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16. ROSALYNDE'S LOVERS By MAURICE THOMPSON AUTHOR OF "ALICE OF OLD VINCENNHS," "A TALLAHASSE GIRL," "SWEETHEART MANETTE," ETC. XIX. It would be interesting to observe Rayle's proceedings .during the time—it turned out to be twelve days instead of a week—that Dr. Banderet and Rosalynde were absent. He called :, upon .Angelle every day, and found her a most bewitching .young, woman, who held up before ' him a kaleidoscope ,of dazzling fascination*.^,* . " : . p ;- ..,;! Ho recognised her extreme difference from Rosalymte at the very moment when he was most impressed; with the twin-like resem blance between them, Perhaps this confused him, or was it the weather? For never had his eyes looked through such soft splendor of sunlight by day and moonlight by night.'* Of course he got acquainted with Mr. Fred die Amsley—very well acquainted indeed — most at onoe. ' Amsley. sniffed - game in | this sturdy, frank, confiding | youth I from Indiana, who seamed to ' have money, and Introduced him to some good fellows at his club. Rayle found his new friends delightful and prosper ous young men, who lived at a pace that made him dizzy; they fascinated him so that his imagination clothed them as princes of finance, «nd before he could adjust his judg ment to surroundings £0 engaging, they had deftly, and with Jocund show of. splendid good-fellowship, relieved him of every cent of his money. Then he realised that Fred dl« Amsley mis no angel of good fortune, but rather a sleek little demon, swift and sura In his work. What help was there (for him? He sat down Quits limp in his room at the hotel and looked aghast'lnto'the depths of his despair. For tunately, he had paid his bill for a fortnight In advance, a mere accident ' growing out of making *«hanjre»~ Bui what was before him? He tmA Botatag to depend upon save the pit tance at income from his estate in Hawlord. With, the thought of how his weakness and folly would affect 'Eosalynde came to Itayle'a mind the temptation to seek Breyten and ask him tor advice, it not for help in a more solid form. He slept, or- rathei" tumbled all night in, bed^ over the suggestion, and during the followtss forenoon ' want to the Hotel Royale, only to find that • breyten _ had gone west tight days ago. The obliging day dark fur ther Informed Mm Chat the gentleman would *vbe back In a tvrr days.'" ." • ■/• ? i "Wnsre haft he gone I" Bay la demanded, a •uddan suspicion opening darkly In his brain. The ■olark thought a moment, (hen. shook kl» head. / -■ ■'-:■-■ V- v: - f'-W-'il •■-■■ "I'm not sure; he didn't leave any orders about its mail. Seams to me, though, that lie inquired about the T»ch«. Y«v I know he didj seamed to be in a hurry; left on the morning'train,"; , ' Hayle pressed his teeth together and stood tMakinf. His first impulse -was to follow Breytaa's tracks, but upon reflection his pen niless condition forbade the venture. He iweat out and walked aimlessly for a while, the» returned to his hotel and shut himself la his room. Presently he recollected that lie bad promised to dine with Mrs. Ban neret and her daughter. Her* our record must rely upon the mea ner ":faots In the following letter, -written by Aagetye. to Rosalynde, who received it at New Iberia altar her return there from a memorable, voyage on the beautiful waters, of Bayou Teche; Dearest Rose j I hope this letter will not fail to reach you; and oh, I'm so glad that I did not feel in the humor to go with, you and papa, for I've been having such exoltlng experiences* How shall I tell you? It's like a novel. The very handsomest and moat interesting young man that I ever saw has been coming to see me every day since your departure. He's dark and has features so nobly cut and so finely intelligent that it's a delight to look at him. He's a charm ing talker, too; has just returned from. Paris, where he had no end of adventures. But, dear, he has no more actual knowledge of th»; worM than a boy of 15, though his opinion of himself is pretty extensive, as is the case with all men, you know. . Still, : that makes him delightful—his * want of [ worldly wisdom, I mean —an 4he is so enter taining and so western; he's from Indiana, too. He knew Uncle Luelen, and is ac quainted with Mr. Frederick Breyten, Mama and X have laid ourselves out to be agree able to him, as much on your friend's ac count as anything else, for he is now wait ing for Mr. Breyten to return; seems to be rather impatient to see him. I really think there is something mysterious about his com ing here—something romantic, rather —and I am so . interested. He has great, big, dark, soft eyes—a poet's —and such a voice! He sings to mama's accompaniments with perfectly divine richness and power, in a heavy tenor that I never heard the equal of anywhere. . Freddie has called. I'll finish thfs after I've sent him away. Freddie stayed but a little while, and he was disagreeable; he said some things about my new friend that made me angry, and I sent him off straightway. ! It was something that happened at the club, and he spoke of my friend as a "chump," whatever that is. I am beginning to suspect Fred Amsley of doing downright mean things. He even hinted that my friend is lacking in good common sense, and Intimated that he had shown himself a very easy victim to his own foolish egotism. I did not quite understand, but Fred's manner was disagreeable and we parted angry; at least,. I was. Another caller; it's my new friend. Oh, but now I have something to tell yo*u. My handsome friend from Indiana has just gone, after the strangest interview I ever had in all my life. I'm all nervous, and