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IN RELIGION'S REALM.
Expressions From Various Religious
The Religious Thought of the Day as
Expressed in the Sectarian
"Sermons of solid instruction imust
few is be long," observes the New York
"Churchman" (P. E.). "If the ignorant
ire to be taught, the statement of facts
must often 'be deliberate and elaborate.
No one resents a long speech on the
tariff, and no one who desires to learn
the great doctrines of Christian belief
and Christian morals should resent a
long sermoro. People who come to
church to be am us. I, entertained, or
excited, come from a wrong motive. The
office of the preacher is, first of all, to
diffuseuimonghis flock, by judicious ex
position, the information which he de
rived from his theological studies, or
a large part of this information. If the
laity are often ignorant, it must be be
cause they have not been taught, or are
unwilling to learn. A clamor against
long sermons is one evidence of this un
willingness. Yet Pearson's elaborate
treatise on the creed was delivered orig-
IroaXy 'i.n a series of parochial sermons,
end the most profound and closely rea
soned statement of Christian morals,
in some important departments, which
exists in English religious literature,
was preached by Bishop Butler in dis
courses from the pulpit. The hearers
listened because they were interested,
and were taught because they desired
to learn. It is the congre-gation who
are oftenest responsible for that preach
ing which is merely emotional, anec
dotic, flimsy and profitless. The long
sermons of Barrow, of Eld don, of Pusey,
would have tired the modern church
* * #
"What the majority of the Bishops of
the Protestant Episcopal Church de
clared in our columns could not be
done, what the Episcopal Convention
felt that it could not concede, even as
the price of church unity, has been
done," says the New York "Independ
ent," "in one pulpit at least. The rector
cf an Episcopal Church in Cleveland
invited a Methodist minister to preach
to his congregation, and the Methodist
minister did it. He did not do it in an
unconseerated building either; nor
from the reading desk in the conse
crated church, but from the pulpit.
Moreover, he was offered the gown to
preach in, but felt himself more at
ease without the canonicals. At the
close the people did not flee, but re
mained to shake hands with the inter
loper and to express their gratification
at such a manifestation of fraternity.
We are strongly moved to add a joyful
approval, but we restrain ourselves
long enough to say that all this was
in clear violation of certain canons, ln
order to maintain these canons the
Episcopal Church has had sorrowfully
to acquiesce in the ending of negotia
tions with the Presbyterian Church
for unity. Here is a rector, we need
r:ot give his name, who evidently has
not the fear of ecclesiastical punish
ment before his eyes, and he makes free
with them. Ought we to countenance
such willful disobedience? We do not
feel sure; but we do say that if canons
cf the church were broken, no canon
< Cod's law was fractured. On the
contrary, it was such a manifestation
Of brotherly love as the Scriptures en
join, and of such practical unity as the
church itself is earnestly seeking. An
other Episcopal pulpit in the same city
was likewise offered to the same min
ister, Dr. C. M. Cobern. The attitude
of these two rectors is worth all the
letters the Episcopal Commission on
D—lty has written in all these years."
• * *
"It may yet appear," says the "North
western Christian Advocate" (Meth.)
cf Chicago, "that the "restoration of
Christian doctrine,' wv.en that phrase
is used in the sense of visible Christian
natty, is not the sole nor the most im
portant problem before the English
church. The day has not come in which
the Established Church is the only ec
ohsiastical power in England to be
reckoned with by the Pope. If ex
t< ranis' exclusively occupy the atten
tion of the English church, the main
problem relating to the physical care
o* the people may fell more completely
than ever into the hanels of non
et ii*'.>r r.ists. The genuine church cares
for the neoole. God will not approve
any church that neglects the negh et
fd> If any English churches not estab
lished forget their errands, God may
* * •
"It is not too much to say," says the
"Watchman" (Bapt.) of Boston, "that
the high hopes entertained by our
churches-from the multiplication cf Sun
twenty-five years have not been real
teed. However we may explain it. a
g* i ration is growing up in our Sumlay
wilich is practically unacquaint
ed wMh the Bible. Literary men of high
lint: .p-pl-re the popular ignorance
ol the Scriptures; ministers say th.it
tie v nam no longer take it for gratjfci
that the simplest Biblical allusions will
bi mderstood by some of the members
of their congregation.*, who have spent
_ : n 'no S'ind i V-s> ii i. '
the relbrlous press teems with com
plaints that Christian pecsjße <io not
ki - v their Bibles; the daily papers,
di.ring the last two or three years, have
r. ; atcdly emphasized the unfamiliar-
Ity of the people with the Scriptures,
and educational institutions have found
It mscessury to make special provision
familiar with the Biol • as to be ignorant
OA the masterpieces of English litera-
ture If any one doubts the extent of
p tiulnr ignoraince • •■ it am n„
the yaung people, ev-m of Christian fam-
H r- st an average eta - 4
boys or girls, and a few questions will
convince fthe most skeptical."
• * *
"The absentees must receive some new
impressions about the church if they are
to be won to its services," says the New
York "Observer" (Pres.). "If they saiw
the church absorbed in this one idea of
increasing attendance at the house of
God, they might well feel some of the
pressure. If they saw the look in the
church's- face of tender, gentle pleading,
they might feel now and then an im
pulse to gratify the holy loving desire.
People would steal ir. at first shame
facedly as if they did not belong
there, but out of this driftwood of past
churehlessness some would remain
beached upoit the golden shore of true
churchly union. Thus the army of ab
sentees would grow smaller by degrees
and the church would be gladdened and
encouraged. We should not need to
preach sensational sermons to these peo
ple or sermons for special occasions. All
we should have to do would be to point
them to the lamb of God slain far the
sines of the whole world. These new
hearers would need only a simple, old
fashioned theology. The old hymns
would be good enough. The story of
the cross would not seem tame or dull
to the souls which had so long been in
the spiritual prison. The world does
not need any new theology. It simply
needs to see that Christian people are
sincere and earnest and that they have
their whole heart and soul wrapped up
in seeking thr-ir own salvation and that
of those around them."
c » *
"It is a little curious," says the "Chris
tian Register" (Unit) of Boston, "that
the bicycle is 'believed to be dangerous
in two directions. The ministers com
plain because ft lessens the church at
tendance, and the theater managers are
complaining because it lessens theater
going. There are many ministers of
the old school who would be glad of this
inroad upon the theater if the church
did not suffi rin the same way; and the
theater mainagers are indifferent to the
sufferings of the church, because they
do not keep open themselves on Sun
days. But it seams very curious that a
useful invention increasing the powers
oi human locomotion should have had
such .an effect. It is impossible to pre
dict the moral results of a purely phys
ical invention, but they very soon de
velop. The bicycle, like the Sunday
newspaper, has come to stay; and both
church and theater, as well as the raisers
of horses, the livery stable keepers, and
ihe road makers, will have to take this
into account. As for the church, all
that it can do to counteract the effect
of this or any other obstacle to its in
fluence is to address itself more seri
ousilj r than ever to its own special work
and to its own opportunity. Modifica
tions may be necessary in its methods.
If it has had stiafbles for horses, it may
Deed sheds for bicycles. But, whatever
concessions it makes, It must adhere
steadfastly to its own purpose; and in
time the bicycle may be found a help
instead of a detriment. The foundation
of the church lies in the religious sen
timent and to this sentiment its appeals
must persistently be made."
* * *
"The holiday feature of the 'Fourth'
is all right in its place," says the New
York "Evangelist" (Pres.). "We have
I:• •I of h lid.tys. Yet the call now is
not for more of them, hut for a better
use of those we have. The weekly half
holiday of summer means not so much
as it ought recreation, but dissipation.
The poor woman who complained that
holidays meamt 'beatings,' and prayed
that there might be no more, went to
the root of the matter and revealed the
I dangers that lurk behind relief from
the restraint of labor. To interrupt our
daily work for no deMnite or noble pur
pose is not good. The Sabbath as a
I Diere holiday is a dismal failure. For
the same reason a national festival as a
holiday only does not claim or deserve
in the scope and power of any commu
nity to rescue our Fourth of July from
the shame of misuse and desecration.
The dignity of the day can be made
manifest by discovery; it can be restored
by the simplest means of recovery."
THE ROCK-A-BY CHAIR.
Oh, the rock-a-by chair is a jolly old ship,
Ami grandma's the captain and crew,
And she sings a nice song as we start on
Tho' I never have heard it quite through;
I tut Wb all about islands and rivers and
And the treasures and dream people
And this is the song that my grand-mam
In the wonderful rock-a-by chair.
"Oh, a beautiful stream is the river of
And It liows through the Kingdom of
And its current is broad and its channel is
And its shores are so fair and so placid
And it flows from the footstool of God,
From the fountains and footstool of God.
