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- ... Q AM ATT X0/Mil i By Ansa Katharine Green, J COPYRIGHT, 1BBO, BY ROI CHAPTER XXIII. Ji WELCOME AND UN WELCOME INTRUDEBS. 1 The artist returned to l)is rooms a dazed man. The triumph of his rival 1 had overwhelmed him. He moved and acted like an automaton, and passed from object to object in his apartment like one who has no further interest in lif^ Not till he came upon the sig- 1 norisa's picture, gleaming in soft beauty frCln the corner where he kept ^ It enshrined, did a flash of the old life return to him. Then, indeed, he seemed to wake and soften to the influence of the,- tWilight, and be a man again Of hopes and fears. But, after a long contemplation of it, he showed re-' newed $igns of weakening; and anxious, probably, to stave off the torpor which be felt overcoming him, he passed to the closet and reached up < his hand for a certain decanter he kept there. It was dart, and he had to grope along the shelf for it; but at last he found it in what he thought a rather remote corner, and, taking it down, discovered, to bis surprise, that it was empty. Now, as he had filled it that very morning, he naturally thought this somewhat suspicious, and looked about the room to see if any one had been in it during his absence. But be saw ?? o?w?npo of this. The intruder, therefore, must have been some one 1 both sly and deft, for the room was quite -small and much crowded with furniture. ? But who had the intruder been? His j landlord or his landlord's wife? Impossible! Such people as they never drink. The servant, then? But she * was as awkward as she was good natured, and never came into the room without upsetting a table or so, and knocking down two pictures at least. 1 It must have been a stranger. But ' what 6tranger? Henry Martin, his fellow artist, whom he had originally ? brought with him to this place, was up in the hills sketching; besides, his tastes were moderate almost to the ? point of abstinence. It could not have been he, nor any one else that be knew. ' ' * ?~ ~ ,a;,a C It was, tneieioreT bouh," wjuc iuui uc v?u not know. Arrived at this point he dropped the subject. After all, what did he care for this or anything else? He would sleep; he would shut his eyes upon this * perplexing world. But here a knock at 1 the door startled him. He was not to ( be allowed to rest. Some one demand- * ed admittance. 1 Advancing to the door he opened it. It had darkened considerably since he first came in, aud for a moment he did not recognize the face that confronted him; then an exclamation of relief left big lips, and he stepped back with cheerful alacrity, exclaiming, in the 1 mo3t welcoming of tones: "Mr. Gryce!" "The same," was the hearty rejoinder. "I am glad to see you well." The artist, who still held the empty decanter in his hand, gave a short Jaugh, pud turned to light the lamp. * "I cannot express my pleasure at seeing you," was his reply. "Have you just come, and did the spirit of di- * vination bring you? You cannot know how desirable your presence is here, i I was just wondering if I would be t justified in sending for you or for Mr. Byrd. I did qot tbink so, and yet, no^fr that you hqve come I feel relieved of a mountain height of uncertainty "and responsibility. t)id you know you were wanted so much?" / ^ "My presence should be the best answer for that I have no time for < jaunts, and no health to indulge in 1 them if I had." 1 "Then the detective you sent here tel- * egraphed for you?" "He did." 1 "Then lie is a better fellow than I * thought." i bo ?e nil riVhf t Mr. Degraw, more and more cheerful, t chewed the detective the empty decan- 1 ter. "Some one has been helping himself I to my best sherry," said he, "or I would offer you a glass after your ride." ? 5 "Whom do you mean?" "That I don't know." The detective moved nearer to the c grate, upon -which his eyes had been f fixed ever since he entered the room. 6 "What is this?" he asked, pointing I to the ashes beneath, that were wet, or appeared to be so. \ s "I can't say; do you suppose it is my t rtrHinh hoe lioon nnnrorl V x t "I should like to take a sniff and see. But my rheumatism is too much for me. I could not beDd my back so low 8 ?? If I should try." t ' But I can," and the artist went 1 flown on his knees, buried his nose in the ashes, and rose up with a perplexed s face. c "My wine is there; what do you sup- ( pose it means?" he cried. : ^ Mr. Gryce shook his head; he was 1 W already looking here and there about 1 W the room as only a detective can. ( J- "You leave your window open?" he < remarked. t "Generally." I "Some one has Jumped out of SI.** "How do you know that?" "Here is the mark of a foot in fhte' t down pillow. Evidently a fl.vinj? leap a line boon t.okpn frnm thie v IV lUV grass beneath." ^ "Well, I did not see that." r "And if that is not a proof, look at i that broken branch of vine lying be- t low. H it were not so dark we could a see it mere clearly, but I do not know as we need to."' And the detective > withdrew his head from the window n out of which he had been peering and l again cast his eyes about the room. "Have any of those canvases and g things been uioved?" ho inquired. -No." 1 "Yet a man has passed amid ilieni < freeiy. Ah!" t The exclamation was caused by the <' sudden discovery of a small, and; gUt- I <*-;ng object lying on the floor under t the lounge. Drawing it out he showed t M?MpaaM\ th j ha ER -J s th LIONS. Jl |j Anther of "The Forsaken 1 Inn," Etc. I CUT BONNER'S SONS* f hi^ t to the artiBt with a quiet and pecuiar smile. ar "A detective's badge," he cried. "The dentity of your visitor is explained. 3e "was no one else than my coleague." an The artist, with his eyes flashing it rom the empty decanter to the still of Doist ashes, changed color. so; "You are right," said he, "and by his j risit he has probably saved my life." of "What's that?" Ia1 "He warned me. He told me that I hii vas in danger from this adventurer's hii ealousy, and " w] "Wart!