I do not know how to tell you what I have been experiencing. It is so Unusual, so ro mantlo, so pathetic, and —I almost said funny, but it isn't that. He has lost every oent of his money and doesn't know what to do. . It was Fred Amsley that caused it; lie was the little villain. My suspicions we're correct; he cunningly led my friend Into a gambling scheme of some sort and he was robbed. I will never speak to Fred Amsley- again. I didn't know he was a gambler. \ : -•• . • - But I will tell you everything when I come home. It's quite imposible to put the whole thing In a little letter. Mama and I have been talking it over. We feel that it is our duty to do something, . but what? Isn't it picturesque? Think of me with a penniless and despairing stranger on my hands, and he as handsome as Apollo and as interesting as. a hero in a novel. A, thousand kisses from your devoted cousin, • Angelic. The reader will understand that Angelic had a double reason for not mentioning Rayle'B name in her letter. In the first plate, he had told her that he wished to sur prise ■Rosalyn&e, and then she liked the sploe of mystery that she was able to throw into her account; It gratified her taste for ro mance. Moreover, she vaguely felt that m come "way it "was better to let Rayle explain, If he wished, the circumstances by which he had been influenced, although she really did not clearly comprehend her own motive in the matter. R&yle fascinated her more than she realized, and her sympathy -took deep hold in considering his unfortunate folly and the heartless conduct of Amsley. Angelle was peculiarly -wrought upon by a consideration of Rayle's trouble. It seemed to bar monstrous that a man bo very hand some, so charming as a talker, so gifted as a singer, and withal co evidently free from the real vices of manhood, should have fallen Into a vulgar error inducing such keen and humiliating distress. From what Ray'.e had told her, she imagined that Breyten was his only hope; and the thought of Breyten brought to mind the great probability, almost certainty, that he had gone in pursuit of Rosalynde. Then she smiled and wondered if Rosalynde would be glad to see him. She felt some sort of comfort in the suggestion that Breyton might be able to win her away from Rayle, being a bold and audacious lover, evidently not to be set aside with a irere wave of the hand. It was a romantic subject for her imagination to play with, at all events. Bayou Teche doubtless has had many a romance upon its slow, languid water, and In the picturesque houses that peep forth from the groves and gardens along its banks, but the flower of them all—the poem of them all, it' would be better to say—was that which Breyten and Rosalynde made for themselves ■while on board a little steamboat, a lazy but tireless craft running far up the great lagoon and touching with its enterprising nose every landing on either shore. Dr. Banderet, having lived most of his life in the south, had the southerner's quick sense of what is due to a gentleman who falls in the way of one's hospitality or seems a good target for one's, generosities of any sort. He.knew Breyten's family, had known his father, and now, well impressed with the young man himself, he set no limit to kind ness and courtesy. His business at New Copyright, 1901, Iberia had to be postponed for a few days, and as time was heavy ho bethought him of the voyage up tho Teche—it would be a rev elation to Rosalynde, and perhaps not unat tractive to Bjeytpn, So it was arranged, a little steamer came just at the nick of time; to reach it was no great trouble. The old doctor was in high spirits; Breyten had charmed him; for Breyten was a good listener, the doctor an enthusiastic racon teur,, and what more was needed? The only drawback was that Breyten's mind wandered from the entertainment so generously expended upon him to Rosalynde, sitting by the vessel's rail a little distance farther forward. He wanted to join her; as yet he had not been able to converse witß* her alone, and Ws heart was Impatient, his ears louged for her voice, his eyes could not be .kept from gazing at her profile while she looked away over the smooth water. Breyten, after the most diligent impa tience, finally -worked himself clear o.f Dr. Banderet'e control and turned his chair so as to face Rosalynde. "Nov." he said, with the air of one who dares fate, "we will give any intruder a cold stare of repulse. I am in no humor for interruptions." "It is a beautiful panorama," she said, "a sort of dream-shadow and dream-sheen vis iun. I was here once before, long, long ago, when I was a little child. It is just the same, so far as I can see, not a trace of change. I remember those long-necked, slow-winged birds." She pointed towards some herons, laboring through the drowsy air. "I have dreamed of these dusky shore-groves and those wide fields of cane yonder hundreds of times. They made a great impression upon my childish mind, and I have always de aired to oome and see them again." "But you never dreamed that I was with you, did you?" "No," she said with a little laugh. "Wall, I was to be, and here I am. You 4o not seem surprised; you do not object" "Why should I?" "You shouldn't; it's In aocord with divine ly ordered destiny." "How do you know that?" "How ;do I know that I am here and that you are here? : Do you believe that two peo ple like you and me are mere playthings of chance? Or do you imagine' that God crossed the lines of our j lives that He might tantal- Isa us? - What are we ©era for? Why did I j find you under' the bridge ; when the storm made day Ilka "midnight?" "I don't know," she faltered; then added, with a