Newspaper Page Text
IN RELIGION'S REALM. Expressions From Various Religious Newspapers. The Religious Thought of the Day as Expressed in the Sectarian Press. "An open letter has appeared in some of the church papers on the object of the religious movement of Count Campello and his associates in Italy. We have every sympathy with any real and earn est attempt at ecclesiastical reform," says the "Living Church" (P. E.) of Chi cago, "but experience shows that move ments of this kind are to be viewed with great caution. It is extremely difficult for us to understand the real aims and ter dencies of religious agitations among a people whose ideas and habits of mind aie so different from our own, and in the case of Roman Catholics we are prone to jump at the conclusion that if a movement is anti-papal it is therefore "worthy of encouragement. Even if such a movement stands the test of careful investigation, it must show itself capa ble of inspiring enthusiasm and attract ing substantial support at home on the part of the people among whom it has arisen. If it has its origin in foreign influence or relies for its progress on foreign support, it is foredoomed to fail ure, so far as any effect upon the bulk of the native population is concerned. In such a case it may grow into a sect, and even enjoy a certain degree of prosper ity, but it will do nothing for the general cause of reform, and certainly will sup ply no aid towards the reunion of Chris tendom. It is necessary to conquer im patience and to reflect that as Rome was liot built in a day, neither can it be re formed in a day." * * * "The 'Higher Critic ism,' so called, has "been confined thus far to the Old Testa ment, but it is evident." says the "Christian Register" (Unit.) of Boston, "that we are entering on a new era of criticism with reference to the New Tes tament. The direction which that crit icism will take is indicated in an article in the 'New World' for September by the eminent English Biblical scholar, Rev. E. A. Abbott, D. D. Dr. Abbott's subject is entitled 'Raising the Dead in the Synoptic Gospels.' Though he does not discuss principles of criticism, he gives an excellent object lesson of how they should be applied to the New Tes tament. * * * » Dr. Abbott ap plies with great skill the modern critical method to some ot the New Testament stories. He shows that the later a gos pel is the more it magnifies the apostoile powers of heaJing. We cannot say that 'all the narratives of this kind in the Ctrpels are wholly true or wholly false. In all probability some are true and ethers are not true, and to distinguish the true from the not true is sometimes difficult, sometimes (at present) impos sible. Each case must be judged on its own evidence.' Dr. Abbott believes that bodily healing was far less frequent than the synoptic Gospels would lead us to suppose. He then makes a special study of some of the accounts of reviv ification. The explanation of the growth of these stories is sometimes suggested by philological criticism. Concerning the miracle at Nain or Nairn, Dr. Ab bott shows that the Gospel narratives point to an earlier tradition than any of the three. On the hypothesis of fact, it is not easy to explain it, but as poetry its growth may lie understood. Hence the author concludes that this miracle Is not history, but metaphor misunder stood. A critical study of all the mira cles, wdth the endeavor to distinguish the poetic from the historical elements, will no doubt be eventually fruitful." * * * "Experts ln finance tell us," says the New York "Independent," "that, ac cording to the experience of the world, gold and silver cannot, under free coin age at a fixed ratio, be maintained as one standard; that a double standard t ally means two standards. They say that we must choose between them; that if we try to secure the double standard gold will disappear and we shall have only silver; that if we cleave to the one we must relinquish the other. However this may be in monetary af fairs, it ls true in the life of the Chris tian. Christ taught that no man can Serve two mast'-rs, nor combine two difff-rent standards, such as the service of God and the service of mammon We know that men often try to do* so. They think they can serve God and the world; that they can have tho spirit of Christ and the spirit of self; that they can keep the law and violate the law; that they can be saints on occa sion and sinners when self-interest prompts. No one ever saw a man or woman combine the evil and the good in one standard. It is impossible to be a devout believer and work iniquity. One standard or the other must prevail, and if it be the standard of Christ, it excludes unrighteousness; if It be the standard of evil, it excludes righteous ness. There is no fixed ratio of combi nation, by Which a singi'- standard can be made. Where such combination is attempted it is not infrequently at the ratio of lb' to I—sixteen parts of base metal to one of precious. Those who try to serve both masters will give _uw_t service to the worst." • • « On the subject of equal lay repre sentation the "Western Christian Al v< cate" (Meth.) of Cincinnati observes: "We fear, from the current vote, that this desirable measure will not receive the constitutional three-fourths vote of the ministers. It seems like parting with power, and though the retention of the majority would not in any wise t them, some men will cling to it to the last. Of course, its adoption wouid greatly increase the size of the (Jei, ral Conference, and make a re duction in the number of delegates, both lay and clerical, necessary. Some ministers are unwilling; the more cleri cal del.