* What adventurer?" at "The other Degraw. You knew ot here's another Degraw man here who wl rails himself 'Hamilton Degraw,' did ha rou not?" re: "Vp R" * ? "Well, he passes for a gentleman, sa le i8, perhaps, a gentleman, hut. for to< ill that, he is the villain you are seek- in ng. He came with recommendations clc rom Cleveland, and was received into ' iliss Aspinwall'i house, and immedi- of ttely began to make love to Signorina wi faldi, whose real name, as you doubt- w ess know, is Jenny Rogers. He has ' laTk hair, gray eyes and a persuasive on nanner. He has been in New York, I ind if not the gentleman you seek, ac .ertainly answers to all descriptions of inl lim as fully as I ever did." ho "Very-good, I will see him." ' "Your man?that is, the detective de rou sent here?is not in favor of bis yo mmediate arrest. He wishes to wait it. ill this mysterious Degraw commits D? timself. But I, who have so much at ca ;take, feel tbie to be cold blooded. I no lope you will agree with me." 4 "We will see; we will see." m; v?o4- ici twava flnriAno effll Ho AUU *Y UU t AO UUV1C vuttvuo uv?i, is "well as she, declares that it is my m< ife which is menaced, and not hers. ] Though, to be sure, her fears are the hi; iffspring of his, he having seen fit to wi ell her of certain mutterings uttered he iy Mr. Degraw, which he, in character <jli f valet to that gentleman, had been ne ortunate enough to overhear." fo; Mr. Gryce, who had been studiously pjj onsidering the head of his cane, shift- jai id his gaze at this point to the ferule. "Please repeat that," said he. The other did so. - "I begin to understand," muttered he detective to the impassive object le was considering. Then, in his usual jn wlloquial manner he observed: "So hat fellow of ours has been playing ch he part of this gentleman's valet?" <>tr if * C xes. ly "And has talked with Miss Rogers?" aD "Yes." "And with you?" H 4,Yes" . . dc "Humph! And yet yon speak of him W] n a careless "way as my man!" h Vlj,do not know him by name." Bij "You do not know him by name?" "No." he "He must be wonderfully disguised." j "How?" Ja "The man whom we sent here was h Hr. Byrd." r|l "Never!" "Mr. Byrd," emphatically repeated af he detective. sa "It is impossible! No disguise could pr nakQ blue eyes black. This fellow has f0 )lack eyes." be "Pooh!" ar "Black, I assure you." in "Lights deceive " th "I have seen him by daylight only." jt "It is Byrd; I have bis letter bere, vo vritten in bis own hand." ho The artist grew excited. fo "Letter or no letter, black eyes or tu )lue, the man who calls himself Mr. he Oegraw's valet and an officer of your th 'orce is not Mr. Byrd." of The dectectlve gave a sly wink at tb :he ferule, as if it were with that and eil lot with the artist he had been carry- tb ng on this dispute, then buried it, with tb he secrets be had been imparting to it, nn leep in the pile of the rug upon which va le stood, and turned toward the door, w; "Let us make a few inquiries," he fo iroposed. aE The artist, unused to this sort of w: vork. followed his stens with reluct- bo ince. th "Whither are we going?" he asked. mi "First, to your landlady or landlord >r whoever it Is who keeps this house ;oing. I want to find out if any one iaw a person enter here since you have J jeen out, and if so, who it was." Be "Then let us ask the old man who a* >its on the front porch. He is always Qu here and would be sure to see any one n'! vho came in by the door." to "Very good." de So they asked the old Ulln who was till sitting in his favorite spot, though fa he night dews were falling and cosy- Pa ooking lights welcomed him within. sv\ He answered that he had seen two fr< itrance men admitted, besides the el- be lerly gentleman now addressing him. Th )ue.came quickly, passed him ru<Jely wl md "went in without waiting for his de lurried ring at the bell to be answered. 6t' 3e had a book in his hand. The other :amc immediately after him, stepped an luietiy by his chair and did not stop 0 ring at all. Both went toward Mr. aCl }egraw's room. "Two!" ^ The artist looked amazed. The de -jC( active turned up his ferule and nodded ah "And when clid these men come out?" "Why, they have not come," the old -pj. uan answered. "I have set here on ^ turpose to watch. T was going to ask c.y hem their business when I saw them ' gain." fll>, "A fine watch dog, that," murmured yn fr. Gryce, sarcastically. Theu with 1 kindly bow: "They were both young at ner. I take it?" "Ob, yes, young fellows; not Mr. Dc;raw?s kind, but well enough." jj "I see, I see. Come, Mr. Degraw. cur tj1( tusicess takes us further." And Mr. Jryce descended the two steps leading o the walk while saying: "Your winlojr points toward the west, I see. 'rttbably the latter man followed ihe ' irst out of it into thst skirting of treec thi hat leads up the hill side. We will let on _ f "fy ' ' I - r. / % I i - . . ; em take care of themselves.- "We ve other n , tters on hand just now." 'But," objected Mr. Degraw, as tbey ssed out or the gate into tne broau :eet of this beautiful village, "who is e second man? or rather, the first? r it looks as If the latter is the dective." < 'It could not have been Mr. Deaw?" suggested Mr. Gryce. "No; I left him behind me at MiPfl spinwaH's." 'An agent of his, then?" 'Possibly." 1 'With an errand of death?" 'It may be." 'Which was defeated by Mr. Byrd?" 'The valet Is not Mr. Byrd," tbe tist again declared. 'You stick to that?" 'Always." 'Remember Dr. .Tekyll and Mr. Hyde, d stick to nothing, especifilly where is a question wherein the disguising a detective is concerned," Mr.Gryce tnewhat sententiously observed. \nd yet, as they proceeded, and more the particulars connected with the te occurrences came to light under 5 skilful questioning, it seemed from s manner and the frequency with bich he turned up his ferule to look it, as if he>were not without hia en secret doubts, though in just aat direction they pointed it woald .ve'been hard to tell. "When they ached the hotel Mr. Gryce stopped. 'Let me do this business myself," id Mr. Gryce; and leaving the only ) willing artist on the piazza, lie -went and bad his little talk with the ;rk. Shortly he came out. 'Mr. Degraw and his man are neither them in. This we expected. I shall lit till one or both of them return. h?i+ -roill mil rln'" 'Wait. too. The piazza is dark ongb to conceal anybody's identity, will sit here, and if you see fit to quaint me with the result of your :ervlew, well and good. I shall know w to be grateful." 'That I do not doubt," observed..the tective. "I have no objections to ur .remaining here. In r'act, I prefer But do not think of accosting Mr. ;graw or his man. We have a delite matter here to handle, and it will t bear the least interference." 'Do not fear; I shall not budge from y corner." 'Very well, then. You will hear from ? again." 3e went in, and the artist settled mself for a long and tedious hour of liting. As the clock struck ten, he ard the notes of a fine baritone voice sturb the quiet of the night, and the xt moment saw Mr. Degraw's fine rm come up the steps, cross the jzzn, and enter the house by the ge front door. CHAPTER XXIV. A FORTUNE AND A DEATH-BED. The moments that followed were 11 of suspense. What was happen- J g in Mr. Degraw's private room, or aerever it was that the detective bad J osen to confront him? Was an arst In progress, and would ho presentbehold Mr. Gryce issue forth, proud id triumphant with evidences of his ctim's secret villainy in his hand? e dared not anticipate the scene; he ;sired it 60 much. Jealousy bad rought its perfect work in him, and i could think of no more welcome ;ht than the vision of his hated rival disgrace. But he was a generousarted man, for all that, and did net ve way to anticipations that he guely felt dishonored-him. though he id no uoudc oi ineir justice ur ui ma ral's hypocrisy and secret crime. When, therefore, some ten minutes ter the disappearance of his namebe into the house, another step apoached and another form passed be- j re his eyes into the big front door, j allowed his attention to be attracted j id his interest engaged, especially as ' the passing glimpse he caught of j is person he was nearly assured that j was no othet> than Mr. Degraw's j' let who h^d thus boldly entered the j itel before his eyes. Had1 it'not been j r Mr. Gryce's injunction not to dis- j rb himself, no matter what occurred, ' would have made himself sure of , is, for he felt that he had questions j no unimportant nature to put to < is man. But, as it was, he remained | ent and immovable among the vines at clustered over the portico, and let e fellow go by, finding his reward a oment later in the discovery that the ! ilet. if it was the valet he had seen, j as not "without eyes to watch him, ! r only a few steps behind him came j lother man, who entered the house ith an easy swing of his graceful , idy, which was strangely familiar to i e artist, and which roused., in his ind the strangest conjectures. \yo be continued. The Refinements of Duelling. Al large meeting of students of the irlin University was held recently, i which a resolution was passed re- j esting the Minister of War to recogse the sword as the official weapon j all duels between officers and stu- , nts, and only to permit the use of the stol jn cases of (1) the most serious j mily insults, (2) If one or the other j rty is physically unable to use a *ord, (3) if one of the parties suffers Dm a contagious disease which can i communicated through the blood, j ie concluding clause of the resolution, ' rich was agreed to*:iv sixty-five stu- I nts' "corporations." numbering 2318 ! idents, reads: "The students are of e'-opinion tliat the lives of officers d students belong lo the fatherland, d that they should not be risked on count of petty differences." Livingstone's Compats. There has just been added to the col ticn of relies of Dr. Livingstone, lich the Royal Geographical Society eady possesses, a boat's compass lich belonged to the great traveler. ie instrument is one which was used Dr. Livingstone quite early in his reer as an African missionary and plorer. being employed by him the st time he descended the* Zambesi illey in 18.">G. It was left with other tides of the traveler's impedimenta the Portuguese station at Tet-.1, and 'er having passed through several i rrtc finnilv Tntulrxl !!1 tilOSO Of Ml'. R. Wallace, the British Consul sre, who has presented it to the ographieni Society. ? Westminster izette. J.org or Knii. rhe hopeful man never gets anying, but he Las lois of fnn keeping guessiug.-Xcw York rretsb. \ A SEBMON FOE SUNDAY A BEAUTIFUL DISCOURSE BY THE REV DR. HOWARD DUFFIELD. Subject: Heart's Knte-The Iron H??Never Entered the 8oul of Thofto 'Who Expect Happiness to Be u Matter of l'ertonal Choice. *-" 1.7 (V... <<T7 TT*,s.tx? Wna i\EW X UJti\ Wi l."" iicui'i> a jvaav n?o the subject of the sermon Sunduy morning in the Old First Presbyterian Church, Fifth avenue and Twelfth street, by the Rev.,-Dr. Howard Duffield. pastor. The text was from John, xiv: 1 (Revised Version): ^Let not your heart be troub'ed. Ye helieve in God, believe also in Me." J?r. Duffield said: Let not their hearts be troubled? How could they help it? They were not men who knew the world well and they were going out to fact; the world alone. They were not men versed in the wisdom c. the schools, and they were to be the teachers of novel, profound and revolutionary truthn. They were impulsive, undisciplined and without social influence. Hitherto in every hour of difficulty a di vine menu nau hiuuu m men muv. .? blunt upon the shield of His love every dart which was launched at them. Now they must address themselves unfriended to a mission Mich as men never attempted, and they must enter upon their adventure broken with bereavement and crushed with a consciousness of helplessness. How could they be otherwise than "troubled?" It is simple mockerv to say to the heart which is harried witn the mystery of pain .and haunted with the bitterness o.' loneliness and stung with the keen Sense of "its inability to cope with the responsibilities of existence, "Don't be troubled." Tbe oppressed soul is ready to reply, "Pour acid upon alkali and say 'do not ferment.' Cut when wishes are thwarted and hopes are withered, and endeavor has its upshot in disappointment, and the light of life has gone into eclipse, do not say to me, 'Let not your heart be troubled.' Either you have not measured my grief or the iron iias never entered your soui. But he who SDoke ihitt se-ivence Dad taken the cxact measure of the woe of those to whom Ho