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HUMOR IN -TEXT OF CLERGY.
AnMlng Remark* Which Were Mnn
Seriously Intended.
Part of the humor which one occa*
sionally meet* with, even iv the iiod.it c
lnclosure of the pulpit, la due to th«
queer texts whidi are sometime* —of«
ten unconsciously—cboscn by preachr
em. No doubt there are many starlet
told under this he-ad which owe their
origin not to actual fact so much na
to the invention of the wag. For ex
ample, a minister on the Sunday be
fore his marriage Is said to have cho»
en as his text, "And he went on his
way rejoicing," and on the Sunday
after his honeymoon to have eloquent
ly discoursed on the word*, "U«:nenibe!
my bonds."
These instances are, probably, apoc
ryphal, but the following are true and
have all come within tt* experience of
the writer, it was In iae north of En
gland that the tlrst incident happened
It was a country church where 01,
lamps were used instead of gas. On<
night in the late summer when the
lamps bad not yet been resumed after
the long days it got suddenly overcast
and before the sermon it wan deeme<
necessary to light the pulpit lamp
During the hymn, the old sexton re
paired to the pulpit, and, having cleaned^
the glass chimney witJL a du>\tv, lit i*
up, but only a feeble Mglit struggled
through. And then the clergyman tool;
his text, which was this: "And no\»
we see through a glass darkly."
A few years ago a well known bishop
married his second wife, and, return*
Ing home after his b<j.tv»yni<x>n, an
uounced a series of sermons, the titli
of the series being 'flue Penitent's It©
turn.' Tula was obviously uninten
tional.
There Is a church In one of our larg*
Cities Which boasts of a very high pu)
pit. A short time ago a strange preachi
er whi) wasi of a nervous temperament
"occupied" this pulpit, but. as the se
quel will show, only for a very shor,'
time, for, having taken his text auc
said alnnit a dozen words, he startler
the congregation by saying: "As I ar
not used to pulpits as high as thN you
will pardon me, I know, if I come
down and preach my sermon from il.h
lectern." He suited hi.s action to ths
words and preached a very good ser
mon from the modest lectern. And
this was his strangely appropriate text:
"He that exalteth himself shall be
abused, and he that humbleth himself
shall be exalted."
One more Instance) Not niaiiv
months ago a clergyman preached oi>o
Sunday evening from the text, "My
words shall m>t pass away." Exactly
a fortnight later the same clergyman
preached the same sermon from the
same text in the same church, to ilu
wonderment of practically the same
congregation. Evidently it was nil
determination that at any rate ht
words Should not pass away from tha
memory of his hearers.
A SUCCESSFUL DIPLOMAT.
Our Minister to Japnti Has Had n
Creditable Record.
When an American representative 1p
a foreign hind is praised by the mi*
sionaries laboring there, It may bi
taken for granted
that he is doing his
full duty In th«
place which he
fills. High union-/
this class of faith
ful and capable of
ficials Is to b«
ranked Lloyd Car*
pen tor Griscom,
our minister to
Japan, The latest
h;v- :vii-;i--iffii-i^ii^r«Ka-rii re port of the Japan.
IXOYD C. GRISCOM. mission tO til*
American Board says: "Our American
diplomacy in the Bast, and especially
In Japan, has generally been on tliv?
highest plane, and it has won the com
plete confidence of the whole nation
Mr. Griscom is keeping up the old tra
ditions, and is already accepted as <
statesman of experience and large ablY
ity." The man thus commended is the
youngest of our diplomatic represent*
tives abroad, but he has had a eareei
that has well fitted him for his post
Born In New Jersey, Mr. Griscom be
came successively secretary to Mr.
Bayard, our first ambassador to Eng
land; deputy district attorney of New
York City; a volunteer in the Spanish-
American war; secretary of the Ameri
can legation and charge d'affalrs at
Constantinople, and envoy extraor
dinary and minister plenipotentiary to
Persia. He has been in Japan since
1002. In Turkey and Persia Mr. Qrlf>
com rendered Important service to tho
missionaries, und at his receptions 1*
Tokyo they may often be seen amonj
his guests.