firmer tone: "People have to meet. The highways are for all." -••; -' : ; "True; but our meeting opened a new life to both of us; you know it. Look back be yond that meeting. Is life back there -what it is on this tide? We have blended souls, we have enlarged each other's vision, broad ened each other's capacity to enjoy, to com prehend, to aspire. I did not know life until you opened Its gate; before that I was but a Joy-dreamer, with the Greek poets for my oup-fillers and physical nature for my guide. Now I feel something better, purer, stronger. I love, and I feel the imperious right to be loved." Rosalynde. had been struggling with a sense of duty during this impassioned speech, which she felt overwhelming her and lifting tears towards her eyes. She knew that she must cast off with a firm hand what, in spite of all she could do, seemed to fill a, thou sand dry and thirsty wells of her soul. It was impossible for her not to realize what she was called upon to consider. There was something in the situation dellciously challenging, a something which, forbidden by her betrothal to Rayle, yet demanded the tenderest and most considerate treatment. The facts —she could not deny that they were facts—tumbled upon her attention by Brey tea just now, were not new to her; she had revolved them innumerable times since they parted at Hawford. Not that she gave the meaning that he insisted upon. She gave them no meaning; they simply haunted her With a strange composite effect at once, at once infinitely saddening and idescribably sweet. "What are you thinking?" Breyten gently demanded, after a rather long pause, during which a beautiful landscape had opened on one bank of the bayou. "How pastoral and peaceful! I remember that house." She indicated a venerable man sion under enormous live-oak trees. The boat, as if attracted by the cool shade, the wide verandas, and the idyllic agricul tural scene in the rear, turned its prow to wards the landing at the place. '"I should love to live there, a long, un eventful, dreamy life," Rosalynde added. "What could be more reposeful, more Ilka what poets describe when they want to make you discontented with your lot?" "I'll buy it for you, if you'll live there with me," he said, with the eagerness of a iboy who begs for something that has been denied him. "I'll buy anything, everything you want—a palace. You have but to ask." Her face paled: she turned upon him eyes full <t earnest beseeching. "Dc not talk like that, I beg of you," she said, gently but firmly. "You forget." "No I do not forget; I remember clearly," he insi3ted; "but what of it? Rosalynde " She stopped him with a gesture and an air of absolute command. It was a revelation of that in her character which theretofore had been veiled from him. "I am Alfred Rayle's promised wife," she said. "There is nothing to add to the sim ple statement. You know it as well as I." In that moment, at those words, his heart sank, hut he fought hard and held his head high. Defeat seemed impossible. He must not force fate; time and the weight of events might yet win for him all that now seemed impossible, for there was no doubting the immovable, albeit hauntlngly gentle and In scrutable, expression in her face. And yet he felt a deep, heart-pervading intimation from her eyes and from the undertones of her voice, that she was repressing and try ing to smother what she really had let kindle In her soul for htm. But she had put him to the crucial test. "Ir you really love Alfred Rayle and do not love me, that is the end," he said. "I followed you here, not to try to change your love, but to prove it. My love for you could not let me believe that you did not love me. I cannot realize it now; but if it is so, if you love Rayle and not me, it is my load, and I must carry It." His face shone white through the bronze: there was a look in his splendid eyes that tortured every string of her heart. He rose and stood for a moment in silence. Far away somewhere a boat-horn sounded a long, plaintive strain. "I see that I have done wrong," he said. "Forgive me; lay It to my ignorance. I never loved before; it has conquered me wholly." She sat silent, and he added, in a tone that labored with a tremendous reserve feeling: "If this is the end, there is no more life for me; but I will not annoy you. I——" He passed his hand over his forehead and looked bewildered. Then, rallying, he tried to smile In his old, joyous way, and said: "I believe I am not well—a trifle dizzy. It's nothing; it will pass." « But he dropped rather heavily into his chair, as a very tired man might have done. But he mastered himself before Rosalynde could fairly under stand, and now he had to assume a cheerful mood, for Dr. Banderet came to join them and had thought of another excellent story. The voyage on the Teche lasted two days ■without further incident worth recording. Rosalynde and Breyten conversed brokenly, meeting and separating capriciously; Dr. Banderet gradually completed his cycle of stories and cheerfully set out on the second round. At last it was all over, and the little party again set foot in the hotel at New Iberia. Next morning Dr. Banderet's busi ness claimed him, aad '. Rosalynde was whisked away by a matronly friend, whose boms on the outskirts of the town looked old enough and quatnt enough to date back to the days of French supremacy. Breyten lingered and waited. Why did he linger? What was he waiting for? There was no reason; there was no expectation. Still, he lingered and waited, a mere lounger the hotel. When Dr. Bandert's affairs were at last ar ranged to .his liking, he brought Rosalynde back to the hotel, and the three