-gates the greater their chances to be chosen. Others say, 'Let us first r»duee the size of the General Confer ence.' But that is directly opposed by those holding the views just Stated, if the laity are not to be admitted in equal numbers until the size of the General Conference Is reduced, and if one-fourth and one of the ministers voting are opposed to that reduction, equal lay delegation is an 'iridescent dream.' Our own judgment is, that we should vote equal representation, and then, when the necessity become ap parent, make such reduction in the number of delegates as may appear wise." • * * "Dorcas has been the most conspic uous example of the activity of her s.-x In Christian benevolence and service throughout the history of the church," says the "Congregationalist" of Bos ton. "Humble although she may have been and brief as is the account of her, she Is and always will be honorably fa mous. Moreover, we seem to know just What sort of a woman she was, so sug gestive is the mention of her in the sa cred record. Woman's work in the church has its own individuality, the outgrowth in part of external conditions and in part of her feminine powers and tastes. In spite of an exceptional in stance now and then, she is not likely to enter the pulpit often as its regular oc cupant, although her occasional power of eloquent public speech is readily con ceded. But in the adminstration of charities, in the organization and pro motion of relief and rescue work, she is easily leader. Patience, persever ance, cheerfulness, sympathy and fer tility in resources are her characteris tics as a Charistian worker, and in saga city she is not second to the other sex, especially when experience has trained her." * * * "There are ways by which a pastor in and out of the pulpit can exert his in fluence without alienating all who dis agree wdth him," says the New York "Christian Advocate" (Meth.) "He can descant upon the relation of public mor ality to private morality; he can point out the solemn obligation of contracts; he can prove that what was understood between the parties to a transaction should honestly bind them, whatever the letter of the contract may be; and thus prepare the people to take the view of any pending issue that he does, if they ascertain it and have cofidence in him; and, whether they agree wdth him or not to leave them in a state of peace relative to himself as pastor, as they perceive his judicious self-restraint. Without introducing his views at any improper time or place, without being forward to mention them, when others introduce them the pastor may, with calmness, set forth that there is con siderable to be said on both sides, and announce whatever view he happens to hold. He who proceeds beyond this cre ates a tremendous obstacle to his suc cess by the incongruity and unfairness of his action, and often causes a re action against any sentiments he may espouse, and the party that holds them. While after the campaign is over scores will refuse to listen to him; families are divided against him; and often the husbands of godly women who had pleaded with them to attend church in the hope of their conversion, count ing themselves abused by attacks from the pulpit on their political views and candidates, denounce the minister, the church, and never again enter its doors. Our counsel to every minister is to pass through this exciting campaign with out yielding to any kind of pressure, either from excited members of his con gregation, active propagandists of po litical parties, official suggestion or di rection, or being led astray by the ex ample of those who seek notoriety, or mistakenly imagine that the best way to promote the cause of truth is to transform their pulpit into a rostrum." MRS. ARMOUR'S BIG ORDER. It Was for Japanese Furnishings for the Smoking Room. The placing of an order for Mrs. Og den Armour of Chicago with a San Francisco firm for $10,000 worth of Japanese art work and carving has brought to light the fact that when the artists shall have finished their work in her new residence there will be a room therein absolutely without peer in point of treatment in this or any other country. This particular room will be the smoking-room. Two celebrated artists have collabo rated in the work, one furnishing the general design for the treatment of the room, the other working out the detail and decorations. It will be some time before the decora tors can actually get to work putting the material in place, for much of it is to be especially imported; the furniture is all carved in Japan and China from special models, and the tapestries and upholstery are all to be specially made. The room will be done in a prevailing tone that is a delicate division between old rose anel obi copper. The floor will be in parqueterie with a profusion of specially woven Japanese rugs and mats. The wall covering will be of silk brocade, the ground color of which, the old coper spoken of, will give the pre vailing tom- to the color scheme of the w hole. In