spoke, and He knew the wormwood tang of sorrows blackest draught. Hie acquaintance with grief was life-long. He knew grief not as a casual passerby upon the streets. He knew grief not as we know some neigh-1 bor by occasional eight. He was the intimate and inseparable associate of that] grim companion. It was just because He knew tbe secret sorrow, its strange ministry and its woudrous outcome, that when He saw His friends standing at the threshold of'the very life which He Himself had lived, a'life wrought out in loneliness and suffering and defeat and scorn, a life of utter 6aerifice to t<-- uplifting of otha life rejected by the world for whose enrichment they were to give up everything that made their years sweet to them. He said, "Let not your hearts be troubled." In thought He was looking far forward from that unknown house in Jerusalem beneath whose roof they then were seated, to another mansion, not made with hands, eternal and elorious in the city of "Prpcpnf tr> TTiu crnrp wns not SO much the plow and the narrow and the cold, dark furrows of the trcdtime, as the rrladsome company of the reapers, laden with golden sheaves and shouting the song of the harvest. He was looking across the storm-swept sea of the safe and sheltered harbor where the troubled waves were sleeping. He was thinking not only of the wrench of parting, but of the clasp of. greeting. Present' to His mind was not only the death which was to seDarate. but the death which was to unite. So He said: "Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. During the strange, cad hours and the hard and weary days that are coming, believe in God; believe also in Me; and by and by the uoors of. your Father's house shall open wHe for your entrance upon a larger, holier, purer ministry for which the disciplines of time shall have evoked the canacity. if it were not so. I would have told you." "Believe" is Christ's talisman for charming away the specter of trouble froia the haunted heart. Beiieve in the Father's plan for His child. Believe in the Father's care of His child. There is no speculative process by which; the mind may unravel the sore '.ingles of, mortal experience. A condemned heart cannot find relief in a logic book. The cold bloodless hand of reason never wiped' awa a tear. The intellect has never discovered any balm for heartache. When one is dvinr; of hunger it is no time fo discuss the process Dy which flour is prepared. When one is pinched with poverty, it is not the hour > broach the tenets of political economy. The famine-stricken soul cries for bread, At- - 1 1 4. j J_ rrL _ ine uariKrupt. aeotor demands ruin. .me troubled, heart yearns for Gorl Himself, and not for any theoretical discussion of the nature of deity. . When the probiem of the cross becomes too sore and the weight of the burden becomes too heavy, C.. not struggle to express vour experience in a theological formula; do not strive to endure the 6train in your unaided strength. Lean on God. "Cuddle down" in ?Iis arms. Be not afraid. Believe. That is the way Christ would take the sting from mortal sorrow. To attemnt to analyze such an act of belief as the Master here prescribes would be like endeavoring to learn to sing by studying a picture of the larynx. One may master the anatomy of the throat and uover utter a note of song. Think yourself hack into ihe situation. Jesus was not a theological professor sittinc at Hi* desk and lecturing to a class with reference to a neatly articulated system of dogmas. The shadow of life's* mystery was chilling to the hearts of those He loved, and He was striving to kindle in their breasts a vivid, luminous, unquenchable consciousness of the divine sympathy His word to them is ''Realize God instead of theorizing about God." A? thouirh He said: "Peter. James, John and all the rest, you have lisped sentences conrerninc: God sir'-e you were little children. David's holy hymns were your cradle 6ongc. The sacred roles of the svnagogue have spoken to you their Sabbath day messages from the Infinite One. Your hearts were burned as<. you participated in the so! emnities of ifassover and Pentecost, which celebrated the august sovereignties with which God had shaped your nation's life. With an irrepressible wistfulness you have pondered the grandeur of .Tehovp.h as you felt Him present in the grandeurs nf nature, while the quiet watrhes of the night stole over you as you lay in your fishing boat's beneath the insleeninz stars. That God is your God. He thinks. Ho plans, He works for you. He marks your stens. He treasures your tears. " He weighs in His heart every cross before He lays it upon your shoulder, ^'he march of the tribes through the de?ert. the progress of humanity through the centuries, the swing of the stars through the sky is no more to Him than the passing of the days of your life. There is nothinc better known to God than the things which befall you. There is no one nearer to the heart of God than you are. Believe in Him. - ^ The reaspn trouble is ?o troublesome .is that we seldom put God in the present:, tense. We transpose Him into the diVn past and dwell upon the wonders He ?rnniTht in thr fl.lvK of the fathers. We transpose Hi-; into the remote future and droam of the glories which shall be ours when ail the veils which now hide Him shall be lifted. Christ's cure for trouble ie to live with God beside us in our every day ex-erience?; tj take God to the office, a partner in our business; to talc- God to the parlor, a sharer in our pleasurps; to be In the comnanionship of God when throngs surround u? or when we tread a way wheis rio one else hut He can walk or enter the shades of a Vneliness whereby ;.ll but He are forgotten. Eternity can bring us no nearer t God than we are now. The great secret of peace and ol nower is mastered by him wiio comes to know that the comradeship with (iod. which shall become visible hereafter, is actual now. jL'he pain, the strife, the wrong that burn this truth into the tablets of oma's consciousness are disguised angels. "Believe also in Me.' The realization of God that brings help to human hearts i can never be grasped as a practical truth in any other way. A personal acquaintance with