Newspaper Page Text
Si-A-iiSi,-JW3KTWllW -'--- v-v"-S-3SJS-V '?'-SSiiJ?iCrWE ,fS- - - , - - - , - -Jy-- -i qrsrr ?i'3?Sfc8 2 -il ft7 -s" 5Sf . Tr-- ?. aSV'-i( r "'"ft: J?J -rj w Ss- fr? - 1 &-s, "asrai .' Pas? ri iS --? L i4 V - l& F if IK ' u h I I A- if K W I-5 I?' 15? la m FsS S IcosnscKD.J THIRD PERIOD. CHAITEn XXIIL XKWS OF IRIS. " After his interview with the Irish lord, Mountjoy w.iiteil for two days, in the ex pectation of hearics from Iris. No reply arrived. Had llr. Vimpany failed to for ward the letter that hail been intrusted to himr On the third day, Hugh wrote to make Inquiries. The doctor returned the letter that had been confided to his care, and complained anhis reply of the ungrateful manner in Hugh evidently took him by surprise which he had been treated. Miss Henley had not trusted him with her new ad dress in London; and Lord H-irry had sud denly left Itcdburn Road, bidding his host good-by in n few lines of coninionnlace apology, and nothing more. Mr. Vimp any did not ilcuy that lie had b;en paid for his medical service: lint, lie would ask, was nothing due to friendship? Was . one man justified in enjoying another man s hospitality, and then treating him like a stranger?" "I have done with them both and I recommend you, my dear sir, to follow uiy example." In those terms the angry (and sober) doctor expressed hi! sentiments and offered iiis advice. Monn: joy laid down the letter in de spair. His last poor chance of preventing the marriage, uepcnueu on ins uenig still aoie to communicate with Iris and she was as completely lost to him as it she had taken flight to liie other end of the world. It might have been po;ible to discover her by following the movements or Lioru Har ry, but lie too had disappeared without leaving a trace behind hini. The precious hours and days were passing and Hugh was absolutely helnles. Tortured bv anxiety and suspense; he still lingered at tlu hotel iu London. More than once lie decided on giving up tnc straggle, ami returning lo his pretty cottage iu Scotland. More than once he deferred taking the journey. At one time, ho dreaded to hear tnat Iris was married. if she wrote to him. At another time, he felt mortified and disappointed by the neglect which her silence implied. Was she near him, or far from him? In Ku gland, or out of KuglauJ? Who could say? After more weary days of waiting nnd Buffering a letter arrived, add rested to Mountjoy iu a strauge handwriting, and bearing the postmark of Paris. The sig nature revealed that his correspondent was Lord Ilnrrr. His first impulse was to tiirow the letter into the lire, unread. There could be lit tle doubt, after the time tliat had passed, of the information that it would contain. Could he endure to be told of tha mar riage of Iris, by the man who was her hus band? Never! There was something hu miliating iu tlie very idea of it. He ar rived at that conclusion and what did he do in spite of it? He read the letter. Lord Harry wrote with scrupulous po liteness of expression. He regretted that circumstances had prevented him from calling on Mr. Mount jor, before he left England. After the conversation that had taken place at .Mr. Vimpany's house, he felt it his duty to inform Mr. "Mountjoy that he bad insured his life and, he would add, for a sum of mouey amply, and more than amply, sufficient to provide for his wife In the event or her surviving him. Lad? Harry desired her kind regards, and would write immediately to her old and valued friend. In the meantime, he would conclude by repeating the expression of his sense of obligation to Mr. Mountjoy. Hugh looked b.ick at the first page of the letter, iu searcli of the writer's ad dress. It was simply Pans." The in tention to prevent any further correspond ence, or any personal communication, could hardly have been more plainly im plied. In another moment, the letter was in the Ore. In two days more, Hugh heard from Iris. She. too, wrote regretfully of the sadden departure from England; adding, however, that it was her own doing. A slip of the tongue, on Lord Harry's part, in the course of conversation, had led her to fear that he was still in danger from political con spirators with whom he had imprudently connected himself. She had accordingly persuaded him to tell her the whole truth, and had thereupon insisted on an imme diate departure for the Continent. She nd her husbaud were now livingiu Paris: Lord Harry having friends iu that city whose influence might prove to be of great importance to his pecuniary prospects. Some sentences followed, expressing the writer's grateful remembrance of all that be had owed to lh'li iu past darn, and her earnest desire that they might still hear of each other, from time to t me, by correspondence. She could not venture to anticipate the pleasure of receiving a visit from him, under present circumstances. But she hoped that he would not object to write to her, addressing his letters, lor the present, to post restaute. In a postscript a few words were added, alluding to Mr. Vimpany. Hugh was re quested not to answer any inquiries which that man might venture to make relating to her husband or to herself. In the by- Soue days she had been thankful to the octor for the care which lie had taken, medically speaking, of Klioda Rennet Bat, since that time, his behavior to his wife, and the opinions which he had ex- ressed iu familinr conversations with ord Harry had convinced her that ho was an unprincipled person. All further communication with him (if her influence could prevent it) must come to an end. Still as far as ever from feeling recon ciled to tlie marriage, Mountjoy read this letter with a feeling of resentmcut which disinclined him to answer it. He believed (quite erroneously) that Iris bad written to him undcrthesuwrinteud ence of her huhind. There were cer tain phrases which had been, as he chose to anspect, dictated by Lord Harry's dis trust jealous distrust, perhaps of his wife's friend. Monut joy would wait to reply, until, as he bitterly expressed It, Iris was able to write to him without the assistance of her master. Again he thought of returning to Scot landand, again, he hesitated. On this occasion, he discovered oIiJt tions to the o wMph !'! -ot tr im to him while Iris was a single woman. The situation was solitary; his nearest neighbors were fishermen. Here and there, at some little distance, there were only a few scattered houses inhabited by retired tradesmen. Further away yet, there was the country seat of an absent person of distinction, whose health suffer ed in the climate of Scotland. The lonely life in prospect, on the shores of the Sol way, now daunted Mountjoy for the first time. Be decided on trying what society in London would do to divert his mind from tke burdens and anxieties that weighed emit. Acquaintances whom he had neg lected were pleasantly surprised by visits ,freen their rich and agreeable young Mend. Ha attended dinner-parties; he 'loosed hope In mothers and daughters by accepting invitations to balls: he reappear ed at his clnb. Was there any relief to his mind in this? was there even amuse ment? No; he was acting a part, and he found it a hard task to keep up appear ances. After a brief and brilliant inter val, society knew him no more. Left by himself again, he enjoyed one happy evening in London. It was the evening on which he relented, in spite of himself, and wrote to Iris. CHAPTER XXIV. LORD HABBYB honet- XO05. The next day Hugh received a visit from the last person in the little world of his eouaintance whom he expected to see. The lost Mrs. Vimpany presented herself at the hotel. She looked unnaturally older since Mountjoy had last seen her. Her artificial complexion was gone. The discarded Tonga that bad once overlaid her cheeks tfcroagh a long succession of years, had left the sextan of the skin coarse and had ' taraed the color otit to a-dun yellowish Her hair, ones so sxuiruuy oars:- mijmm.Jf'' ir and revealed tee