the weaving of this brocade a great deal of gold thread will be used, not merely to give lines and sug gestions of color, but in masses of rich embossing. Th-- mural decorations are to be rare Kakimonos, in colors harmonizing with the tone of the room, but each one to be a worthy example of the best Japa m se pictorial art, both in subject and treatment. Some of these will be hung like tapestries, while others will be framed with the general effect sought. Some of the Kakimonos already se lected are the work of the most famous edd masie; s of Japan. The furniture is all to be of ebony inlaid with mother of pearl. The carving is all to be done in th-- Orient by native artists, and the designs show a wealth and riehm -- of carving Seldom seen out side tin palaces and temples of Japan. The cabire ts will abound in lacquer. Tle y will be marvels of Japanese in genuity in sliding panels, hidden doors, and secret lockers and drawers. The lacquer will be the expensive and high prised gold lacquer, in sharp but rest ful contrast with the carved black ebony. Tie- smoking outfits wffl be in silver and bronze, in grotesque forms. They w ill contain, after the Japanese man ner, little receptacles to hold lighted Charcoal, and others to contain the paper tapers by which fire is trans ferred from the charcoal to the pipe or cigar. There will be unexpected com partments for the- various kinds of tobacco, with ash trays that are the despair Of the workers in hammered metals. There w ill, of course, be Japanese - 1S and vases and jardinieres in Cloisonne and other varieties of Japa nese pottery. Such another smoking-room probably cannot be found in Christendom, or out of it. And with the rapidity with which foreign g is and customs are coming into service in Japan, it probably wilt QOt be long before there cannot be found, even in Japan, such a thoroughly Japanese apartment as the smoking room of Mr& Ogden Armour's house.— Chicago Tribune. Not a Political Camp. The determined lady on a Eastern sleeping ear who politely but forcibly requested Senator Ben Tillman and his excited confreres to dry up and bring to a close their political argument, saying that the spot was designed for repose instead of a political camp, has the sympathy and approbation of the pub lic. There are numerous places on earth where one has troubles enough of his own without being burdened by other people's, and a sleeping car is one of the places.—Chicago News. The first indigo grown in this country was from seeds sent by Governor Lucas of Antigua, who forwarded them to his daughter in South Carolina in the year 1743. w SACRAMENTO DAILY RECORD-UNION, SUNDAY, OCTOBER 4, 1896 THE PURLOINED WILL. Old Barker was a fossilized Q. C. who had long- ago retired from practice. 111 --r.atured people said that hts practice had first retired from him, but his age and infirmities alone justified—if they had not compelled—his withdrawal from active life. He was a wealthy bachelor, residing in Albany, where he possessed a cellar of port wine which was the envy of his friends. Hence, perhaps, the ori gin of the gout which severely afflicted him; but his tastes were luxurious and self-indulgent in other respects also. He was an art patron of a very shrewd and discriminating type; his pictures were valued at several thousand pounds, ar.d his collection of china was unique. Nevertheless he was extremely thrifty, rot to say stingy, with his money, and he had never been known to give away a sixpence in his life. In fact, old Barker was a thoroughly selfish, ill-conditioned old curmudgeon, whose choleric temper was emphasized by a sort of savage humor which caused him to be treated with awesome respect. He had a wicked old squint or cast in one of his watery, pale-blue eyes, and he uttered his most trenchant remarks with his defective optic glaring in such a manner as to complete his victim's discomfiture. His nephew, Charles Gas coigne, had frequently noticed this un pleasant peculiarity, for next to the old man's valet—a crushed, down-trodden creature, who retained his post only from the hope of a legacy—this young gentleman was the only subject of the Q.C.'S crudest witticisms. It must not be imagined from this cir cumstance that Gascoigne lacked man liness or self-respect. On the contrary, he was a very spirited young fellow, and this was one of the main causes cf his uncle's displeasure. But after all when one is heir-presumptive to a hundred thousand pounds—which was considered the most modest estimate of the old man's wealth—it is sheer folly not to exercise a little patience and self-control. Gascoigne was by no means averse to the prospect of a life of ease or luxury in the near future; and in view of this agreeable contin gency, he took things very easily at the bar, though he suffered from oc casional misgivings and twinges of con science on account of his idleness —for he had brains enough to perceive that he was wasting his opportunities. If he could only have felt reasonably sure of his uncle's testamentary inten tions regarding him, his conscientious scruples would have troubled him very little. But the old man delighted to perplex him by contradictory hints and threats, and constantly reminded him that he had a cousin, the wife of a country parson, whose claims were equal in point of kinship to his own. It was true that