Newspaper Page Text
THE LEWISTON TELLER.
CARLA. FORES MAX. Editor und Pro». LEWISTON, IDAHO. Men nre at first jealous of any ap pliance that Interferes with their old time-honored method, and it is not singular that they should be. The sail makers of Liverpool have been agitating against the use of sewing machines in the stitching of sails. There can be no true manhood, nc true citizenship without patriotism Call it a fallacy, it you will, cull it bigotry, if you like, nevertheless, pa triotism is so real and vital a senti ment that in its absence good citizen ship is impossible and the best form« of national life absolutely unattainubla Good roads arb more essential to the success of agriculture than many have heretofore supposed. The agri cultural stations should be made pow ers in directing the proper construc tion of roads and in teaching the stu dents the best and cheaoest methods of making them. Cornell univorsity has led m this respect by adopting a resolution to keep the roads of the col leges in the highest and best possible condition. Other colleges might follow profitably in the Bunie lino. As long ns men have gone out upon the sea in ships, that long, at frequent intervals, have come from the desert of waters tales of self-abnegation, of heroism shown by humble men equal ing any that war over saw upon the front line of battle. Hut now wo have a story surpassing any that has ever been told before; we have the fuct of a woman of only 22 years, whose song of cheer sounded above the roar of wrecking waves, and made men who were weak with fear strong omougti, daring enough to wrest lire from what, but for that song, would have been certain death. Agents from tbb Unitod States are traveling through Europe showing the people of that country how to cook our corn in the various ways. Tko taste of It will be a matter of acquire ment Americans do not like rye bread at first but after becoming ac customed to it many prefer it to wheat, declaring that it has more substance. What the Europeans call corn is our wheat, and what we know as corn they designate as maize and uso very little. They cannot understand its universal popularity in this country as an article of food. Corn broad is as unpalatable to their working classes as their • 'black bread'' would bo to ours. Upon many things we must bo con tent to remain Indefinitely in a statoof mental suspense. The life of uny one man is too short and his powers nrb too limited to solve any considerable number of the many questions which are continually arising in the various departments of thought. The busi ness man, for example, may be inter ested in the discussion of scientists, in the various systems of art in the now discoveries of medicine, in the schemes of philanthropists or tho theories of philosophers. Yet he cannot form just opinions upon subjects so fnr frqpi his lino of thought; and, if he bo wise, he will be willing to remain uncertain where ho is of necessity ignorant. The combination of temptations to which the Athabascan Indians and the Esquimaux in Alaska have been ex posed is singularly potent On tho one side the Chinese laborers employed at the canneries manufacture a pecul iarly villainous liquor—fifty per cent more destructive than the worst com piAnds of territorial days—near ly all of which, to quote the cen sus report 1 'passes into the hands of native laborers and of the worst ele ment among tho fishermen. The Chi nese peddle this vllo beverage openly at $3 or ft per bottle, and so exten sive is this trade that the largo amount of coin used by the various establish ments for paying off laborers invari ably becomes loekod up in tho hands of tho Chinese toward the end of the season.'' There is no element of depravity in the lying of highly imaginative chil dren. It Is not an index of immoral ity. It is merely the natural exercise of instincts as yet untrained in self control and unrestrained by the edu cation of the mind. Unfortunately the problem of correcting the habit and preventing its becoming a canker of character is usually dealt with very ignorantly. The parent sets out with the assumption that a lie is an im morality of fixed turpitude, without reference to the ago of the person tell ing it The assumption is as danger ously unsound as it would be U the false statements were made by a pa tient ia brain fever. When the child lies, the problem of education is to teach discrimination beAreen fact and fancy and to Implant moral principles; so that the practice of lying shall not be continued into manhood, as the statements of some persons suggest that it sometimes is. DARK DAYS. BY HUGH COSWAT. < HATTER XVI.