girl a daily task of a seam; later, to teach her to cut out and make garments for herself of stiff muslin, which she usually moistened with her tears. Today a teacher is found who gathers a little group of children and gives them regular lessons ; hemming is done on one square of cloth, back stitching on another, and overcasting on a third. To make button-holes, even, in company, robs them of half their terrors. It is not so important that a child should know how to mako garments as how to sew. If she knows that, the making will come Inter. But it should never be forgot ten that sowing ns not the only form of handicraft with which a girl should be familiar. She, like the boy, should learn to make things of wood and leather and metal for the development of both head and hands. —Harper's Bazar. How to I The very latest idea is to dress to suit the furniture in > our room—or. vice versa, to furnish your rooms, to harmonize with your dresses. Thus, if your drawing-room is decorated in shades ol rose, your gowns for home wear must bo in similar shades. Whether we are to refurnish our rooms when we want to change the color of our gowns. Dame Fashion does not :ay. But anything for novelty, no matter what the cost ! I nti 1 a woman reaches the age of 30 she may wear just what she pleases in regard to colors, style, ami shape of Raiments. After that ago she must be more car (til. and give a little thought to her cotnph xlon and figure before de ciding upon her gowns. After 40 still more judgment I needed, especially in colors. W. II preserved women who tl. Ire to look young mako a mistake when they array themselves in bright col.us iu the daytime. At night vivid tint.- may not be unbecoming, but worn iu the sunlight they accentuate every mark of age. Nature t. aches us a lesson In color Which It would I*' well for us to heed, in early youth, the light soft tints of i-prliu-; in tarly womanhood the glow- Ing hues of summer; In autumn, rich, dark tones; In winter the pure white aud gray shades that mc In perfect h«rmon> with old uge. Few people relegate black to Its proper place In feminine attire. It., adoption Is prop erly supiHiscd to be specially suited to the chill ly, Ol those past the bloom of youth. '«his Is a mistake. Only worn i. dill In the glory ot fresh flesh tlutn look their best In black Those who at.- !•:« * should avoid It as much as possible or cover It with creamy lace. This, of course, does not apnlv lo the Dri ideu shepherdeaa type of lady, whose delicate colorlugand snow-white curia are thrown lutu relief by the somber hue of rich I lack satin or stiff brocade, with Its softening uec.unpanl nu ut of lap< ts and licliu of houltou or Venice point. Ala ' that nowadays tht.i poor oUi lady should be so rate ! Trenton tN J.) American. •itvv I M«r Ilio 11tmIlls, "Do I make myself plain?" asked the angular lecturer on "Woman's Itlghls," stopping In the middle of her discourse. •'You don't have |»», mum." replied a voir.i from »h« rear, "t'rovldeiicu done it for V4 l"ng ago,"- I'll kM' Up. iHE GREAT DESTROYER SOME STARTLING FACTS ABODT, THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE. XIIB Half-Loaf Bnslneail—A Man Who H»» Made u Profound Study of tlie Awful Curse of America Tulles In Prophetic Vein of the Saloon's Future.; You say that a half-loaf is better than none. If the loaf is good bread I with you agree; But if it is moldy and rotten. I own I would rather have none—no garbage for inc. You say I am foolish, just wasting my votes; Prohibition is right, but never can win; No matter, my friends, I can't vote with the "goats," Can't throw in my vote to regulate sin. The half-loaf you mean is a high-license fee; You half-loaf, dear friend, is a whole loaf of sin; 'Tis a bribe for n.y vote, an insult to me— I will vote for the right whatever may win. Your precious half-loa. is tainted with blood; To choose it would pro-, e me a Judas, indeed; For why should a Christian choose poison ous food? Why with rum-selling foes so sweetly agree? The "toughs'" and their iriends, the "half loaves" who pray, Bribed by high license to legalize crime, They cause prohibition vexatious delay. But the righ'. shall prevail in fulness of time. But shall I have nothing 101? voting the right? Yes; conscience will smile and God will approve: Faith whispers to me, ' You will help win the fight, And angels will count your white l,al lots above.' If you who Profess to follow our Lord Will refuse to be bribed with office and gold, Will vote for the right with