this young lady had mortally offended old Barker by mar rying without his consent, but this mi&ht not have prevented him from making a will in her favor. Gascoigne was too high-minded and generous to feel any resentment against his cousin on this account, and he would have been perfectly satisfied to know that he would inherit equally with her. But what perpetually worried him was the irritating suspense which his uncle seemed purposely to inflict; and there were moments when he felt strongly inclined to sacrifice his future pros pects for the luxury of giving the old gentleman a piece ofhismind. * » * One eventful morning Gascoigne callel at hi.s uncle's chambers, and was ushered into the old man's sitting-room, a gloomy apartment, full of artistic treasures, but rendered obnoxious to the dutiful nephew by association with its owner. It was tenantless, however, at the moment; his uncle's capacious arm chair drawn up in front of the blazing fire had evidently just been vacated; while upon an adjacent table fitood a japanned tin box, inscribed with the old man's name in white letters. Gascoigne stood for a few moments on the hearth rug, gazing impatiently around him and wondering what sort of welcome he would receive, when his attention was attracted by the edge of a piece of paper which protruded from beneath the lid of the tin box. Absently, and acting upon a mere idle impulse, he stepped forward and endeavored to force back the paper into the box. Not succeeding at his first attempt, he put out his other hand in order to ease the pressure of the lid, when, to his surprise, it yielded to his touch, and he then perceived for the first time that the box was unlocked. Up to that moment nothing had been further from his thoughts than to play the spy; in fact, he had scarcely been conscious of what he was doing. Nor, indeed, even when the uplifted lid re vealed the contents of the box, which consisted of a number of documents matly docketed, did he experience the least sensation of curiosity. But, un luckily, just as he was closing the lid again after releasing that fatal slip of paper, his eye was caught by a promi nent inscription: WILL OF WILLIAM BARKER, ESQ., Q. C. Without making excuses for the young man's next action, it should at least be recorded that it was entirely unpremeditated. There, to his hand, hay the solution of all his doubts and difficulties. If he was his uncle's heir, well and good; his present negligent mode of life need trouble him no more. But if he had only been left an insigni cant legacy, and his cousin—or some other person—was destined to inherit the fortune, then it behooved him at once to set about making up for lost time by applying himself assiduously to his profession. This reflection passed lik> a Hash through Gascoigne's mind, and made the opportunity for enlighten ment so irresistible that he seemed to rush upon temptation rather than yield to it. One second of anxious listening, during which the only sound he heard was the tumultuous beating of his heart, and then he had seized the momentous document and was eagerly scanning its contents. Though brief, it was, unluckily, in his uncle's crabbed handwriting, and Gas coigne was compelled to carry it away from the box a little nearer to the light. A hasty glance was sufficient to convey to his trained mind its full purport. A paltry legacy to the long-suffering valet, a picture or two to himself, all the rest of the contents of the testator's cham bers, with the cash at the bank, to the niece, "Mrs. Marsden"; and the residue "to my nephew, Charles Grant Gas coigne. whom I appoint sole executor to my w ill." Gascoigne gasped as he read the con cluding words, which meant that he was absolutely heir to his uncle's vast wealth. He was glad on his cousin's account, too, for the art treasures be queathed to her were of considerable value. But to know that he himself was the possessor—practically the pos sessor —of the remainder of the old man's fortune was a revelation which caused his pulses to thrill with excite ment, and made the sunlight dazzling. Perhaps because he was momentarily carried away by the pleasurable ex citement of the discovery, the young man's vigilance was relaxed; or perhaps old Barker intentionally burst in upon him unawares. At all events, without a moment's warning, while he still held i the will in his hand, the door of the room was opened, and Gascoigne had barely time to thrust the document into the side pocket of his coat before his uncle, with hat on, and muffled up for going out, suddenly stood before him. "Hullo!" growled the old man, blink ing in the sunlight; "so you are here?" "Yes, uncle," replied Gascoigne tremulously; "didn't Rogers tell you?" "He never tells me anything, the lazy scoundrel," grumbled old Barker, shuf fling in, and giving his nephew a dis torted forefinger to shake. "What do you want?" " I called to inquire—l was sorry to hear you had been so unwell," said Gas coigne, thanking his stars that he had not left the lid of the tin box open. "So I have; but you are disappointed, you see. I'm nearly right again. I was just going out," snarled his uncle, ad vancing to the tin box as he spoke. Gascoigne's heart stood still as the old man lifted the lid of the box. He ap parently remembered that he had left it unlocked, and the action was evidently