dined to gether upon delicious French dishes, and notably excellent French wines. Of course, THE MINNEAPOLIS JOURNAL. some stories by the dootor added pleasant- ness to the occasion. Next morning, while they were making ready to take the return train to New Or leans, Angelle'a letter arrived. Dr. Ban deret was out attending to some final details, and Breyten came into the little parlor just as Rosalynde made an end of reading her cousin's romantic prattle. Her face was lit with excitement when she looked up at him. "You did not tell me that Alfred—that Mr. Rayle was in New Orleans," she said with reproachful, almost bitter, emphasis. "You have a letter?" he inquired, mean ing one .from Rayle. "Yes," she said. "Then he has told you, and I am not bound to keep his secret longer. I could not tell you, because he made me promise not to. I have felt the wrong of it, but I had promised him. Forgive me. I am sorry." She stood a moment, hesitating; then she handed Breyten the letter. "Read it," she aaid, "and tell m« what it means." While his glance ran over the clear, ele gant, yet girlish writing, Rosalynde watched him in a state of breathless suspense. She knew and she did not know what the wortt meaning of Angelie'e tantalizing obscurity might be, and a great sense of impending disaster toore upon her. "Humph!" muttered Breyten, more to him self than to her. "What a fool! How ab surd!" Then be handed the letter back to her. » A wave of his old impulsive generosity swept through him. He looked Into her troubled eye* and, with a cheerful smile, said: "It's nothing serious. I'll straighten it all ouff iDon't worry in the least about it." He sat down at a table and drew forth pen and a little writing pad. "I know -what to do," he added, and laughed. What he wrote wu a telegraphic message in oipher to bis agent in New York: "Send by wire to Alfred Rayle order for five thousand dollars througfcf New Orleans National Bank. Utmost dispatch. Absolute aecrecy. Notify Rayle at Hotel." He went out and sent away the message, returning in ten minutes. She was waiting for him, but she appeared not in the least reassured. A new trouble had been added to her eyes during his absence, for she had been rapidly thinking over many things in the past and coupling them with what had just transpired. She advanced a Step to meet him and said: "What have you been doing? You have sent him money. It is all wrong. You " "Watt," he gently interrupted; "do not make a hasty judgment; it is never safe. It will be time to make up your mind when everything is clear to your vision after all excitement has passed," He looked to her Just as when he stood on the bridge that first day, smiling at her in the light that followed the storm. Somehow his words and hl3 manner tempered her dis tress. She felt imperiously compelled to rely upon him. He seemed able to do anything great that he desired to do. Dr. Banderet came In with a bustling air. They would have to make haste or lose the train. "Good-by, then," said offering Rosalynde his hand. "I am going on to Mexico. Our voyage was an experience that I shall never forget. I say good-by with a pang." She gave him her hand. "Why, my dear sir," exclaimed Dr. Ban deret —"my dear sir, this is sudden; we had Counted upon your returning with us." "Yes, it is rather sudden, a sort of surprise to myself; but I am a creature of whims. I have thought of Mexico for a long while, and now that I seem near its border, the impulse comes upon me to go. But you will miss your train through being kind to me. Good-by, Miss Banderet; good-by, doctor." "You won't be always in Mexico," said Dr. Banderet, already hurrying Rosalynde away, and speaking cordially back over his shoul der. "You'll be in New Orleans on your return trip. Came right to my house." When Rosalynde turned at the door and gave Breyten a quick glance, he thought he aaw tears shining in her eyes. Breyten went to Mexico and wandered somewhat perfunctorily for a space of five or six months in a mood not conducive to per fect comfort. He kept Angelie's photograph—he could not separate it from his dream of Rosalynde—and one seeing him gazing upon it would have suspected him of praying to it; but sentimen tal as all this may seem, he lost no sleep, kept a great appetite, flourished physically and read the home newspapers whenever he could get hold of them. He was on the point of embarking at Vera Cruz for Havre when the items of news for which he seemed to have been long looking fell under his eyes. It wa6 in a New Or leans paper, just five weeks old: "Mr. Alfred Rayle and his wife have gone to Hawford, Ind., for a month's visit." Breyten read the item over and over, but somehow he could not realize its fact. Pres ently he flung down the paper with an im patient gesture, and laughed as one does who is proof against the .little annoyances that printed matter occasionally swarms with. "I've looked for it diligently enough, ex pected it confidently enough, and prepared myself for it carefully enough," he reflected, "so that it means nothing—absolutely noth ing—to me, now that I've found it." Breyten went bowling across the seas to France. There he made persistent efforts to regain his . lost way of life. First he tried interesting himself in books, art, the theaters and the streets of Paris; then he ran up to Switzerland and gave his great muscles free play among the glaciers. It was but mechanical exercise, not recreation; the old idyllic joy would not return. He began to wonder how he had ever cared so much for what now seemed idle and empty, a mere vagrant's mood, of which a man ought to be ashamed. But what was worth while, then? He