Newspaper Page Text
* "CRUEL 7 .tHEGMVE;: 4 I ? i n t\ ] line secret oi DunraYeD < Castle. ! i r * ? E t f BY ANNIE ASHMORE, [Author of "Faithful Margaret," Etc., Etc | i t CHAPTER XI?{Continued.) ( It Is the entrance to the southern bas- J 2ion cell," murmured he. "Hehasfound t after alL " i t A sudden panic seized him; he bound- ? ?d up the bank, leaning his hand upon {the bowlaer as he passed?the bowldei y irocked upon its pivot He did not stop c tantil he was deep in the thicket, out ol flight of the horrible place; there he f ithrew himself upon the ground and * iburied his head in his hands, his pulses s ^thundering and bis breath laboring. [ "He is dead by this time!" he groanedi ? !"it must have been a shaft, he disappeared so quickly?no cry, no groan. He t (Ib gone; my enemy is gone!" He srov- c eled still lower on the ground, and (pressed his hands closer over his ears. c A struggle raged in his soul. The man who could ruin him, the man i rwho meant to win Ulva, was dead, or a dying. He had only to let him alone, and be would be as sccure in his place? jUlva would be as much the delight oi j jhis life as before the fatal stranger came g (to Dunraven. t * But stay! what demon-dream is this? t as ho about to become a murderer? Has j the not endured enough remorse and selfjdisgust for his past treachery, that he g jghould plunge into deeper crime? s j And yet?why call it murder? Whal t ihad he 10 do with it? The man stepped f , jback of himself?he did not so much aj i ,lay a finger on him. He must be dead s 3one ere this; and if not ? no nAiimrc r\f liftVif on/) rlorlrnoQQ 1 AUUO " PW"Vi0 41P*" W | warred within him; but John Sircombe 8 could not live for five long years in sight t of the innocent woman he had helped to t (betray, without deteriorating so far that evil was stronger thau good in his e soui. , } \ i He crouched in the thicket in murder- a ous inaction, knowing all the time that tEdgar might still be alive, and only r wanting help to come forth; perhaps i unhurt L ; As that idea struck him he sprang up v 3n guilty fear and ran back to the place. ^ i As he came in sight of the boulder he g xemembered how it had oscillated on its h {pivot under his hand. i He stole near the matted screen of t jhoney-suckle and wild-brier; he listened 'breathlessly?he heard neither moan E 'nor cry. Leaf by leaf, turf by turf he d 'parted the tangled net work and peered Into the orifice. It was a natural cleft n - In the rock, and cunning bra:ns had c A/ltiAnlnriA a f U r\ mnlrft hft nn f _ MikciJ auvauiagu ux iv tw uinao uig vuv- f Jet to the dungeon of the southern tas- p tion. He saw the ruins of a winding etairwav, which seemed to lead into the t "bowels of the earth. A vault-like breath e came up from unknown depths. ? I Sircombe drew back trembling, and 1 stumbled up the bank behind the boulder u which had oscillated. He examined it on every side, and measured its weight e and poise with his eye. It rested upon . the apex of a smaller ro'jk which was 1 firmly imbedded in the earth, at a cer- s tain elevation from the orifice. e: UI believe they used this boulder to tl bJock the entrance!" muttered Sircombe. m He elided back to the pathway and looked and listened intently. Nothing a but the low sigh of the rising wind J through the trees, and the rising mur- ti mur of the waves. Back he sped to his evil task then, a He laid his hands upon the boulder and v> with all hi3 gathered strength pushed a against it. It yielded?it rolled from its pivou, swayea a moment on me verge, n then plung6d down with hollow rever- ?. derations, and socketed itself in the g orifice as if it had been created for the si purpose. A few crushed pebbles round n ihe rock, a ploughed up tra-.