"There 's a marvelous isle up the river so
Where S glow of eternity gleams;
And our hopes and our yearnings are real
And freedom from sorrow and surcease
In the beautiful island of dreams,
In the misty mid-island of dreams.
"Oh, the faces so fair in that far-away
And the- tre-astires that never shall rust;
There are glimpses and gleams of the
sweet alter while,
And the touch and the kiss and the van
i >t lips that have crumbled to dust,
( It lips that hKVe fallen to dust.
And this is her song, but I don't know the
As I never have heard it quite all;
For I cuddle down close to my grand
mamma's lie at.
Anrl my eyelids grow heavy anil fall:
Rut I know that she sings about heaven
And the angels and everything there.
As we journey away to the Kingdom of
ln the wonderful rock-a-by chair.
He Might Hire a Cab.
There is only one $10,000 United
Stat'-s note in existence and the Gov
ernment keeps that in its own possess
ion. This is wise. It is hard enough
nowadays to get a !S."> note changed.
Think of the nuisance of having (10,
--000 notes in ir' nera! circulation. What
would a fellow do if he should find him
s. if in a street car with only a SlH.ooO
gr> enhach in his pocket to pay his fare
with? —Buffalo Express.
The denim pillow in all hues and
shapes is found both in the drawing
room and in the hammock.
A Positive Cure tor MALARIA,
Cim.LS AM) FEVEK.
Hundreds of citizens of Sacramento
recommend it. Contains ao poison.
PRICE, -76 CENTS.
FRANCIS S. OTT,
CUT RATE DRUGGIST,
IYX) X street, south side Second and K.
SACRAMENTO DAILY EECOKD-TOTION, SUNDAY, JTTLY 12, 1896.
THE COLONEL'S PLAN.
It was Rosebud's wedding.
The little white bride was running
down the path with her hand clasped
in her husband's. After them raced the
six tall bridesmaids, with their faces
buried in their bouquets; and over them
all stormed a cloud of rice.
The Colonel gave his arm bo the bride
groom's mother, and the two proceeded
down the churchyard path. Some mis
directed showers assailed them also,
and Mrs. Kennedy laughed shrilly as
she shook the rice grains off her bon
"Quite superfluous," she remarked, as
they found refuge in a carriage, and
were driven up to the house. The dress
maker's apprentice had been in posses
sion during"tihe ceremony, that all the
servants might go to see Miss Rose
married. She had stipulated only to
have a policeman on the lawn, because
of the wedding presents, and bad
propped all the doors and windows
wide, that he might hear shrieks if any
thing should happen, or if her terror of
the Colonel's wolves' heads and tigers
should get beyond control.
The first carri'ageful drove up to the
empty house, and Rosebud and her
•bridegroom stood side by side, looking
down the long noomi, smiling.
The bridegroom's mother was a wo
man with a presence; she sailed up in a
rustle of heavy silk and Rosebud put
up her face nervously to be kissed. She
was a little bit afraid of her mother-in
law. * * *
The crowd rushed in and the cham
pagne glasses began their perilous cir
culation, jingling and tottering. The
Colonel had ordered a special brand of
a dryness beyond disputing, amd it acted
like a tonic upon the lady guests, who
sipped at it soberly.
Rosebud's billowy satin trail was get
ting entangled among other people's
feet. When she moved the end of it
whisked round suddenly, and caused a
great commotion. She look€»d charm
ing, flushed with the glory of the min
ute; but there was a girlish longing in
her eyes when she glanced at the great
"I want a big pi?ee to dream on,"
she whispered, squeezing the Colonel's
"Oh!" said Archie reproachfully, and
then she remembered that she was
Then she disappeared, a little white,
radiant vision, to run down the steps
with Archie a little later, and dash
through a shower of rice into the car
riage that was to take them away to
_ ther. The white rain pattered on
the carriage roof, and Rosebud, putting
her head <>ut, smiled and nodded.
"A capital plan," said the Colonel.
Tie was addressing the aunts and cous
ins who who had come down for Rose
bud's wedding, and who were new scat
tered about the empty rooms. The
carriage drive was white with rice, and
some fowls had thrust themselves in
below the edge, and were very happy.
Inside, there were crumbs of hard,white
icing upon the carped, and the place
looked bare. The afternoon was draw
ing to a close, and there was to be some
kind of dinner some time; no one knew
when or what. The aunts and cousins
smoothed oust their finery, and stretched
their smiles; they were inclined to feel
melancholy. But the Colonel was very
"A capital plan," said he. "Old Mrs.
