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THE RUNNERS. * For I run not alone, There run with me the Silent Three, Through fields the dead have sown. One with a sweet and piteous smile The tireless Past-ah, he vill last Yor many a foctsore mile. Andone-the Now-with sterr..white gaze Who gives no heed though I do b'ecd Along the thorny ways. One with a masked face. lin: dumb. Beckons my soul to some biind goal The wraith of Things to Come. S* * Nay. I run not alone. There run with me the Silent Three, Through ieids the (lead have sown. -Emery Pottle, in Everybody's Magazine. COLLABORATION, "I want to know exactly how t< write this story." began the Girl. The Author regarded her a moment medi tatively, with the tips of his tingre pressed lightly together. after the man ner of Snerinc'k Holmes. lie was tal a n d t h in . y e (w h ic h Fe e 'i s s tr a ng in an authori 'legantly attired. IH face was ei'an-shiaven and1( of a cla5siC interecting tylpe-the forehead broad the nose strin zt. the eyes deepset amn fathomless. th- mouth sensitively cut yet firm. The Girl was inclined to think him handsome: she knew he was successful. She con'cived him to be clever. The last of the three charac teristics appealed to her the least The Author !in his profound way) was not thinking of the Girl's story, but of the Girl. The Girl, he suspected was interesting; the story he was no so sure of. Besides, lie had twenty guineas per thousand words, so that naturally, he came to be rather sparini of words--except, of course, in hih stories. "Before writing a story," he said after a moment's thoughtful pause "there are two things for the writet to determine." "Only two?" said the Gir:, in a tone of relief. "Well, two main things " he correct ed, gently. "One is, whether his story is worth writing." "Mine is certainly worth writing,' broke in the Girl, impatiently. The Author waved his hand with a mild, protesting gesture. "Of course." he observed. "The other is, whether the writer can write it." "But," said the Girl. drawing her eye brows together. "that is just what I have come to you for." "What-to ask me to write it?" ex claimed the Author, in some perturba tion. "Dear. no!-that is, not exactly. but to find out how it ought to be written And then-" "And then?" he inquired. "Well, if you like." she remarked kindly, "I don't mind if we write it to geth'er." "But," objected the author, "I havt i1ever collaborated!" "Nor have I," said the Girl, prouidly "Yet you propose-" he began. "No!" she interrupted, hastily, "1 should leave that entirely to you." "Leave what?" asked the Author 'pleased to find his original suspicior -verified, for the Girl was certainly in teresting, and remarkably pretty. "The - the collaboration, I sup poe-" she explained. "Ah, the collaboration! But th( story?" ."Is gli about a girl," she said. "So far, then, it is likely to be good.' 'remarked the Author judicially. (I1 was odd, he mused, that lie had nevei before noticed the wonderful delicacy of the Girl's complexion.) "All abou1 a girl," he repeated, mechanically "embracing no other character?" "She might be made to erabrace som<( one," replie~d the Girl. reflectively. "She--? But I mean the story,' the Author correctedi. "Oh, the sto:y! I was thinking o1 the girl." "And so am I," said the Author. "You see, she ran away," explaine( the Girl. leaning forward on her el bows and speaking in a confidentia tone. "Oh! She ran away? From school?' "No. From her husband!" "Bless me," said the Author. "whai a very wicked young lady!" "She merely did it for a-well, a kini of lark," explained the Girl, apologet ically. "That is some slight condonation of course," admit ted the Author. "Then." went on the Girl, "there wa: the Other Man." "Naturally." sighed the Author. witl weary recollections of Adelphi melo dramas. "She ran to him?" "Nothing of the sort:" exclaimed th< Girl. "The Other Man didn't ever know her." "That seems to simplify matters at far as the gir'l is concerned." "But she knew him." wen~ft On th< Girl, itodding her head sagely at th< author. "How' long had she known him?' asked the Author, with resignation. "Oh. ever so lonz: You see. hec schiool i'end's cousina h:al in tr'odni'' her to h::n when she still had ion~ har "You mean Erfor'e it wans cut off?" "No, no. wh~en it was dow'n her back: 'The man was th:e sAmhool fr'ien'' cou'si n's hrmherc:-i n-U:w. and, natunrally wvouldn't remm"r her." "Na turally."---i---d the Autlhm ag'em. h', "'saT remiqwhe. I i: W\hat d< y'ou think of tht? "I think it d'o"s h'r zreat credit' repulie<i tihe Author, d!tIl:ent:y. "'Ant "And so, in her hour of need, the girl--" "Exenso me, but what was she it need of?