-k in the a moss, that was all the trace that was h left of the demoniac deed. Sircombe n - anxiously went about restoring every- n thing to its normal appearance; gath- t< ered up the fur wraps which had been t] dropped in the heat of the argument? o fled from the accursed spot a ?f His whole care was now* to protect si himself from suspicion by providing t reasonable evidence that Edgar had left the isle. He therefore sped down to the ehore, to the secluded little rocky haven fl where Ulva's skiff was moored; thiew o the furs into the boat and carefully guided it to the entrance of the haven, l] Xiere up anau^c-u mu uars in me row-, locks. then he gave the toat one power- s lul drive with hand and foot which sent r Jt flying among the small, chopping coast waves, and off it drifted on the b current and out of sight v Then ne hastened up the rockpath; ti and met Kenmore half way. A bitter and morose man was Ken- g more at that moment!, for he was en- a .gaging in a plot that his own clean conscience called nefarious; and though too s stubborn to draw back, he liked Mr. d Sircombe, his abettor in the scheme, v Jess than ever for his co-operation. c He was laden with the boat cushions And other comforts, some of them more s suggestive of a voyage to Scotland than g a row round the island. Mr. Sircomba s said quietly: "There's no hurry?walk t slowly that I may catch you; I am going s ba-k for something he forgot. Be is a down by the boat and willing to go for v an extended row. but your gloomy face t might suggest mischief and I do not y wish him to be startled. Besides, all r these traps look very unlike an hor.r's a row." d _ Kcnmore eved the around sourly; he fc was troubled and angry; he had fancied that he would be glad of any chance to n get rid of fair Oo ava's fatal guest in a ? quiet way: and had eagerly jumped at H fcircombe's proposition to do it that a afternoon: but now that he was actually engaged in this clandestine business, v with the much-dcDised director for an ' accomplice he felt like a sneak. UI dinna like it, Mr. Sircombe," ^ growled he with a look askance, "I'd g rather kill the man than cheat him. I canna bide cheaterie. And ho threw 6 down his load on the ground and looked v -6ircombe straight in the face. a Slrcombe's stiff features attempted a t <rown. but^iey were not under Lais con* ^ A 1 1 *?rVi o f Via f ftlf ? Itroi JUBfc liUBIlj UO Juuncm nua? no ivnf c {indifferent, and Kenmore was astonished. \ "You may do as you jhoose, of course," j ?ald Mr. Sircombe; "but If you had v heard as I did the Englishman boldly telling his love to your master's daughter, you would think the time had come . to act" "Ay! he has daured to do it?" exclaimed the old man fiercely, all his ^ ^scruples vanishing, "then he nas spoken lis last word to her." He caught up his d load once more amd strode on, only r grunting in acknowledgment of Sir- t combe's parting warning: T "Wait tor me, mind; don't go near him Jjy yourself." - i ~When SIrcombe reached the tower he sontrivod to be seen by Ulva, to whom tie explained that he had returned lot something for Mr. Edgar but that Kenmore was with him. Ulva drew his attention to the threatening sky, and suggested that they should give up the excursion for that day. "I shall give him your message," said Sircombe. "Certainly not!" cried she, haughtily, 'I do not interfere with Mr. Edgar; ] nerely made a suggestion to you." And Sircombe eagerly laid the consoation to his vexed soul that she was lisgusted with the stranger's audacity. He took his time about going down to ,he shore, and found Ken more starinfl it the vacant mooring. "What? has he gone by himself'" sxclaimed the director; "did you sea lim?" Kenmore had not seen him. "He has probably got tired of waiting," suggested Sircombe; "but thai vas a rash thing for a man in his condi,ion to do. And I don't like the sky." "If he's out his lane in that cockleihell, he's like to be lost," muttered lenmore uneasily. "Oh, he's no fool; he has likely gone io farther than round the point there, ind will be back in a few minutes." They waited in sitence; the dead hush vas broken only by the lapping sound if the waves against the rocks. Sircombe could not help straining his iar to listen for a far-off despairing 'oice calling for help; and he was so ghastly pale that Kenmore noticed the musual look on his face and puzzled rver it. He had not Sircombe's grounds for paience however, and soon started to ilimb the promontory, saying: "I'm awa to hae a look for him, he anna be noticing the weather." .When he was gone Sircombe threw ilmself down on a rock with a groan, >nd gave way to a paroxysm of horror. Was the young man alive? How long it would be before he could lie! What if he could climb up the haft and gain a foothold behind the >owlder? Ho could never move it, but lis shouts might easily be heard by any >assers on the path. i Images of