saner coloring or age. ra gray. The lower face had fallen away in substance: and even the penetrating brightness of her large dark eyes was a little dimmed. All that had been left in her of the attractions of past days owed its Tital preservation to her stage training: Her suave crace of movement, and the .TiirntmedMW' deen elocutionary melody of her Toice, as sue was in a areas oi anil Drown, snorn without mercy of the milliner's hideous improvements to the flgnre. Will yon shake hands with me, Mr. Mountjoy?" Those were the first words she said to him, in a sad, snbdned man ner, on entering the room. "Why not?" Hugh asked, giving her his "tend. . - "Yon can have no very favorable re membrance of me," she answered. "But I hope to produce a better impression If von can spare me a little of yonr time. Yon may, or may not, have heard of my separation from my husband. Anyway, It is needless to trouble yon on the sub ject; yon know Mr. Vimpany; you can guess what I have suffered, and why I ave left him. If lie comes to you, I hope you will not tell him where Lady HaVryis-" , ti Hugh interposed: "Pray don't speak of her by that name! Call her 'Iris,' as I do." A faint reflection of the old stage-smile trembled on Mrs. Vimpany's worn and weary face. "Ah, Mr. Mountjoy, I know whom she ought to have married! The worst enemy of women is their ignorance of men and they only learn to know better when it is too late. I try to be hopeful for Iris, in the time to come, but my fears conquer She paused, sighed, and pressed her open hand on her bosom, unconsciously betrav ing in that action some of the ineradicable training of the theatre. "I am almost afraid to say that I love Iris," she resumed; "but this I know: if I am not so bad as I once was, I owe it to that dearest and sweetest of woment But for the days that I passed in her company, I might never bad tried to atone for my passed life by works of mercy. When oth er people take the way of amendment, I wonder whether they find it as hard to follow, at first, as I did?" "There is no doubt of it, Mrs. Vimpany if Deople are sincere. Beware of the sin ners" who talk of sudden conversion and perfect happiness. May I ask how you be gan your new lire?" 1'i.n i,.. -rait- x- rrnnnHnv t joined a nursing Sisterhood. Before long, a dispute broke out nmong them. Think of women who call themselves Christians, -.rr..ii;iM-hnnh rhnrrhos nnil church services priest's vestments and attitudes, and caudles aud inceuse! I left them, and went to a hospital, and found the doctor better Christians than the Sisters. I am not talking about mv own poor self (as you will soon see) without a reason. My experience iu the hospital led to other things. I nursed a lady through a tedious illness, and was trusted to take her to some friends in the south of France. On my return, I thought of staying for a few days in Paris it was nn opportunity of seeing how the nurses did their work in the French hospitals. And, oh, it was far more than that I In Paris, I found Iris again." "By accident?' Hngh nsked. "I am not sure," Mrs. Vimpany answer ed, "that there are such things as meet ings by accident. She and her husband were among the crowds of people on the Boulevards, who sit taking their coffee in view of the other crowds, passing along the street. I went by, without noticing them. She saw me, and sent Lord Harry to bring me back. I have been with them every day, at her invitation, from that time to this; and I have seen their life." She stopped, noticing that Hugh grew restless. "I am in doubt," she said, "whether von wish to hear more of their life in Paris?" Mountjov at once controlled himself. "Go on," he said, quietly. "Even if I tell you that Iris is perfectly happy?" "Go on," Hugh repeated. "May I confess," she resumed, "that her husband is irresistible, not only to his wife but even to an old woman like me? After having known him for years at his worst as well as at his best I am still foolish enough to feel the charm of his high spirits and his delightful good humor. Sober English people, if they saw him now, would almost think him a fit subject to be placed under restraint. One of his wild Irish ideas of expressing devotion to his wife is that they shall forget they are mar ried and live the lives of others. When they dine at a restaurant he insists on having a private room. He takes her to S nolle balls and engages her todance with im for the whole evening. When she stays at home and is a little fatigued he sends me to the piano and whirls her round the room in a waltz. 'Nothing revives a woman,' he says, 'like dancing with the man she loves.' When she isoutof breath and I shut up the piano, do you know what he does? He actually kisses me and says he is expressing his wife's feel ing for me when she is not able to do it herself. He sometimes dines ont with men, and comes back all on fire with the good wine, and more amiable than ever. On these occasions his pockets are f nil of sweetmeats, stolen for 'his angel' from the desert. 'Am I a little tipsv?' he asks. Oh, don't be angry; it's all for love of yon. 1 have been in the highest society, my darliug, proposing your health over and over ana over again, and drinking to you deeper than all the rest of the company. You don't blame me? Ah. but I blame myself. I was wrong to leave you and di.ue with men. What do I want with the society of men, when I have yonr society? Drinking your health is a lame excuse. I will refuse all invitations for the future that don't include my wife.' And mind, be really means it, at the time. Two or three days later, he forgets his good resolutions, and dines with the men again, and comes home with more charming excuses, and stolen sweetmeats, and good resolutions. I am afraid I weary you, Mr. Mountjoy?" "You surprise me," Hugh replied. "Why do 1 hear all this of Lord Harry?" Mrs. Vimpany left ner chair. The stag directions of other days had accustomed her to rise when the character she played had anything serious to say. Her own character still felt the animating Influ ence of dramatic habit; she rose now and laid her hand impressively on Mount joy 'i shoulder. "I have not thoughtlessly tried yonr pa tience." she said. "Now that I am awaj from the influence of Lord Harry I can re call my former experience of him. and 1 am alraict i can see tne ena mat is com ing. He will drift into bad company; h will listen to bad advice, and he will da things in the future which be might shrlnl Xroin doing now. When that time comes I fear him! I fear him!" "When that time comes," Hugh repeat ed. "if I have any influence left over his wife, he shall find her capable of protect ing herself. Will you give me her address in Paris?" "Willingly If you will promise not to go to her till she really needs you?" "Who is to decide when she needs me?" "lam to decide," Mrs. Vimpany an swered; "Iris writes to me confidentially. If anvthing happens which she may be unwilling to trust to a letter. I believe I shall hear of it from her maid." "Are you sure the maid is to be relied on?" Mountjoy interposed. "She is a silent creature, so far as I know anvthing of her." Mrs. Vimpany admit ted, "and her manner doesn't invite confi dence. But I have spoken with Fanny Mere. I am satisfied that she is true to her mistress and grstefnl to her mistress in her own strange ray. If Iris is in anr danger, I shall not be left in ignorance of It. Does this incline yon to consult with me before yon decide on going to Paris? Don't stand on ceremony: say honestly, Yes or No." Honestly, Hngh ur- yes. He was at once trusted with the address of Iris. At the sam time. Mrs. Vimpany undertook that he should know what news she received from Paris as soon as she knew it herself. On that understand ing they parted, for the time being, CHAPTKB XXV.