perfect ac cord, The saloons will be closed—no rum will be sold. —Rev A. Smith, in Temperance Banner A Prediction as to the Saloon. William T Wardwell, the leader of the Prohibition party, in New York State, said recently "7 think I need make no apology for introducing the liquor question at a serv ice of this kind. While the churehec are taking one man out of the gutter. th 2 saloons are putting half a dozen into It As - passed along Second avenue just now, 1 noticed that the saloons were lighten up .. greai. deal more brightly than the churches along the way. "In one respect, too. the liquor liar... ppears to be gaining groun 1 in recent years. At fashionable receptions it is urprising to see how many women, and oven young r rls. are to be seen drinking The caterers nowadays, in providing fot receptions, have to estimate how much 'vine is needed for both sexes—formerly they only had to estimate on the number of men who were to be present. "I have faith to believe that this will not always be. At Nuremberg there is a museum tilled with instruments of torture knives. racks, thumbscrews, and th : vest. These terrible instrument ; wore all , isert once on quivering, agonized men and vojnen. We look at them in awe. and arc thankful that we live in a different age. We wonder, too, how men could ev r have been so brutalized as to inflict such nwftil suffering as came from the me of those cruel mechanisms. 'Ami so, it seems to me. there will be, ■ some future age. a museum to illustra the present power of the saloon. There will ha a gilded barroom, with half-drunk '•:i men leanii-g against the bar, and spend ing their week's wages. There will be tna homes of those men bare of every comfort, th<> pawnshop where their wives pawn their very clothes to secure bread for the children that their husbands regleet. There will be the hospital, the almshouse, the jail a veritable chamber of horrors. 1 cannot tell whether this will come about in my day.for I am an old niau now, but 1 believe it will come " Stop Ht'foro You Herein. Rev. John McNeill, the noted Scotch clergyman, says he atnpped drinking be fort 4 he began. That ia the right time to stop, and his te« cot alism has carried him around the world and enabled hint to do a great amount of work. In an excellent speech before the immense gathering oi Christian Kndeavorer* iu London, land, he ha id' M A man may have all the grace between Aiere an I glory, but he had better leave drink alone, Cirace will enable you to keep that tiling outbid** of you. The mo ment you take it.l do not eare if you were the archbishop or a bishop, o:* .1 canon, or a hamble I'reMhytermn likt »nc when once it goes down, the drink uevir hay*, 'Ah, now 1 have come into the in terior of a godly Christlan man, and I'd better heliave m>*eltV It will ju*t behave itself the same way as when it goes into the interior of a coal heaver, where it a likely to IK* at iu worst." A Short mn«l l>t*clslv«< Alcoholic gtitiiutttrj ' That alcohol, habitually lined, can oi tueif produce disease from which the ab stainer is exempt. 'J That it will aggravate difcuscH to which ail ure liable. 3. That a reuders thos? who habits* ally use it moiv open to attack* of vari ous forms of iliuc**. 4. That the aleoholist lias a worw chance of recover* from a level or a.i iu jury than the ob* tamer. It tin ,v | 1 -positions are established tho eat>• stand* thus: That there i> slwav < risk in the u»e ol alcoholic li pun bat thiii risk is eutirely absent in th ». who abstain I itltoupt 1 Auc«- In Itossl*, The tiiivc:nuiciit is displaying grea* .»• .rest in the temperance movement The Minister ot Justice has transmitted to th » com mi MI on appoint d to reform the penal code a proposition* emanating Iron th« National Hygienic Society to I ivibly Re tain tuiidrmed inebriates 11 ht>*p*la!« 'flic ( ru»«i|v In |lrl««r« -tiding iirmii-4 and ' standing dr*ftg* are notli evils "The only thing * regret," -aid a friend htt other day, "is that reeneet lot absurd old conventions and Irsuitions, aad a fool i» h feat* of giving offence makes moral to war da ul so irauy total a bat suae re." 1 he Christian iUiuUciij m.u editorially * I 'here are tt (ill UUU more total abstainers i day than fifty years ago, and >ct th re are twenty per i«nl m«»re drinkers That 'he in l , position ot th« t>iii!H-iai 11 use ,u«t in *■ Mr I tan it old h'a* k »«• couit-s for this appaieii' eontr» ii* lion the g i'%4. v Itiv'liasv 14 |lV|^4b.|W||'
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers