mn.
SONG, |
Feason of ripened gold,
Plenty in crib and fold,
Skies with a depth untold.
Far like the smile of God,
See how the golden-rod
. Ripples and tossas!
. Yonder, a crimson vine
: Trails from a bearded pine.
. Thin as a thread of wins
Staining the mosses
Bright ‘neath the morning blus
Sparkles the frosted dew,
; Gemslike and starry.
Hark! how the partridge cock
Pipes to his scattered flock,
Mindiul how swift the hawk
Darts on his quarry.
Ho! for the keen, sweet air,
© Ho! now for rambles rare,
Single and double!
. How like a millstream runs
Like 'neath these frosts and
Crisp as the echoing guns
Down in the stubble!
: Autumn is here again—
. Banners on hillani plain
Blazing and flying.
- IZail to the amber morn,
“Hail to the heapad-up corn,
* ‘Hail to the hunter's horn,
Swelling and dying} "
—James Buckham, in Youth's Companion.
the rvear of
grace 1856 a bar-
opet of mature
years was married
Ne with much pomp
EN and ceremony at
g St. George’s, Han-
A 7) over Square, The
od He \ ats had been
arranged a few weeks before, and had
come with something of a surprise to the
bridezroom'’s large circle of acquaint-
ances.
**Have you heard about Stanhope?"
asked one. : :
“*No. What about him?” asked an.
other.
He's going to be married.” :
$¢Married? Stanhope? Never.”
siFact, 1 assure you.” Say
¢But to whom?! Pn.
“Oh! Some little parson’s daughter.
out in the country, nobody ever heard of
before,” was: the reply. ‘She's not
twenty, I'm told.”
“But Stanhope must be fifty.”
¢Eight-and-forty last month,” said
‘the first mao, casually. ¢I' happen to
know, for his age came under my no- |
tice only yesterday.”
“Bless my soul—it'sincredible! Stan-
~ aope going to be married to a young
girl under tweaty that nobody ever
Heard of. Really, it's preposterous,”
and away he went to spread the news
he had received with suca consternation,
with an even more casuil air than his
informant had shown. about the. latest
Lit of gossip...
And the latest bit of gossip turned out
. to be perfectly true.” Sir Heary Stan-
- hope, grave and learned statesman that
he was, rich, powerful and apparently a
confirmed old bachelor, who ‘had been
_ for years the hope and afterward despair
of all the mothers in England who were
of a class to expect to secure Cabinet
Ministers as their sons-in-law, had
actuslly gone down in the country on a
visit not unconnected with politics, and
‘had fallan a victim at eight-and-forty
years old to the charms of a country
_parson’s daughter, who had never been
to London in her life, and who did not,
moreover, care a button about him. But
i: she was very pretty, very graceful, and
‘had been what 1s called very well bought
mp; that is to say, with the strictest
possible ideas of duty and obedience.
+ There had been in pretty Dorris Kev-
estan’s young life a certain touch of
romance; some tender and altogether
idyllic love passages between her and
one Norman Dare, a handsome and dar-
ing lad of a little more than a year
older than herself, who had come to
read up for the army with her father's
curate.
Mr. Kevestan, however, was in no-
wise touched by the tenderness of this
idyllic attachment when .it came to his
ears, as it very soon did, but promptly
took vigorous means to put an end to it.
Miss Kevestan was forbidden to leave her
room while the dangerous young man
remained in the neighborhood. To be
sure, that was not very long, for the vicar
took a hurried run up to town and had a
short interview with Norman Dare's
father, the immediate result being that
that young gentleman reeeived instruc-
tions to leave his tutor at Wetheryl and
take up his quarters quite a hundred
wiles away.
Thus the lovers were separated. Doris
_aever dreamed, well-brought-up little
girl that she was, that in the matter of
affection she was more vitally concerned
shan her father could possibly be, She
:éceived one last heart-token letter from
Norman, bezging : her to be faithful and
true to him, and she sent him a reply by
the same means as she had received his—
a reply which, unfortunately; her reverend
parent happened to get hold of, and
which naturally, never reached the des-
tination for which it was intended. And
30 her girlish romance came to an end,
and for years—two of them, as a matter
of fact—she never heard word or sign to:
lead her toimagine that Norman Dare
bad not utterly forgotten her.
So when she was nineteen, and the
great Cabinet Minister, Sir Henry Stan-
hope, came down from Londoa to stay a
day or two at Wetheryl Court, and, to
‘the delight of her reverend father and
the utter - astonishment of the whole
neighborhood, was taken svith a fancy
that Miss Doris Kevestan’s * blue ‘eyes
were the prettiest of their kind, or for
the metter. of that, of any other kind
that he had ever seen in all nis eight.
. - and-forty years of life, no question was
ever rod as to whether ahc would ac:
per “
cept the brilliant marriage that was of-
{ fered to her or not.
4 Everything was managed in quite the
orthodox, old fashioned way. Sir Henry
{conveyed his wishes to the reverend
If papa, and papa sent for Doris into his
: study, where she went in fear and trem-
{ bling, expecting to get a wigging for
some mistiemeanor she had unthinkingly
1 committed. :
“I gent for you, Doris,” said Mr.
'} Kevestan, in quite a new tone, which
Doris did not understand at all—a tone
‘} in which the usual severity of his pater-
nal manner was distinctly tempered by
respect for the future Lady Stanhope.
“But you had better sit down, my dear;
‘| sit down.”
Now all this was quite new to Doris;
+4 that she; the young person in whom the
old Adam wasso unfortunately strong,
the special trial and anxiety of her fa-
ther's closing years—she who at least
:] once in each month of the year ran a
.| near chance of bringing his gray hair;
,} in sorrow to the grave—that she should
-{ for no apparent reason be asked, as po-
litely as he would ask the lady of the
i} Court herself, to sit down 1a that sacred
1 room, it was—well, it took her breath
§ AWAY, ‘
But she sat down on the. least: com-
i fortable carir she could find, and said:
1 “Yes, papa,” in a weak voice of wonder.
Papa cleared his throat by a discreet
little cough.
“The fact is, Doris, my dear,” he said,
in a tone of much satisfaction, *‘the
fact is I have a great piece of news for
you.” 1
“Are they going to make yous bishop,
.| papa?” cried Doris, responding to the
kind tone as a rosebud responds to the
warm sunshine.
.#*Not at the present that I know ot,”
returned the vicar, not displeased that
dis young daughter's first thought
should be of advancement for him.
t*No, the news entirely concerns your:
self.” /
« $Me!" cried Doris.
‘Sir Henry Stanhope” —the words
came out each with their full value—
‘thas been to see me this morning, and
he does us both the honor to propose for
you.” :
“For me-—~to marry mel”
Doris, X
¢To marty you,” returned papa, in a
tone so redolent of satisfaction and pride
that the girl knew her fate wag sealed.
She sat for a moment staring blankly
at her father, blankly acd blindly, for
she did not see him. Instead there
flouted before her eyes the vision of a
young boyish face, the upper lip scarcely
shaded as ‘yet, the sunny hair all in con-
fusion the gray eyes dancing with light
cried
”»
and love, | re
“Well?” said the vicar.
“He is very old,” faltered Doris ner-
vously. : ;
“Not at all. He is just eight-and-
forty, in the very prime of his life.”
She wanted to marry Norman Dare, but
she did not venture to say so.
“But he is-a great deal older than I
mn,” she persisted.
«+He will be all the better able to take
care of you,’ said the vicar.
s‘He's so stout,” murmurred Doris,
after a pause.
Sir Henry has a remarkably fine pres-
euce,’”’ said the vicar, relapsing into his
old manner bf severity.
¢‘But—but T don't even know him—
at least, scarcely at all,” she burst out,
with a last feeble ctfort: to assert her-
self.
‘That is a matter which Sir Heory
and time will soon remedy,” replied the
vicar, rising from his chair, *‘Pray, my
dear, let us have no arguments about it.
- You have had a great honor conferred
upon you, and you are about to make a
very brilliant marriaje—far more bril-
liant than I ever hoped you would make,
or than— I do not wish to pain you,
Doris, but I'am in justice compelled to
say that your own deceitful past deserves.
You have been greatly blessed, Doris,
and I trust,” he went on, lapsing from
the severe and worldly ‘parent to the
more pious style, which he found most
effective in the parish, ‘‘that you will be
grateful to the good and all-wise Prov-
idence which has forriven the past an |
cast your lines into pleasant and pros-
perous places. Stay here a few moments,
my dear.’’
He went out of the room and closed
the door behind him, and Doris was left
to face the awfill facts of her future
alone. Poor child, what a mockery his
last words had been to her. *‘Pleasant
and prosperous places”—places in which
there could be no Norman Dare, no fun,
no life, no anything put a dreadful un-
known and very tiresome Bir Henry
Stanhope.
And after that Sir Henry came in and
drew her on to the sofa, where she sat, a
poor, little, trembling, shivering slip of
a girl, while he made lukewarm sort of
love in a ponderous and unaccustomed
way, such as brought back her brave
young hot-headed sweetheart to ber
mind, and almost made her screams with
a mingling. of real agony and genuine
laughter as her thouchts contrasted the
two. And by-and-by her father came
back again, and blessing them both, and
choked a little, and dashed away some-
thing from his eyes with his hand, very
much to Doris's astonishment,
Thus the cngagement became an ac-
complished fact. The news soon spread
through the neighborhood, and the lady
of the Court came down, as she ten-
derly put it, to offer her help and un-
dertake those offices which Doris’s dead
and gone mother would have performed
had she still been living——to take the
child up to town at once to present
her at the last drawing room of the sea-
son-—so that the following year Lady
Stanhope might be presented +‘‘on her
marriage’ to superintend the choice of
a proper and suitable trousscau for the
wirl bride of a Cabinet Minister, and,
in short, to get as much ‘‘kudos” out
of Doris as if Sir Henry had been mar-
rying her daughter instead of Doris
Kevestan.
‘And when once matters were fairly
‘get in train, ‘there was but little delay.
| Doris had her choice of everything—
{ except her husband. The great Stan.
hope diamonds
slender hands, that Norman Dare had
loved and kissed ‘two: years ‘before,
were loaded now with costly jewels.
She went to shops day after day with
Tidy Wetheryl, and spent & fortune in
silks and laces and furs; day after day
Sir Henty came and spent such time as
he could Seal from his parliamentary
uties with her, bringing ies
and baskets of onc at as of
jewelry, such as she had never before
dreamed of; and past all this whirl of
spleador time went swiftly and relent
lessly on, and in six weeks from the
time of that momentous interview in her
father's study she became Sir Henry
Stanhope’s wife. © : :
I do not know that after the first
shock of being suddenly thrown into an
entirely new life was over that she was
least. Jo i et :
In those days le had long honey:
moons, and A em Sir Honey was,
owing to pressure of work, usable to re-
main very long in seclusion, he was yet
free to take a honoymoon holiday such
as now-a-days would be considered pre-
posterous. : :
They had a castle in bonnie Scotland
lent to them by a noble duke, aud there
they spent three weeks by themselves,
and as a true and faithrul chronicler 1
must admit that several times Sir Henry
yawned wearily. during the last week,
and finally with an excuse about im-
portant papers, shut himself up in the
library, leaving poor little Lady Stan-
hope staring out of the window, saying
in her heart, ‘lf life is going to be all
like this, 1 hope and pray it wont be
long.” : :
Well, at the end ot three weeks they
went a round of country visits, and thea:
went to Sir Henry's owa place in Devon-
shire, where they entertained a select
party, and afterward Lady Stanhope
went to town, while Sir Henry did his
turn of attendance upon his sovereign —
and from that day they neverspent three
wecks—aye, and hardly three days—
alone together again. Ce
They got on very well—very well,
indeed. = Sir Henry was very mucho en-
grossed by his duties as a Cabiaet Min-
inster—Doris by hers as a woman of
fashion, which, like most womsn who
have the chance of becoming such, she
very quickly became: and if ever a
thought of Norman Dare came to dis-
turb her, Sir Henry was never any the
wiser tor it. ; 2
And in due time there came a babe(to
the house—a son and heir.
“I should like him to be called Nor-
man,” said Lady Stanhope, the first time
Sir Henry was allowed to enter her room.
Sir Henry looked more than doubtful,
My dear,” he said, kindly, *‘I am
sorry to seem so against you, but I must
remind - you that I am the fourteenth
Henry Ughtred Stanbope in the direct
line, and that it will be doing the child
a positive injury if we do not make him
the fifteenth.”
“But I should like to call Norman
alter .the other two names,” persisted
Doris, who had become very fond of
her own way since leaving the rather
stiff and rigid nest at Wetheryl.
‘We have always called all the cbil-
dren by their mother’s surpame, im-
mediately before the family name,” said
Sir Henry. “For instance, I am Bir
Henry Ughtred Power Stanhope.”
“Then we will call him Henry Ughired
Norman Keyestan Stanhope,” said his
mother, smoothing the babe’s fluffy head
with her weak fingers.
So the heir of the Stanhopes: was duly
registered and christened ‘Henry Ugzh-
tred Norman Keyestan Stanhope,” and
the initials thereof spelled “Hunks.”
Mr. Kevestan was a little curious adout
the matter. **My dear,” he said blandly,
‘the child’s first and last names are in-
telligible enough—but why Norman?”
“I had a fancy for it,” said my lady,
coldly.
“Ah, I thought pernaps it was one of
Sir Henry's family names,” he said care:
lessly. **What made me ask was that’
the initials made suca-a dreadful com-
bination.”
+I don’t suppose anybody will ever
notice the initials,” said Lady Stanhope
rather crossly.
But they did}. When young Norman
was seven years old, Sir Heary died and
was laid to his fathers with much pomp
and ceremony. His widow was very
sorry; she cried very effectively at the
funeral, and wore the very deepest of
crepe for twelve months. After that she
began to wear rich silksand a few jet
ornaments, to put an edge of white in
collars and euffs of her gowns, and to go
to dinner parjies and such-like quiet en-
tertainments. Then when that period
came to an end, and Sir Henry had been
dead two years, she blossomed out into’
delicate silver grays and soft mauves, in
which she positively looked younger and
much prettier than she bad done as »
bride ten years before; and while she
was in the silver gray and mauve period
her boy showed 'sopae slight symptoms of
chest delicacy, and she promptly took
him off to Italy for the winter.
At Genoa they stopped and made a
loug stay, partly because the climate
seemed to suit young Norman, partly
because two young English families of
title, each with a goodly allowance of
boys of Norman's age, were there also.
Fine fun’ these youngsters had to-.
gether, and unending was the mischief
into which they managed to get. They
ran fairly wild about the old streets, and
up and down the terraces and steps with
which La Superba abounds. Finally,
however, their pranks came to an abrupt
termination, for one ‘day youug Hunks,
slipped or was tripped, and fell from top
to bottom of a long flight of marble
and still. » sha
Down the ‘steps, in an agony of fright,
came the half dozen youngsters, to find
Hunks already lifted from the ground
by adtranger. who had been lounging
near at the time.
“He's not dead, sir, is he?” gasped
the eldest of the half dozen.
Oh, no; a bit stunned, that's all,”
was the anawar. *tFet game watar. ar a
were all. reset, the fittle | i
actually unhappy, not actively so, at:
as the boys one and ali called him, either:
steps, where helay likea log, senseless
oo : his
je boy opened hiseyes.
ha Es kh, old ma wd the bog whe
anal ay
“Not much. I've cracked my head a
bit. It's
stranger. =
A little,” the
“The best thing y
st ‘you ean do my friend,
1s to go home and
lie down quietly for.
an hour or two. . Where do you live?”
Just up there,” said one of the boys,
pointing up the steps. =~ ~~
Well, I'll go up with you,” he
“Ah,
said. ea 5
‘And Pll-go on and tell your mother
Hunks,” said the eldest lad :
“All right 0!
Hunks rephed 23
“Hunks! Is that your name?” aske 1
the stranger as they went up. the steps.