horror crowded upon the ;uilty man; he writhed and moaned in .nguish unspeakable; what would he lot have given to be able to undo that earful deed! But he dared not even go tack and save Edgar; for how could he .ccount for the bowlder In the orifice? Absorbed in these reflections, the ight tones of Ulva's voice speaking beide him caused him to bound to his feet, he drops of agony standing on his irow. "You have not gone, then?" she was xclaiming in astonishment; "where is Ir. Edgar? Is he out with Kenmore ,lone?" She asked this last very nervously; toor child! her only fear of danger for Cdgar rose from Kenmore's threat, she iever suspected Sircombe. She had felt measy about the weather, and finding erself too restless to stay indoors had tarted out to spend the afternoon among er poor people. Her quick eyes at once caught "the in ense aKib&uun ui iu? uucctur, auu wcrpr seized her; she forgot her wrath at Idgar and dropped all assumption of inifferenee. "Surely you did not send him out with o one but Kenmore, who hates him?" ried she, insistently. "Why don't you peak, Mr. Sircombe? What has hapened." "Nothing at all, Lady Ulva," replied e, coldly, jealousy restoring his presnce of mind by deadening his remorse; At least nothing that need distress you. 'he fact is, I think our guest has bidden s farewell." She grew pale as ashes, her eyes darkned and dilated with pain and fear. "Oh, what do you mean?" she gasped, 'hat piteous sight completely restored ircombe to his most cruel, most treachrous self. He felt a guilty joy at the tiing he had done; his whole intellect ras on the alert to cover up his traces. "I believe that Mr. Edgar has started lone lor scotiana," saia ne. -vvnen [enmore and I came down here he had iken the beat and was gone. " "But why should you say he had gone way? That is nonsense, Mr. Edgar rould not leave us so unceremoniously s that!" said Ulva, incredulously. "My dear young lady, I have reasons or my conjecture," replied Sircombe. After you left Mr. Edgar he betrayed reat chagrin and cxcitement, repeated sveral times, 'I have acted like a madlan?how shall I ever dare to face her gain?' I did not presume to question lm, and he did not explain himself to le; but after considering a few mo> lents he requested me to return for my jlescope, as he would enjoy looking at tie tower through it Of course I beyed, but I now perceive that was but hasty excuse to escape my remontrancos against such a rash under akine." * L'lva seemed petrified. And at that moment, with a blinding ash of lightning, and a deafening crash f thunder, the storm broke. "lie will be lost!" whispered she, lookog wildly up to the frowning heavens. Her anguish tore at SircomDe's hearttrlngs; he gnawed his lying lip with age and pain. Down came the rain with a sudden last that scourged the seas into a .'orld of boiling foam, and almost swept he light form of tho girl into the water. "Let me take you home!" implored iircombe. She started and flashed him , wondering, reproachful look. "Without one effort to save him?" aid she sternly. "Am I dreaming or elirious? or what strange change is this trhich I see upon you. this unnatual allousness concerning the life of that irave man? I cannot comprehend you!" ho cried, her piercing eyes upon the ;uilty, quailing wretch, till he could have creamea a prayer to oe delivered rrom hem. "Why did you, who can read the igns, tempt him to go on the water this .fternoon of all the days ho has been yith us? And when you saw that he tad gone in that reckless way, how could ou quietly sit down here instead of aising the whole island to pursue him ,nd bring him back from death? From leath!" she repeated to herself with a leartrrending moan. "Go!" she com* landed, turning upon him fiercely, rouse my people?follow him?save his ife, or?never dare to approach me gain." And he fled, quailing and rasing, mad nth jealousy and sick with fear. Ken more came striding ba-k from hi9 uest, his stubborn head bowed upon lis braast, his stern face changed and ad. He muttered a malediction when he w. L /-i n 11 n a Unrn aw ii/3 V UUlJg IlilOtJCOO UU Hie outsit* rith the tears raining down her face. ,nd the tempest beating down upon her inhet'ded. "Oh, Ken more, you never failed me lefore'." wailed Ulva. He hung his head, his proud silver icad, that owned no