Kennedy will have the place ready for
them. She is going to live with them,
you know, and give them hints, which
will be jolly for Rose."
"Humph," said the aunts and cousins.
The six bridesmaids turned away from
the window. A great deal of rice had
slippped down their necks, and their
views of life were not quite so rosy.
"Poor thing!" they exclaimed to
* * « «•****
The Colonel was going to see his
daughter. As the honeymoon was over,
the birds must be settled in their nest,
and he was eager to see his little Rose
in the glow and dignity of her new po
sition. Driving into the town, he put
up at a hotel, and marched down the
street light-heartedly. Archie Kennedy
managed the County Bank, and though
his "bouse" was over a shop, as often
happened in Scottish towns, the county
can c in for afternoon tea, and waited
up there for their carriages after con
certs, beside showing themselves gen
erally kind; for Archie was well con
"Mrs. K'-nnedy?" said the Colonel,
stopping to chuckle upon the mat. It
$< mcd such a funny way of inquiring
| for Rose.
He was taken up stairs solemnly, and
I put into the drawing-room. Rosebud's
!drawing-room. With another chuckle he
put up his glasses and looked about him,
How Rose used to scold at the shabby
old drawing-room at home, a room tha:
BOi ;;11 her fripperies could brighten!
"When I have a room of my own."
she WX>Uld say, "it will be all pink and
pretty. Pink paper and cushions, and
little crooked chairs, and Dresden
This Was, however, not the kind of
room that the Colonel had been led to
I look for. It was long and dark, with
I heavy blue curtains, shutting out the
Windows and the sun. The wall-paper
was of a dark-bide pattern, and the
mantelpiece was covered with pea
< • B—*' feather*, of which Rose had
such dread and horror that she had
burned all there were at home.
The Colonel walked up and down,
!in astonished contemplation. In
his abstraction he knocked over a
work-basket that had a table to itself,
and stooped to pick up the contents,
reels, scissors; socks and wool and a
I big bunch of keys. These keys looked
business-like; tin y clattered much as
the Colonel put them back, but he no
ticed that tlie basket was old, and the
I ing shabby; it could not belong to
Re* -. I!'- straightened himself up and
She came Hying, up her old, hasty
j fashion. The door, with its heavy cur
tains dragging, swung slowly shut be
"How are you getting on?" said the
Colonel, drawing her to the light and
| smiling. "Bike two little birds in a
"You have forgotten my mother-in
-I:'.w." said Rose. Then she buried her
face in his coat and cried.
"What? hey? what?" ejaculated the
Colonel helplessly. He had not ex
pected this, Rose lifted her head and
smile,i, though her mouth still quiv
■It s all right," she said. "Only I—l—
was rather lonely, and you did not tell
me you were coming—and—and—I am
She was trying to laugh, but the
sound did not ring uaily. The Colonel
Bteri lat her, patting her head and
striving to make it out.
"Come into the other room," said
Rose. "It is so dull and dark in here
and those peacocks' feathers send cold
shivers down my back. Come into the
Othet i ■ 'in. She is out."
"She?" said the Colonel.
"Oh. Mrs. Kennedy," exclaimed Rose
hastily. She took him across the land
ing into the dining-room, the windows
of which looked on the street. There
was a low chair in one window, a work
table and a cat.
"I sit here with pussy," said Rose.
"Then I can watch people go by in the
street. And the bank is just opposite.
If I look very hard—so," she pressed
her small face close to the glass. T
can now and then see the top of Arch
ie's head over the wire blind in the
"Is that the way you keep house,
lazy person?" said the Colonel, patting
the hand that lay in his own. "I
thought I would find my Rosebud buz
zing up arad down like a little bee,
trotting to the shops and making won
derful experiments in the kitchen. 1
was certain you would appear in a big
white apron, clattering your keys."
"I would like that," said Rose. Her
tone was woful. "But Mrs. Kennedy
manages. There—there is nothing for
me to do."
She sighed, and then, jumping up, be
gan to talk fast and nervously. There
was a step on the stair, and along the
landing. Somebody looked in.
"My dear Rose, I do think"
The voice was unpleasant. It was,
however, altered as soon as the Colonel
was observed. Mrs. Kennedy came in
smiling and shook hands.