lingered here and yonder on his slow way. He spent the winter in the Riviera, dreaming of the Teche, knowing all the time that sooner or later he was going back to Hawford on a bicycle by way of the bridge where he had first met Rosalynde. And promptly, early in May, he was there, but the old wooden span had been torn away to give place to a patent one of iron. It was growing dusk when he reached tht> hotel at Hawford. "Hello!" said the smiling, fat clerk, in stantly recognizing him, "glad to see you, Mr. Breyten. You can have the same rooms. You are looking fine. Been growing, haven't you?" Breyten generalized vaguely and genially in response to this unexpected warmth. He would have liked to ask innumerable ques tions, all tending to one object—Rosalynde. For, in spite of what he knew to the con trary, he could think of her only as living yonder in the old gray home among the trees. Presently he would go up there and see her; she would be walking in the broad way between the gate and the house, and an absurd little dog with a ribbon around its neck would be trotting along ahead of her. "When you got jammed up so on your bi cycle that time, I never expected that I'd see you flying around again. You're entirely well of it?" "Yes, thank you,' quite well." "The young lady came out mighty lucky." "And how is she?" Breyten could not con trol his desire. The question was asked as if automatically. "Don't know; well, I guess. The family have just come up from New Orleans; going to spend the summer here. I haven't seen any of 'em yet." Breyten turned abruptly and followed the servant, who led the way to his room. He walked briskly and appeared to be alert, self-contented, happy; but he felt heavy .md listless; he could not think clearly, and every fibre of hie body seemed strained to the point of lesion. He dined heartily, for his heavy exercise awheel had given him a sharp appetite, though he was not tired. At 8 of the Haw ford courthouse steeple clock he went out into the moonlit night He reflected: "I shall go for a look at the house where I lay so long. And it seems but yesterday, yet like a century, too, since she read to me and I gazed at her through half-closed eyes. Just a look at the old fiouse, and then —" In frost of th« Banderet homestead Brey ten stood up firmly, straight and tall, while a figure moved down the walk towards him; a gray, slender, graceful form, leading a lit tle child. One glance assured him; it was Rosalynde. Suddenly he felt perfectly master of himself. There was but one thing to do, and he was glad and eager to Jo it. Of course, he had no time to reason it out with himself, but th« gist of it was: "Here she comes. It is Mrs. Rayle now, a happy little wife. Clearly all that I've got to do is to shake hands wich her, be glad to see her, be invited in, talk with Rayle, and go away." »" Woea s Breyten opened \ the; gate the, figure; , vu 1«m f than | ten > pace? distant, * end ;' at ! the click : of i the latch It I stopped quite still. With • quick steps, he approached * and held out ; hiß band. '['..'■;-. • ;; "Do you forgive a friend, Mrs.* Rayle, the liberty of , taking you- unawares?" Hia . voice was , not 60 steady, after all. "Mr. Breytcn!" "Mrs.- Rayle." ■ .■ ' / :. ' ■ "You arc mistaken. Mrs. Rayle is away: but I am glad to see you." ; v ' She took his hand; he stood looking hard at her. Surely it was Rosalynde, ' pale, radiant, glad, gazing up into his questioning «yes. /-..., .'shf.,: ' :.- - ;■ -■.;■-■■ v^_£.v izi Tho little child, daughter of a . neighbor, slipped aside . and ran ? away. ; Breyten put on a great spurt •of shrewd ness: the " flash ■of comprehensive retrospect that comes to a drowning man wax giving him full explanation ',' of his mistake. .He recollected that the photograph was of Rosa lynde's cousin, Miss Angelic Banderet. To be i;»ure.'v.^:-:. >^:,".; '■'■.■".)*■'": %-. .'■>\. 0 ..-.,^. fr '.'v',.■■■. He laughed and said: . . "The moonlight deceived me; I thought you were Rosalynde— Mrs. Rayl«." ■;■:'[ '■ % %'i ' 1 "Come into the : house with me, ; wb«» the light .is better, she saia. - .; • -^ ■• "You are Miss Angelic Banderet?" 0 :, "No, lam Rosalynde." ;* -:} t':'-'.%'^--\ \- He stopped as if ; frozen. '/•■>: "Then—than/*- h« \ •tas>m«r«d, "then, ; you are Mrs. Rayle." :f. : V,',-.". ;*V-L ..'•.. '-':-':^ >:■'; ':.:. "Now• I sm \ Rosalynde } Banderet." There was a decided! accent of disapproval, ac well as denial, in her voles. "I do not like toe humor of - what you say." She mad* a ges ture of disappointment, and stood *as 'it wait ing for him to make amends.: ■ : . '•! —Rosalynde— what are you say ing. to -me?" What do you mean?" .<■ r%:-.^\ -Something behind ■ his faltering word* mdl- < Sabbath-School Lesson. FOR ; june 16,1901 Jeaua Appears to John—Rev. I. 9-20. BY JOHN R. WHITNEY. Copyright. 1901. Golden Text.