‘My nickname, sir," said the boy,
who as yet was young enough to be
proud of anything so manly as a nick-
name, ‘My own name is Stanhope—
‘my mother is Lady Stachope.”
“You are Lady ‘Stanhope's “sont” the
stranger ‘cried, © | od
“Yes. Iam Sir Norman Stanhope.”
¢‘Norman—you are called Norman—
why—" but just then Lady Stanhope
herself came running along the terrace,
frichtened by the report of her boy's
play-fellows, and expecting to sees
battered corpse, or next door to it.
«Oh! you are all right,” she cried
joyously; then looked up at the stranger.
**Why, Norman," she cried out. **Nor-
man—Oht”? a :
‘It’s all right, mother,” said Hunks,
thinking she was.speaking to him.
Yes,” said Lady Stanhope softly, as
Norman Dare caught her hands. ‘Yes;
it is all right—now."-—John Strange’
Winter. ;
i Si BR tits,
The Oran:e Free State.
The African Republic known as the
Orange Free State was originally occu.
pied by the Huguenot exiles from Hol-
land, Flanders and France, and. like
many other lands, owes its first settle-
ment to the spirit of religious intolerance
which drove dissenters out of Europe.
Following are a few leading facts con
cerning it:
The Orange Free State, the smaller of
the republics of Boers or Dutch peasant
8cctlers of South Africa, touches Grin-
qualand on the northwest, Natal and
Basutoland on the southeast. the Trans-
vaalon the north and Cipe @olony on
the south. Its independence was de.
clared February 23, 1854, and a consti-
tution adopted sonn after. It is gov-
etned by a President, chosen for five
years, and a Popular Assembly of fifcy-
seven. ile Sn a
‘~The State contains an estimated area
of 41,500 square miles and a total popu-
lation of 207,603, ¥7.716 being whites
and the remainder, 129,787, natives. It
has about eighty. churches, the Dutci
Reformed sect chiefly prevailing. = Taere
are seventy-one government schools.
Tae capital is Bloemfontein. Jus:
tice is administered ' according to the
Roman: Dutch law. * There are no fron-
fortifications, and only
ery af the capital, but 17,381
burghers are quickly available for beac:
ing arms at need. Tae country consists
of undulating ‘plains “affording good
graz'ng; so thai besides the growing of
wheat the inhabitants largely eazage in
the raising of horses, cattle, sheep, goats
and ostriches. Diamonds, garnets and
other precious stones are found; as well
as gold. Taere are also very valuable
coal mines.” The exports and imports,
. 3
Ti
| which all have to pass throuzh the Cape
and Natal ports, are estimated ‘respec:
tively at $5,000,000 and $10,000,000.
The principal exports are wool, hides,
diamonds and ostrich feathers. Tae
telegraph connects Bloemfontein with
Natal and Cape Colony, and there are
extensive ratlways and good government
roads.
Many of the rich resources of the Free
State still remain to be cultivated, and
emigration thither is now steadily on the
increase, mainly from Germany and
Eagland,—New York Mail and Express)
nin IRI el rei.
A Queer Wedding.
A queer wedding was solemnized in
the month of October, 1784, in Alsatia.
The Prince of Nassau-Saarbucken gave
his twelve-year-old son in marriage with
a lady of high nobility, a Couatess von
Montbarry, eighteen years old. It was
stipulated that the young lady should
return to her parents until the prince
becarag tullsgrown. Splendid festivi-
ties were carried on at the wedding.
The whole neighborhood and especially
all the princely courts were invited.
The chases, excursions and banquets
lasted three days. The twelve-year-old
boy shed tears from morning till evening,
and was furious to be the object of gen:
eral attention and curiosity. He avoided
his bride and pushed her away when
she came near him. At the bali he re-
fused to dance with his spouse. They
had to threaten to beat him if he con-
tinued to cry and promise him candy if
he took his spouse to the minuet dance.
His father undertook to: console him by
showing him a large picture book, in
which was illustrated a wedding pro-
cession. As soon as he saw it he closed
.the book and exclaimed angrily: oS
+I don't want to know anything about
weddings. They are too tiresome; and
here in the picture the bride ‘with the
long’ nose looks just like ming.”—Dz-
troit Free Press. 8
' Bird ith a Humau Voice.