~" "Oh. tihat dloesn't matter! W" eai settle all minor details after the stor., is written. A\s I was sayinz. in hec hor' of recd she bethought her of he old fr ien d." "Yes. 1Her old school friend. see." "No. In: The M:in. But on her wa'i to him she met the Man's sis ter-in-Ilav --thie cousin of the sc'hool friend--am sh" toi her that her schPool friend wa dead:" that dt cided her to return home to her husbai.d. of course?" "Really," exclaimed the Girl, "I think you have a very poor idea of I plots, considering you write stories yoursef-" "Occasionally." admitted the Author. "But I'm sure I beg your pardon if I anticipated your climax. What did she (o. then?" "Why." said the Girl. "she put her self in her school friend's place:" "Great heavens:"' cried the Author. "Do you mean in the,coffin?" "Of course not! I mean she as sumed her dead friend's name and and personality. I think you cal it? and pretended she was her." "She," suggested the Author. "With the connivance of the co:sn':" "No. She to' i the cousin nothing about it. She .ft the omnibus and drove straight to the 'Man's house in a cab. and rang the bell and walked in. The Man was standing on th'e hearth-rug alone in the room. aid she ran up to him-remember. she ha dn't seen him for ten years-and. with a wild g:stulrC, exclaimed, 'Save ne' " "Yes," olserved the Author. "you have hit upon a strong dra,uitic situa tion there. What does the MIan say. thau_1h?" 'The 1an replies. 'I will prcaim your innocence with my last breath or something of that sort-and she falls into his armsi1. After soothing her for a few moments, he inquire- who rhi' is. She tells him that she is her dead friend. his sister-in-l:w's cousin: but the Man replies that there must be some mniktake. as lie has no sister-in law. Ti:e girl fixes her eyes upon his face intently for several minutes be fore remarking. 'Then you are not James de Vere?' The Man answers. 'No; my name is Jones'-and the girl discovers that she has come to the wrong house." "Alh: that, too, is a fine situation." murmured the Author-"for the gir;." "Yes, I do not think it is bad. But the strange part is that Jones and De Vere are both members of a club where ladies can be taken as guests. you know--there are such clubs in London, ain't tbere?" "Oh. yes, several," said the Author. "So Jones offers to conduct the girl to this club and hand her over to De Vere, and they drove off together. Meantime, the girl's husband has dis covered her flight and starts in pursuit. Having heard her once mention the name of her dead school friend's cousin. lie first seeks out this lady. and from her learns that his wife and she met that very morning in an omni bus. This reassures him, and he goes home to dinner. Jones and the girl reach the club, and Jones finds I)e Vere taking afternoon tea with-whcm do you think?" "I am at a loss to conjecture." said the Author, permitting his eyes to dwvell dreamily on the Girl's tiushed face. "W1.y, with the school friend!" ex claimed the Girl, clapping her hands. "The~ school friend?" "Yes. She wasn't dead, after all. It tur:ed out to be merely a malieious and unfounded report. On the con trary, she was engaged to be marr'ied to De Vere." "Ah! Lucky De Vere. And is that all?" "No. That concludes the first half of the story. The rest is principally ex planations. I want to know how it ought to be written?" said the Girl. "It's too exciting for me to give an opinicn straight off," rejoined the Au thor. "You say the girl knew the M1an for ten years?" "Ye C." "But the Mian didn't know the girl?" "No " "It ,vas his loss!" murmured the Au thor., "Pray, how long have you knowa "Oh, ever since I was fifteen-or thereLbout." a nswer-ed the Girl, exa m ining the pattern of the Author's ear pet. "AnlI it seems only within the last half .iour that I have known youi ejaculated the Author, rising from his cair. "Witat on earth do you mean?" de mandd the Girl. "I mean," said the Author. "that we will write your story to.:'ther. if you will: but on one condition." "And what is the condition?" "That, unlike the girl in the story. you w"ill promise never, never to run away from me-not even for a lark!" "oh:" said the Girl, And "Ah," said the Author. putting h's arm round the Girl's waist. "but I love you. I love you, I love you:" And the Girl didn't run away.-Em eric flulme-Beaman, in the Sketch. An Unexplained Distinxction. The pr-esent Chinese Miinister. Sir Chentang Liang Cheng, K. C'. M1. G., is :is witty as his wcll known predec essor, Wu Ting-fang. In June last Sir 'li entung was an interested specta tor of the mariiriage ceremony of certain young friends in Washington. At the conlusion of the wedding. as the min iser was leaving the house, lie made some inquiries of a frier.d with respect to the origin of the custom of throwing rice after the newly joined c'ouple. "O' '' replied the f'riendl, "that's by way~ of~ wihi:n; them g, odJ luck- I su" In tht case," su:rgCsted the, O'i'T M. with just a suspicion of a smlme, "whyi is it not the cuJstomi to throwv rice afterta the he:u'se at a funera!:" ollher's Wecekiy. The Capture of' Dewey. 