—CONTINUED. A breath of soft but fresh air came blow ing fiom the faraway downs. I drew in a deep draught; I threw back my shoulders and stood erect. 1 laughed aloud in my ! great happiness as a candeal picture, famli I iar to my childhood, of Christian losing his burden, rose before my mind, ami seemed to be the exaet thing wanted to illustrate mv own ease. Yes, the burden I had borne hau fallen from my back forever! Ah ! here is the spot—the very spot where ! Sir Mervyn fell. It was here, just und r that I e lister of ragged-robins, 1 must have placet! his <* lrpse, littlethinking that thekind white snow would hide it, and save my love and me. Oh, how 1 prayed in those days that the bitter weather might last; that its iron grip would hold the world fast until l'liillp pa's health and strength returned! It did so, and saved us! "Where are the snowsthat fell last year?" Ah! should I not rather sing. "Where is the grief of yesterdat?" O me like tho snow. Other snow may fall, other grief may come, hut last year's snow and yesterday's grief are gone forever! » Nevertheless, that spot was too suggestiv" of horrible reminiscences fur rite to linger long over it! 1 turned away, and in my great happiness could whisper to myself 'lliatl forgave the dead man for the ill he hud wrought. May his bones rest in pence! 1 walked along the road, right on untii 1 I cam,' to the e it tage in which, like a cower.l who could not fare his troubles, 1 had >p -nt • those aimless, miserable months. It was mi tenauted. Half defaced auction bills were in the windows and on tho doorposts; tor some months ago the furniture hint been sold. J paused and looked at the window by which Philippa had entered, and felt that since that night I had passed through more grief, passion, leaf, hope and joy than would (ill an ordinary lifetime. Tii»n I turnest and shook the dust off mv feet. Nev er again would 1 come within twenty miles of this place. On the road back, to my annoyance, I en countered Mrs. Wilson. 1 tried to pass with j out sign of ree ignition, but she was too ; quick for me. .She stood in front of me, I and I was bound to stop, j She was more haggard, more drawn, more aquiline looking than ever. Her eyes alone looked young. They at least had spirit and vitality in them, 'lte y positively blazed upon me. "She did not doit, after all!" she said fiercely. At first I thought of affecting'surpriseand asking her what she meant, but 1 felt that any attempt at equivoque would bit but vain. "She did not, 4 I answered shortly. "Fool that I was !" she cried. "Fool, to lie led away by an impulse ! Why did 1 tell her? 1 swear to you, Dr. North, that had I not felt sure it was her act, she should nev er have known. She should have gone to lier grave a shamed woman, as 1 shall go!" Her look was venom Itself. "Itemember," 1 said sternly, "Lady Fer rand is now my wife. 1 will not hear her name coupled with yours." She laughed scornfully. "Your wife! She soon forgot her first love. Why did I speak? • 1 wish my hand had withered before 1 I wrote that letter. Da you know why I wrote it?" "No; nor do I care." "1 wrote It for vengeance. She had, I thought, served that man as 1 ought to have served him; but 1 hated her for,it, for i lov ed him still. Sol thought it would be so sweet for her to know that she had killed her husband, and for you, her lover—l knew you were her lover—to knowthatT could at any moment give hemp to justice ! I was a fool. Why did that man plead guilty? When I saw your w ife rise in court I laughed. 1 knew what was coming. Now, ins.ead of harming her, I have done her good." "You have," I said curtly, and turned up on my heel. The malignity of this woman was so intense that 1 feit thankful she could in no wny work Philippa harm. A quarter of a mile up the road I turned. Mrs. Wilson, a black spot on a fair scene, was standing gazing after me. 1 hurried on until a bend in the path hid her from my sight. I hurried on back to Philippa anil happiness! CHAPTER XVII. CLEAR SKIES. Although England was now to me and to my wife a land very different from the one we quitted some eight months ago we were anxious to get back to Seville, if only to set at rest my mother's fears. She, poor wo man, as a letter showed, was much exer cised os to what manner of business could have made us leave her in so unceremonious a way. The moment the glad truth had be come known to me, I had telegraphed, say ing that all was well with us, and that we should join her. Two things only