The Colonel would stay to lunch, of
course? and to dinner? She must go
down and speak to the cook.
"You ought 'to do that, Rosebud," said
the Colonel, pulling at his mustache.
"1 shall speak to Archie." But Rose
gave a little nervous laugh.
"Don't, papa; oh, don't! It would
make such mischief; and she would hate
me—and I am awfully frightened of the
* * * » * *
"Poor little creature. I anr so sorry
"I know old Mrs. Kennedy makes her
life a burden."
"Should not somebody speak to Archie
"It wouldn't do any good. It isn't
as if the old wretch had money. She
has got to live with them, and I suppose
that is why Mrs. Archie puts up with
her so sweetly. It can't be helped."
"Poor Mrs. Archie! The old lady's
constant nagging must be enough to
drive her mad. Did you see how ill she
The Colonel heard bits of that con
versation, for he was sitting behind the
talkers' parasols. It sank inter his
mind along with his own conviction
and Rose's anxious little face.
"Promise that you won't be putting
things into Archie's head," she had once
said, when the Colonel had come in and
found her crumpled in a little heap on
the sofa, sobbing. "I was feeling a
little k>WS that's all, * * * and I
would never forgive you. Promise,
promise!" and she would not let him go
until he gave in.
Rose was a plucky little soul, as she
should be, being a soldier's daughter.
She would not complain or tell tales,
and if she did not show fight, it was for
Archie's sake. But the Colonel grew to
recognize a little patient droop of her
mouth—a droop that she curved up into
a smile if Archie came in. This was the
Rosebud whose life should have been
all summer, who ought to have been
the happiest little wife in the country
The Colonel pulled at his gray mus
tache, and his eyes were troubled. Peo
ple talked of it, did they? What did
"If only the horrid thing would go
and get married, and leave those two in
"Married! Old Mrs. Kennedy?"
"My dear, she would be only too de
lighted. You can see it in the twinkle
of her eye. And it would be a mercy."
* * * Hum! * * * The Colonel
was thinking hard. There was one way
out of it. The lines grew deeper across
his brow. Those parasols were flutter
ing with many other parasols, and the
talk was of other matters. The Colonel
was driving home, and thinking. Light
words lightly spoken are not always
lightly h-. ard.
The sun went down. A faint mist
rose over the soft place in the moors,
and the daisies were all asleep. As to
the horse, he was going as he lib d,
and he stopped at the stable gate. The
Colonel walked up to the house he had
lived in for many years. The flowers
the gardener sowed grew in the borders
stiffly; but a rose tree that had been
planted long ago had grown all over
the wide front wall undipped, unti
died —it had been planted by Rosebud's
There was a dog- in the lobby. It
was an old campaigner like its mas
ter, in its own line, and had probably
had a great deal to do with the getting
of the many trophies that hung on the
walls. "Grinning dead things'" as
Rose had called them; but she had been
early familiar with them, and did not
scream at wolves' heads and tigers'
The look of the house was shabby.
The rugs were worn and the papers
faded. It had the air of a man's house,
very comfortable to man, but a blot in
the eyes of woman.
"Hum," said the Colonel, stopping at
the stair-foot and looking around. The
dog sniffed at his heels, and followed.
Th re was one room up stairs that
was unlike all the others. The Colonel
turned the door handle softly, as if he
were on the threshold of some holy
place, * * * as if the faint, fad. i
scent of roses was not to be lightly
hreathed. There was a strange silence
in there—a silence that did not seem
like the mere quiet of an empty room.
"Marguerite," said the Colonel.
He was speaking to somebody who
could give no answer, but his voice was
"Marguerite, you will not be angry?
It is for our little one, our only girl.
For her sake alone, my dearest!"
Then he turned anel came out again.
His face was darkened with resolution,
and a decision that had been hard.
Mrs. Kennedy and her daughter-in
law sat at the window. Rosebud was
gazing across to the bank, with her
hands clasped idle in her lap. The
droop in her mouth was very plain.
.Mrs. Kennedy, for her part, was glanc
ing up and down the street, observing
her acquaintances, the shops they went
into, and the clothes they had an. Her
sharp . yes traveled up and down, and
her tongue was busy.
"Tiheie is that Lorrfmer girl. Shock
ing style! Did you see her hat? I
wonder how you make a friend of such
a person; I really wonder, Rose * *
* Oh, she is speaking to Dr. Smith.