'Admi"al Dewey's peace of mnid ha's 'en'grea thy dIisi2ee :tely. by"ih thry : or'ty pe'opC 'le,wich ston ini f r'r cf his ho:ne t hr'' times a day,i the' eor to get a glimnpse of the .\d ni 'l or 'Ir's. IDewey. Even more n 'oying than the ste re of forty' pairs of eves is the witticism of the guide, who shouts through the megaphone n a voice than enn be heard am bluk away: "'The red house to your right vn by the Anierican people to Ad muira! D)ee, 'who destroyed the Span ishi tleet in MIanila Bay and came to Washington to be captured by a woman"-Saturday Evening P'ost. Tibet Snow-Ehndness. To prevent snow blindiiess the na tives of Tibet grease their faces and then blacken the skin all around their ees with burnt sticks. MIost foreign Iers when exposed to the snow in Tibet wear colored glasses. Changing Its Nature. A rather surprising experiment is re ported as mua(le at the Paris Academy of S.ieu(e. Young radishes were cul tivated in a glass retort after a pcul lar process. using a eonc'entrated solu tion of glucose. Under this treatment the vegetable took up starch abun dantly and increased greatly in size and lost its peppery 1qualities, resenm I)lilig closely in every way an '.1rdinlary potato. Th' imaginative Frenchman who relates the experimenvIt suggests the possibility of producing vai'ious ve"ela+ies one from the other. or of se'urig artificial t'egetaNde growth by chemical means. Practical Poultry Pointz. ?irep your foawl sto:"k youn':.: old tins aI'e wholly unprotitalle to keep. Co"ks as well as hens eat a lot of food, :ind in cock is necessary except during he hatching sea.:oit. trade your eaggs as to size: it ima proves the sa:nple, and consequently the pri e. Large, l:oos-'eat:ered hens of the Coch in or I:rahm 1a type lay small egi. . and but few of the:m. They are also large ent'-rs and poor rangers. C:ose-fe'athered. mxd;umu--sized hens of the Leghorn type t're non-sitters, good rinlgers a nd great i iayers. It co-;S IlcalIiy as much to keep a lien that lays eighty eggs in the year is one tat lays 1:0. Fowls should not be fed near the door of your dwelling house, or they will stand about all day looking for food. Fowis roosting in trees and open buildings seldom lay many eggs, and those they do lay are often laid astray and ios;. Gate Latch. 'This is a simple thing, but will save 1an1V a (cr'Otl from total destruction by stock if adopted. This gate will open oiy by human hands. never out of ardor. Cut or saw two elbow slots s indiented in the latch, large enough to slide easily on a large nail driven irough the cross-pie e into Il( s;1ts >f the latch as indi":tecd by ;Im two dots. The upright s!o:s should 1 1boti one and a hal' inches ilon. and the :orizontal oues aiout four inch.es on_. space aiove latch about two !ihes. mortise in ti! post about two nehes longer than width of latch - . D. Bible, in The Ep.litomist. Fattenin:: the Old Cow. Permit mec to relate my experienIe. once had at cow that I considered an xtra g;ood milker. It was before the ays of butter fdit and Babr-oek tests. o 1 might have bean issaien. Sure y she was one of the best in the herd. o I kept on milking her much too 10ong. Then at last I was compelled to tuirn er oli I purposed to make biee? for ny ownl family use. I commenced eding corn, but she soon refused o eatt. She was always t hin aind rough roking, as some good mi!kers used to e. Whatt was I to do? The neairest nil] where I could get corn ground was welve miles distant, and it was the iginning of winter, wvith oad weather nt bad roads. The patent feeds were iot then invented, so I offered liar helled corn. Shte ate eagerly. and in 1i: weeks I had the very lnest beef in ll my forty years of 11arming, tender .Id juicy. just the thing f'or one's own 'arinig. She had witi tihe shelled carn nly common pririie hay: not a tight, varm barn, but at cheap stahle of a Siln le thickness cif commnon boards. I voulId not guarantc- the samue result other timne. btut Iwould c-ertainly tr'y ie shelled ('orn.--J. G. Osborn, in the Tribune Farmer. Feeding Firom I.arge Silos. I covered thme ensilage with chaff and ~arredl paper andi put on the weight. The ensilage kept well until opened. vhien it troubled about heating and noulding, and necarly one-half was spoled. In the first silo each pit had 144 souare fcet, amnd I could feed fast ~nough from the top to prevent mould g: now~~ I had d5q square feet, anti I was in trouble again. I read every Nag p)ublishled aboaut ensilage, yet no0 ody told me what I wanted to know. The sixth winter I covered with ~haff, then a laiyer of boards, then tarred pap)er. followed by a second [:yer of boar'ds, and thmen a foot of trawv to keep the bo-1rds from wOIrp 1g. Dur'ing thle winter' I blundered log, tr-ying several ways to keep tile ensilage. Aks a last resort, I began oni m1e side and( took out ei~5lage one( foot in depth and then (-overed with boar'ds bdind me as I pr'ot-eeded across it the other side, After I had gone across md dug dowvn :amher foot and began o baci~tk I found ti e (; riage v'ery :ct a,nd mocisiy under the board s. as [ p'oceeed ai:ln:: ha ckward. I Itougil t >f som1ething1 new. x whichiii1 haspovd to be just th e i.::t thing ic the c-it ,1nc. I put loor ensila 'e ont top of :h good and then'l tY( w - . of I'rds oeakinmg jo 'm~i a'l de i(ood enI.he iii board's e idte air and that ead the troule.' For 'ie winlters~ the :na pialaan n eli ''d w ithgo results, It makes~C nto d!fcrence htow wart'm. er how cold the wim~ar. the rnsilamge a' as comt's om11 warm,!it fully up~ to blood heat, and thiire is no0 chmance for aiy to miould. foir very little is ex >osed at one time. On no other farmi o thcy handle ensilage in this way. Too often in other silos I have seen toldy and frozen ensilage, both tin' fit for feed. In a round silo boards could not be handled very well fot covering, and that is why I prefer the square one.-N. B. White, in The Amner jean Cultivator. Spraying Potatoes Paid Five Fold. A bulletin of the Vermont station Did you spray your potatoes this year?' If not, what per cent. of them did you lose by rot? The Vermont ex - perinent. station furnishes some inter esting data upon this subject. Last August it sprayed a portion of a po tato field located beside one of thc most traveled roads leading into Bur lingtoG;. The soil was a well-drained sandy loam sod, well manured, plowed in the s1ring and planted late in May Two-thirds of the piece was sprayet on Aug. 9 and Sept. 5 with standard Bordeaux-Paris-green mixture (si, pounds copper sulphate. four pounds stone lime, one-half pound paris green, forty gallons of water); one-third wa: sprayed solely with paris green. The late blight (which directly of indirectly causes most of the loss fron the rot of the tubers) was first seen or the unsprayed rows on Aug. 21. II spread very slowly, but when the tops were killed by frost Sept. 23, fully !t per cent. of the foliage on the un spray rows were dead. being Inosi killed by the disease. No late bliglht could be foand at this time on thi. sprayed rows, where fully 90 per cent, of the leaves were alive. The crop was dug Oct. 3. ~Thc sprayed rows yielded at the rat. of 344 bushels per acre, and the unsprayed ows at the rate of 301 bushels pet acre, a gain in total yield of only 4'1 ilul!es. But when the rotten tubers were sorted out the sprayed area pro. tiuced at the rate of 317 bushels pel acre of sound, narketab le potatoes and the unsprayed area at the rate of 3; bushels per acre of sound and mar keta b'e potatoes. Eighi per cnt. of the crop on the sprayed aiea was rot ted, while SO per cent. ci that growl in the unsprayed area was lo-t h rot. The net gain was 201 bushels per cre as a result of spraying wit:1 bor deaux mixture. Potatoes "olL il Bur ling(on for 0 cents p1er bashel. Tht gain amounted, therefore. to .315d. I1 cost about .Rd per acre to spray, lkav ing a net gain of S1a0. These results are exceptionai: b there were nany tields this fall, espe ciall- in northern Vermont, wh er there was as great or even greatel loss from rot. Sonic were hardly w'oriT digging. Are you planning to harvesl 5; or 317 bushels of potatoes per acr. next year? Do you expect to lerve S: or only S p:r cent. of your crop in t'( "ield? Why not plant less :an( and sili raise as many imshels'. lI is oIn way to solve the help problem1. or. deaiux mixture ought not to cost ovei three dollars per acre for each aPP! cation: in practice it usuall' co'ts much less than that. Is it not bette: to buy copper sulphate than aoij sto:L?-Mi"ror :nd Farmer. Cut andi Uncu1t SIia r. There are some farmers in this vicin ity who still put their silage in with out cutting. It is not convenient for som toseeurecutingmachinery, and others think. they canuot afford this expense of cuttipg. Ti.ere appears to me to be a marked difference iln the quality of the cuit and the uncut silage, enough certainly to warrant cquite an additional exptise for the cutting if necessary. I visitedl thegbarn of a good farmer recently who is feeding silage for the second season. His silo is well built, his corn wvas secured without frostings and has kept without the least indi cation of mould; still there is a strong odor f.'om it, sufficient to attract the attentioni of any one before enitering the barn, even at a time when the silage was not being disturbed. I saw his cows~ fed upon this silage. They ate it greedily, and I wvas told th:ere~ ws5 1no waste, anid that the cow. ire spo'(ded welli at tihe p:u'!. Stil. tat strog ad rahe tunpleasant od.or On iny return I pa~ssed another .:arn. were whole silage was iceing fed. ard I smieliedl it in passinig. I said to the boy: "We will notice whecn we rec:lh 'ome and see if any suna smells :'each us" We aeoordin~ly did so 1 may say the boy has bieen away to school for severai weeks and hias not been hatnd ing any silage during thaut tinme. and consequen ltly is an iimpartiatl .idge. When we reached homie we noted conditions at oncc, and1. Ioth were firm; ly of the opinion that if we had :tot known there were silo in the barn we could1( not have detenin~ed that there werec by any smell. I am ;-ery snre this different condition comles from the utting, and I am firmly of thte opinionl thit the finer the cutting is Conec thec betier. It wouild be interesting to noce the difference between silage from the shredder or blower, which has bcein thoroughly filled atid mixed in the process, and that obtained from the ordinary cutter and elev-ator. The Pines silage has been cut in onme-fotrrth: inch lengths until this season. It was cut this year in one-half inch lengths. ut is not so satisfactory as when cut finer. There are more leaves not fuily cut, and it ,is not so light in color. II also appears to ('ool more0 t1uickly andi have more tendenecy to freeze. Whiere cutting nmachiinery can be~ secured at 'esoable r'ates or wher'e there is a permanenlt farm p)ower,' silage can be cu.t in choaper than it canui bepck in w,ithout Quttig. mon- c-an tbe pml i: a1 gi:ven spa'.e andim the 1eedingil is eaii and mtore even buetwveen dififerent ani mas. The silo is to be one of lte principal fa ctor'. i advaninug New England( ag i'aulture'. anid every fe::tur'e nocessary fr nerfect woirk should be kept con st;imily b)efore the people.-I.- W. Me' Keen, in the Tribune Farmeir. Empress of' Jaipanr'si Pipe'. A, silver tobac'co pipe~ witih ' ster im- inchies lom; is used by t he Enmpres: of.lapan;. The bowl is sma:ll-in tect enly' a quantity of tobjacco sutiien1Q to give the smoker two or three whitL ca eptinto it. Then the ashes art knced it and tihe pipe is carefuhll cleaned before it is refilled--a procesi go.e through with many times in tht course of an afternoon.-Chicago News The Sacred White Elephant. In Siam when a sacred elephant dies it is givent a funeral grander thai that accorded to princes of the roya bood. Buddhist priests officiate, am thousands of devout Siamese mei and women foh!ow the deceased ani mnal to the grave. Jewels represent Iing much wealth are buried, with thi lehnt 'Humor of Today Those Alaskan Polep'. "'How dlo yout mno Lve our po:e aibott? . W i mert edl i 'i' t! iat e\'': 'Tor ciet cimlied. w.ih be:ul 4 "Oh. no ew r L . : Ancient. Sharl'Ipe--One of our ?'re:. n?rof ,7.'s says that f ;otbaUl play:r. :r' crazy. Whlealtoni-"Is lie juM fld 'l d oui.Y"- Chicag3o Newvs. "The Dlti-reice. Tendefooot-"he' is a (iff'rell'Ce thon. h)etween"1 Ea:- antd Wcsi? W'esterne---" '_.. in the E" a tt tie: pinch. and ill t.e Wts. we 1.' Chicago .jouri:al. Profegsional Couriesy. "I iana!ge to keep Ilmy boarders iOn Ur than yot io.' said tile first 'anillad-. '"Oh, ! don's ;:uw." r''joined th: other. " t i ee i theil so tii iti they lootk tlon'.e t::a: tel 1"e : l . -' -Ciiicagt News. His 1:et1aior. dloesn'; b:h :s i' he he(:o: -.;e . , > the be11st":xiety, dlos . Sh:e--", i'' M He. bea Isa if lie ima inNi1 the ';esi So(ty U' longed i himl.- t'iic:go Ntws. Applies :o Manr. D)l'nhat'-- 'b's a tood thing for some peopl' that this tltouniti nlieri: 1(2 sirii'ted ilmmigratithn.' Benhlant- xWhy': Denha n Thiey' ' have Jen rather hO1't of ance. o:'s. 'iiic:gO. Jouri"' Geolngleal. Edyth-"i'm surprised to lear of your engagement to old Biliyoii. Was he the only man with sand enough to propose?" M1ayII('-'Uil.hno: but he was tli only. one with rocks enougi to int":e.t '."e. Chicago News. Iis Deqnes'. De Siy:c-"Whiiat did your r:cll nee leave you when he died?' Grumbusta-'"Nothing.". De Style-"Didn't lie say anyihing .o 3ou before he passed away?" ilunbutsta-"Yes: he said nothing wvai toa good for ne."-Criterion A Complication. V eter:i-.;ry--"So your new 1w,:1 pi1n Is sick. What seeims to be the n:lter wuitht hi?" Owne;-"A little of everyihiug I guess. While we were away this af terloon he ('11Chewd up and swallowed ti'e di--iouary."-Detroit Frec Pre:.. \atural"y. Newop- "D ivee waks" ) "Newman. ila id the eeor "lilt 1:ev-er do as a critic." "No?' queried his atssistant. '-No. I saw himn last nighlt at the premier performance of that. new cod: (edy. anid he actually smiled three or four timeCS." P'hilad'alphia PuL,i Ledger. She 1)idn't Rlespond. "You are the first one to whom I have showni this poem," the young 1)oeC went on. "I was wooing the muse last night--" *Poor fellow " repulied the editor, handing back the muanuisript. "It's too bad she reje:'1td you."