detained us. The first was that we wanted the convict's confession. Although Philippa said little on the subject, I knew that until it arrived she would not be happy. There was with her a haunting dread that the man, in the hopes of mitigating his sentence, Imd plead ed guilty to a crime of which he was inno cent. Even the accurate account which I gave her of my interview with the solicitor did not quite satisfy her. So we waited im patiently for the explanation, which might or might not come. The second thing which kept us in Lon don was this. 1 determined that before 1 left I would have the fact that when I mar rie«! Philippa I married Lady Fetrand fully acknowledged. I found my wny to the gen tlemen who were winding up the dead man's affairs, and stated my ease to their incredu lous ears. At first they treated me as an impostor. But not for long. Indeed, my task was half done. They had already, without any assistance from Mrs. Wilson, ferreted out the date and particulars of the death of the first Lady Ferraud. They had but to assure themselves that the marrlage-eertiUcate which I laid before them was no forgery, and surrender at discretion. It was a poor estate, the administrators told me. Sir Mervyn had died intestate. He had during his lifetime made away with nearly all he could alienate. Still, there was some personal property, of which my wife could claim a share, and a certain amount of real property, on which she was entitled to dower. But it was a very poor estate. I cut them very short. I told them that, iet the deceased's wealth be great or little, not one penny-piece of it should soli mv wife's fingeis. If Sir Mervyn Ferrand's heir was In want of tiie money, it should, pro vided lie was a different stamp of man from ids immediate predecessor, be given to him a free gift If not some hospital should be benefited by it All 1 wanted was, that it should be clearly understood that Sir Mer vyn Ferrand left a widow. The administrators, one of whom was, hy the bye, the heir, evidently looked upon me as a most eccentric personage. Perhaps it was for this reason, or—as 1 do not wish to cast unmerited blame—perhaps it was be cause flie estate wound up to nothing—well, any way, even to this day we have received no communication, much less remittance, from the administrators; nor. to tell the truth, have 1 troubled them again. Pnilip pa's marriage admitted. 1 washed my hands I of all the Ferrand brood. The confession did not arrive; hut I per suaded l'hilippa to leave England. Mr. ■ Crisp could send whatever he had to send to Seville just as well as to Liudon. So ones more, anil this time in all hut perfect happiness, we took that long journey which was by non' qi jte familiar to u*. The joj, t!ie wild jo.. . with wh eh Philip pa threw herself into my mother's arms ! cheeked all the it »braiding, and reproach which we apparently merited. Our return was 1'ke the return of a prod Î tal sot, and daughter. Laughter, tears, and happiness! j Although 1 to!«! my mother nothing as to the objec: of our mysterious journey; nl , though she asked me nothing; although no word evidene iup her knowledge of what had na sseil ha: s ever urn ss.'d her lips, I know that nil has ho p i revea!' e l to her; that Piii lippa It :»s subbed out the ; whole stums c tale on her breast. I know i it by this, that since the day of our return nr y innllier's drei > love for my wife ha s shown itself even tenderer. s wee tei . aud di t'epei. Y 'es, 1 was span d the telling of the : tale. My liiotlu r's eye » the next «la y show« ml met lia : Philippa had ; LrivlMl her the history .us 1 hav e giver it here, from beviimi iiß to ei Ml. N >. not quite 1 tira ein! . Sit by me once r.\ ne. a 1 iisxi si you a* the beginning! >f my story t< : 111 bV mo« but l his time, not by the side of a sinokl ieriuu lire but mil in tin ? fair, guy pu to of our Andalusian home. l*iiiiij> pn and 1 nre side hy side. The post has just «• one in. und brought me a bulky packet, <>u which, in a cLrkly hand, is written my name and address. 1 tear the wrapper open with e ageni.-ss. 1 know what it e mtai us; Philip pa knows . 1 wish to read it first ah me, but tin c>i]'P'a:ii ig look in her eye s turns me from i h >' pi'.riio se. After all, tiie I'd is 11 ! >:h ing to fear, the: e can lie nothing which slm shook! ! not know. S •, w i ll our i •hecks ail but tm idling, w :i l ead together. Sit by us, lean o ver my sli milder, and read ' with us "Tin e confess! ion of William K vans now lying in Tewnh am, jail under se '»fence of death : ."On the fifth of January, this year, 1 re* litrtioil from \\' w Z 'aland. 1 w mUed mv passag o home. When l reache il 1, 'union i had but a few shillings in inv pocket . i had im » article* < nf value wh ich 1 could s i»n. All 1 owned, except my clothes and the nt tie bit f mono« -, was a pistol wl deli a man on board the sh ip had given me. It Wi is a pisiol i of Iti.s ow ;i invention. He had sev« Tal with him, and said he wanted löget tho sort known. Why he gave it to in a God knows; but lie did, and n couple of cartridges. [ "I spent nij money—all but n shilling or two. 1 tried to get work, but none was to be had. Then 1 remembered timt 1 once had a friend who lived near Boding. I went there by train. I had just enough money to pay iny fare. I found that the man I knew had left the place two years ago. I walked back to the town penniless and desperate. "The first tiling I did was to go to the pawnbroker's, and try and sell tho pistol. The man wouldn't buy it at any price. He said his shoo wag full of pistols. 1 went away, and walked to the railway station to try and earn a few poneo sime iow. 1 was in despair—all but starving. "About seven o'clock the train from Lon don came in. A tall gentleman c.imeuut of the door of the station. I asked him if he had atiyduggago I could carry for him. Tie told me to be off. Then X asked him, for pity's sake, to give me a shilling to buy some food. 11 j cursed me, and 1 began to hate him. "lie stoo l under tho gas-lamp, and drew out a great gold watch and looked at the time. Then lie asked a man near by which road he nuisi take to get to a village named Chenvell. Tue man told' him. 1 saw him walk away, and 1 knew where he was go ing. "I shall be hanged next week; there is no hope for me. But I tell the truth when I say that, bail fellow as I have been, I had never committed such a crime as the one which at that mom 'tit entered my head. That tall man had money, jewelry and good clothing; 1 had nothing. I was starving. So 1 ran on, got before him, went miles up the road, and sat down in the bitter cold on a heap of stones, waiting for him to come, and making up in y mind to kill and rob him. 1 knew 1 must kill him, because he was so much stronger and bigger than I was. My pist d was loaded. "lie came. I saw him in the ' moonlight. 1 Mood up as lie came near and, God forgive me, pulled the trigger, and shot him through the heart. He fell like a stone, and I knew I was a murderer. "Oil, if 1 could I would have undone the deed! I stood for a long time before 1 dared to go to the body and steal the things for which 1 had committed the crime. Then 1 nerved myself ami went to take the price for which, unless God is merciful, I had told my soul. "I never toe,*; a farthing. Just as I was about to begin I heard the sound of feet. 1 looked up, and saw a woman or a spirit coming to me. I dropped the pistol in ter ror. I felt sure she saw me. 1 looked at her under the moon. Her face was white, her lips were moving, her hair was all fly ing about. She came straight to where the dead man lay, then stopped and wrung her hands. I fle«l away in deadly fear. 1 ran across several fields. 1 dared not stop. I thought that spirit or ghost was following me. "Irnnonunt.il the snow began. I must have died in that snow-storm if 1 haii not found a half-roofed cowshed. 1 crept into tilts, and lay all the night and part of the next day. I was the most wretched being in the world. "Hunger at last drove me out 1 got through tue snow somehow, amt reached house, where the people saved me from'dy ing of starvation. But nothing could make me go again to the spat where I had done the murder. Mv life since then lias been one of agony. Even now that 1 am going to be hanged I am Imppier than 1 have felt for months. May God forgive my crime ! "I pleaded guilty at the trial because I turned round in the dock, and saw the wo man I thought was a spirit standing up ready to denounce me to the Judge. I knew that she saw me that night, and 1 was bound to be found guilty. "1 have confessed all. Every word of this is truth. As I hope for mercy, it is all true! "William Evans." "P. S.