Christ carries with it a knowledge of the personality of God. All formulas are sorry makeshifts. Whoever is r.rgued into faith may be arg -ed out of it. If the foundation of your belief is a form of words, it will be overturned whenever a neater and more masterly phrase than yours is framed. "No man cometb ; r:. ,'r , Vj?, to tiie Father but by .nae. - ay me way of philosophical analyais one may arrive at sortie concept of God as "a power not ourselves that makes for righteousness." Through the labyrinth of speculative thought one may reach the conclusion that?God is the unknown quantity in the equation of the universe. Along the path of a logical syllogism one may deduce the idea of God as "an absentee God sitting b;. aT/d watching the universe go." But through Christ alone can one learn to define God in terms of fatherhood. In Christ alone ran one learn that the earth life is a disciplinary process?a curriculum of Daren ta] love?its defects, its catastrophes, its pains, its mystery, its perpetual sacrifice. all energies under the control-of infinite. beneficences , and compelled to achieve its purposes, >ffor He, the best be* lovo.l of the Father,; had a path of tears which ended at the. cross, but from the cross He shed a light upon a nath by which men find their way to the heart of God. From Him we learn that God holds this noor stricken world in the embrace of an inexhaustible sympathy and thqt He purposes to crown the fn ~mentary life of men with a divine completeness and symmetry. Christ is daily translated into the terms of our moral life and expressed in the forms of our human experience. There is no seminary of theology like that on Calvary. "Let not vorr heart be troubled." Your mind may be, but your mind will never bring you into touch with God. If we fe?l after God we will find Him. If we think after God we will lose Him. The relationship between God and ourselves is a tie of love, and true love is not the offspring of logic. The link between God and ourselves is that^between father and child, and the mystery of narentship and sonship evades speech, and b measured onlv by experience. "Let not your heart be troubled." 'It be ofttimes saddened. It may be spent with strain, wearied with toil, broken .with grief?but let it not be palsied with''melancholy. Let your life be as the stormvexed ocean, whose surface the tempest lo.she6 into fury, while calm eternal and unruffled abides in the unfathomable depths. "Let not your heart be troubled." Others may be the heirs of unrest, who with" their back to the source of light look out only upon the ever lengthening track of their own shadow. They travel the burden of life unheloed. They toil at ' the work of life unaided. They stand on j the brink unfriended. A brood of trou- i b)p? nests within such hearts. But for you. believing in God as yonr ! Father, and in Christ as your Saviour, life I is as a iourney home. A few more days of mingled cloud and sunshine; a few more j wondrous passings of winter into spring: a few more hard endeavqre ?in the seed plot of mortal soil; a few more hot strokes noon .tHe field of earthlv battle?then the flirfit of all shadows, and the blessed vision j of the face of God. One Way of Serving. It is nsually a disconcerting thing to be told of our faults, but there is one lamentable fact which ought to be brought home to each of us, and that is our negligeqce in returning gracious "thank yous'"' for tne favors and courtesies continuously pouring upon us. Try to realize what life would be without tne little amenities.which come to ug, whether through love and friendliness or the mere politeness of a stranger. Rather blank, wouldn't it? For we obtain through kindness and courtesy much more than is ours by right, and our daily debt of thankfulness is a heavy one. It is easy ?to say "thank you," but it requires more than a mere thoughtless murmur of-, words to express thanksgivinor: a rav.of true anDreciation must shoot out from the heart, and this is not so easy. And yet how much it means to the recipient! Gladness because of pleasure bestowed; faith in man's appreciation of kindness, and encouragement to good deeds. In the home life, in the fields, the shops and the streets are occasions constantly presenting themselves where a word of thanks, with the true spirit of thankfulness back of it, will tend to ennoble our own life as we]l as brighten others. . ^ The rush and hurry of the day is perhaps largely to blame for this* lack of' courtesy on our part. At least, we try not to think that it lies within ourselves. But only a moment is necessary to thank the giver of a favor, and if it is impossible to personally do this, k Rxatefu)ffnote Teoaires but ja trifle longer. Perhapa the favor is verv little?scarcely worth noticing, we think. It was given withfkind intentions, was it not? Then accept it in like manner, and say "thank you" .iust as earnestly as if a great service had been rendered. Some of us have only little things to give ?tnd how it hurts when they are overlooked! * Let us encourage our hearts tn feel grateful, to appreciate the small favors, and our voices to ring out speedy words of thanksgiving for every courtesy, for every gift, until all the hills are echoing "thank vou8," and every life >s a song of thanksgiving.?Mae Y. Mahaffv. Religion at Rome. Ti.e religion of Christ is intensely practical. It is intended to be manifested in our home life, just as\faithfully as at cnurch. This is why!, ;we\ can gener^llv obtain a true conception of the soundness of a man's faith by spending a few days in his own home. Many a man has' a reputation for piety, when nis home life will not bear close inspection. It is in,.