The mina, one of the grackle species
of birds found in tropical and sub-
trepical countries domesticated, far ex-
cel the parrots both in picking up the
the words and speech of those by whom
they are surrounded and in the distinct-
ness with'which they speak the words
and sentences learned. The hill mina is
a small bird, shining black in color,
with a bright orauge stripe about its
head, orange ‘legs and a sharp, salmon
colored bill; and ean speak and laugh in
intelligently in conversation. —Tid Bits.
i
help of « few dropsof water |
not bleeding, is it, sit?” to the |
{ + shten' ber,”
| perfect imitation of man, joining ‘most
TALMAGE PRAISES THE CZAR
Russia Not ths Place of Darkness and
Brutality That I's Painced.
¥ z
visit to Russia and correct many wroug im-
pressions concerning that' empire and its
ruler, * He toek for his text iI. Peter, ii-10:
are not afraid tospeak evil of dignities.”’
“Amid a most reprehensible crew, Peter
here painis by one. stroke the portrait of
those who delight to slash at people in au-
“proof that ne ought to be brought down. It
is a bad streak of human nature now, as it
was in the time of the text a bad streak of
human nature, that success of any kind ex-
sites the jealous antipathy of those who
cannot climb the sane step. ;
© Out of this evil spirit grows not only in.
dividual but national and interaational
defamation. Tomo country has more in:
justice been done than to our own in days
that are past. Long before ‘Martin Chuzzle
scoffed at everything American: | ©
There is a sister nation on the other side
of the sea 110 going through the process of
international defamation. There is no
country on earth so misunderstood as
Russia, and no monarch more misrepre-
‘| sented than its Envperor. If the slander of
one person is wicked then the slander of
12,000,000 people is 120,000,000 times more
wicked. : ;
You ask how itis possible that such ap.
palling nrisrepresent(ations of Russia could
Russian lavguage isto most an impassaktla
wa 1. Maliyit the United States or malign
Great Brit an or Germany or France and by
the next cablegram the falsehood is exposed
for we all understand English, and many
of our poeple are familiar with German
and French. But the Russian lanauage,
beautiful and easy to those born to speak it,
18 to most vocal urgans an unpronounceable
tongue, and if at St. Petersburg or Moscow
‘nrost of the world outside of Russia would
aever see or hear theuenial, © :
- What are tke motives for misrepresenta-
tion? Commercial interests and internation-
al jealously. Russia is as large as. all the
rest of [urope put to-gether. Remember
that a nation 1sonly 4 man or a woman on
a big scale, = Si i
I bethoughit myself: Do the le in
America hold the Gavernment at Washinz
ton responsible for the Homestead riots at
Pittsburg, or for railroad insurrections, or
‘for the torch of the villain that consumes a
block of houses, or for the ruffians who ar-
rest a real train, meking” the passengers
hold up the arms until the - pockets are
vicked? Why, then, hold the A peror of
Russia, whois #s impressive and genial a
man as: [ have ver lovke at or talked with,
responsible for the wrongs enacted in a
nation with a population twice as large in
numbers as the millions of America? Would
you individually preter to be judged: by
your faults or your virtues? All people ex-
cept ourselves, have taults. i :
1 is most important that this country have
right'ideas concerning Russia, for, among.
all the nations this side of heaven, Russia
is America's best friend. There has not
been an hour in the last 75 years that the
shipwreck of free institutionsin America
would not have caliedjforth f.0 n all thedes-
potisms of Europe and Asus a shout of
gladness wide as earth and deep as perdi
tion.’ But whoever else failed us.
never did, and whoever else was doubtful,
Russia never was. y Hols 2
There is a vast realm of Russia as yet un-
occupied: If the population of the rest of
Europe were poured into Russia. it would be
only partially “occupied. | After awhile
America will be so well populated that the
tides of emigration will go the other way.
and by railroads from Russia at Bering
Biraits—where Asia comes within 36 miles
of joining America ~millions of people will
pour down through Russia and Siberia. and
on down through all the regions waiting for
the civilization of the next centyry to come
and culture great harvests and build mighty
cities. - What'the United States now are on
the Western hemisphere, Russia will be on
the Eastern hemisphere. y
And n w I proceed to what I told the Em-
peror and the Empress andiall the imperial
family at the Palace of Peterhof whatI
would do if I ever got back to America, and
that isto answer sonte of the calumnies
which have been announced and reiterated
and stereotyped against Russia.