— I took tiie above confession down from tiie prisoner's dictation. It should be all you want. The man seems thoroughly penitent, but I do not trouble you with his expressions of remor and regret. "1 remain, dear sir, yours faithfnllv, "Stephen Crisp." We read tiie last lines; the p:«i>er fluttered down from our hands; we turned to each other. Tears of deep thankfulness wero in my wife's sweet eyes. Down to the smallest detail, the wretched man's confession made everything clear. Nothing was left unex plained, except, perhaps, the motive which iaduced Philippa to go that night to meet her would-be betrayer once more. This wo shall never know, but her temporary mad ness may amply account for it. We need •eek no ftrthn ; the faiuteat doubt as to her ! own perfect Innocence is removed from my wife's mind. Hand in hand, heart to heart, lip to lip, we can stand, and feel that our troubles are at last over. Our troubles over! Shall those words ha the last i write? No, one scene more—the S 3 ene that lies before me even now. An English home. Outside, green shaven lawns, trim paths, anil fine old trees. In side, tiie comfort and tiie pence widen make an English home the sweetest In the world. For when the nee 1 was gone; when sunn.' .Spain no longer was for u- the one sal land, its charms diminished, anil we pli'eil to see once more England's fair fields ;nic rndily honest faces. .So hack we cam«', and made ourselves a home,-far, far away lr< in every spot tho sight of which might win.«' sad thoughts. And here we live, and shall live till jliat hour when one of us must k s the other's clay-cold brow, and know that death has parted those whom naught bin death could part. Look out; look through this shaded win dow. There she sits, my wife; a tall son al her side, fair daughters near her. Years, many years have passed,'but left no line: upon lier brow; brought no white tlnvads n streak that raven lmir. The rich bright beauty of the girl is still her own. To me, I now as of yore, the sweetesl, fairest woman in the world ! The rhi ldi en see me as I grz ' will» tliou'giilfnl • happ« oy. s upon that gri mp Iv death the 1 T icy call and berk on me. Mv wife l< i iks up : h *r eyes meet min t\ ju>t raised frn m the se sad pages. Ah! ! low. sweet love . i.i tho so dent eyes what was it one a my fata t > read? Shame, s oirow, dread, des' pair ai id love. All these , save love, have vanish eil 1 mg ago; and as l turn to pen the se lim ■s— the last, tiiat h nok of c i' lia. assn r. ti. mu «lauded joy keeps wi ih me. teil.ng me that fr« mi her life lias passe d even the very memory of those dark, data days' Tim i:nd. /■'. WONJERFUL WUVV ItGivas Birth to Two Lambs an_i J Calf— The Family Thriving. The fanners of the township ol Teoumsoh. in south Simeon, are great ly interested nt present in a strange freak of nature which inis taken place in their midst, being nothing less ilian a cow giving' birth to two lambs ifiid a calf. The interesting event occurred on the farm of John Henry Carter, lot I. .'iglith concession line, Sunday, April 1 1, and when the news spread abroad so many people wanted to see »hr, curiosities that Mr. Carter finally de cided to get rid of them, and disposed of the cow and her progeny to Isaac M. Cross, in enterprising young farmer ol Rondhead. The animals were removed to Totten ham and a few days ago the Toronto Globe was invited to send up a man to see tho stock and investigate independ ently the correctness of the story. At a first glance tho reporter was rather disappointed in the lambs, hav ing entertained some vague ide i on the subject, and hoping to see a fully developed calf with the face of a lamb or vice versa. But they appeared to his uneducated eye to be ordinary lambs and nothing more. This was at a first glance. A subsequent carefii'. examination and comparison with other lambs of the same age showed a marked difference. Tlioso of the un natural parentage are larger and coarser, the wool ie darker, and in toward tho pelt it is like the hair on a maltose cat; there is a t-ift of hair on the breast.between the forelegs similar to that of a calf. The legs are hairy and the. wool is slightly streaked with hair. Tho mouth is dark inside and larger and firmer looking than that of a lamb and the tail is frequently thrown over the back after tho manner of a calf. They are both ewe lambs. These indications, to an experienced breeder, are of themselves sufficient to prove the authenticity of the story regarding their strange birth. There is a strong likelihood of their growing to a large size, and on both oi their heads there are dark spots, indicating a possibility of horns They arc nt present as largo as ordinary year-old lambs. The cow is an ordinary. ecinire;> grade red cow, without uny pretentions to pedigree. It is kept in the next stall to the lambs, and munches away quite contentedly. The calf, which was born shortly al,er the lambs, is also in the group, but it has not the slightest claim to distinc tion, further than the fact that it .in brother to tiie