designed to assure himself of the fact. Had he laid a trap for his nephew, and entered the room abruptly with the idea that he would find him prying? Such a project would not have been for eign to the old gentleman's disposition, and Gascoigne trembled lest his uncle might open the box. But apparently this suspicion was groundless, or else Gascoigne's position at the window had been suggestive of innocence. At all events, old Barker proceeded to lug out his keys from hi.s breeches pocket and locked up the box with a shaky hand. "Can I do that for you, uncle?" in quired Gascoigne, prompted by a wild hope of being able to slip in the will unobserved. "No, you stay where you are!" said his uncle over his shoulder. "This is where I keep my will. You would like to see it, I dare say?" "No, indeed, sir," said Gascoigne has tily, dreading that his uncle might be disposed to gratify him. "Nr>t curious enough, eh?" snarled old Barker. "Well, that's a good thing. You would be disappointed, I can tell you. Don't expect anything from me." "Very, well, sir," said Gascoigne, too much overwhelmed by the conscious ness of having the will in his pocket to appreciate the humor of the situation. "Quite disinterested, eh? Mark mv words, young man; not one farthing will you get from me till you are mak ing £500 a year by your profession. Do you hear?" cried the old gentleman, cocking his eye at him. "Yes, sir," answered Gascoigne, with tolerable composure. "Then you had better set about it. Not but what you have plenty of time," he added hastily. "I'm good for twenty years yet—the doctor says so." "I'm glad to hear it," said Gascoigne dutifully. "No, you're not. All the same, it is as well for you that you should have a few years to work up a practice in, for if I were to die to-morrow, you would get nothing." "Are you going out, sir?" Inquired Gascoigne, puzzled what to say to this enigmatical utterance. "Yes; I'm going to take that box to my bank. You can come with me, and pay half the cab fare," replied his uncle, chuckling at this characteristic joke. He rang the bell and sent his man for a cab, to which, in due course, Gas coigne escorted his amiable relative, while the porter carried the tin box. If his uncle had been in an observant mood he would have remarked that the young man submitted with much better grace than usual to his jokes and sar casms. This was hardly surprising, for it is not difficult to be long-suffering wdth an elderly relation when one knows he has manifested his benevo lence in the most effectual manner. On the other hand, the awkward fact that he was carrying off, clandestinely, the old man's will was sufficiently discon certing to render Gascoigne a trifle ab sent. When he had deposited his uncle and his tin box at the bank—after duly paying his moiety of the cab fare— Gascoigne had leisure to reflect upon the predicament he had placed himself in. Needless to say that he bitterly re pented of his unpardonable curiosity; P. would be more just to dwell upon his honest shame at what he had done. It seemed to him that only two courses were open to him; one, the more hon orable, was to return the document frankly to his uncle; the other, to keep it carefully and say nothing. The lat ter plan was the one which he finally adopted, not so much from self-inter ested motives as because he could not bring himself to face the old man's wrath. The more he thought about the matter the more bitterly ashamed and humiliated he felt. As for the fortune, he regarded that as absolutely and for ever forfeited, whichever course he took. If he confessed his fault he knew that his uncle would ruthlessly strike out his name. The same thing would happen if he kept his own coun sel, for it was inevitable that the old man must, sooner or later, miss his will and it would be quite natural and easy to conjecture how it had disappeared. In Gascoigne's view, he had only a choice of evils; and he simply elected to spare himself the scourge of his uncle's tongue. There are natures which need the stimulus of some unforeseen event or misfortune to awake their slumbering energies. This was the case wdth Gas coigne, for being firmly convinced that the result of what he had done would be to deprive him of his looked-for in heritance, he applied himself from that day forward, to the drudgery of earning his livelihood. He had many friends and some influential connections, but, more important still, he possessed tal ent to which he had never hitherto at tempted to do justice. A lucky chance, the absence of a learned leader in a no torious case, affording him an opportu nity of making a name, and almost without effort—so great a lottery is success at the bar—he found himself in a position which was envied by his con temporaries. The process occupied nearly three years, and during this period he avoid ed the society of his uncle as much as possible. He was haunted by a constant dread of the discovery of his secret, and was more than indifferent about offend ing him. Old Barker, on his part, grudgingly acknowledging his success, and was disposed to be more gracious; until, at length, having invited his nephew to dinner one evening, and en tertained him royally, he said, quite good humoredly: "I suppose you are making £500 a year now?" "Yes," replied Gascoigne. "Then I shall have to alter my will. You would like to know what is in it, I expect?" "I do know, sir," said Gascoigne, Im pulsively. "What!" exclaimed the old man. "Your will is at my chambers, sir. Do you recollect that day when you left your tin box upon the table here? In your absence I opened it, saw your will, and was unable to resist the tempta tion of reading it. You returned sud denly, before I was able to replace it, so I have kept it ever since," exclaimed Gascoigne, very pale and shamefaced. There was a painful silence for fully a minute; the old man's evil eye seemed positively to glare upon the offender, who felt precisely as he felt; and then Gascoigne said: "It was a mean trick, but I'm heartily ashamed of myself, and I beg your par don." "And that is to be the end of it. eh?" sneered the old man, slowly recovering from his amazement. "I expect not," said Gascoigne, half defiantly. "Your cousin ought to be much obliged to you." said old Barker with a harsh laugh. "She needs the money more than I," said Gascoigne. "By Jove! sir, she shall have it, too. What is more, it shall come to her from your own hand," roared the old man, purple in the face. "I don't understand," said Gascoigne quietly. "I'll make a fresh will on the spot." "Very well, sir." "You shall take it down from my dic tation." "As you please. It is rather like sign in my own death warrant," said Gas coige with a nervous laugh. "So it is; so much the better; serves ycu right. There's a sheet of paper and a pen over yonder. Sit you down," said the old man excitedly. Poor Gascoigne obeyed silently, and not without an uncomfortable pang. It was, as he had said, uncommonly like Signing his own death warrant: but alter all, it was only what he had an ti( ipated, and he felt a certain sense of relief at having unburdened his con science. "I suppose you had better have the lectures and the things here," said the eld man grudgingly. "She wouldn't ap preciate 'em." "Thank you, sir," said Gascoigne meekly. "There may be a few pounds at my bank—not worth speaking of. In fact, this will may as well be in similar terms as the last, with your name and Mar garet's reversed," said old Barker, with nis malevolent old eye glistening. "Margaret is to be residuary legatee, in fact," said Gascoigne with a sinking he a rt. "Yes. How much do people say I'm worth?" "One hundred thousand pounds at least," answered Gascoigne, with as sumed diffidence. "Ah! a good round sum to lose for a little curiosity, isn't it?" sneered old Barker. "It can't be helped," said Gascoigne philosophically. "Indeed it can't. Now are you ready?" "Yes," said Gascoigne, grasping his pen firmly. The old man dictated, and the sight of his nephew's ill-concealed discomfit ure was evidently so amusing to him that he paused at frequent intervals to chuckle and laugh. At length, however, Gascoigne's penance was ended; wit- | Besses were procured; and the will was duly signed. Old Barker took posses sion of it, and when his nephew de parted—for naturally the evening soon fagged after this exciting episode—the eld man said: "Good night. What a fool you have b*en! Those pictures and things are not worth a quarter of what I gave for them. Still I suppose you will get a couple of thousand c lear." "More than I had any right to ex pect," said Gascoigne, as heartily as he could. "More than you deserve, you mean. Shake hands!" "You've forgiven me?" "Yes; but you'll never forgive your self! You were a fool to look at the will, but you were a worse fool to tell. If you hadn't, I should very likely never have missed It," said the old man, leer ing at him. This was not exactly consolatory to Gascoigne, who, though he realized the satisfaction of having relieved his con science, experienced the natural disap pointment of a man who has wantonly thrown away a vast fortune. It is true that he had always expected this, and at least he had saved something out of the fire. But it was a bitter pill, and it was fortunate that his professional en gagements prevented him from brood ing over his disappointment. He was also spared any further discussion on the subject with his uncle, for within a week the old man had an apoplectic seizure from which he never rallk?d. Gascoigne was, of course, summoned to his uncle's bedside, but the patient was unconscious.and in that state he passed away. His will was nowhere to be found, but in searching for It Gas coigne came across a note addressed to him by the deceased, stating that the document was in the custody of his so licitor, and requesting Gascoigne to see this gentleman at once before commu nicating with his cousin. The young man naturally lost no time in calling upon Mr. Bush of Lincoln's Inn, an old friend and client of his uncle's, and he was perhaps a trifle disappointed when the lawyer placed ln his hands the identic-al document which he had him self assisted to prepare. "I thought, perhaps, my uncle might have made a subsequent will," he ob served half voluntarily. "He could not have made a will more favorable to you," said old Mr. Bush. "His pictures . and things must be worth £10,(KH» at the very lowest esti mate, and his bank balance—which he leaves you also—amounts to rather more, as I happen to know. I should think you will take altogether £30,000 when the effects are realized. "It is an agreeable surprise," mur mured Gascoigne. "Still my cousin is