Calumny the First: The Emperor and afl
the imperial family are in perpetual dread
of assassination. My answer to this is that
tI never saw a face more free from worri-
ment than the Emperor's face. He rides
throngh the streets unattended, except by
the Empress at his side and the driver on
the box. There is not a person ia this
audience more free from fear of harm than
he is. His subjects not ovly admire him,
but almost worshin him. There are cranks
in Russia, bit have we not had our Charles
Gititean and John Wilkes Booth?
“But is not the Emperor an autocrat?’ By
which you mean, has he not power enoug
without restriction? Yes, but it all depends
upon what use a man makes of his power.
Are you an autocrat in ycur factory, or an
sutocrat in Four store, or an autocrat in
your style of business? 3
Cslumny theSecond: If you go toRussia you
are under the severest espionage, stopped
here and questioned there, and ih danger of
arrest. But'my opinion is that if a man is
distnrbed in Russia if is because he ought to
be disturbed. Russia is the only country in
Europe in. which my baggage was not exam-
ined. I carried in my hand, tied together
with a cord so that theirtitles could be seen,
eight or ten books. all of them cursin
Russia. but [Bad no trouble in taking wit!
me the books. There jis ten times mcre
difficulty in getting vonr bageage through
the American Custom House than through
the Russian. 26 Pr ay
Calumny the Third: Russia and its ruler
are sb opposed to any other religion, except
the Greek religion, that they will not allow
any other religion; that nothing but perse-
cution and imprisonment and outrage intol-
erable await the disciples of any other re-
ligion. But what are the facts? f had a
long ride in Bt. Petersburg and its suburbs
with the Prefect, a brilliant-efficient and
lovely man, who isthe highest official in
the city of St. Petersburg, and whose chief
business is to atternyd the Emperor. © Isaid to
im: “I ‘suppose your: religion is that of
the Greek church?! *“No,’" said hs, “I'am
a Lutheran.” “What is yonr religion? I
said to one of the highest and most influen-
tial officials at St. Petersburg. He said: “I
am of the Church of England.” Myself,
sn American, of still another denomination
of Christians, and never having been’inside
a Greek church in my life until went to
‘Russia, could not have received more con-
sideration had I been bapt'zed in the Greek
Church: I had it demonstrated to me very
plainly that 8 man's religion in Russia has
office or social position: : g
Calumny the Fonrth: | ' Russia is so very
grasping of territory and she seems to want
the world, But what are the facts? During
the last century and a quarter the United
States have taken possession of ever; thing
between the Thirteen Colonies and Hib P
cific
nearly 800,009,000 square miles, and by the
~ | where they are whi
Rev. Dr. Talmage on Sunday fulfilled his |
| promise that he would again speak of his
“Presumptuous are they, seif-willed, they
thority. Now, we all have a right to eriti- |
cise evil behavior, whither in high placesor-
| low, but the fact that one is high up is no
wit" was p inted, rhe literature of the world |
stand? I account for it by the fact that tha |
any anti Russian calumny were denied, the
ussia |. ( :
| ing the handle, turped
nothing to do with his prefarment for either |
Ocean, and England. during the same |
y 250,000,000; Rae
| 'Calumny the Fifth: Riberia ix a den of
horrors. and to-day le are driven like
dumb cattle; no trial is afforded the suspected
ones; they are put in 3nick silver _ Taines.
pred and starved and
‘some day find themselves poing around
without any head. But what are the facts?