master but God, ie held his bonnet in his hand, and the vild wind tossed his lone lock3 till the ain drenched them too Beavy to float, ,nd the look in his eyes froze the hot >loo;l in her veins. "What Is it, Kenmore?" demanded she vith sudden despairing calmness. What lave you to tell me?" "I said that ye wad dree the day ye Irew him from the waves!" he solemnly eplied. "He has just lived long enough o break your tender heart an' now the raves hae gotten him back again." "Not?not dead!" she whispered lookng up imploringly. \ " "Ay?ay! Lady Oolava; the salt sea .. has its ain at last. The boatie's drift* Jng bottom up yonder among the break\ ers; but the bonnie young captain lie* ] deep at the feet of Sleat-na-Vrecken." The strange look in fair Oolava's eyes > well nigh broke his loyal heart, but he . dared not utter a word of consolation. I How could she forget tbat he had hated and mistrusted the gallant gentleman she was never more to see. ; "Onone! dinna think tho black thought of me, Lady Oolava!" he cried, in sore agony. "I wadna barm a hair of hia i head unless he had first harmed you!" She did not heed nor understand him. i her thoughts were far away from any such idea as that which troubled Ken more. She mutely went her way up ' [the rocky steep In the wind and rain; i and her heart lay like a stone. CHAPTER XII. ?I8 IT A 8PIBIT?" i "Drowned! oh Heaven, show me some pity!" shuddered Lady Inchcape when they had told her. She stood motfoniess, with blank and darkening face; she did not even observe Ulva, who had sunk upon a chair, i "Oh, this fatal rock, how I loathe it!" muttered Lady Inchcape. "What have youth or hope to do tere? Naught but to die " For the first time the patient Engelnnrifi rebelled.?she had dared almost to i jiope,?and here was despair again, blacker than before. And she bad loved tbe noble young man so tenderly, so admiringly! Dead! she wrung her hands, and the wild tears came, and relieved her bursting heart. ! "Ulval" said Lady Inchcape, In a low, startled voice. But Ulva did not hear her, nor sea her anguished face; the sound of the cruel waves was 1n her ears, and the vision of Edgar's face shut out everything else "Is th:s how I have guarded my dear lord's child?" asked conscience sternly. "Absorbed in my own sorrow I have forgotten that Ulva's childhood is past, and allowed a woman's heart to be won and broken." ! All that wild night she held the stricken girl in her arms; but she dared not ask her whether she could have loved Edgar. : The whole of the Sleat-na-Vreckea was roused by the fatal ending of the brave young Englishman. In the few visits which he had paid to their huts with Ulva, his Jiearty, simple goodness had disarmed every prejudice or sense of strangeness, and the romance of hi9 rescue had had its influence upon their mind9. They had admired him when he .walked beside their Oolava, and sdmft had forecasted love and marriage between the "bonny pair." They bemoaned his untimely fate, and dreaded Its effect upon their lady, and with the earliest dawn they were out searching all round the flintv shore. They found the boat and they found the furs, but not poor Edgar. There were two men who slept none that night, although they passed it in very different scenes. Sircombe spent a night of biood-curdling horror in his own study; Kenmore wandered among the rocks in the storm. In the morning the heart strings of each man tugged at him till he had to steal to Lady Inchcape's rooms and try to see her. They rai-t at her door. Each started at the spectral appearance of the other. Sircombe noticed the drenched and storm-beaten condition of Kenmore, and he staggered back against the doorpost ia an agony of guilty terror. ' "You've *>een?you've been wandering about al! Bight?" whispered he. "Ay, Mr. Sircombo," said Kenmore, hoarsely, averting his eyes from the man who had tempted him to act the sneak "And?speak out!" almost screamed Sircombe?"what have you found outfound, I mean?"