residuary legatee, which means, I sup pose, £160,000." "Nothing of the kind, my dear sir," exclaimed Mr. Bush. "The lady will only get the proportion of his annuity due at the date of his death—perhaps £1,000 or so." "What!" gasped Gascoigne. "His an nuity!" "It will surprise many people," re plied the lawyer. "He was supposed to be very wealthy, and so he was in a sense. But he sunk his fortune many years ago in the purchase of an annu ity of £5,000 a year, and a precious good bargain he made of it. It ls a good thing for you that you are not the re siduary legatee." "I was once," exclaimed Gascoigne, marveling at his narrow escape, and at his uncle's peculiar method of showing resentment. "Yes; that was before your success at the bar, on which I congratulate you," replied Mr. Bush. "The fact is that our departed friend was fond of a joke. Fortunately, as your cousin expects nothing, she won't be disappointed at getting only £1,000. If his old w ill had stood and you had found your self in her position " "That would have been a sell cer tainly,' said Gascoigne, who felt that he could now afford to laugh.—Chambers' Journal. The first American college was Har vard, which was opened to receive stud ents in 1638, at Newton, Mass., now called Cambridge. SOME RAMBLING THOUGHTS. BY NEMO. (Copyrighted.) (These "Thoughts" by a layman reach I quarter of a million homes, scattered in every state of the Union, in tins counts they" can be found in the columns of this paper only, as we have made arrange ments with the author for their exclusive appearance.) Mark it down that amateur effort* score few hits nowadays. A geologist is of more gain to a party of pros pectors than fifty picks anel shovels. An analytical chemist* sees furt'e i than the sharpest eyes in detecting va! ues. The scientific farmer with his mlcrOSOOpe ami test-tubes has h i mense advantage over the man who knows nothing of the actual foods and constituents of plants. !:•■ thorough O] be nothing, but to this latter you will need no commending if you n the former. It is notgfor us to repln* because the competition along the lines of every successful life is grow ing so Intense. We are here here now, and we have to ac cept that fact with the best possible grace. To me it seems that life is just as full of opportunity as it ever bis been for those of us who will comply with the conditions. In fact, our age appears to exceed all others in tin chances it offers. Since the branches that call for exact information tfc ,\ an possibly as KM) to 1 when compare.: with the avenues open before- the young man of a century ago; and. further more, keeping i>ace with Mm need Cm complete special knowledge, is an in i-ivasjng ease in mastering tin- branch that we may select. It is possible tc acquire in a few days what Newton strained a lifetime to discover. Tin tortuous ways blazed through the for ests of ignorance by the pioneers ai> now smooth. Straight highways where on the wayfarer need not err in his search for the tree of knowledge. Let me draw an illustration from the bi cycle. A few years ago a mile done in three mnitues was considered wonder ful riding. Now the minute line is be ing rapidly approached, not because hu man legs are stouter than formerly, but because the vehicle is rnori i iy constructed. So the pace in every line of life is faster than it used to be, but the friction is less. * * * But if you are a specialist and noth ing else, so Wrapped up in your one ism that you have neither heart not mind for the many diverse interests of your neighbors, you are in a fair v. ay to becoming a wearisome, bumptious nuisance. If you are known as one who talks "shop" in the home and on the street, you are liable ultimately to be avoided as a bore, and thus, from your own fault, lose the advantage to your mind that comes from mental friction. Your descent thereafter to narrow-mindedness will l>e rapid in deed. My advice is that you drop your specialty absolutely when your busi ness hours come to an end and fill your leisure hours (most of us have at least six) with conversation, or reading or writing of an improving character. This bars out a good deal of the "bum ble-bee buzzing" in the front parlor: that is the angel cake food of the mind, never good as a steady diet. It also bars out the perusal of trashy, exciting novels. Fie tion is cxc ellent in its way. but an indulgence in it should be con fined to the masters, in order that your language, your moral ideals, and your re-ading taste may remain high. It just occurs to me, however, that the in ventor of the steam engine, James Watt, in his obi age sat down with his wife to read voraciously all the mawk ish and flabby love stories that h? could lay his hands on. But this proves noth ing in opposition to the advice of the preceding sentence. In the first place, you are not in your dotage, and in the second, the world will gladly c t you follow your reading tastes, no matter how puerile, when you have accom plished one-half that Watt did against obstacles of the most heart-breaking c ha meter. * * * For mental health, I would strongly recommend the taking up of one or two hobbies. They give definite purpose to leisure and usually grow so absorbing as to drive business completely out of the mind. Rest assured that your brain cannot retain its strength for long, if you