-r-THB DOCTOR DT DIFFICUIt TIES. Slowly the weeks passed. Strictly Mrs. Vimpany kept her promise When she heard from Iris theletter was always seat to Hugh, to be returned after he had read it. Events la the lives at tha newly-married pair, many of which point ed to the ead that Mrs. Vimpany saw and ftoaaaed. wars lightly, sobmsums jestiac to.raUU4bythTaacwit. Her JtffcBt -,--. : ? .w Ljjei dpi fyt&Hiw<iiZJt. i III ,&mmv, mriBmw P6TLJC JBvy 7. w uZ2k2sHKvv A fzfi:ifmmrm mjJKoizss- nc aciuauy Kisxca inc. 9 -. -W .. - r2.-JJZAmJL,y --- . , "7 .-- - oeiienn'ner "irasTOnm,-sincereiy iramn in the earlier part of the correspondence, began to betray, in her later letter, signs of self-delusion. It was sad, indeed, to see that bright intelligence rendered in capable of conceiving suspicions which might hare occurred to the mind of a child. when the latest news from Paris follow &!VlVlS. of it by a note from Mrs. Vimpany, ex- nressea in inese terms: "My last letter from Iris is really no let ter at alL It simply incloses a circular, with her lore, and asks me to send it on to you. If it is in yonr power to make in quiries in the right quarter. I am sure von will not hesitate to take the trouble. There can be little doubt, as I think that Lord Harry is engaged in a hazardous speculation, more deeply than his wife is willing to acknowledge." The circular announced the contenmlat- ed publication of a weekly newspaper, printed partly in English, and partly in French, having it3 chief office in Paris, and being intended to dispute the advant ages of a European circulation with the well-known Continental journal called Oolijnant's Jfessenjcr. A first list of contributors included names of some no toriety in the literature of England and the literatu re of France. Speculators who wished to know, in the first place, on what security they might reckon, were re ferred to the managing committee, repre sented by parsons of importance In the financial worlds of London and Paris. Being in a position to make the inquiries which Mrs. Vimpany had snggested, Hugh received Information which verified the statements contained in the circular, and , vouched for the good faith of thos per sons who were concerned in directing the speculation. So far, so good. But. when the question of success was next disenssed, the authorities consulted shook their wise heads. It was impossible to say what losses might not be suffered aud what sums of mousy might not be re quired before the circulation of the new journal would justify the hope of success. This opinion Hugh communicated to Mrs. Vimpany: Iris was informed of it by that A longer time than nsual elapsed before anv f nrther news of Lord Harry and his wife was received by Mountjoy. When ho did at last hear again from Mrs. Vimp- any, she forwarded a letter from Iris dated Irom a new auaress, in tuo suunro oi Paris, called Passv. From motives of economy (Iris wrolel her hnsbaud had aeciuea on a cnange oi I resilience. They were just established in , their new abode, with the advantages oi a saying in rent, a pretty little garden tc . cultivate and purer air to breathe than the air of Paris. There tho letter ended, without the slightest allusion to the forth coming newspaper, or to the opinion that had been pronounced on the prospects oi success. In forwarding this letter Mrs. Vimpany wrote on the blank page as follows: "lam sorry to add that some disquieting news of my husband has reached me. For the present I will say no more. It is at leasl possiblo that the report may not be worth) of belief." A few days later tho report was con firmed, under circumstances which had certainly not been foreseen. Mr. Vimpany himself arrived at the hotel on a visit to Mountjoy. Always more or less superior to the amiable weakness of modesty, the doctor seemed to have risen higher than ever in his own estimation since Hugh had List, seen him. He strutted; he stared confi dently at persona and things; authority was in his voica when he spoEe. and lofty indulgeucedistinguished his manner when he listened. "How are you?" he cried, with a grand gaiety, as he entered the room. "Fine weather. Isn't it. for the time of year? You don't look well. 1 wonder whether you notice ny change in me?" "You seem to be in good spirits," Hugh replied, not very cordially. "Do I carry mv head high?" Mr. Vimp any went on. "When calamity strikes at a man, don't let him cringe and cry for pity let him hit back again! Those aro my principles. Look at me. Nbwdolook at me. Here I am, a cultivated person, a member of an honorable profession, a man of art nnd accomplishment stripped of every blessed thing belonging to me but the clothes I stand up in. Give mo yonr hand, Mountjoy. It's the hand, sir, of a bankrupt." "You don't seem to mind it much," Mountjoy replied. "Whv should I mind it?" asked the doc tor. "There isn't a medical man iu En gland n ho has less reason to reproach hi niclt than I have. Ha I wasted money In rasa speculations? Mot a tar thing. Have I been fool enouzh to bet at horse races? My worst enemy daren't say it of me. What have I done, then? I have touea alter virtue mat's what l have done. Ob, there's nothing to laugh att When a doctor tries to be the medical friend of humanity; when he only asks leave to cure disease, to soothe pain, to fireserve life isn't that virtue? And what s my reward? I sit at home, waiting for my suffering fellow-creatures: and the only feollw-creatures who come to me are too poor to pay. I have gone my rounds, calling on the rich patients whom 1 bought when I bought the practice. Not one of them wanted me. Men, women nnd chil dren were all inexcusably healthy devil take them! Is it wonderful if a man be comes bankrupt, in such a situation as mine? By Jupiter. I go farther than thatl I say, a man owes it to himself (as a pro test against undeserved neglect) to become a bankrnpt. If you will allow me, I'll take a chair." He sat down with nn air of impudent in- aepenaence, ana looKea round tne room. A little cabinet, containing liquors, stood open on the sideboard. Mr. vimpanv got up again. "May I take a friendly liber ty?" he said and helped himself, without waiting for permission. Hugh bore with this, mindful of the mistake that he had committed in con senting to receive the doctor. At the same time, he was sufficiently irritated to wun uicuiiij itucitj uu liuf Slue, lie crossed the room to the sideboard, and locked up the llqnors. Mr. Vimpany's brazen face flushed deeply (not with shame); he opened his lips to say some thing worthy of himself, controlled the impnlse, aud burst into a boisterous laugh. He evidently had some favor still to ask. "Devilish goodl" he broke out cheerful ly. "Do you remember the landlady's claret? Ha! vou don't want to tempt me this time. Weill welll to return to my bankruptcy." Hugli had heard enough of his visitor's bankruptcy. "I am not one of your cred itors." he said. Mr. Vimpany made a smart reply: Don't you bo too snre of that! Wait a little." "Do you mean." Mountjoy asked, "that you have come here to borrow money of me? "Time give me time." the doctor plead ed: "this Is not a matter to be despatched in a hurry; this is a matter of business. You will hardly believe it," he resumed, "but I have actually been in my present position once before." He looked to wards the cabinet of liquors. "If I had the key," he said, "I should like to try a drop more of your good Curacoa. You don't see it?" "I am waiting to hear what your busi ness is." Hugh replied. Mr. Vimpany's pliible temper submit ted with perfect amiability. "Qnitc right." he said: "let us return to busiuess. 1 am a man who possesses great fertility of re source. On the last occasion when my creditors pounced on my property, do you think I was discouraged? Nothing of the sort! My regular medical practice had broken down under me. 