Oldest Tree In the World.
It is said that the oldest tree in tn»
world Is a be tree at Adnuradhapurt^
Ceylon, whiff, was planted close to i
Buddhist ffknne in 245 B. C, and V
therefore 2,148 years old. Legend hal
It that this tree sprang from a branch
which severed Itself by mlraculour
power from the sacred tree under
which Gautama became Buddha, th/
enlightened one.
There are too many people oa •
dead center.
linked Apple l»u m pllng*.
Take a <iuart of flour and work Into
it a spoonful each of butter and lard.
W«t it with a pint of buttermilk con
taining a spoonful of soda; roll out
and rut out circular pieces, using a
saucer to determine the size. Have
ready some pleasant sour apples and
place us many of the slices upon one
half of the crust as the other will
cover; wet the edges find press them
together. I'iace the dumplings In a
bilking tin as soon as prepared, prick
them with a fork and bake until the
apple is cooked. Serve with a hot
sauce, or sweetened and flavored
cream.
Cumiei Cnstmrdi
Turn one fourth of a cup of sugar
into a itewpan, and Stir it over the
Ore until it becomes liquid and brown.
Scald a cup and a half of milk, and
add the browned sugar. Beat two eggs
thoroughly, add to them one-half cup
ful of cold milk, and turn the mixture
slowly, stirring constantly that no
lumps form, into the scalding milk.
Continue to stir until the custard
thickens. Set away to cool and serve
in glasses.
How to Roast (irccn Corn.
To properly roast green corn, re
move ul! the husks, rub the ears with
butter, and season with pepper and
salt. Then lay the cars side by sidft
in a flat pan—a dripping pan will do
■ and put Into a very hot oven. Oc
casionally change the ears in the pan
and turn thorn over, so that they will
brown evenly. When sufficiently brown
they must be served at once.
Oatmeal Itrond.
Sot a sponge over night, as for white
bread, and in the morning work Into
It two cups of slightly salted wheat
flour and two cups of oatmeal, with
a siKMioful of molasses. Knead
long and hard, and set to rise. When
very light, make Into loaves and set
In a warm place for an hour or until
light. Bake In a steady oven. Cover
with paper the tirst half hour.
Citron Cheese Cakes.
801 l near a quart of cream; when
cold add the yolks of four eggs, well
beaten; boil this to a curd; blanch and
beat two ounces of almonds, about half
a dozen bitter; boat them with a little
rose water; put all together, with three
or four Naples biscuits, some citron
shredded line; sugar to taste; pull
paste. (
Tomato Pickles.
Slice ft gallon of unpeeled green to
matoes and six large onions and mix.
Stir Into these a quart of vinegar, a
cup of brown sugar, tablespoon each
of salt, pepper and mustard seed, a
half tablespoon each of ground all
spice and cloves. Stew all until tho
tomatoes are very tender, put into
glass jars aud seal.
Spiced Plums.
For snven pounds of plums take
throe and one-half pounds of brown
sugar, cue pint of vinegar, one ounce
each of cloves, allspice and mace, and
two ounces of cinnamon, putting the
spice in a thhi muslin bag. Oook slow
ly until the juice is a thick sirup.
Grape I'reaerven.
Pulp and boil the grapes until the
seeds loosea. Run through a sieve,
boll half of the skins in a very llttlo
water, put pulp and the boiled skins
together, and for every pint of grape
add a pound of sugar. Boil the whole
for fifteen minutes.
Hire Muffins.
Into a cup of cold boiled rice beat
a quart of milk, three beaten eggs, a
tablespoonful of shortening and enough
prepared flour to make a soft batter.
Pour into greased inutliu tins and bake
in a quick oven. Serve at once.
Cottage Cheese Sandwiches.
Rub cottage cheese smooth with a
little cream and to every cupful of it
add a tablespoonful of minced chives.
Mix well and spread between thin
slices of buttered, crustless whits
bread.
Blackberry Jam.
Allow half a pound of good brown
sugar to every poimd of fruit; boll the
whole together gently for an hour, or
till the blackberries are soft,, stirring
and mashing them well. Put in small
Jars and tie down.
Canned String; Bean*.
String both sides of the beans. 801 l
until tender In salted water, pack in
Jam, boll up th« liquid and nil the Jar*
to overflowing, sealing Immediately.
Bagseattoiis for the Honaewife.
Rub all rusty places en Iron with
keroMOe oil.
In purchasing tinned goods always
look whether the head of the tin U
concare, a bulging appearance being
Indicative tt decomposition.
gound by a Spell
CHAPTER XVl.—(Continued.)
Mr. Montgomery did not evince at
the news the. pleasure or the excitement
that I expected; but a quiet smile of
malignant satisfaction stole over his
fnce. He merely remarked, "Then the
Hey. Mr. Porter will have a visitor next
Sunday that he little expects. Let me
see." mused the Professor. "Bury St.
Bdracnd's. I can take the enrly trnin
on Sunday morning, nnd get back tit
night. I shnll have plenty of time to
do my business, and his, too."
"What do you iiicnn to do?" asked
Joalah.
"Never you mind; I will tell you all
about it when I get back."
"Oh, whnt a jolly revenge it will he,
for nil he made us suffer, to howl tlie
old hypocrite out so clean!" cried Josifth,
ph'ofullv. "You o:m give mine nnd
Silas' compliments "
"No, no; for he.iven's sake, do not
mention my name in any way!" I ex
claimed excitedly.
"Why not?" asked Mr. Montgomery,
turning sharply round nnd easting upon
me one of his old Scrutinizing glances.
"Because—because- " 1 could not
(five a reason. "Oh, please to promise
that you will not speak of rue!"' I plead
ed.
He did promise. Hut, somehow. I put
very little faith in his keeping his word.
"When I was Ht old Brown's, the
printer's," said Josiah, "I heard a good
many things about our reverend pastor)
who was not in very good odor, except
among his own fiect, in spite of his sanc
timoniousness. When he first came into
the town, he wns (in open air preacher,
with do chapel or congregation; but he
managed to Ingratiate himself into the
good grace* of a bevy of old women;
and upon the death of the minister of
Little Bethlehem, which happened about
the same time, the elders or deacons, or
whatever they enll themselves, of the
chape] got him appointed. So he set
himself up as a converted cobbler; and,
as converted reprobates of all kinds were
the rage just then, ho dropped into a tidy
*.hing."
'Vliile wo were rot talking, old Mr.
Jenniogs came downstair! to go to his
morning's work. We had sat up the
whole night. It was just 5 o'clock.
Spite of my new anxieties, I fell asleep
the moment my head touched the pillow,
dud woke about five hours afterwards.
Martha had ii good laugh at my misera
ble looks when I wont in to breakfast.
Neither Mr. Montgomery nor .Tosiah ap
peared until much later. They took a
newspaper between them and discussed
it over their breakfast. While "the Pro
fessor" was languidly scanning the ad
vertisement sheet, he suddenly uttered
on exclamation of surprise, and road
something with keen attention.
"Just cast your eye over that," lie
fluid, handing me the sheet, and pointing
with his finger to a particular advertise
ment. With tlic utmost dismay, I re-ad
the following:
"Absconded, from Tabernacle House,
near Bury St. Edmund, a young man,
nineteen years of age, about five feet
nine in height, slightly built, long, dark
hair and dark eyes, small features, \i ry
pale complexion. Whoever will send In
formation that will lead to the appre
hension of the same to the Rev. Mr.
Porter shall be handsomely rewarded.
N. B. —Should this meet his eve, no fur
ther proceedings will be taken against
him if he at once returns; but should
he be apprehended, he will be proceeded
against on a grave charge. The police
are on his track."
The newspaper dropped from my hand
and I thought I should hnve fainttd.
Martha was obliged to bathe my face
with cold water to recover me. This
littlo scene was not lost to the sharp
eyes of Mr. Montgomery. I saw him
quietly noting it, but he made no re
mark. Josiah began to hector, and beast
what he would do if he were in my
place.
1 was to see Clara in the afternoon;
and, for the first time, I felt loili to
meet her. That advertisement roused up
a train of piiinful thoughts. What was
I doing?—feeding a iund love for one
woman, while another could claim me
as her husband! How could it all end,
but iv misery? If Clara should learn
to love me, and then discover all, what
a monster she would think me!
In the face of such impending dan
ger, but one course was open to me: to
see her for the last time, bid her adieu,
and then fly from her forever. Yes: I
would do it, if my heart broke in the ef
fort. I called in at Martha's as I passed
by for something I had left there. Mr.
Montgomery proposed to bear me corn
pan) as far as our rands lay together.
"Don't you make yourself uneasy
about that advertisement," he said, as
we walked along. "It is half gas; es
pecially that part ahout the police. He
must set some value upon you to mnke
this fuss. There's something more in
this than you know of, or choose to tell,"
he added, with a sharp look. "I know
Bill Stokes so well; he wouldn't take all
this trouble without some very good
reason. But, as I said before, don't
frighten yourself. It is more than like
ly, before this day week, that -he may be
advertised for as 'absconded.' "
Had I looked through the newspaper
that morning, I should hare seen two
other advertisements that concerned me
equally with the one I did read. One
ran thus:
"If the young man named B
C , who left T House, near
B St. B , on the 81st of August
last, will communicate with Messrs. Vo
gle 3t Quick, solicitors, Gray's lan, he
will hear nomething to his advantage."
This advertisement, which had been
inserted for three consecutive days pre
viously, was observed by Mr. Montgom
ery for the first time that morning, nnd
HOI pointed out to me, for certain rea
sons of his own.
The second was couched in these
terms:
"Should this meet the eye of the
young man who deposited a (suit of
clothes with the owner of Rose Cottage,
Blopperton, he will oblige by at once
sending to, or calling personally upon,
J. R., Morley'g Hotel, Tralalgar
Square."
This Inst, if observed by Mr. Mont
gomery, conveyed no, meaning to him, as
I had told the episode, to which it re
ferred, only to Martha.
• Had 1 seen aixl attended to those nd
vert isements, how different might have
been the catastrophe of this story!
CHAPTER XVII.
I was strong in brave resolves when I
knocked at the door of the little house.
But they were sadly shaken the moment
it was opened by Clara herself. The
sight of her sweet face, smiling upou
me, cowed my bravery. "Have I come
litre to look upon her for the last time
—to bid adieu to that smile forever?" 1
asked myself; and my heart sank, but it
gave no response.
"We are ."II alone," she said, as we
went into the parlor. "Mary is out, nnd
so is Mrs. Wilson, wonderful to say."
She was working hard at her paint
ing, as usual. I sat down upon a foot
stool at her feet, and gazed furtively
up at her face. Never, methought, had
she looked so lovely as she did that morn
ing, in the soft, hazy, autumn sunlight.
Half an hour passed away, and we
had not exchanged half a dozen words;
but that was not at all uncommon, lor
1 loved better to gaze and dream than to
talk; nnd when at her work, she spoke
but little. She dropped one of her
brushes; and as I gave it to her, I held
her hand for a moment fast locked in
mine. When she looked down nt me
smilingly and saw me in tears, a look
of concern came across her countenance.
"Would it make you very unhappy if
1 were to tell you that you might never
see me again after this day." I spoke
in a low. choked voice, and the gathered
tours burst forth from my eyelids, and
fell upon her hand.