| u e hum-drum duties of home that we are tried. The way we meet the everyday worries is a better test of our reliction than the way we behave in church. It is comparatively easy to be sweet-tempered j when we Have nothing to ver. us, but to I keep our faces bright and our hearts light j rmid the uninspiring labors of weekday life we need to have the spirit of God dwelling in our hearts. Such living is possible. Not only is it poss'ble. but it is J necessary for us if we would live up to our responsibilities. Our Lord expects us to ba true to Him in our homes, as well as in church, and we are not fulfilling His commands when we fail to live every hour of every day in accordance with the high standard. He has set before us. It is an inspiring thought that we can take Him with us into the humblest daily duties. The busy housewife, as she goes about her task, making a home bright for those dear to her. is serving the Masfiiiof ne ffilir an/1 inet ns fnithfllllv ilS the preacher in the pulpit. Let us en* rourace our hearts with the tliought that Hp gracious'v accepts every offering of faithful service of home as well as at church.?George D. Gelvlcks. l>nty Above Life. Life is a matter of very small account to anyone in comparison with duty doinj:, whether a man realizes this truth or not. Whatever is worth living for is worth dying for, if dying be an inrdent to its pursuing. When the Eoman General, Poinncy, was warned against the danger of his returning from . n-pt to Italy, to I meet a new trouble in his own land, his 1 erioc a newer Was: "It is a small matter that I shouid move forward and die. Jt is too great a matter that I thould take one steo backward and live." Life is never well used when it is held dearer than duty. He who would tell a lie in order to live is willing to pay a great deal lareer price for nis life than that life is worth to himself?or lo others.?II. C. Trumbull. Trannftfirured Beauty. Let our temper be under the rule of the love of Jesus. He cannot alone curb it?He can make us gentle and patient. Let the vow. that not an unkind word to others shall ever be heard from our lips, be laid trustingly at His feet. Let the gentleness that refuses to lake offense, that is a.ways ready to excuse,- to think and hope the best, mark our intercourse with all. Let our life be one of self-sacrifice, always studying the welfare of others, finding our highest joy in hlessing other?. By His grace the most commonplace life r\n itflfli iiio hriorh f npcc nf a heavenly beauty, as the infinite love of a divine nature shines out through our ] frail humanity. How to Gain Strength. Power is pained rather by the effort to give to others than >y t ie effort to ptet from others. Of the supremest being I who was ever on earth it was said that ' He came not to be miniitered unto, but ' to minister; not 'o be served, but to serve. W .ioever has the spirit of Christ gains strength in giving strength to othera. ' ' V . '' ' ' . ' . i ' ;v. ,v .. THE SUNDAY SCHOOL INTERNATIONAL LtSSUN uuiwiwcn 10 FOR DECEMBER 27. ilcview?Head Pulm 103, 1-12?A Fins! Survey of the LeiBone For the Latt Quarter of the Yeart-Golden Text, Fia. 103, 17?Summary of the Topica. Introduction.?The lessons this quarter mark the time between the bringing in of the ark to Jerusalem under David and the dedication of the temple. In the his- *h tory of David and bis sons we see the great truth emphasized that "whatsoever a man eoweth, that shall he also reap." During the quarter God's love and mercy have j>] been extolled and we have 6een the joy ? that comes through forgiveness. t Summary.?tesaon I. Topic: Bringing the ark to Jerusalem. The ark was a j>] small chest; the lid wae called the mercy- ^ seat. It was a sign of the divine presence; ^ for seventy years it had lain in neglect; ^ David now decides to bring it into Jeru- a salem. Proper reverence is not shown; j~ I'zzah dies lor touching it; David is displeased the ark is left at the house of 0] Obed-edom; three months later David q takes the ark and brings it into Jerusalem; y the priests and Levites and chief men are g, called together; a great .procession is f, formed; sacrifices are frequently offered; jj there is music and singing. It was the greatest day of David's life. ' B II. Topic: God's promises to Dsvid. u, David desires to build a house for the R Lord. The ark was On Mt. Zion and David B wa6 living comfortably in his own house A of cedar; David spoke to Nathan the prophet-about his desire and Nathan at once encouraged him to proceed with the building". But God spoke to Nathan, informing him that David's desire could not be granted; he had been a man of war, and there was still much to do in estab- f | lishing the kingdom. He could prepare the material, but his son should build the house. The Lord said that He would es* tablish David's throne forever. III. Topic: David praying for forgive- * ness. When David was about fifty years 7? of age he committed two great sins. About if a year afterwards the L^rd sent Nathan, , i l-;? v: U I the prophet, to Dim 10 enow aim ma gicai. | wickedness; the king's heart was tender; r, be saw his sin and mourned exceedingly. S [ This psalm shows the depth of his,repent- F ance. He pleads for forgiveness, and that *' his transgressions may be blottea_out;-knd ? that he may be washed and -deanssd. D&vid j has great confidence in God, and prays ,f earnestly that the Lord would still uphold : him with His free Spirit. He resolves to.. employ his life from thi? time fully- in \ God's service. ? * - p* |S j IV. Topic: God's mercy and love. This I is one of the seven so-called penitential psalms; it has reference to the forgiveness' that was granted David after he bad committed his great sin. In psalm fifty-one + we see him repenting ana pleading, for mercy; with the opening sentence of this u psalm we heat him A&y, "Bltesed is he n : whose transgression forgiven, whose sin L is covered;" ne speaks bere also of his^erfp' U repentance and of his' confidence in Uod. c God was to be his mighty., deliverer'. ; \ t V. Topic: Absalom's rebellion. 