'Very well I tried my luck as a quack. In plain En glish. I invented a patent medicine. The one thing wanting was money enough to advertise it. False friends buttoned np their pockets. Yon see?" "Oh, yes; I see." "In that case," Mr. Vimpany continued, "you will not be surprised to hear that I draw on my resources again. You have, no doubt, noticed that we live in an age oi amateurs. Amateurs write, paint, com pose music, perform on the stage. I, too, am one of the accomplished persons who hare taken possession of the field of art. Did yon observe the photographic por traits on the walls of my dining-rootnf -Don't drfpe me sate a center" 1st said. They are of my doing, air whether yoa observed them or not. I am on of tha aaaoy meqical men, who can mee the aha. MgraalL NotthatlnisaUoafegeaerallyi thapnhiie hare got, a aarrow-tfaded ao ttoataat - '- jtt naahl in in aosaJM .aw awoctar.ljyaai 1 ,H.a-BaiBWHM-SliSBBBiAM course, f ou want to ybow work is. rntelL in the strictest confi dence. Imagine (If you can) a series xt snperb photographs of the most eassaeat doctors in England, with memoirs of their lives written by themselves; published once a month, price half-a-crown. If there Isn't money in that idea, there is no money in anything. Exert yourself, Tnv irrvirl frfonit Tll nM what wm hlW i 0f it." "I don't understand the subJect,"Mount. Joy replied. "May I ask why you want to take me into your confidence?" "Because I look upon you as my best friend." "You are xery good. But, surely, Mr. Vimpany, you have older friends in yonr circle of acquaintances than I am." "Not one,1' the doctor answered prompt, ly, "whom I trust as I trust yon. Let me give you a proof of It." "Is the proof in any way connected with money?" Hugh inquired. "I call that hard on me." Mr. Vimpany Srotested. "No unfriendly interruptions. lounHoy. I offer a proof of kindly feel ing. Do yon mean to hurt me?" Certainly no. Go on." "Thank yon; a little encouragement goes a long way with me. I have fonnd a book seller who will publish my contemplated work on commission. Not a soul has yet seen the estimate of expenses. I propose mi buuw lb iu you. "Quite needless, Mr. Vimpany." "Why quite needless?" "Because I decline lending yon the money." so, no. Mountjoyi lou can't really mean that?" "I do mean it." "No!" "Yes." The doctor's face showed a sudden change of expression a sinister and threatening change. "Don't drive me into a corner," he said. Think of it again." Hugh's capacity for controlling himself gave way at last. "Do you presume to threaten me?" he said. "Understand, if yon please, that my niiud is made up, and that nothing yon can say or do will alter it." With that declaration he rose from his chair and waited for Mr. Vimpany's de parture. The doctor put on his hat His eyes rested on Hugh, with a look of diabolical malice. "The time is not far off. Mr. Mountjoy, when you may be sorry you re fused me." He said those words deliber atelyand took his leave. Released from the man's presence, Hngh fonnd himself strangely associating the interests of Iris with the language other wise beneath notice which Mr. Vimpany had used on leaving the room. In desperate straits for want of money, how would the audacious bankrupt next attempt to fill his empty purse? If he had, bv sny chance, renewed his relations with his Irish friend and Bach an event was at least possible his next experiment in the art of raising a loan might take him to faris. liord Harry had alreaay ventured on a speculation which called for an im mediate outlay of money, and which was only expected to put a profit into bis pock et at some future period. In the mean while his resources in money had their limits; and his current expenses would make imperative demands on an ill-filled purse. If the temptation to fall in his res olution to respect his wife's fortune was already trying his fortitude, what better excuse coum oe oiiered tor yielding than the necessities of an old friend in a state of pecuniary distress? Looking at the position of Iris, and at tha complications which threatened It, from this point of view, Mountjoy left the hotel to consult with Mrs. Vimpany. It rested with her to decide whether the cir cumstances justified his departure for l'.uis. To Be Continued. J ANIMAL LIFE SUSPENDED- Cnrfoas Kxperlments with Frogs and the Spawn of Fiahes. Familiar instances of suspended vitality, or rather latent, are afforded ly seeds, which may bo kept for years without showing action, but are yet capable of licinp recalled to the exer cise of tin; functions of life, says La Monde ile la Science. Other instances arc afforded by the lower organisms, which will remain dry and sterile feT indefinite periods, to be brought into full activity at any time by supplying the due degree of moisture and warmth. Coming up to tlie higher forms of life, the same phenomena are usually mani fested in insects, one of the normal conditions of whose life the nympba or chrysalis state is characterized by the exhibition of the external appear ance of death. During this stage the vital jirocesses are tempered down till only enough are in effect to maintain a merely vegetable existence; yet the in sect is capable of slight motions when subjected to a shock or pressure. The duration of this apparent death varies according to the species and to ex ternal conditions. There are species that require two years of incubation before g ing throught heir metamorpho sis. Others pass to the perfect state in a few dins. Butterflies demand a cer tain degree of heat, below which they will not issue. The opening of the chrysalis takes place naturally when these atmospheric conditions are real ised. If the season is late the hatching is also late. Hence we can prolong the duration of the chrysalis state in definitely by properly adjusting the temperature, delaying to that extent the metamorphosis of the imprisoned mumiiiv into the free and winged in sect. Kcaumur, by putting chrysalides in an ice-box, was able to keep them alive and retard their development several years. Going up higher in the animal series, eggs, which arc analogous to the seeds of plants, present a remarkable ex ample of retarded life. One of tho most interesting features about them if the indcenileiice of their vitality, which persists even when the individ ual that lias produced them, and with in whose organism they are still con tained, has ceased to live. This fact has been recognized in pisciculture, where artificial fecundation has been successful with eggs taken from dead lish. The persistence of life in frogs is very long. Spallanzani preserved some frogs in a mass of snow for two years. They became dry, stiff, tind al most friable." but a gradual heat brought them back to life. Toads have been shut up in blocks of plaster, and then, having been deprived of all air except what may Denetrate through the ma terial, and of all sources of food, resuscitated several years afterward. This question presents one of the most curious problems that biological science has been called on to explain. The longevity and vital resistance of toads are surprising. Besides the experi ments we have cited, nature sometimes iresents some already made, and Tast y more astonishing. Toads are said to have been found in rocks. Such cases are rare, but it would be as un reasonable to doubt them as to believe in some of the miraculous explanations that have been made of the matter. The phenomenon is marvelous, it is true, but it is supported by evidence that we are not able to contest; and skepticism, which is incompatible with science, will have to disappear if rigor ous observation shall conhrm if. The toad was observed in one case in the stone itself and before, recovering from its long lethargy, it had made any motion. One of these toads- was pre sented to an academy, with the stone which bad served it as a coffin or habi tation, and it was ascertained that the cavity seemed to correspond exactly with the dimensions and form of the animal. It is remarkable that these toad-stones are very hard and not at all porous, and show no signs of fissure. The mind, completely baffled in the presence of the fact, is equally em barrassed to explain how the toad coold lire in its singular prison, and bow K became shut up there. M. Charles Richet had occasion to study this question some months ago, and came to the conclusion that the fact was real, observing that even it in the actual condition of science, certain phe nomena were still inexplicable, w , were not warranted ta denying their existence, for new dtfeovenes migBt at anv tine furnish an explanatioa, of them. "The true may sometisses be probable-" Bat etteae takes -.il... Mk 1,ifc i m w ism i i r m n rafc , m ism". - fa ."