She did not appear to comprehend my
words, as she saked, in a tone of trou
bled wonder, "What do you mean?"
I repeated my question, in a yet more
trembling tone. I felt her hand more
passive in mine, nnd her eyes irooped,
and the carnation tinge deepened in her
checks, as she answered, softly, "It
would make me very unhappy to think
so."
"Listen to me," I cried, kneeling at
hei feet, and clasping both her hands
in mine. "From the time of our meet
ing, five years ago, 1 aye loved you; from
the time of our meeting a few weeks
back 1 have adored you! Oh, tell me,
do you love me? Answer me but one
word, my darling, my love!" 1 cried
again.
She raised her eyes for a moment to
mine, and then dropped them, with her
cheek as crimson as my own. "I do
love you, dearest — very much," she an
swered, in her low, soft voice.
I took her in my arms, and kissed her
fervently; and her sweet, blushing face
nestled upon my bosom like a bird seek
ing for shelter.
Where were my resolutions now? —-
my heroic self-sacrifice, my stoicism?
Melted —gone — disappeared like snow be
fore a fire, in the fervid ecstacy of that
moment I had come to pronounce an
eternal farewell; I stayed to pronounce
ar. inward oath that I would sweep
away every obstacle, and win her yet
for my own undisputed prize in the face
of the whole world.
After a time we snt together near the
window —I with my arm around her
waist, and her hand clasped in mine.
And thus we sat, silent—she, in one of
her dreamy reveries; I, filled with gloomy
forebodings. For, now that the first
ecstacy was passed—now I kuew that
her love was mine—the unnatural excite
ment of my brain subsided, the tension
of my nerves relaxed, nnd the misera
ble rashness of what I had done was
revealed to me in the gloomiest colors.
I had sealed her misery, and increased
my own tenfold.
"Do you not think," she said, sudden
ly, "that we are very strange people,
you and I? I menn, that we are very
unlike other people?"
"I have often thought so," I said.
"Do you not fancy the rest of the
world would think us very silly people?
Now, you do not even know my name."
"But you know nothing of me, so we
are well paired. I know but little my
self, but that you shall know."
"Not now, please, dear. Some day,
when I am very brave, I will tell you all
about myself."
Immediately afterwards, Mrs. Wilson
returned, looking very cross. "I never
did know such a gossiping creature as
that servant next door —always talking
to men, too. I don't know, I am sure,
what her mistress is about to keep her.
There she is, talking now to some
strange, queer-looking man; and I am
sure she is talking about us, for I saw
him point to this house, and then he
said something, and she laughed; she
had better not laugh at my house; I
won't put up with her impudence."
A strange man pointing to the house!
What was there in such a commonplace
circumstance to trouble me? But It did.
I went to the window, but he was not
visible from there. 1 went to '.he door;
both he and the servant had disappeared.
I came in again and asked what the Uiao
was like.
I "Oh, I don't know. I never notice
such people. A foreign-looking fellow,
• with long hair," she answered, huffily.
I Foreign looking, and long hair! Such
! a description would apply to Mr. Mont
gomery. Could he have followed n.e?
And If he had, why should that discon
i cert me? He could not possibly have
| any motive beyond idle curiosity. Nev
ertheless, I could not reason myself out
of a certain uneasiness respecting this
strange man.
Mrs. Wilson did not recover the seren
t ■ ity of her temper until after tea. In the
i course of conversation 1 mentioned that
j I had visited a theater on the previous
! nigh;. They did not know of my con
nection with the stage.
"1 have never been to a theater but
twice in my lire, and then only when I
was a little child, to see the panto
mimes," said Clara. "I thought it, then,
the most glorious place 1 had ever seen;
1 wonder what I should think of it now?
Oh, I should so much like to go."
So it was arranged that we should go
jon Monday night. Clara was delighted
at the thought, and talked about noth
ing else; and so the evening glided pleas
antly along until it was time for me to
; go.