-Chicatgo Journal. Quite so. Mrs. Nearbye--J.'m glad you've got such a good servant." Mrs. Hunter-"Good?" Mrs. Nearbye-"Why, yes: your hius band says she works like lightning." Mrs. Hunter-"Exatctly. She learves ruin and disorder behind her."-Phiia' delphia' Public L.edger. Certain of Oine Thiin:r. "Well, little boy." said the kind hearted dentist, "does the tcoth iu-t you?" "I don't know wittier it is the tooth o" whethe"r it's just mie."' groaned th you'll separate us Ihe nainli eo a way." -Chicago Tribune. In itostoni. Mr. C. De Puyster (to Stablemantl from tihe West --'Extricnte this iluad-i rued froia the vehicle. Donate 1:im; an adeqjua te supply of nutriiou iNe-tc' mets. Anid when: te aur' ra of: th mrin;;iiit illuinaiites the eaIs:ern hori ~o I will awarid you an amuple comnt:t 2 tion for your amt iible hospitaity. S tablemnani'(to hos1ti-"T'h:'guy so ys o give the nag a milt full of ot::is. IT.'ll cluck you two bits in the mn:ri in.-C'iiiunl'ti Coz:mercia!-Tribune. liry. "Our triendl .1 ug;ins," observed Nordy, "claims that his married life is not happy." "Let's see." responded Butts. "he got his wife through a matrimonial agency, .1didn't he?" "Yes." "She liveC 'n Spokane and he sent her the mot y to come on, and they were married on sight, I believe." "That's it." "AnXd now he is not happy?* "Nope." "Well, it is st'ange." Eg'jstQn hronie. EMOATH LEAUE LESSON FEBRUARY NINETEENTH. Glorifying God in Our Home.--Epl 6. 1-9. It will be well to read the precedin chapter. which properly belongs t this section. Here the duties of hu: bands and wives, of masters and sei vants, of parents and children are dE fined and emphasized. Our lesso de.is especially with children and sei vant::. Ooedience to parents; filia honor and respect;wise guidance b. parents; faithful service to emploi ers; and recognition of the fact tha all service is unto the Lord, are th sp)ecal inji:nctions of the lesson. If the injunctions of the apostl were fully carried out in spirit w would have many more instances c the "model home" than we find noa The duties and relationships of th different membcrs of the family ar here set out, and if they can be full realized we have all the elements c a happy Christian heme. 3lutuai love, honor, and repard ar essential to a model homc. The tw bears, "bear and forbear," mus_ be i evidence. The husband and wife ar different, but living in absolute hai mony if true love and mutual foi bearance characterize their relatic: ship. Here is the foundation of true home. There are mutt:al duties. The chi dren are to ob,y, not from fear bl from love and respect. And thi should be insisted on. A health family discipline is one of the crea needs of our modern family life. Th parents arc to be set a good examplh They are to be patient and not pr( voke to anger. Many of the trouble of our modern homes are due to th unfitness of parents. When the re lations are happy and mutually hell ful you can find joy and peace. Servants and Masters. No relatio: is so strained in the social world tc ay as this. And it Is largely becaus we have failed to obey these apostoli injunctions. When employers ar considerate, forbear threatening, an treat servants as brothzrs; and whe; employees are not "eyeservants," bu faithful to their master's interests, w find happy conditions. When thes are violated there is trouble. Ther should be no clashing of interest: There will be no domestic turmoil, n labor troubles, no "strikes" and riot when these injunctions are heedec We can glorify God in the hom. when as parent or as child, as maste or as servant we do what Chri't wouli have us to do. The home life is th real life. Here we lay aside restrain1 Here we act the real nature. Her Is the real test of religion. Here w can best glorify Christ. "Learn firs to show piety at home." 0H1STIN U11D10O NOTES FEBRUARY NINETEENTH. 'Glorifying God in our Home3."-.ph 6:1-9. Scripture Verses.--Mal. 3: 16; Uatt L:2-38; Mark 5:18-20; Luke 8:33, 39; :26; Acts 28:Z0, 31; Eph. 5:19, 20; ol. 3:10; 4: 2-6; 2 Tim. 1:5; Hcb :13, 14; 1 Pet. 5:7; 1 John 2:0. Lesson Thoughts. It Is a strange thing that in th< home, the very place where we havr the most opportunity to do so, vie ari requently most careless about glori ying God by exercising a Christ-lk disposition. The duty of obedience to parents 1: such an important one that it wa emphasized by a special command ment, and it Is an obligation not onl; f law, but equally also of nature. Selections. The very closeness and the familiat Ity of the relations of the lives witil In our own doors make it hard a times for us to preserve perfe( sweetness of spirit. We too easil: throw off our reserve and our car' ulness, and are apt now and then ti peak or act disagreeably, unkindly But family life ought to be free froi all impatience. Wherever else wt may fail In this gentle spirit, it