-- - .. , . - -; - p- j i - -- -- -- " -a .-ntt- .: -if .,K'&iyj;','JBVKmmrimim. Storm aad Cains. rroax. Over the leaden sea the wind blows storm. Harllnr the billows on tne sullen shore: It thunders with tne battle's brazen roar, Ptllnir the waves In many an angry hlU: The tempest bellows with a maddened win. What nirstnir harmonies Its trumpets pour. In choruses that to the heavens soar. And all tne sky wlih rumbling- tumult 11111 While variations of iu wind-swept wall Are Intermingled with the sudden booms Of seething breaker on the shore or night. Out of the Inky darkness and the g&lo Calmly, defiantly the lighthouse looms. All glorious in, IU wreath of living light. CAIJt New morning on the pulseless ocean throws IU whlte-wlnged kiss, and in the smile of day Dissolves the sea's pale drapery of spray. While the new moon beneath Its bosom goes. It shimmers faintly In the kindling rose Of dawn that flecks the weary wastes of gray A soothing quiet stretches far away That seems the Incarnation of repose: Tlie music Of the sea that's never still Breaths Its celestial spirit on the calm. Like a soft prelude from the tide of sleep; While the first sunbeams tremulously fill Yon Idle sail that, spread for isles of palm. Bests like a day-dream on the shining deep. B. K. Vunklttrick in Harper's Weekly. BERNARD'S LETTER. We were all popr in our village, but some of us were poorer than others so poor that we had not black bread enough to eat so poor that, when the hard winter came creeping upon us like sonic cruel, hungry tiger, we had no brands with which to scare it off. In Beltina's cottage, where she sat and spun while her childish old grand pareuts nodded in their chairs beside the fireplace, all was as clean as it could have been in a palace; but she had hard work to till those two old mouths and her own also. There was no one else to do it. The lady at the great bouse bought her flax and paid well for it. But. after all, Bcttina had but her two hands; and two little brown hands can not do all the world's work. Wait patiently," Bettina said to mo sometimes. "What does it matter? We love each other; wc trust each other; let us be content." But I could not be content. I felt if I would win Bcttina I must leave Savoy and go to America. I told Bet tina so. auttthough she wept, she said, 'Go go, Bernard, and I will pray for you. It is all a girl can do." At last I had money for the voyage. I had saved it little by little for two long years, and now the parting hour had come. "It is that wc may be with each oth er always some day that we part now," I said. Her tears fell over my neck. We pressed each other in a long embrace. At last I tore myself away, and blind ed by my tears set off upon my jour ney. We crossed the sea in safety. I stood at last iu a strango land and among strange people. A year passed by twelve long months; so long, counted by love's reckoning, aud yet I hoped and strove. One more year and she would come to me. The "months would slip away like the beads upon the rosary of one who prars for blessings. I should feci her hand in mine when they were all counted. I should press my lips to hers all would be forgotten but our meeting, and while I lived the old peo ple should share our happiness. With such thoughts as these in my mind I entered the great factory where I workeil one day. I said to niyself as I threw off my "jacket, "At noontime I will write to Brttina." What do we know of noontime at dawn? What do wc know of night at midday? Nothing. I remember thinking this. I remem ber crossing the long room. I remem ber a sudden flash and crash, and the oaths of men and a girl's mad scream. After that a sense of pain awakened me, aud I fouud myself lying in the dark, with my own hand, cold and clammy, lying iu a great, warm soft hand'that held it very tenderly. I tried to rise. I could not. "Where am I?" I said, and my voice sounded low and hoarse in my own ears. "Who is this?" "It is the doctor," said a voice. "Be calm my friend." "Is it ni-rht?" I asked. "It is night." "Why do yon not light a lamp?" He made no answer. "What has happcucd?" " Do you not remember?" "I remember a noise." "It was an explosion," he said, after a pause. "You wcro hurt. There were many killed outright." "Doctor," I said, "is it night?" "It is night!" he said solemnly. "But only for me! I know that I am smttten blind!" "Try to be calm, my friend," 'he whispered. "It is hard but try to bear it!" What can we do but bear what God sends upon us? But I did not bear it well. Can you wonder? AH was gone all my hopes of life, and even all that I had won in the last year. Some wretch bad stolen the little moleskin pouch from my bosom. I was a beg gar and blind! I prayed to die. but I lived and grew strong'again. One day as I sat by the hospital win dow, I formed a resolution. I said to myself: "I can be brave enough to spare Bettina something; and I will do it though my suffering should be in creased by the act. I know that if she knew the" truth she would grieve bit terly and remain true to me. I know that if I were sent honic,and the doctor says I might be, she would even mar ry me, and try to feed me as she does her helpless ones. That shall never be! I will send her word that I am dead, and then, when she has grieved awhile, youth will 'triumph; she will marry the young farmer who loves her so truly, aud is good as well as rich, and she will only remember poor Ber nard tenderly as one who loved her in the past. And young Bernard is real ly dead. The blind beggar is not the same man. The good doctor shall write me a letter, and so as he passed I called to him and told him all. "It will be best for her." I said. "I will set her free. She will grieve bit terly. I know, but the other lover will one dar blot out my memory. Tell herl died with her name on my lips I do. As I die, heart and soul, here be fore yon, I have but one thought it is Itettina. "And yon think she does net love yon as well?" he said. "She love nie even as I love her," I asm. -An, uocior, it is oecause l love her so that I would spare her all I can. Yon will write." "I will write," he said. "Stay come to my office. I have a nurse here now who can break the news tenderly, I believe, if any one can. She has waited on you for a day or two saying very little, I forbade that. But her bands are soft her touch kind, I think." "Heaven bless her! She is gentle as a mother, I said. "Yes, let her writ the letter." He took my hand in his and led me to the room he called his office. Then be left me a moment, and when he re turned I beard the rustle of a woman's garments following him. "This is the nurse who will write the latter. he said. "I thank her." said L "Be gentle, madam; my Bettina has a gentle heart." What shall I write?" she asked al KMt in a whisper. "Write that I am dead." I said. "Write that I lore Her to the las Write that I bade yon tell her when her grief had passed to wed another, aad be happy." "Happy, and yon deadf she said. "Aad she loves you." 