lambs. Ail four arc healthy and vigorous-looking. —Chica go Times. BrightTeacaer in Oratory. During his life John Bright often spoke gratefully and reverently of his rare power to sway men by his oratory, and often said ho "caught the noble se cret of speaking to the people in their own tongue" from a workingman in his father's mill. He sat at the feet of this workingman to learn, and when once iu young manhood he asked his teacher to point out the chief defect in Mis public speaking, the wise workman answered; "It needs more directness, maister, more simplicity. These words of ono and two syllables, maister, such as the folk use, and homely figures, like what they are used to. Not so many birds and flowers, and things cut and dried before you begin. Let them bloom and sing as they come and go on the wings of your thought, maister." And persistently and conscientiously heeding the suggestions thus offeree!, John Bright became one of the fore most among orators of his generation. The E Ting Husband. Wife—Henry, how in the world did you get that black eye? "I had a fight with Billworthy and whipped him." "Oh, you brute! Why do you dis. grace yourself by these bawls?" "Well, I heard hin. say that you wore store teeth and-" "The villian! I hope you whipped him within an inch of his life!"—Lin coln Journal A Change of Instrument. "I've just written a waltz. Got a pin.ro? I'll try to run over it for yon." ' No, 1 haven't a, piano, but I have a dog. You might try it oa him. — Har per é Bazar. - ! I TABERNACLE pulpit. TALMAGE'S VISIT to SMYRNA AND EPHESUS (low Proplir.l«'« of llifl RILIs Have Keen Fulfilled— Tile «eien <Vl» IImii «Hort- lie* ol Dlu«»— Au lu •truiTIve sermon We have landed this morning at Smyrna, a city <>' Asiatic T urkey. tine of the seven chmvhes of Asia once stood here. You read in hevelation, "To the church in -tnyi na write. it is a city that has often been shaken by earthquake, swept by conflagration, blast«'«! bv plag-ês anil butchered by war, and'here Bishop Polycarp stood in a crowded amphitheater and when lie was asked to give up the advocacy of the ( hristiun religion ami save him self from martyrdom, tiie pro-consul saving: "Swear and I release thee; re proach C lirist," replied: "Eighty and six years have I served Him. and Ho never did me wrong: how then can I revile my King and Savior. 1 When he was brought to tiie fires into which he was about to be thrust, and tiie officials were about to fasten li:m to the stake, he said: "Let me remain as 1 am fo:- he who givetli me strength to sustain the fire will enable me also w ithout your securing me with nails to remain unmoved in the fire." His tory says the tires refused to consume him. and under the winds the flames bent outward so that they «lid not touch his person, and. therefore, ho w as slain by swords and spears. Ono cypress bending over his grave is the only monument to Bishop l'olycarp. But we are on the way to the city of Ephesus, about fifty miles from Smyrna. We hire a special railway train, and in about an hour atui a half we arrive at the city of Ephesus, which was called "The Great Metrop olis of \sia," and "One of the Eyes of Asia. ' and "The Empress of Ionia," the capital of all learning and mag nificence. Here, as 1 said, was one of the seven churches, and first of all we visit the ruins of that church, where once an .Ecumenical council of two thousand ministers of religion was held. Murk the fulfillment of tiie prophecy! Of the seven churches of Asia, four were eommendeil in the book of Rev elation. and three were doomed. The cities having the four «oinmended churches still stand: the cities having the three doomed churches are wiped out. it occurred just as the bible said it would occur. Drive on and yon come to the theater, which was dOO feet from wail to wall, capable of holding 5<i,700 spectators. Here and there the walls arise almost unbroken, but for the most part the building is down. Just enough of it is left to help tiie imagination build it up as it was when those audiences shouted and clapped at some gpcat spectacular. Their huzzas must have been enough to stun the heavens. As I took iny place at the center of this theater ami looked around at its broken layers of stone, gallery upon gallery, and piled up into the bleak skies of that winter «lay, and thought that every hand that swung a trowel on those walls and every foot that trod th«>se stairs, and every eye that gazed on that amphitheater, and every eye that greeted the co nbatants in that arena had gone out of hearing and sight for ages on ages. I felt