Clara mine to the door with me, and
wo stood for a few mluutea upon the
step, looking tip at the clear, frosty sky,
: glittering with stars. I took her in my
in ins, kissed lior, and wished her good
night I lingered for a few momenta
after she had dosed the door, as though
loth to quit the spot. I gazed at the
house, and thought of the many happy
days I had spent in it — of the one that
Mas just past—the happiest, and yet the
most miserable of nil.
Was there no presentiment mingled
with this melancholy, that the end of all
this hud come? Darker and darker,
| closer and closer, gather the shadows
i round me. I must linger no longer upon
| the road. Events aro hastening thick
and fast; and I have much to tell ere I
shall leave them behind, and reach the
i end.
CHAPTER XVIn.
On the Saturday morning following
the day with which I closed the last
chapter, as the church clock was strik
ing twelve, Mr. Montgomery, brushed up
and cleaned up with unusual care, might
have been seen ascending the dingy stair
case that led to the offices of Messrs.
Fcgle it Quick, Gray's Inn.
Presenting himself in the clerk's office,
he inquired if either of the principals
was disengaged. As it happened, both
were disengaged. His name was taken
in, anil immediately afterwards the mes
senger came back to announce that
Messrs. Fogle & Quick would see him.
He was ushered into an inner room,
where he found himself in the presence
of two dry, taciturn-looking gentlemen
of some fifty to sixty years of age. Mr.
Montgomery placed himself in such a
position that no ray of light should fall
upon his face. His voice, too, would
have sounded strange, feigned, in the
ears of those familiar with its usual
to!H S.
Mr. Forlo demanded his business in
tli<' tone <>f 8 man with whom time is
money, while Mr. Quiet continued his
examination of a box of deeds, niter
casting one- rapid glance at the visitor.
Mr. Montgomery's answer was to pro
duce a copy of the previous day's news
paper from his po'-ki't, and poiut to an
advertisement which has liven already
copied into these pages. Hi- w;is po
lite in his manuer, although very .sparing
of his speech.
"P.ut you are not Silas Carston," said
Mr. Fogle, sharply.
"I am not; but I am his representa
tive," mumbled Mr. Montgomery, with
a bow.
"Have you his written authority to
represent him?"
There was the slightest shadow of
hesitation in Mr. Montgomery's manner
as he produced from his porketbook a
paper purporting to be written by Silas
Carston, giving him, the bearer, fall
power to net ;is his, the said Silas Can
ton's, representative in respect to any
communication that Messrs, Fogle &
Quick may have to make. The lawyer
minutely scrutinized the document, and
then the bearer. Neither seemed to
inspire him with profound confidence.
"How do we know that Silas Carston
has written this?" he asked, suspicious
ly. "Why does not Silna Carnton come
here himself? Where is he now?"
"He cannot come himself. Your sec
oi.d (juestion, I profoundly regret to say,
I cannot nnswer. I have promised my
friend Carston not to do so."
Mr. Fogle passed the paper to Mr.
Quick, who also minutely examined it,
fehook his head, and turned again to his
document box without uttering a word.
"We are not satisfied with your au
thority, and decline giving you any in
formation. Mr. Carston must come him
self." Kuid Mr. Fogle, curtly.
"Then I presume you will return me
that paper?"
"Certainly not; we shall retain it, and
hand it over to Mr. Carston when we
see him."
The Professor was posed, but he wni
too practiced a dissembler to betray it
by any outward sign, for the lawyer's
eye was upon him.
There was a whispered conference for
a moment between the two partners.
Then Mr. Fogle said, "Stay! We will
give you our client's address, under
whose instructions we are acting. She
can use her own discretion as to whether
•he pleases to transact business with
you. We thus relieve ourselves of all
responsibility either way."
(To b« continued.)
Give, and you may keep your friend
if you lose your money; lend, and the
chances are that you lose your friend
If ever you get back your money.—BuJ
wei.