'Madam,? gata, I. yw. hewe a proven) siWssM trouble m oeggar wnora sne loved ana woo hope lessly loved her, would be heavier on Bcttina's life than the memory of her dead Bernard. I can do little now, but I can do this. Write, madame." The pen moved over the paper. Soon hc said:. "I have written. Shal I read it to yon?" I answered: "Yes, if you will, madam." She began: "Die, unhappy girl! Your Bernard has perished. What is life to yon any longer? He is dead. Had he lived, blind, or maimed, or helpless in any wav, there would be hope for yo"t. You could fly to him; you couM comfort him; you could toil for him; you could be" his sunlight. Alas! no "such joy awaits you. He is no longer anywhere where you can iind him. Lie down and die. That is all you can do. He is dead." She ended in a flood of tears. I started to my feet. Why do you write thus?" I cried. "Who are you? How did you come by that voice?" Speak!" Then I felt two little hands steal about my neck and a wet check touched mine, and a whisper came: "Bernard, it is I. Did you not guess? Do you not know your own Bcttina?" She clasped me closer. I heard the door close; the doctor was gone. "The good doctor!" she said. "The first day of your illness he found a let ter you had beguii to mc and sent it with word of your misfortune; and a letter to one who could bring mo to jou if I desired to come. Ah. heaven bless you, he knew a woman's heart belter than you did! When the letter came my dear grandparents were lying dead. I only stayed to look iion their grave before I came to you. You were so feeble that he dared not let me tell you who I was at first. To-day vou were to know. Ah, Bernard, to-day, when you would have written to mc that you were dead. Bernard, how could you do it? How could you do so?" "It would have been best for you," I said. But she clasped me closer. My life has been a dark one ever since; but Bettiua's hand has led me day by day, and the good doctor's kind ness has been shown to us in teaching me such work as I can do. I shall never see the sweet face that I remem ber so well. But I know its beautv and its goodness, and the lovc-ligh't in the eyes, too well to forget them. And I know that I am dearer to her for my misfortune, and I am happy. A Y. Evening World. THE BERLIN SHOP GIRL. naif Iter Heart Is for the Gay Student nnd Half for l'laln Fritz. Thc Berlin shop girl is not so attract ive in appearance as the New York shop girl. She has a round face, short neck, square shoulders, thick waist, ami big feet. Her voice is rather harsh, her forehead low. and her hair not over abundant. She knows nothing about tailor-mnitc suits, patent leather shoe--. Easter bonnets, silk stockings, or e u broiilercd undcr-clothes. She is rr.relv stylish and never chic. On the other hand, she has many agreeable qualities which are not gen erally attributed to the New York &hop girl." She is unobtrusive, unscltisli.and contented. She is phenomenally af fectionate and faithful. Sho has 'good health, good nature, and a head crammed full of ideals. She writes and speaks her own language pretty cor rectly, knows a good bit of German ized" French, and can say "Yes," "Please," anil "Time is money" in English. Morcover.she has a great big heart. As in the case of most German women the kej' to the whole life of the Berlin shop girl is to be found in the heart anil not iu the head. Her heart is divided in two quite unsympathetic halves. One half belongs entirely to her gay student. The other half belongs en tirely to her plain Fritz. Her gay student is usually a well-to-do youn; scapegrace who is trying to learn all there is to know about the mensur and life in a big city, while making his fiarents away off in the provinces lie ieve that he has an eye siuglc to the dignity of becoming a Herr Doctor. He may be :i plain bchulze or Schmidt. Often enough he is a baron or a count. Now and thcn he is even a petty prince ling or a rich American. Whatever his rank or nationality may be, the shop girl loves him with astounding ardor after the first ten days of her acquaint ance with him. For her the mutations of his fickle finances arc entirely in significant. He is bcr student and she loves him just the same whether he dines her in the students' quarter or Under the Linden, whether .he takes her to the American Theatre or to the big Imperial Opera House, near the palace. She begins to quote Schiller's poetry to him two or three evenings after she first spoke to him across the shop counter. A week later she is writing it to him. In a month she is passing all her spare time while away from him iu composing original Ger man love doggerel. J. his she sends to him in regular daily installments, despite the oxjiense for postage, which she can ill spare out of her 'i a week salary. When out with him she never lets go of him. In the concert halls, in the Philharmonic at the theatre, or in the cafe, all alone with him or in tin presence of hundrcds.shc must pat him, or pinch him, or squeeze his hand, or pick threads from his coat. This superabundance of love and poetry and demonstrativepess. of course.soon cloys the palate even of a romantic German student. After a few months of it, the frequency of the concert hall and theatre parties, the late wine suppers and the like begins to abate. Despite redoubled doses of love doggerel and abject worship the student falls off more and more, and eventually ter minates the shop girl's little romance by going away to another university. While the aristocratic half of her heart has been whirling the shop girl through all these sentimental and poe tic high jinks with the gay student, the humbler half has been leading her through a much more commonplace love affair. The hero of the prosaic half of her dual life is plain Fritz. He is generally a shoe-maker's or a baker's apprentice earning a dollar or so a week, and altogether a pretty poor apology for a hero. Nevertheless, the shop girl loves him with the whole half of her heart. She drinks his two-cent glass of beer as contentedly as she drinks the student's five-cent glass of wine.is just as grateful for the ten-cent scat he buys ber in the theatre gallery as for the student's orchestra chair, and loves him almost as hatd on the way home in a horse car after the perform ance as she is wont to love, the student in a first-class cab. She is faithful to him as he is faithful to ber, and despite her student and ideals and Schiller and doggerel eventually settles down as solid Fran Fritz to rearing his bow legged little Fritzes after the approved German fashion. In the routine of every-day life the Berlin shop girl is a unique and quite exemplary young woman. She doesn't flirt in the street, won't take a man's eat in a crowded horse car. never ord ers fancy dishes in a restaurant, and is always very grateful for small favors. She can walk miles, and does it almost every evening to save five cents car fare. She can board a street car in motion as well as a man, and carries the change for the conductor in her glove. She can eat sauerkraut with a two-Uaed fork, and salad with a steel knife without gashing her lips. She earn cook mod clean house aad make her own gowns. la short she is just cal calatesl to aaake Fritz an industrious. eeoaoaaJcai. sabsssiv..wife, aad one in Berlin wonld tbimk of iii'fiiiit wntilm.-x. rSmJejSl '3,-,.-n 4. -n'. .b: -i r- T-r-ffi- '. -J - -iLJ '--.