a thrill of interest that almost prostrated me timid the ruins. Standing there, we could not fof-get that in that building once assembled a riotous throng for Paul s condemnation, because what lie preached collided with the idolatry of tlieir national goddess. I'aul tried to get into that theater and adiircss tiie excited multitude, but bis frieuds held him back, lest lie be torn in pieces by tbe mob. and the recorder of the city had to read the riot act among the peo ple who had shrieked for two mortal hours till their throats were sore and they were block in the face "Great is Diana of the Kp! esians." Now, we htep into the Stadium. Enough of its walls and appointments are left to show what a stupendous place it must have been when used for foot races and tor fights with wild beasts. It was a building uso feet long by 2( 0 feet wide. I'aul refers to what transpired there in the way of specta cle when lie says. "We have been made a spectacle" "Yes," Haul says. "1 have fought with beasts at Ephesus," an expression usually taken as figurative, but I sup pose it was literally true, for one of the amusements in that Stadium was to put a disliked man in the arena with a hungry lion or tiger or pan her, and let the fight go on un t.l either the man or the beast or both were slain. It must have been great fun for these haters of Christianity to hear that on tiie morrow in the stad ium in Ephesus the missionary l'a il would, in the presence of the crowded galleries, tights huugrv liou. The people were early there to get the best scats, and a more a ert »ml enthusi astic crowd never as-embled. They took their dinners with them. And was liiere ever a more unequal combat proposed? l'aul, according t> tradition, small. crooked-backed and weak-eyed, but tiie grandest man in sixty centur es. is led to the «enter as the people shout: "There he comes' the preacher who lias nearly ruined our religion. The lion will make buta brief mouthful of him " It is plain that all the sympathies of that crowd are with the lion. In one of the under ground rooms I hear the growl of the wiid beasts. They have been kept for several days without food or water in order that they may be especially ravenous and bloodthirsty. What chance ia there for I'aul? But you can not tell by a man s size or looks how stout a blow he can strike or how keen a blade he can thrust Wit ness, heaven and earth and hell, this struggle of I'aul with a wild beast. The coolest man in tho Stadium is Paul. What has he to fear? He haa defied all the powers, earthly and in fcroftl, &nd if his body tumble under the foot and tooth of the wild beast, ins soul will only the sooner find dis-' enthralment Bat it is his duty, as far as possible, to preserve his life. Now, I hear the bolt of the wild beast s door shove back, ana the whole audience rise to their feet as the fierce brute springs for the arena and toward its small occupant I think the urst plunge that was made by the beast at the Apostle was made on the point of a sharp blade, and the snarling monster with a howl of pain and reeking with gore, turns back. But now the little missionar/^ turn of making attack 7 J*'- k, few well-directed thrusts''tK* * hes dead in the dust of th„ . ®° a 't« the Apostle puts his right■ the lion and shakes h;» 1 '<» »«it »nt tue non and shakes ht SÄ hl !. Wl f < Hn on i® shakes him-a scene whichP« i "«<1 wards uses for an illustration It*'*' wants to show how ChrU* umph over death—"H e must 1I- U H til He hath put all enemies .—J'" uf i feet:" yes, under His feet p , Wi the literal truth when he said- . i t " ll( fought with beasts nt Ephe,L ns the piurai is used, 1 think s *" (| more than one such fight or * tlM beasts were let loose up.m'him T* 1 »! time. As we stood that da,!" at m, middle of the Stadium an,! i around at the groat struct«*®** whole scene came back upon u , e lint, we pass out of t| 10 ^ we are in haste for other nlac. .V* Icrost in Ephesus. To add q J tl ° «• citement of the day one of ou , c * was missing. No man is safe in D o J region alone unless lie be arm "a know how to take sure aim am miss fire. Our companion Dr "° l Klopseh, now the publisher of ?' 