Thera are no kinder people on earth than
the Russans. and to most of them, cruelty
pa«ibili Siberia isthe prison of
re than twice the size of
the United States. John Howard, who di
more for the improvement of prisonersand
the reformation of crimina's than any man
| that ever lived, his name a synonym for
mercy tkroughont Christendom, declared by
voice and pen that the system of transporta-
hundreds of miles
F companions - : HY
LusSia 1 @ only country on earth from
which the death Wy Sonny ed driven,
) x on. Murdorets
ment until he has a fair trial 7 og
in Siberia awhile, the condemed go to earn-
ing a livelihood, and they come
their own farms, and orchards an
yards.many of the people coming
and thousands of them: de
ment would. leave th
for
in the Charleston Farth-
Shi i * quake, Sarton i
After a few hours of pleasant cons
versation, one of my friends said it
was time to leave. Taking out his
watch, he continued, “six minutes of
‘ten, and—what is that?” A low,
deep, rumbling noise as of thunder,
only beneath instead of above us,
coming trom afarand approaching ug
‘nearer and nearer, ' muttering and
groaning, and eve ioreasing in vol-
ume—it was upon us in an instant.
The massive brick house we were
in began to sway from side to side—
gently at first with a rhythmical mo-
tion, then gradually increasing in
force, until, springing to our feet, we
An Tsperience
seized one another by vhe hand and
gazed with blanched and awe-struc
faces at the tottering walls around
tossed vessel, and heard the crash of
every side. © Wit
‘hearts we realized that we
in the power of an earth
motion of the houss,
‘became now vertica
it went as thou
‘giant had taken it
. plaything, and were tJssi
ball for his amusement.
our dazed senses, a
our fest as best we ©
‘accord we rushed dow
the door was jammed, and we were
compelled to wait like'rats in a trap
until the shock passed! :
Concentrating its energies into one
final, convulsive effort, the huge
earth-wave passed, and left the earth
palpitating and heaving like a tired
animak There came crashing down
into our garden-plot the chimneys
from the house in front of ours.
Fortunately the falling bricks injured
none of us. Making another trial,
we succeeded in opening the door and
rushed into the street. 7
Now there came upon us-an over.
powering, suffocating odor of sulphur
and brimstone, which filled the whole
atmosphere. We were surrounded by
a crowd of neighbors—men, women,
and children—who rushed out of
their houses as we had done, and who
stood with us-in the middle of the
street, awaiting they knew not what.
Suddenly there came again to out
ears the now dreaded rumbling sound.
Y.ike some fierce animal, growling aud
seeking its victim, it approached, and
we all prepared ourselyes for the
worst. "The shock came, and for a
moment the crowd was awed inte
silence. . Fortunately this shock was
not nearly so severe as the first. The
earth became still once more, and the
roaring died away in the distance.
How the people shunned their
bouses, and spent that and succeed:
ing nights in the streets, private
‘gardens, and on publicaguares, is well
known from the many accounts given
in the daily and illustrated papers a
the time.
So perfectly still and calm was the
air during the night, that a lamp
which was taken out inthe open air
‘burnt as steadily as though protected
An a room, and no flickering revealed
the presence of a breath of air.
. Again, some strong and powerful
buildings, in certain portions of the
city, were wrecked completely, while
others older and undoubtedly weaker
passed through the shock unharmed.
‘A house on one corner was perfectly
shattered, while, just a few hundred
feet away, the house on the opposite
corner was not damaged in the slight-
est except that a little plastering was
‘shaken down.—St. Nicholas.
: "Tost His | Idea.
Ralph Waldo ‘Emerson, having’
risen one night, unintentionally
aroused his wife, who inquired:
“Are you sick, Waldo?” =
“Oh, no, my dear,” was his reply,
“put, I've got an idea. What's the
‘matter with these matches? I can’t
make them ignite « Let it go, now,”
sighed the philosopher, “my idea iy
‘gone,” BL ME !
.. The pext morning, upon arising,
merson found all the teeth in
b. broken out.
length of time, has taken possession of |’ oF
when matches came ip
‘us... We felt the floor beneath our
feet heaving like the deck of a storm-
the falling masonry and ruins on re
© With almost stilled =
n ou his is sup.
ve happened in the days