—Jesus Christ, the same yeater day, and to-day, and forever. —Heb. xSli., 8. This lesson lifts us up to a higher plane of privilege than any that has as yet come be fore 'us. In those we have seen the risen Savior manifesting himself to men, just as we see him doing in this, but the revelation in them was of himself ac he appeared on th? earth before his crucifixion. Those to whom "h^ showed himself alive after his passion," saw him as a man, as the very one whom they had "known in the flesh," and at whoso feet they had sat for two or three years. At intervale, for "forty days," he thu* mani fested himself to thdrn. Then they saw "this game Jesus" ascend into heaven, and In his feet and bands are wound prints, And his side. Jn all of those revelations of himself, how ever, our attention was directed, not co much to him, as to the effect of the revelation upon thoee who received it. But now, as he re veals himself to Ms beloved apostle John, our thoughts are not turned so much to the effect, as they ~are to the revelation Itself. When John last saw him, it was as a man. But now he saw him as the very Son of God; in the glory which he had 'With the Father "before the world was" (John xvii., 5), the glory which had once enveloped him on the earth, when he was transfigured on the mount. The other revelations were gracioue. This, however, was not only gracious, J>ut it was wonderfully sublime. It was overwhelm ing. Such revelations always are. The time when ha saw this vision was one of great gloom to the aged apostle. He was then nearly 100 years old. All of the compan ions of his youth and maturcr years had passed away. Most of his fellow apostles ha'! suffered martyrdom. Banished by the empe ror, Doinitian, to the Island of Patmos be cause of his faith in Christ, he was an exile far from his work a.s an apostle. Tradition says that his occupation, was to work in the mines found in this rocky Suffering thus himself from the prevailing persecution bis heart was even more distressed, because of the trials which befell those to whom he had ministered. Besides these outward trials the infant church was sorely rent within it self. Heresies of all kinds were creeping in, beguiling unstable souls, and many through fear were denying the Lord that bought them, whilst many more had "a name to live, but were dead." As the aged apostle fulfilled his daily round of weary work in the mines and meditated upon this state of things in the churches, everything must have seemed very dark and dqeary to him. Still his faith clung to th"c precious memories of the past, and the words of Him on whose bosom he had leaned nearly three-quarters of a century before. His life, death, resurrection, ascension and promises filled his mind and heart, and so, through the spirit he held fellowship with him. It was when he was thus "in the spirit on the Lord's day" that this vision was given him. Then, he says, "I heard behind me a great voice, as of a trumpet." (v. 10.) It sounded loud and clear. It was the voice of him who said, -I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, which is, and which was, and which is to come, the Almighty." (v. 8.) What he said, John was commanded to write. The message was to be addressed at the time to "the seven churches of Asia," but in the end, to the full, complete, number—the uni versal church—God's people of all time. When he heard the voice as of a trumpet," he says that he at onea turned to see from whom it proceeded. A glorious vision met his eyes. Seven golden candlesticks were ar ranged before him. In their midst stood a majestic person, having the apeparanee of "a man" (r. v.) ( even of "the Son of Man" (a. v.) He was dressed in a long robe which reached to his feet, and which was held together across the breast by "r golden girdle." "His head and his hairo were white like wool—as white as snow." 'His eyes were as a flam© of flre." Hie feet were like burnished brass fresh from the "/urnace," and when he spoke his voice was as powerful as "the sound of many waters," and as re freshing to the troubled apostle. In his right hand he held seven stars —a two-edged sword proceeded from his mouth —and ito Took upon him was like looking into the noonday sun, for "his countenance was as the sun shineth in his strength." Such is the description "which Jphn gives of this majestic person. But what does it mean? Although his head, his hair, his eyes, his mouth, his hands, bis feet, and even bis very clothing, are all minutely described, yet who can realize in them the description of a living being? The very attempt to combine the whiteness of "wool" and "flames of fire" with "fine brass"; and "the sound of many waters" as characteristics of One whose face was like the sun, whose mouth held a sword, and whose hands grasped "stars," is far be yond the power of human thought or words. And yet it is only by such terms that God for us to understand them fully, yet any oth for us to nuderstand them fully, yet any oth ers we could not understand at all. It will help us, however, in thid matter, to recognize that the language here used is not typical, but symbolic. For "wool," "fire," "brass," "waters," "stars," are not type:3 of what God is to the believer, or of anything that he does for the believer, but they are symbols of what he is in himself. Thus there is a great difference between "types" 'symbols," which it is very important to In reading a novel a woman always jumps at conclusions. HiF/B Health for All Women I 91 **£j^ SI I *•» tnithfully »y «ut WJne of Cumbow, V«., September 13, 1960. Ma 1 X.' aH '"B truthfully My that Wine of Cardui and Thedford'i Black-Draueht hive dene m« f| WkrWT "^ST^JH m more good than *" th« other medicines I ever took. I have had better health and have ffi| ■: HlhuJ". :; ■ '- '■ - - ".. :'**omMttß2?Sß&m been able to do more work this summer than I have in ten year* before. I have persuaded j i J^^S'^P^SHh o^heri l*Ul* y*Ur IMdlclnt> Mrs. MINERVA N. BARBER. « '§r 'Saf^ ivni ■'"■"■•■''■:- Womtn may be healthy. There is no excuse for all the suffering there it Pr; PS fnfrfr th* word. Thousand* who would be filling premature graves or dragging E», Sfl out livo or offering are h«ppy and healthy because they took Wine of CarduL f| mM WINE'CARDII I pF •if the medicine provided by Nature to strengthen and regulate the menstrual mk t^| M*^-**^^^lT' * organs of women. Nature never intended all women to suffer. if they do suffer B jn it is because they have neglected some