'The fi bitter fruits of Datidli own unholy coarse L are now beinff seen;. David's eons were j wicked; Absalom . was a . wicked, pjroud a young man;' he was renowned, forchis ; beauty; he laid a plot to overthrow the government and eeize the kingdom';, he ; stole the hearts of the people by his sub- ij tletv; he then lied to his father ami went , to Hebron and'set up a government of his i. j-own* he soon started with afi army to- : [' wards Jerusalem. David fled frt>n? the city ( i. and crossed 6ver Jordan and established f , headquarters at Mahanaim. ' v -v J VI.. Topic: Putting down the rebellion^ j ! When David fled from Jerusalem he re| fused to take the ark with him: Absalom ? ! and his army marching from Hebron en- c j tered Jerusalem the same day ; Absaloirt t at first intended to follow David immedi- ? ately and overtake his father while he was \ ; weary, but he finally decided to take, more f j time and raiso a large army. Absalom wan ? i king in Jerusalem about three months; he _ i then went out to battle with Davidls war- a ' riors; Absalom's army was defeated and E he was slain. David mourned over the e : death of his son. * i 1 , ( VII. Topic: Praise and thanksgiving r I for God's goodness. This is one of the r Esalms supposed to have been written by j tavid during the latter -part of his lffe.r It j f I contains -two figures: i. rue cnepnera ana : f i his shee?. 2, The Host and his guffet. i r ' Christ is the^good Shepherd; His people I J ! are the sheep; the divine Shepherd ^ives a | soul rest, soul satisfaction and soul liberty. r ' David is abundantly supplied so that his ^ i cun runneth over. 0 j VIII. Topic: The -woes of intemperance. a I The wise man writes of the curse of strong -g drink. This Jesson refers to the personal t 1 experiences of the drunkard as well as to 0 i the influence of strong drink in general, r Strong drink causes poverty; it mocks peoj pie; destroys happiness; brings 6orrow, contention, wounds, redness of eyes; by it { j many are deceived; it ruins character and j j destroys the prospects or eternal me. ( IX. Tonic: Solomon's duties outlined. ] I After David'9 victory over Absalom lie re- a turned to Jerusalem; he was now growing t old and a new lung must be selected; Da- j vid'a choice' was his son SoTomon; the v SrincesA of Israel Avere assembled ' and R avid commissioned his son to perform t the great work of building a house for the c Lord; David had many pons, but among }] them all Solomon had been chosen for }; the throne; David charges Solomon to l know God and serve Him perfectly. <j X. Topic: Solomon's request and God's * reply. Soon after Solomon became king 1, he assembled the people at Gibeon; the r Lord appeared to Solomon and asked him t what he desired most; Solomon replied \ that because he was young and incxperier.ced and the kingdom was great, he most I of all desired wisdom and understanding t in order that he might guide the affairs .of the nation aright. The Lord was pleased with this request and not only gave him wisdom, but also gave him riches and c honor in abundance. r XI. Topic: The various services at the 8 dedication of the temple. As soon as Solo- j mon was made king he began to prepare p lor the building ot tne temme; me maiw i r rial was nearly nil ready; the temple was | t. to be a large building finrro.unded with several courts, and was to contain many ar- 'J tides of furniture. When it was finally R built th? ark was brought in and the hou?e j] was dedicated; So!omon offered the dedi- 0 caiory prayer; God accepted the house and k filled the temple with a cloud. a XII. ToDic: Wise men seeking Jesus, c When Christ was born in Bethlehem of y Jucea, in the davs of Herod, ^wise men t: came from the East seeking'Him; they J knew of the coming Messiah, and were n directed to Bethlehem by a star; they J went to Herod and asked him about Phrist: Herod secretly dccided to kill .T*sus; he asked the wise men to inform him concerning Christ in order that he p too might go and worship Him, but the f Lord warned these men and they returned 0 r.nother way, thus defeating Herod. t( o Sun En* Perpetual Smniner. Alexander Young, the astronomer, has made several important, discoveries concerning the condition and functions of the Kun, and has asserted the existence of life a cn that planet. He says that the sun has V perennial summer, divider! Between seven n months of vernal or springlike summer and d five of deciduous or autumnal summer, a marked by changes in the vast masses of L forest foliage observed by him by the instrumentality of the soiarscope which h? has invented. At this time the red and reddish brown hues prevail, to be replaced in January by the living green of summer. ij I/ong Trip of a Toy Balloon. o What was probably the greatest journcj ^ ever made by a toy balloon has just beei recorded. A little balloon was sent up a" the lair at Bioomsburg, Pa., last Ssptem lier.. Qn it was the address of H. C. Giger ,b; A few days ago he received a letter frore 'AN Biddeford, Me., saying that the writer hac >'< found the balloon* ou Wood Island, neaj la f h 0 vo * '* Hi ta gi Steamclilp Lnnncjeu. go Ths new White Star steamship Baltic, which was launched at Belfast, Ireland, is the largest liner in the world. She is 7-0 feet long and is of 23,000 gross tonnage. ^ se Our Agricultural Products. ea The total actual yields of forests and S* farms in the United States in 1903 is ?5,- f'1 000,000,000 .' tr *mgr fl Charity. 9H 1 Corinthians, 13 Chapter. HB lough I with angel's tongues ehdnia Mm epeak . ad be moat lowly, just and meek, gn Dd have such faith that I could make MB je tyigest mountains move and quake; H dd'^ave not charity, alas! MB imwcome as sounding brasf. HH bough I in mysteries be learned, 0| nd give my body to be burned, |SBB nd all my goods to feed the poor, BH nd trials patiently endure, 9| nd not in charity abound >^H| am but as cymbal's sound. haritr suffereth long?is kind-* f teachable and humble mind? aunts not itself?it envieth not-* IHj ehaveth Beemly?Joubeth naught? i not puffed ud??<eek? not her owiv? ng ot soon provoked?offendeth none; -7 " earetbj believeth. hopeth all. ndureth, and shall never fall; ^H| !nowled?e may vanish, tongues may <*?#, ut charity shall still increase' ? nd of faith, hope and charity . JO ver be the greatest of the three. r 1 ?A. L. Bours};ip Detroit Free Press. The Boad to Truth. * :i9 "The end 6f man." says Carlyle, "is a? etion, not a thought." That is not. say- 'JM is: that thought is not a necessary na'rt of 'J II high action, of course. But thought "jM lat stops in itself is stopping on the road :? ) truth. Action and action alone, say^ '? hiladelohia Young People, takes it for- -'jm rard. Professor James, the noted psycho- . Si >gist, has well represented thongbt a* ^ Jfl only a dace of transit, the bottom of a S >op. both of whose ends have their point H f application in the outer world.? AIT -^^B fiat our eyes, our ears, our daily connec- H ion with the world and with others brine - H a us, must pass throuch our minds -ana H jui8, ana return to vne ouuiuc wuriu eain transmuted Into action. ".In plain H English perception and thinking are only H here for behavior's sake," saya the nrole** or, and long before modern psychology 1M ame to the conclusion that the. Bible j umraed up the same truth. ''Faith, if it ath not works, is dead, .being alone."