-."F-w-J? !ifcfcTC i THE RAHBOrS PROMISES. Dt Talmas Delrraf. a Starring Dir oorae on EwTsa's Bsaatissii in rtp!e AaTiaeA ts later the Ark ef Sal. nttoastOass Ike Brtgktett Tints After the tom-OleriM ef the Tatar Warli Besietsa. Rer. T.De Witt Talmage last Sunday preached la tha Brooklyn Aotdemy of Music, oa the subject, "All Troubles Pas." and the text Revelations It, St "There was a rainbow rottad about the wroue." i uiowiDf is un nnnra i As after a night of fearful tempest at sea one ship, more staunch than another, r.des on undamaged among the fragments of spars and hulks that float about; so old Noah's ark at the dose of the delnge floats on over the wreik of a dead world. Look log oat of the window of the ark, yon see the planks of houses, and the sheaves of wheat, and the carcasses of cattle, aad the corpses of men. No tower is left to toll the burial; no moumtrs to form In the line ef procession; no ground oa which to bury tbe;deaa.a.Slnking a line 37 feet long, yoa Just touch the tors of the mountains. GhafttltnAAi nnil tmrrnrt Thi mrlr intAAf - .... , --- - " lM .u amoaorn amp, la majesty and beauty, tosses helplessly; no helm to guide; no sail to set; no shore to steer for. Why protract ths sgony of the good peoplo in such a craft, when they migai in one dasn or the wave nave been put out of their misery! tint at yonder spot a the horizon we see colors gathering 'in the sky; at Just the opposite point in the horizon other colors are gathering: I find that they are the two buttresses of an arched bridge. The yel low, the red, the orange, the blue, the Indigo, the violet are mingled, and by in visible hands the whole structure is hung Into the sky, and the ark haa a triumphal arch to sail under. An angel of light swings his hand across the sky, and in the seven prismatic colors he paints with pen cil of sunbeam the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature. God lifted up that great arched bridge, and set It over Hit own head in heaven, John saw it, for he says: "There was a rain bow roand abont the throne." I notice that none but the people who were in tne ark saw the rainbow. It cist its shadow clear down into the water where the people were turied and lighted up the dead fates with a atran;e radiance, but they could not see Itl So only those who aro at last found in Christ, the Arte, will see the overspanDing glories of the throne. Hence you had better get into the arkt As you call your family out at the close of the shower to show them the sign in heaven, so I want j ou all at last to see the grander rainbow round about the throne. "Look there," says Noah to his wife, "at that bow in the clouds; and, Shem and Japhat, look I look I the green, the yellow, the red and the orange I" I should not wonder If some of your own children in the good land should after a while cry out to you, "Look, father! look, mother! there Is a rainbow round about the throne I" Yon had better get into tne ark, w.ih all your families, If you want to see it. 1 notice also that the chief g'ory of God comes after tho rain. No shower, no rain bow; no tronble: no brightness of Christian consolation. Weavers are sometimes, by reason of thoir worlr, dusty and rough in their -pparcl; and so it is tho coarie clad tempest, whose hand and foot aw.ng the shuttle, that weaves the rainbow. Many Cliri tians are dull, and stupid, and useless becaus- they have not had disaster enough to wake thorn up. The brightest scarf that heaven makes is thrown over the shoulders of the storm. You can not make a thorough Christian li fe out of sunshine alone. There aro soma very dark hues in the ribbon of tho rainbow; you must have In life the blue as well as tho orange. Mingling all the colors of the former makes a white light; and It takes all the shades, and sadness, nnd vicissitudes of Ufa to make tho white luster of a pure Christian character. Your child asks you: "Father, what makes the rainbow!" and you aay, "It is the sunlight striking through tae rain drops." Therefore, I wondered how there could bo a rainbow in hoaven, since there aro no storms there; but then I conclude that that rainbow mutt be formed by the striking of heaven's sunlight through the falling tears of earthly sorrow. When we see a man overwhelmed with trouble, and his health goes, and his property goes, and his friends go, I say, "Now we shall see tho clory of God in this good man's deliv erance." As at Niagara Falls I saw one day ten rainbows spanning the awful plunge of the cataract, so over the abyss ot of tha christian's trial hover the rich hued wings of all the promises. I notice that the most beautiful things of this norld are to be preserved in heaven When you see the last color fade out from the rainbow of earth you need not feel sad, for you will sea the rainbow round about the throne. That story about the world burning up has given me many a pang. When I re id that Paris was besieged, I said: "Now the pictures and statues in the Louvre and Luxembourg will be destroyed , all those faces of Rembrandt, and those bold dashes of Rubens, and those enchant ments of Raphael on canvasi, and those statues of Canova," But is it not a more melancholy thought that ruin is to come up on this great glory of the earth in which the mountains ara the chiseled sculptures and upon the s!cy, in which the "transfig uration" of sunrise and sunset is hung with loop and tassels of firo! I was relieved when 1 fonnd that the pictures had been re moved from the Louvre and the Luxem bourg, and I am relieved now when I think that the best parts of this earth are either to be removed or pictured in the good land. The trees mnst twist in the last fire the oaks and the cedars and ths maples; but in heaven there shall be the trees of Ufa on the bank of the river, and the palm trees from which the conquerors shall pluck their branches. Tho Hudson and the St Lawrence and the Ohio shall boil in the last flame but, we shall have more than their beauty In ths Riv erof Life Irom under the throne. The daises and the porlolaoas and the roses of earth will wither in the hot sirocco of tha Judge ment, hat John tells of the garland which the glorified shall wear; and there mnst be flowers or there could be no garlands. The rainbow oa our sky, which Is only the pillow of the dying storm, mnst be re moved! but then, glory be to God. "there Is a rainbow round ab:nt the throne." I have but to look up to the radiant arch above the throne of God to assure myself that the most glorious things of earth ara to be preserved in heaven. Then let the world barn; all that is worth saving will be snatched ont of the fire. I see the same truth sat forth in the twelve foundations of the wall of heaven. St John announces the twelve foundations of this wall to be, theflrst of Jasper, yellow aad red: the second of sapphire, a deep blue; the third a chalcedony, a varied beauty; the fourth, emerald, a bright green color; the fifth sardonyx, a bluish white; the sixth, aardlus, red and fiery; the ssventh, chrysolite, golden hued: the eighth, beryl, a bluish green; the ninth, topiz. a pale green mixed with yellow; the tenth, chrysoprssas, a golden bluish tint: the rtTenth tudnth Ur a tk sunset; tne tweina amatayst Bet these precious stones are only the foundation of the wall of heaven the moat Inferior part ef It Oa the top of this foundation there rises a mighty wall f Jasper of brilliant yellow and gorgeous tvlmson. Stupendous cataract of coiorl Throne of splendor aad sublimity! Yoa see that the beautiful colors which are the robes of glory to our earth are to be for ever preserved in this wall of heaven. Oar skies of blue, which sometltres seem al most to drop with richness of color, shall he glorified aad etsraalbed ia the deep vet-lasting hloe or that fiery stone which forms the seocad foundation of the heaven ly wall. The green that sleeps on the brook's bank aad rides oa the sea wave aad spreads Its banners on the monntalntrn shall be eternalized ia the emerald that forms the toBTta foundation of the heavenly wslL The kJeryguah of the moraing, the conflagration of the anlamaal sunset, she electricity that shoots iu forked teagoe cut ef the thunder dead, the name at whose breath Moscow it aJ - hard shall ha aUrnallf fat the fiery Jasper. It seems as if an earthly baneis wan ta one bniow to M ap aaaMaas wau otaaavan sv mtrnt anarnlthhus of earth may ssaaytmtharmtMwsllortaefotuutatioB tr h the ralaboir arena aeont toe tanas. Laoties the nnsawskaMe attraettrsawts af heaven. Ia MheVpUoes Ue lata. tsHB tat ef the fieer of heaven the waters atH and the fruits-. netrat. Jems attiMiaoLtlB foe area ef ,. Wtae weHBI ssaVsw bear' far years a sua in niHis in ist i sill n r i iiim ii worsteds ttreagh ihe aiHssts threads, sa laedUlseeaiaa4arsMkeseasohssa iBgera breadth of tsasmtr Hag's aaopy. Bat behold how avr Lord, in oa . hour, will. His two hands, twisted the Upestij, now swung above the throae,"ato a raiaoow oi lannit fiery- o, what a puce heaven must be, Yoa have heretofore looked at the floor; this morning