natural law. They have neglected some little menstrual Irregu- 'MB W larity which has grown into falling of the womb or one of the long calendar of Ills to which women ||| u% are subject. Women only Know the awful distress continued menstrual disorders bring. Headaches, 11| 'Urn backaches, aches in every limb and pains in the abdomen, neck and chest all combine to make the fill Mm sufferer's life one of misery. By taking Wine of Cardui these pains can be banished quickly and m m permanently. This simple medicine has cured a million women, it will cure you. Try : it! All ml U druggists sell $1.00 bottles. Mm . For *dTic» »nd literature, addre»s, giving ujmpiomß, "Th« Ladies' Advisory Kraf - Hi '■ '• ' Dapartment," Th« Chattanooga Medicmo Company, Chattaaooca, Tena. ,'gggf oated whole volumes of Inexpressible sus pense, doubt, hope, trembling expectation. "I do not understand you," she said, visibly quivering from head to foot, for she was be ginning to suspect the truth. He did not comprehend that it was Angelic who became •Mrs. Rayle. As for him, he caught the truth at that mo ment, as if it had been revealed by a divine light. He saw a flash of electrical splendor, like that away back yonder under the old bridge on the day he first eaiw her. "You did not marry Rayle," he cried in a low, glad voice. "Rosalynde! Rosalynde! You d-Id "not—did you?" "Nq," she said, from somewhere deep in his arms. It was like the cry of a bird rev eling in foliage so densely rich that the lux ury was well-nigh overpowering. "No," he repeated after her; "no, no!" Tho spring wind was merry in the young leaves overhead. From the house a violin's notes trembled forth, delieiously tender and «weet; it was Mrs. Banderet playing the doc tor* • favorite - lyric. % Then a small: object came ambling down the walk and frisked and barked ■ as it . its - whole life depended ■, upon ! noise > and motion; but lit . received not the slightest /regard; its mistress did: not . even see It or hear it. - ; • :; So the love »tory of Breyten and Rosalynde crowned lt*«lf with a happy ending. No, it* is not yet ended. They are now in the third year of their honeymoon, somewhere in Eu rope, I believe, touring a~wb«el. Breyten .is more in love with his wit* than he was with bis sweetheart They iiave a beautiful home on th« • Teche, another In Hawford, and still another in N«w York. " " -; .-^': But we can go no farther. Marriage is not the end of love, but it Is the true end of a love story; and this is only a love story. 1'- V : "■' -■ ■'■ ■■■; •• The Jfnd. .-\' ;:;■'•--:' bear in mind in the study of this lesson, and of maay other portions of the scriptures. Aa a general rule "types" are employed to set forth great moral and spiritual truths and acts—aa the siufulnesa of sin, the atone ment, the resurrection, the new life in Christ. "Synibola," however, are used to describe moral and spiritual qualities and' characteris tics, as holiness, strength, wisdom, peace. Historical event* or visible ceremonifls are employed as "types." But well-known prop erties of material things andi living creatures as ".symbols." Thus the events of the flood, the ceremonies of the Jewish ritual, the life of Jonah, are types of great spiritual acts and truths which were fulfilled by the life and death of Christ. But when eternity is expressed by a circle, as in aacient hieroglyphics, or by the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet, alpha and omega, as in this lesson; or when cour age and strength are represented by a lion, or peace by a sea of glass, smooth and unruf fled, then the characteristics of material things are used 1 as symbols to describe moral and spiritual qualities. When such symbols are used in our ordi nary conversation, or in the scriptures, it is because the simple statement of the quality does not fully convey to the mind the mean ing desired. Thus, when the little girl, try ing to describe the excellencies of her teach er, said "she looks like a prayer," in that one word expressed far more than she could have done by an elaborate sentence, and ex pressed it far more clearly. So the symbol of whiteness, "as white as snow," gives us a clearer idea of unspotted holiness than the simple word "white," or even "holiness" alone could havo done. When John turned at the voice of the great trumpet, the first thing that struck his atten tion, he says, was an array of "seven golden candlesticks," and he was told that they sig nified "the seyen churches." (vv. 12-20.) Now "a candlestick" is not a light in itself, but it holds up that which does in truth give light. This is the character which SU Paul desires in all believers when he writes "that ye may be blameless and harmless, the sons of Gold, holding forth the word of life." (Phil, ii., 15-16.) To the collected body d« such individ ual believers, organized as churches, in a still larger sense was committed the gospel of Christ. They were to hold him up as "the light of the world." Such "candle sticks" John declares are "golden" and the number of them is "seven." Thus the pre ciousness- and the universality of "the church" was graphically presented to him. In the midst*of this precious—universal— "church," he saw "One like unto the Son of Man." He recognized him at once as his divine Lord and Master. His dress was that of the high priest in the temple with the golden girdle around the waist like "the curious girdle of his ephod—of gold, blue and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen, as the Lord commanded Moses." (Ex. xxxlx., 6.) "His head and his hairs were white like wool—as white as snow." (verse 14.) The emphasis is on the whiteness, and it needed "wool" and "snow" to even approximate a description of what he saw. They indicated glory, purjty and wlsdpm. Thus this great high priest—even "the son of man," whom he saw in the midst of the churches—was eternal, Infinite in holiness and wisdom, and crowned with glory. "His eyes were as a flame of fire," pene trating -and consuming. Nothing was hidden from him, for "all things are naked and opened unto the eyes of him with whom we have to do." (Heb., It., 13.) As he said unto the church in Thyatira, he "searcheth the reins and hearts," and will give unto every one according to their works. (Verse 23.) Thus as fire tries the precious metals, he will bring all things into judgment. "His feet" were "like unto fine brass," Strong and durable." Wherever he trod his enemies would be destroyed and his people delivered. "His voice" was "as the sound of many waters," not only quiet, smooth and deep water, but waters like a Niagara, moving with terrific power and speed. When he spoke none could contradict, or prevent. But this was not all. "His countenance was as the sun shineth in his strength," with no^ cloud to obscure it 3 glory. "And he had in his right hand seven stars." They were "the angels," or his messengers, appointed to minister in the churches. They moved in their respective spheres and ful filled their service only as they were held and directed by his hand. "Out of his mouth went a sharp, two edged sword." It was "the sword of the SDirit,. wiich is the word of God" (Bph. vi., 17). which is "quick and powerful, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discemer of the thoughts and intents of the heart." (Heb. iv., 12.) Such was the glorious and gracious vision presented to the aged and troubled apostle. It was a vision of Jesus of Nazareth In his ascended glory. When he saw it, we can well imagine that It at once banished from his mind all thought of Patmos and Its mines, of Domition and his persecutions, and of anx iety and fear concerning the churches where he bad so long and faithfully labored. His divine lord, whose eyes penetrated every where: whose hands could reach every one 1 whose feet could tread down all enemies; whose word none could resist; himself all glorious in holiness and infinite In wisdom and power, was still mindful of his promise: "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." And now he aald to him, "Fear not" He Bays the same to all of his troubled and believing children. Bryn Mawr, Pa. Emerson: The best lightning rod for your protection is your own spine. SATURDAY E\i^^,,*, e,J^'S, 1901. * * r 1$& ANHEUSER-BOSCH'S , W is recommended tw s^dr because its super rd^fi p|j^\ ior tonic qualities ''^*^fi\ilsr^;:; are thoroughly established by the medical fraternity and all users universally. It gives appetite, health, vigor—is welcomed by the new mother, the aged, the weak, the convalescent. PSJJSi^^ Anheuser-Busch Brewing Ass n .■■■.* -■•■■■■.'■•/ ■'.-,■ St. Louis, U. S. A. ■' •■ - ; '-.':'■' -.. .' Brewers of the original Budweiser, Faust, Michelob, Black & Tan, Pale-Lager. Anheuser-Standard, Export Pale and Exquisite. ' ■ MH fifl 888 - Jsm' hbb| 'W9 mi ■ 8 v U Vm ABSOLUTE SECURITY. Gcillllae CARTER'S LITTLE LIVER PHIS must bear signature of M*~?^*r ',- ■■■■■ ■■- |T«ry and *»•*•? :, ■" . • ; ; ■'■; r «o taka as sutfiuev; SEE CARTERS for oiuincis. SEE ifclJ. CAR! IRS for oihihess. SEE GENUINE f |Vk ER IS mm GENUINE wiupper. IKl ls- SSSSSHSS?" wrapper f! '"■"* I FOR THE COMPLEX!OE ""■! GOOD REVENUE FROM UGLY SWEAR WORDS New York Times. New Brunswick—A Good Language Club has been formed here. No member is permitted to swear without paying for it. Fines of 2 cents are imposed on each ordinary cuss word. Words of real blas phemy by the members call for fines of 25 cents each. The iniation fee is 10 cents. The members are fined not only for the bad words they use in the presence of other members, but when they are any where. This being house cleaning week at the homes of some of the members, the treas ury is being rapidly enriched. It is the usual thing now to see some conscience stficken members hurry up to headquar ters, plank down from 10 to 30 cents and say that he couldn't help swearing when he dumped all the live coals through the grate of the stove while making up the fire in the morning. "See that thumb?" said a member the other day, "Well, that bruise cost me just 10 cents. I was nailing down a car pet last night." "I had a brace of tickets for a good show in New York," said another fellow, as he took out his pocketbook. "I ran seven blocks to catch the 6:26 train last night and missed by four seconds. Here's 28 cents." "My front porch has just received a nice coat of paint," said another. "Last night I found a tramp walking about hunting for the front door. I told him what I thought of him. Here's half a dollar. It's worth it." And bo it goes on all day long. Each complete $5 that is realized will be turned over to the Wells Memorial Hospital. Will be found an excellent remedy for sick headache. Carter's Little Liver Pills. Thousands of letters from people who have used them prove this fact. Try them. tDR. WYATT, SUIT 3, 4 and 5, 230 Hennepln Ay., Mpts. The Oldest and Most Reliable Specialist In the Northwest for the cure of CHRONIC, NERVOUS AND PRIVATE DISEASES. I WASTE NO TIME When a man or woman, suffering -with weakness and disease, comes to me for treat ment. I waste no time in useless experiment ing. My wide knowledge of Nervous, Blood, Skin and private diseases acquired by thirty years' experience, enable me to give the DroDer remedies at once to cure these dis eases. 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