shouli aot be in our home. Only the gent] est life should have place thcre. We have not long to stay together in thi; world, and we should be patient ani entle while we may. We have careful thought for the stranger, nd smiles for the sometime guest But oft for our own the bitter tone Though we love our own the best. Ah! lip with 'the curve impatient. Ah! brow with the shade of scorn, 'Twere a cruel fate were the nigh too late To undo the work of the morn. The greatest hope that can toucl the home, the hope that takes awa: its walls and makes it an everlastini place, is the hope of the life whici is to come, a'ad that hope is sustain 2d by the church. The pious Eneas, In the epio poer >f Virgil, obtained his honorable titl< iromi the care which he bestowed o: his father at the siege of Troy, carry ing him on his back till they wer; elear of danger. Vatican Bible. autoc ZLILJT I,,nenecrloa Isent isearoTe izr Srs $$sroaUtglr CCTa1IHt?i TUtiJ TrIss ery'rso#'e - entcoTo u5oT re rre ers~Tr'M-o4 f(C?ptyhrU9a ofW .c5 t.Tfifl5J%4T t2eCGvToT 5TerdrCrre in11115J rne:.rze riyL rir!Theu.eSTF- 4eerf'JvasfE ncrTT bedorjr' $er6,:e~"3 aerCvu6* AhvJrr?6'r efT1 r4t. oF4e,~Inea< Tiirre 6 e' 9tTradt4'r edren onii -5mIn'eFU Tre $Tersaa,O un "rtrSGf5 A mpetWUOLI EortfTS fre rforvin gow - roi T4t usO"Tes T7ourrrroT?~T pr.r, $6ea'tacao,i@1To Facsimile of a page of the famous a-:ican Bible-the oldest in existence, 'Coon Will Not Hibernate. A well-known 'coon hunter of Let minster asserts that while 'coons usi ally hibernate during the winte months, he has had one as a pet fo twelve years and he has never show: any tendency to do so. All sortsc experiments have been tried to ir duce him to go into this sleep, event keeping food from him, but all effort ti THE SUNDAY SCHOOL INTERNATIONAL LESS-IN COMMENTS FOR FEBRUARY [1. Subject: Jesus at the Pool of Bethesda, John v., 1-15-Golden Text, John vi., g 2-Memory Versed, s, 9-Commentary 0 on the Day's Lesson. I. Jesus at the feast (vs. 1.4). 1. "Af ter this." "After these things." R. V. - Some think that when John is telling some a event which follows inimediately after the last thing narrated, he uses the expression Li ".after this thing" (chap. 2:12), but that y when there has been an interval of time he uses the expression "after these things." "A feast." There has been much differ ence of opinion as to what feast this was, e but it is the opinion now of the best writ ers that it was the Passover. 2. "By the e sheep gate" (R. V.) We know from Neb. e 2:1. 32; 12:39 that there was a sheep gate; ,f so called probably from sheep for sacrifice rbeing sold there. It was near the temple. " The Hebrew tongue." Hebrew here e means Aramaic. the language spoken at e the time. not the old Hebrew of the Scrip Y tures. "Bethesda." This name does not >f occur elsewhere. It means "house of wrer cy." The site is not identified with cer e tainty. The traditional spot is nrar Castle O Antonia. But. Dr. RobInson thinks "the fountain of the Virgin." an intermittent snring in the southeas:t of the city, near e the nool of Silaom. was Bethesda. "Five -orches." These vor:lies were probably covered arcades. colonadess or verandas. onen at one side t^ the air. but protected - a a_ainst the sun or rain overhead. In a hot country like Pales iro such buildings are 1. very necessary. 3. Multitude." The sick t congregated here in great numbers. I. Jesus heals an impotent man (vs. s 5-9). 5. "An infirmity." The original im t plies rather a loss of power than a positive disease; probably it was a nervous disease e of paralytic tyne. "Thirty and eight . ears." The duration of the illness is y. mentioned. either to show how inveterate S and difficult it was to heal, or rather. ac s cording to verse 6f. to explain the deep comnassion with which Jesus was affected on beholding the unhappy man. From verse 14 we may infer that his disease was the result of the sins of his youth. n 6. "Knew." The word "knew" in the >- original indicates one of those instantan e eous nerceptions by which the truth be came known to Jesus according as the task e of the moment demanded. erse 14 will e show that the whole life of the sufferer is dpresent to the eye of Jesus, as that of the n Samaritan woman was in chapter 4. "Saith t unto him." Usually Christ waited until e He was asked before He relieved the suf e fering, but in this and a few other cases e He healed without being asked. He read the man's past life and present condition of mind, and saw that he was in a state 0 to receive spiritual good from the healing. S "Wilt thou?" Why does He ask a ques 1. tion to w ich the answer was so obvious? e Probably In order to rouse the sick man r out of his lethargy anhd despondency. d 7. "No man." He was friendless as well eas sick. "Is troubled." This spring, prob ably the fountain of the