1 ( hristiun Herald, had gone out ^ some explorations ot his own 0,1 through the gate where Paul S walked again and again, vet, „i. no man unaccompanied shnnia , venture now. But. after soi» t, jd ' hud passed, ana every minute as long as an hour, and we had lift! to imagine everything horrible in o' way of robbery and assassination ! lost traveler appeared, to receive f™ our entire party a yollcy of exportJJ imn for the arousal of so many aax*. But all the glory of Ephesus I 1 ,„. described has gone now. At some sons of the year awful malarias sn>V, over the place an l put upon mattr . ' or in graves a large portion of the don n'ation. In the approximate marsh« scorpions, centipedes and all forms reptilian life crawl and hiss and stm. while hyenas undl.jackals at night si rfi in anil out of the ruins of üuildiâv» which once startled the nation with their almost supernatural grandeur But here is a lesson which has never yet been drawn out. Do you not set iu that Temple of Diana an expression of what the world needs? It q Tants ( • oil who can provide food. Diana ira» a huntress. In pictures on man- of the stags she held a staff bv the born with one hand and a bundle of arrows in the other. Oh, this is a hunsrrv world! Diana could not give one pouna of meat or one mouth ful of food to the millions of her worshippers. She was a dead divinitv an imaginary God, and so in idolâtrai« land s the vast majority of people never have enough to eat it is onlv in the countries where the God of heaven and earth is worshippea that the vast ma jority have enough to eat. fait Diana have her arrows and her hounds: our (io«l has the sunshine, and the showers and the harvests, and in proportion as he is worshipped does plenty reign So also in the Temple of Diana the world expressed its need of a refuge. To it from all parts of the land rame debtors who could not pay their debt! and the .offenders of the law that they might escape incarceration. But she sheltered them only a little while and while she kept them from arrest she could not change their hearts and the guilty remained guilty. But ourfiod in Jesus Christ is u rctuge into which we may fly from all our sins ana all our pursuers, auil not only be safe for time but safe lor eternity, and the guilt is pardoned und the nature is transformed. What Diana could not go for her worshipers, our Christ ac complishes for us. Rock of ns«'» cleft for in Let me lode myx-lf iu time. Then, in that temple were deposited treasurers from all the earth for ,-afe keeping. Chrysostom says it was the treasurer-house of nations! they brought gold and silver and precious stones anil coronets from across the sea, aud put them under that care ol Diana of the Ephesians. But, again and again were those treasurers ray sacked, captured or destroyed Nero robbed them, the Scythians scattered them, the Goths burned them Diana I ailed those who trusted her with ti ensures, but our G oil. to him we may entrust all our treasures for this wond and the next, and fail uny one who puts confidence in linn he never wiiL After the last jasner column ! as fallen anil the last temple on earth lias gone into ruins and the world itself lias suf fered demolition, the Lord will k-cf for us ouj best treasures. As our train pulled out from the station at Ephesus, the cars surrondw by the worst looking group o' villiaus I ever gazed on. all ol them seeming in a wrangle with each other and trying to tret into s wrangle with us, anil we moved aloof the columns of ancient aqucilue's each column crowned with storks, havina built their nests there, and we rodeo on down towards Smyrna, and that night in a Sailor s Bethel we spoke« the Christ whom the world must know or perish, we felt that between evaiM und grave there could not be anything much more enthralling f" 1 '. " j. mind, and soul, than our visit t Ephesus. How He Heeelveil Her, A hackman was not expecting M* wife at homo when she came by ,ri111 ' one day last week. • • llttclc' " yelled he. "Hack, madame. Take y» anywhere." "No," said '' madame, looking at her husband with surpris« ••I'don't want any hack, you nui sance." Not aware even then that 1 was his wife, he ploddoil around tho depot while she stood there looking » him in wonder. Business! He waf 3 business. Returning from an unsuc cessful flight after a portly drummed he saw the lady standing where be » left her and tried her again. "H* 6 . Won't you have a hack?" when a turned her familiar eyes upon hi® * said: "George Smithers, you 01 ninny; don't you know your What are you up to anyway? ' this a pretty way to receive your w ^ when she comes home? Not to ' word to her only just to yell in ^° .,, ears, 'Hack, madam. Have a hat I don't want none o' your , = I want wanted you to be [sobsj g to see me."—Lewiston Journal. A noteworthy feature of the ber Atlantic will be a paper on • ^ speare's Richard III- b / ^. r ' „., e »: it being the address which he g ^ Chicago some four years ■ ■ which has never before been .