- 9H For this reason truth can never be " H( famed by mere argument. We do not H eally possess & truth untfrVe have'acted n it. and. it takes continual action on it H| o make it part of the, fiber,of our mind* % H nd souIr. Wo can fail to make nrojrres* jB oward truth by refiwin?>tnf.aot upon it. .Tie voursr man who holds the gospel mes- jJfl are in his mind, hut determines not to yM ake any action on it at"nrt*titi is kwrin# lear nereeption -of it.' and power"of dear ho?utht abont fr; daily.. He may' A6< think o, henray think inste?4.^h"f he. jx gaining n intellectual perception of its difficultly.. H| kit the fact is. that he- is losing pow?r to ict by nnt acting?that is all.*' He has- H| hecked the advance'of truth hslf way, ' M| hutting it nor in thoiwhtrwhen it ou^ht to 4H >e seffree in-actv "If anvptan -will do lis will Iv3 shall -know of the doctrine . fl[ whether it be of Go^.J> Thought-alone m )Ower]ess to know CJod; filing alone is lowprless to love God. We must keep Tod'fi commandment*. putting our >mo- M ions and .thoughts into -acts of ob"dienee fl >?>fore we can abide in Fw-^ove. and know ' ? I>m whom to know aright is l'fe eternal. rfB It in a verv simple road, after all. To ! >erceive. to thinlc. to act?surely anv ?ne jjfl an reach tmth without trouble. Bat.that .'M bird sten is where many young rwjple . M )ause. It; is easy to ?ee the beaoty holi- ' less, and ensy to think about it. Those ,;yH wo steps are unnofcicp<L ?r.e?te no antagon- . 3i". make no costly demands. But t? act 8 -that means a great deal. Better wait for B , little more knowledee. a little more con- I lderatfon nf the matter, whispers tBe *>n- 9 pit of sou's, and manv $ouls vield H the ifi ?hi??T)er. And then, bavin? blocked the oad to rruth. thev lose themselves in, I nazes of douM. and never get -anywhere.. fl 'erfaaro. like I^late. who knew the right, I >n* refused to act unoii it.' they end by* I ailing ^fl"k upon +'"4 p^'loaonhioal re- v^a "flrk: "What is^rrMi?" 4b??! the reaxoa j1 'ilate never r?aftied anv 'urther rennet- >SS Ytsia willi 4 t*nf tv a a fViaf K/? vrmil/? nnf n^fc ' i th? know'ed?*e of Christ; h* ''p'1 a^ad^r**"' 9 [*)ie dvin" thief had not had half. Pih?*e'? fl iDrort.unitip?. hut he was a man of^action, M ,rd it wed him. For many ?f *?* to-day A alvation har"s unon action. Shall we act. Hen?or ofcxH we nause in the barrenneiir H if thought and never reach saving truth? ' fl| Take Time to Serve Gofl. It is said of a certain railway engineer hat his dutw*8 call him at a verv early . tour?3 o'clock in the morning. He is ? ""hristian, and. knowing full veil that soul ife must utterly nerish without readingnd gt.udv of the Bible and praverful devoion, he rises at 2 o'clock in the morning. tfore than thafi.led by the Holy Spirit, ritbout effort of affectation, he finds many n opportunity .far pointing the way back o the cross and sometime! of exhorting old-hearted. Christians-upward to sunlit [eights of the, holy living and heavenly , tappiness. He is a happy man. You may ie so, too. Religion is not a cunningly levised fable. Our Redeemer is might? to ave. strong, to deliver, limitless in love,. oneinp to ake you lianpy.. Believe Him iow. Do like the early ri?insr engineer? ake time to be reMeious. Read and study our Bible every dar. Talk to G^d every lour in t^e drv. Believe what He says)o what He tells you to no. Put at least en names on ycur prayer list. * ^ A Beautiful Prayfr. 0 God, who art. and wast, and art. to orne. before whose face the generations ise and pass away, age after age the living eelc Thee, and !ind that of Thy faithful less there is no end. Our fathers in their tilgrimage walked by Thy guidance, "and ested on Tn.v compassion: still to their hildren bv Thou the cloud by day, the v ~ re by night. In our manifold temptations * 'hou al6ne knowe?t and art ever nigh. Jn orrow Thy pity revives the fainting souh a our prosperity and ease it is Thy spirit nly that can wean us from our pride and eep us low. 0 Thou sole source of peace nd righteousness! take now the veil from^? very heart, and join us in one communion rith Thy nrophets and saints who Jifave rusted in Thee, and wert^pbett&iimed. Jot of our worthinesF^^^^Thy tender wcy, hear onr piyF^r"fAmen.?Jame? laitineau. Ij^bt Removed. We ?>nall never truly honor God unless ,e can tallyto Hiin about everything that opcernft ire. witnout a cioua 01 uouot. ji nly we Jteep rear to Him thus, who can el] wharc depths of teaching such intimacy f roj^munioa rviil open up??Episcopal tecplder. f - 1 -% & art With God. # Thf ear'y hour is. thev hour for prayer nd the Bible. Start the day with God! Ve know not what the day may bring? i either trim or temptation, xne rooet I angerou.s temptations are uic unforeseeu rid uncxpccied.?Theodore L. Cuylcr. >. D. Antwrred Players. There is no true prayer without some re- 1 porse. Invisible wires frcm heaven to * irt'i are ever vibrating with divine bleselgs, f"id when prayer touches them the iec. .j stream of low enters the ? [ewnrni Hall. Lurfent Steer in the World Sold. The largest steer in the world was sold r James Swope, of, Kokoma, Ind., to a 'crld's Fair i indicate. The steer is four jars old and weighs 2800 pounds. When t he will weigh 4000 pounds. The anial is eightee.i feet six inches from nose to il. and is sit feet nine inches high. His rth measure is six feet four inches. He ild for $280. To Wear Oxygen Alaska. Future aenal navicators desiring to at .in great altitudes will use hermetically alea, double-walled, aluminium and glass ige6, and before eiarting will put on oxyin masks, according to a prediction of Dr. ermann von Scbroetter, of Vienna, Au? ?_ .. - vi?. i a