take one glance a the celling. I notice what most be the feeling of sarety among the people of heaven. Hare yoa ever seea a dead burst There have I been days wheals rained as U it wouM Bererstop. Yon knew It it kept on la that way long all tha nations would be drowned; yet you had no apprehension, for yon re membered the bow of promise painted oa the cloud in Noah's time. So the glorified have but to look to the arch around the throne of the King to be reassured that tho delnge of trial is forever post. On earth the delngs of sin covers the tops of the highest mountains. I heard a Al- I pine guide, amid the most stupendous evi dences of God's power, swear at his mqle If as he stumbled in the pass. Yea, the deluge of sin dashes over the top of tho highest mountain ranges. Revenge, drunkenness, , impiety. falsehooJ. blasphemy aro but dif lereniw ferent waves of a flood that has whelmed ; MXioax NeBr York j, droTraed in it, Brooklyn is drowned in it, IJostoa is drowned in it, London is drowned in it, St Petersburg is drowned in It two great . Hemispheres are drowned in it. Hut tne re I deemed, looking Into the "rainbow round r.lcntthe throne," see the pledge that all this is ended for them forjvor. They have I committed their last sin aid r-rcmitted their last temptation. No suic dj ici;j j into those bright waters; no profanity be I fouls that pure air; no vlllaia'i torch shall , fire those temples: no murderer's hand shall atrike down those tons of God. They I know tnat for them tno ielag9 o( l!n j, assuaged, for "there Is a rainbow roand about tha throne" Now the world is covered with a deluga of blood. The nations are all Iho time either using tho sword or sharpening it The factories of the world are nlghi and day manufacturing tho weaponry ot death. Throne against throne, empire against em pire. The spirit ot despotism and freedom at war in every land; despotic America against free America, despotic) England against free England, despotic Germany against free Germany, despotlo Austria against free Austria. Tho great battle of earth Is being fought tho Armageddon of the nations. Tho song that unrolled from the sky on the first Christmas night of "Peace and good will to men," is drowned in toe booming of tho great siege guns. Stand back and let tho Ion? lino of ambu lances pass. Groan to groan. Uncover and look upon tho trenches of tho dead. Blood 1 blood I a deluge of blood! But the redeemed ot heaven, looking upon the glorious arch that spans the throne, shall see that tho delugo is over. No batteries are planted on tho-o hills; no barricades blocking those streets; no hos tile flag abovo those walls: no smoke of burning villages; no shrieks of butchered men; but peace! German and French man, who fell with arms inter locked in ha to on the field of ddath, now, through Christ in heaven, stand with arms interlocked ia lovo. Arms stacked forever; shields of battle bung up. Tha dove instead of tho eagle; the lamb instead ot tho lion. There shall be nothing to hurt or destroy in all God's holy mount, for there is a rainbow round about the throne. Now the earth is covered with deluge of sorrow. Trouble! trouble! Tho very first utterance when we como Into tho world is a cry. Without any teaching wo laarn to ween. What has so wrinklel that man's face? What has so prematurely whitened his hair I What calls out that si .-ht hat starts that tear! Trouble I trouble I I find it in the cellar of poverty, and far up among the heights on tho top ot the crags; for this also hath gone over the tops ot thj highest mountains. No esc pe from It You go into the store, and it meets you at yoar counting desk; you go into the atreat, and it meets you at tho corner; you go into the house, and it meets you at the door. Tears of poverty I tears of persecution ! tears of bereavement! a deluge of tears! (lather ed together from all the earth, they could float an ark larger thin Noah's. But the glorified, looking np to tha bow that spans tha throne, shall sea that the delnge is over. No shiverinz wra:oh caC the palace step; no blind man at the gat of the heavenly temple asking for alms: no grinding of tho screw driver "pn coffla lid. They look up at the rainbow and read in lines ot yellow, and red, and green, and bluo, and orange, and in digo and violet "Thsy shall hunger no more, neither tnirst any more; neitner shall the sun light on them, nor any heat; for tho Lamb whioh is in the midst ot the throne shall feed them and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters, end God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." Thank God for the glory spanning the throne! In our boyhood we had a superstition that at the foot of the rainbow there was a casket of buried gold; but I have to an nounce that at the foot of this rainbow of heaven there la a box made out of the wood ot the cross. Open it anl yoa find all the treasures of heaven. Bat mind what I told you at tho baglnlaz snd what I tell you at the close that none but Nosh's family in tha ark saw the rain bow and that only those who aro at last la Christ shall discover It amid the glorias at heaven. "Except a man bo torn again ho cannot see the kingdom of God." Queen Victoria is an ardent student of African geography, and could pass a creditable examination in that sub ject with Mr. Stanley as the interrog. tor. Her Majesty has carefully watch ed the Portuguese encroachments, and when the news of the outrage on the British flag reached London it was the Queen herself who insisted on Lord Salisbury compelling Portugal to come to a definite understanding without de lav. Burro Too Much for the WolC A combat of most unusual character occurred near Paso Del Xorte a short while ago. The participants were a burro, or little Mexican jackass, and a wolf of the large species known as Iobo. The burro had broken out of his stable during the night, wandering several miles out into the country, and his owner going to seek him was an eye witness to his fight with the wolf. This man, who is an unusually intelli gent Mexican, states that tlie donkey was quietly grazing in a little grassy dell lying between two walls of jutting rock when the wolf came trottingalong with his head close to the ground, as if attempting to recover the trail of some thing, which is characteristic of the lobo. He did not perceive the donkey till he was nearly on him, and it was not till then that the latter, raising his bead, saw the wolf, but the moment their eyes fell on each other hostilities began. The wolf, with his jaws snap ping and growling ferociously, made at the donkev. which wheeling sharply around let lit- at his enemy with both heels, sending him tumbling over and over. The performance was repeated again and again until the wolf began to realize that tilings were not going just his way. The last kick from the burro's heels hail sent him with a sick ening crash against the hard rock that walled in the dell, and actually stunned him for a moment: so on rising he seemed to deem a change of tactics ad visable. Running up to the donkey he waited until those terrible heels were in tbeair when jumping around with remarkable agility he evaded the kick and made for his enemy's throat, but he found the donkey's other end also armed for battle, and before he could lay hold of any part of that lively animal's anatomy the bnrror had caught him back of the neck between his powerful teeth and cracked the bone. Though the wolf was. of wurse, killed instantly, the plucky little jackass refused to re linquish its hold, and occupied itself for some minutes with beating its van quished foe's body up and down on the ground. When satisfied at last that it was dead it lung the lobo's carcass to oae aide, quietly resuming its grazing till the owner came and drove it home. St. Louis Globe-Demoerat. ffteltssyewsatTa jL :e4ji Ufa - -- . Mrssrf - - - sr-.""ssa :$&. .. cr.V5 Mf $$ ,.',' ' ,'' '..zj - r ", "F5- L.Jf ' A :-. -w V &.?" T :-'n-f. -4k -. - y -.-Sfit.l