He has plenty of time- to talk in the
street, you see. I cannot understand
your preferring him. 1 have always
had Dr. Nivison"
"Yes," wearily from R -so.
"Ah, now do you notice how badly
Miss Hallam walks and you admire her?
I can't agree with your taste. Look how
awkwardly she crosses, the street —she
is standing on one leg outside Bailey's!
There are the Merrimans, your friends.
Positively Oh, who is that odd
person with a bouquet? Good gracious,
can it be your papa?"
Rose looked up the street. Yes, it
was the Colonel marching stoutly along,
with a great bunch of flowers.
"How funny! But, my dear, pray
don't rush clown the stairs like that.
She only spoke to the tall of Rose's
pown, for the girl was Hying down to
pull back the latch herself.
"Oh, the flowers! how dear and sweet
of you," she cried. The Colonel laughed
in an embarrassed manner, but kept
hold of his bouquet until they had come
"They are for Mrs. Kennedy, if she
will care to accept of them," he said
"You are quite gallant. Colonel," said
the mother-in-law, sniffing at the bou
quet. There was a sudden sprightli
ness in her tone and her look was arch,
i Rose thought she had grown younger.
"Was it a joke, papa?" she said half
reproachfully, while Mrs. Kennedy re
tired to put tbe bouquet in water. But
the Colonel shook his grizzled head.
"A joke? My dear child, why should
you think so?" he answered stoutly.
It was not long after this that Rose
bud, venturing 'into her mother-in-law's
room to ask her something, found her at
her toilet table. She was sitting in front
of itihe glass and smiling; there was a
powder-puff in iter hand, and one cheek
was a 'brilliant pink.
The Colonel's attentions grew, and
upon Mrs. Kennedy their effect was
marked. She became curiously gracious
by fits and starts to her daughter-iu
law, antd the acid tunicreueivnt slipped
out of her talk. Rosebud was greatly
puzzled, but rejected the suggestion
that Archie proffered with disdian. Her
father —her dear, faithful soldier father
—could not have any such Intention. It
was not likely. So Archie held his peace.
"Come over to tea with tme some after
noon," said the Colonel once, and Mrs.
Kennedy, who took all his sp-.-eches to
He fetched them in the dogcart and
Mis. Kennedy got up as lightly as she
was able, and fancying that only old
ladies were supposed to dread acci
dents, would not show her terror, but
sat smiling nervously, while the horse
capered round and round. Rose held
on behind and wondered.
It was a lovely day. They skimmed
along with glimpses of moor and sea
beyond the rowan-fringed highroad.
Mrs. Kennedy chattered happily, point
ing out little bits of scenery to the
Colonel, who, fully occupied, could only
glance at them out of the corner of
liis eye and mutter "Beautiful!"
There were houses here and there,
showing through trees dimly, as be
came country mansions. Mrs. Ken
nedy did not omit to take note of these.
"Do you see Castle Whin?" she said.
"It is quite deserted now, since Sir
James went abroad. He has been fre
ejuently sc>me foreign bath place for
his gout. I am sure it must be Monte
Carlo —because he was always rakish.
He was an old admirer of mine", by the
She laughed a little high-pitched
laugh, and kissed her hand to the chim
neys of Castle Whin. Then she looked
"My dear Rose, are you comfort
* * * * * *
They turned in at the gate, and the
Colonel made a pretty speech. Mis.
Kennedy skipped up the steps, express
ing her curiosity to see the wonderful
trophies of his adventures.
"I shall be delighted, if it will not
bore you," said the Colonel courteous
Rosebud rolled up her gloves and ran
out into the garden to till her hands
with flowers from the dear old un
tidy home. She could hear the Colonel
throw up the windows to let Mrs. Ken
nedy see the view, and she could hear
her mother-in-law making exclama
tions in a young, affected voice. But
the flowers, the familiar flowers, were
smiling up, and Rosebud forgot every
thing else, bending eagerly over the
The Colonel was taking Mrs. Ken
nedy all over the house, sparing her
no tiger story, no pig-sticking tale.
There was only one door that he did
not unlock, walking past it hastily.
"And this?" inquired the visitor in
passing; but he diel not seem to hear.
Lastly, he invited her to behold his
study, and the treasures it contained.
"What a delightful room!" said Mrs.
Kennedy, sinking deep into a shabby
old leather chair. She was slightly fa
tigued by her royal progress from room
to room, although she did not show it,
as her color was not able to come and
The Colonel looked wistfully round
"A few little touches would make it
charming," went on Mrs. Kennedy.