Virgin, is inter - mittent to this day. and various travelers e have seen it sudden:y rise from five inches e to a foot in five minutes. Whedon thinks t that the moving of the waters arose from an underground connection of 'the pool with the city water works. The occasional and intermittent disturbance of the water is not to be understood as a regular occur rence, but as something sudden.and quick ly pasing away. Hence the man's -waitin and complaint. "Pat me into the pool." Literally, "in order to throw" me into the pool; perhaps implying -that the gush of water did not last long, and there was no time to be lost in quiet carrying. "While I am coming." Thus picturing the e:tteme - haste and rapidity with which the favor able opportunity was seized. There was a rush and scramble for the one chance. -8. "Rise." etc. Commands like these would test the man's faith and obedience. As in the case of the paralytic. (Mark 2:9), Christ made no encqniry as to the man's faith. Christ knew that he had faith, and the man's attempting to rise and carry his bed after thirty-eight years of impotency was an open confession of faith. "Bed." SProbabl)y only a mat or rug,, still common in the East. 9. "And walked." With the a command was given the power of obe L. dience. So the sinner who is bidden to e commit himself to Christ need not wait. for any cotnpulsion. As he makes the ef fort he will find divine power within him self. "Sabbath." The seventh day of the week, the Jewish Sabbath. IU I. Persecution of the Jews (vs. 10-13). ' 10. "Not lawful." .Jeremiah had com manded, "Take heed to yourselves, and bear no burden on the Sabbath day" (16: 21). and the Jews interpreted this as for -bidding the carrying of the lightest weight. .- But Jeremiah's meaning is made clear by i Neh. 13:15: "Treading wine presses on the SSabbath, and brinsing in sheaves, and lad ting asses." etc. "To forbid this man from Y carrying his bed was like forbidding a mod-. ern man to more a camn stool or a chair." a 11. "He-said." Unquestionably the words seem to say that one who could do I Ssuch a wonder as healing me must certain lv have the right to t:ell me what to do. He had been authoriz.ed by one endorsed as sent from God. And this was indeed -the very ground which Christ Himself a took.. 12. "Whio is the man" (R. V.) sThey ignore the miracle, and attack the. .command. They ask not. "Who cured thee, and therefore must have divine au thoritv?" but, "Who told thee to break4 a the Saibbath. and therefore could not have it?" 13. "Knew not" (R V.) Jesus had. been in Jerusalem but little, and the man who was healed had probably' never seen Him. "Conveyed himself away." Better, withdrew. Literally, '"slipoed aside." be came suddenly lost to sight. "A multi tude," etc. Tlhis may be understood as t explaining either why he withdrew-to avoid the crowd. or the manner in which he withdrew-by disapnearing in the crowd. Either explanation makes good sense. I IV. Jesus gives advice and warning (v. S14). 14. "Afterward." Probably soon af 1 terward; in a day or so. "Findeth him." -Jesus had His eye on the man; His work with him was not yet finished: this meet ing was not accidental. "In the temple.' 3A good place for the man to be. "Sin n a more." God asks this of every sinne 1 And yet there are those wvho insist that -is impossible to live without sin in life, but if such is the case thenJ asked this man to do the impossible. worse thing." A paralysis from whic pool can restore and no Saviour wil liver; the most terrible catastrophe of soul's eternal history. V. The man bears testimony (v. 15. "Told the ,Jewse" etc. In reply t inauiry they had made of him a short before, partly in obedience to the au ties and partly to comnlete his apolo himself. He expected, probably, in simplicity of is heart, that the name Him whom so many counted as a prophet, if not as the Messiah Himself, would have been sufficient to stop the mouths of gain sayers.. DOG LE'FT THE CHURCH. Humiliated by Accident, Collie Aban doned All Religion. At the disrupticn in 1843 the bulk of the shepherds joined the Free Kirk. But one collie held by the Established principle, and refused to "come out." Every Sabbath he went alone to 'the Established church, where he had been wont to accompany his master. His master refused to coerce him. "Na. na." he said, "he's a wise dowg; ill r-o -.e'~.2c wi' his convictions." The collie's adherenco to the Estab lishment had, however, a disastrous end. He was accustomed to lie dur ing the sermon on the pulpit stairs, no doubt better to hear the discourse. Below him were placed.the long stove pipe hats of the elders. ~On one unfor tunate day he fell asleep, rolled off his step and managed to get his head Bitterly mortified, the dog fled from the kirk, and ever afterward, as his master said, "had nae trokings wi'