deny it these changes of activity. When business cares stretch their ner vous fingers out over your hours of rec reation and rest, modern life Will soon prove too exhausting for you. A hobby comes in as a mental tonic. It is im possible for me to suggest what it should be. The lines of useful investigation out side your own one business are as many and as diversified as are the individuals who read these words. The writer's own hobbies are so varied that every day of life is full of the pleasure of gaining and storing. Primarily he believes that there are none so humble but that they have information or warning to impart, and thus conversations, speeches, ser mons are made to pour helpful know ledge into the brain day by day. Three other main hobbies fill the crevices of time that remain— accumulating his torical and geographical facts regard ing the United States: watching foreign events and endeavoring to understand their meaning; writing In these "Ramb ling Thoughts" each week those things that MUST reach, touch, enthuse some heart somewhere. * * * Along the line of that last mentioned hobby let me set down here in closing for the week a thought that came to me as I turned away on a recent evening from the house of a friend upon whom deep sorrow had fallen. The hot-headed and foolish youth says to himself, "T will see life," and he associates himself straightway with those who are clawed all over with the finger marks of Death. Life is not self gratification. To really live is to be mon arch of oneself. Life does not even con sist in having where to lay the head, nor somewhat with which to be covered, nor wherewithal to be fed. The animals live such a life almost. To live is to gain and give away; to gather of good in order to scatter it abroad: to travel if needs be the via dolorosa (the way of sadness) so that the strong hand may be acquired for leading others to the Delectable Mountains; to throw out the soul influences freely and unreservedly so that other souls may be awakened to their own dormant possibilities. These things constitute real life, and their mo tives and results are the spirit's sword that cleaves a mighty gulf between the animals and ourselves. Olt's Household Remedies. 3 Day Malaria Cure for Mala ria, Chills and Fevers 75c Ott's Liver Pills, best pills on earth 25c Ott's Liver Cure 50c Ott's Cough Cure 25c Ott's Kidney Cure 50c Ott's Corn Cure 25c Ott's Catarrh Balm 25c Aud many other remedies of undoubted merit. TRY THEM. FRANCIS S. OTT, Druggist ?(C X street, south side Second and K. THE ARCADE! One Among: tlie Many Pleasant Family Hotels of Sacramento Is the Arcade, Presided Over by that Genial Gentleman, the Proprietor, William Bath. Mr. Bath says: I take -rout pleasure in railing the attention of the public to ono of our home institutions. The Sacramento Sanitarium, more popularly known as The N eagle Medical Institute, i< . . .i . lt ' , X street. For more than one year l have been a great sufferer from kidn. y tr< ul tea with catarrh of the nose and iliri it. I had se vere constipation and indigestion with bloating of my stomach after eating, I had pains in my back and extending into my hips. The least exertion would greatly fatigue me and I felt tired all the time. My nose and throat gave mi great trouble and the cough would keep me from rest ing at night. I was very ri< n >ua and s!"'Viiy and worried a gr« ..t i-al about " WILLIAM BATH. I was treated by several doctors in Pa - ramento, but got little or no relief. 1 * a great many statements in the new - papers from persons who had been treat< d and cur- d at The Neagle Medical lnstitu:-> and I went there to investigate. From the fine collection and display of Instru ments and medicines which I saw In the laboratories and operating rooms I was quickly satisfied that the institution ha I Btrength and ability, and I put myself un der the treatment of Dr. Neagle and asso ciates. Now, after a few months' treat ment, lam a well man. I never got BUch quick relief in my life. With this experience I can recommend all persons who have any disease to go to The Neagle Medical Institute and be Dr. Neagle and associates treat and cure all Chronic Diseases and Diseases of tho F.ye, Far. Throat and Limm. Liver. Heart. Kidney, Bladder. Brain, Catarrh, Asthma, Rheumatism, Bronchitis, Headache. Deaf ness, Chills and Malaria. Skin Diseases, Neuralgia, Diabetes, Dyspepsia, Dropsy. Kezema. Scrofula, Chronic Diarrhea. Hemorrhoid* and Kectal Troubles, and all forms of Sores. Blood and Wasting Dis- NEAGLE MEDICAL INSTITUTE* of PHYSICIANtj and SURGEONS, k.rab 1 permanently at 724)£ K. STRKKT. Sacrn- I mento. THE \T7EEKLY VV UNION ■EU'M'JI 9. IIM^BHBIIHBMHIjgnBi^BB ; Containing all the 9 1 news of the Record- j§ i Union, has the 8 jj i largest circulation a -*rj | ;of any paper on the BO 3 I Pacific Slope, its I 1 readers being found w | !in every town and S fjo | hamlet, with a con- I rj) I stantly increasing S j list in the Eastern I I States and Europe. I CO i Special attention H %] paid to the publica- I Sj I tion of truthful H CD a statements of the re- g W sources of Califor- I | nia and the entire I CfQ p coast, best methods I I of agriculture, fruit and vine growing. B B 12 PAGES—B4 COLDMNS TERMS: i Daily Rccord-Ltjion, §6 00 mm - Jl a 0 OHJE YEAR, ~ ADORE Stßt Sacramento Publishing Company, SACRAMENTO.