"At present it gives too much of a
brown effect. A lighter paper—and art
: rge drapery—and a few frilled cush
ions, would make it lovely. And then
these old swords want polishing."
"Whom have I to do that for me?"
said the Colonel suddenly, leaning
against the oak mantelpiece, grizzled
and brown as himself. "I am only a
solitary old soldier, as rusty as my
swords, and who would take pity on
me in the kind way you suggest? 1
have nobody to —ah —to frill my cush
Rosebud's mother-in-law sighed
gingerly, and said nothing. The blush
was fixed in her cheek.
The tea-table was brought in. Rose
waited, making her flow ers into bunch
es, and rubbing the roses against her
c heck. The other two were long. Per
haps the Colonel was wearying out her
mother-in-law with his old Indian
stories —and then Mrs. Kennedy would
be tired and cress, and she would suf
fer. Oh, if only she and Archie could
have a home to themselves; No house
could be big enough for them, as she
had discovered. It was of no use both
ering Archie; poor Archie, who could
not. help it, and who must not know
that his little wife was unhappy; that
she could hardly bear the tyranny of
his own mother. * * * She was not
sorry —oh, no, she dared not imagine
she regretted having persuaded the
Colonel not to make them wait. He
had said that it would be better foT
them to marry when Archie's success
had made his position as good as his
birth; he had looked higher for little
Rose. But she had been willful and
had got her way, and—oh, she was not,
would not be sorry. But—it was very
hard. * * *
I Her mother-in-law came in, followed
by the Colonel, who shut the door.
"I have some news for you. Rose,"
said he, standing awkwardly in front
of his daughter. "Mrs. Kennedy has
done me the honor to promise to be my
* * * * * * *
Rose had succeeded in getting one
minute alone with her father, and out
came the reproach that had until then
been only in her eyes.
"Aren't you glad, little one?" said the
"Glad?" repeated Rose with a gasp.
She had not thought of herself—she
could not stop to consider her own af
fairs. Only she thought of a white
stone cross with "Until the day break"
written on it—and of the one closed
room upstairs full of untouched memo
ries. When the day did break, how
would it be, after this—desecration?
"Oh, papa, papa, how could you!" she
cried, trying vainly to recover from the
shock. The Colonel winced. He could
not say to her: "It was the only way
I could think of to rescue my little girl
from being bullied.. And the dead will
know wlfy I do it." But he laid his
hands on her shoulders, remarking
"So you don't approve, Rosebud? Ah.
but you must remember that I have no
little girl to look after me now. Think
it over, think it over as we drive back,
A stepmother can't be as bad as—well,
well, give me a kiss and be quiet!"
"I am ready, good people," interrupted
Mrs. Kennedy, tripping briskly in.
"Bun and put on your things, my dear,
and let us make haste. We have news
for Archie, haven't we? He will be so
"What has come over the Colonel?"
"Heaven knows. Or perhaps the other
place has had more to do with it. He
looks very queer."
"Some old bullet making itself un
"More likely to be a new bullet, be
tween ourselves. He looks as if he would
be happy to put an end to himself. May
mean to do It with a halter."
"What do you mean?"
"Why, he is always hooked on to old
Mrs. Kennedy. Never comes to the
club now. But if you look over there
you'll see him three days a week, sit
ting in the middle of smoke and varnish,
while the old lady frisks about with a
The men grunted. They were smok
ing in the veranda of the Golf Club, a
solid stone building with a tower; and
they looked across the links to an imi
tative structure that the Ladies' Club
had erected on a hillock. Ladle* were
not allowed in the club, and to avenge
that lack of privilege they had made a
law that no man should enter their do
main. When they had parties, th. y
handed teacups out of the windows.
But gradually the severity of the laws
was lessened, and fathers, brothers, and
other people's brothers were taken into
the pavilion and given tea in the small,
varnished room, with its rows of lockers
and its smoking stovepipe.
Of late, the Colonel—the Colonel who
used to sit and smoke with his cronies
in the club after his round on the long
course —had been observed with hor
ror pottering round the ladies' links
with Mrs. Kennedy, and stooping his
head under the pavilion lintel. His old
friends began, to fancy that he was
mad. • *
It was on one line afternoon, when
the sea and the sky were blue, and the
golf links weie a vision of green de
light, that six veterans sat in the club
veranda and judged the Colonel.
"It's all up with him," said one, point
ing grimly with his pipe to objects on
a far hillock. One was the Colonel,
leaning heavily on his putter—and the
other, skittishly clad in scarlet, was
Mrs. Kennedy. "All up with him. An
old soldier should be able to run away.
However, he has gone down, He is go
ing to marry her."
The other five started out of their
"True"—amd there was a universal
groan, in the middle of which a new
comer pushed open the glass doors and
came out on the veranda.
"What are you plotting, hey?" said
he. They made room sadly.
"You have come home to behold
strange signs and portents, Sir James."
said the teller of the news. "Your old
flame —Mrs. Kennedy—is going to get
"What? Annie Kennedy? She must
be an old woman," remarked Sir James,
settling himself in the midst. He was
a rakish old Baronet, with a twinkling
eye and a love for gossip. The smokers
diew together, and told the news, go
ing on to other stories and the doings
of ten good years. * * *
"I shall go and call upon Mrs. Ken
nedy," said Sir James, with a
chuckle. * * *
Mrs. Kennedy sat in state in the
peacock drawing-room. She had had
many callers lately.
Rose was a meek accessory to these
receptions; she shook hands and sang
when she was requested, and then sub
sided, or managed to slip away to
watch for glimpses of Archie across the
street. Mrs. Kennedy did not require
The bride-elect was in all her glory
when Sir James came to call. A party
of lady friends had just departed, evi
dently struck by the youthftilness of
their hostess.- She had grown—or made
herself —twenty years younger. The
knowledge that they r saw it brought a
gleam of triumph to her eyes as she
stepped forward to greet her old ad
"You are quite a stranger in Scot
land. Sir James," she said.
"Who drove me away?" said he.
dropping into the manner of a great
many years ago.
Mrs. Kennedy laughed airily. She
was looking her best, with a bright dab
of pink upon either cheek. "The gout,
I was told." said she.
Sir James edged his chair a little near
er and chuckled. She was a fine woman
and bald yorn wonderfully. "So you
are to be congratulated, hey?" he said.
' I didn't know you were in the market.
'Pen my honor", it is too bad."
Mrs. Kennedy's eyes were lit up with
a sudden gleam.
The CV>l. was marching up the street
to call upon his bride. He looked up as
he crossed the road. Mrs. Kennedy was
in the habit of stationing herself at the
window when he was late, and of tap
ping archly upon the pane. To-day he
could not distinguish anything, for the
afternoon sun was shining upon the
glass. He walked down the entry and
rang the bell. Then he was taken up.
Mrs. Kennedy received him in the dress
ing-room. She greeted him with an em
barrassed laugh that was stranely like
a girlish giggle.
"I am so distressed." she said.
"Anything the matter with Rose?"
said the Colonel quickly.
"Oh, dear no. This concerns you more
—personally," said Mrs. Kennedy, hesi
Personally? The Colonel could not
help staring. "The fact is," she con
tinued. "I must throw myself on your
generosity, and beg of you to release
"My dear lady." began the Colonel,
anxiously. Was his only r plan to be
scattered to the winds? He had gone
through so much already.
"Fray .forgive me," said Mrs. Kenne
dy, witm her handkerchief to her eyes;
"1 cannot tell you how culpable, and
vexed and sorry I feel. But, Colonel,
first love is uneonquei able. Sir James
Dalrymple of Castle Whin has—has been
to see me. We were attached to each
other long ago, hut he was not pre
sumptively Sir James then —.and there
w ere ol..stacles. So I eventually married
poor Mr. Kennedy. * * * g Ult
lapse of years is a trifle—a mere trifle;
and when I discovered that his feelings
are still the same I could not help letting
him see the state of my own. With his
j. \V. WARREN.
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position in the county and his gout, and
the great, desolate house of Castle Whin
he requires a helpmate. You will be
angry with me. Colonel, but I could not
resist his appeal. 1 feel for you .most
sincerely, and I trust that you will Bod
seme other who will be to you all that
I might have been."
The Colonel bowed solemnly over her
hand and took his leave. He found it
very difficult to express himself, and his
only resource was flight. But on the
landing his feelings got the better of
him, and he could not help indulging h>
an impromptu war daince, eloquent of
Rosebud hardened to look ever the
stairs. Her voice rang down anxiously
"Pap i. what is the matter? oh. papi."
"Cramp, my dear, cnamp," said the
Colonel hastily.—Chambers' Journal.