?the amendation being due to Kenmore's curious glance. For a long minute thu old Highlander did not speak; he was scanning the changed faca of the secretary, and for the first time it was entering his mind to suspect Mr. Sircombe. < "What should I find, but dool an' sor- I row for a braw young man cut off in hia 1 prime? But whist!" The door was opened by Lady Inchcape's maid, Mary, that thoughtless, affectionate girl, who had once through her bunding, contributed to Lord Inch- j cape's suspicion of his innocent wife. "I merely wished to inquire how the ladies had passed the night," said Sircombe, glancing past her. "Not well, I fear," said Mary, grievedly; "the shock of the accident has been dreadful. Neither one has lain down; I wish I had known, I would have waited up. But my lady's always that way." Lady Inchcape had heard the muttered colloquy, and came herself to tuo door. "Lady Ulva Is very 111," she said, In carefully chosen phrases?"the exposura yesterday, added to the unexpected accident, has contributed to prostrate her completely. She Is now lying on ray bed very feverish. I must trouble you for some medical assistance, Mr. Sircombe." So jealously she strove to hide poor Ulva's secret! But both the men before her divined it, and oh, how it tore at their hearts! Kenraore strode away with a sense of suffocatiou, and a cry from his inmost 80UI. "Oh, Captain Edgar, if ye were but back again, I wad gie ye my heart's blood to buy your .love for Oolava!" But Sircombo-fl soul was writhing in the pangs of jealousy, and he was glad that Edgar was dead?or dying. He ventured to plead with Lady Inchcape for a sight of the sick girl, "that he might examine her medically," but tarried for himself one of my lady's haughty refusals, and had to content himself with compounding and sending Ulva a medicine for a feverish cold, and retiring to his own business with raging spirit. Another day passed; another night fell. This storm was succeeded by a perfect calm This night the fisher people all went to rest, for there was.no longer any hope of recovering Edgch-'s body. Sircombe had sent an account of the* accident to the authorities on the mainland, with a brief and obscure account of the attending circumstances; but Kenmore had not been one of tbe crew who manned the boat. Kenmore had not slept, had scarcely broken bread since the catastrophe; for his heart was breaking over Ulva And now that a suspicion of Sircombes had come to haunt hiin, he wandered from the tower to the shore, round an? round the clifF paths; into every cranny and copse, like a restless wraith; pursued by phantoms About two o'clock of the night he flung himself down by a trickling rill to rest and drink. The water oozed from a cleft in the cliff, pure and sparkling from the living spring sealed up in the cold heart of the rock. The place was closo down by the sea-beach which here ffir m a H I not 111"! I Kntrnn c m all Kn p r\ cure. The wide Atlantic stretched before the little bay;?it was a solitary spot, wild aud mysterious. The summer sky was white and 9ilvery with a broad moon: Kenmore could see objects far and near, with those keen, practiced eyes, as if it were noon-day. As he sat, too weary and sorrowful to think any more, with his back braced against the rock, he heard a long-drawn, quivering sigh at his very ear. .There was po ten of in his mind as he looked round, and then stood up to sea better, for there was so much human distress In that sigh that his instant impulse was to help the sufferer. But no mortal was visible. Great horror fell upon old Kenmore. "?? * W1.~ UtM 1118 Dean llieiwu nut) *va.a nuuiu lulu, his knees knocked together, the hair of his head stood up. He t '0ug.1t that he was in the presence of a spirit?the spirit of drowned Edgar had come back to haunt him for the simple hate he had borne him while he was alive. The devout Highlander most certainly believed In ghosts; had he been asked by a modern skeptic if he believed in the supernatural, he would have said, lifting his bonnet reverently: "Weel, I hope sae!" He now fell on his knees and called on God to deliver him, in tones that echoed far and wide through the rocks. An answer was instantly vouchsafed, but an answer that perfectly confounded him. "Kenmore! Kenmore! I am close beside you?behind the rock!" called a human voice, wild with joy. "Help me, I can't get out!" The old mat leaped to his feet, and with lianas ciaspea ana eyes starting from their sockets, glared at the unbroken face of the cliff: terror, doubt and joy chasing each other through his brain. "Oh, Captain Edgar, ye're a live ?>an yet, the Lord be thanked!" shouted toe; "but de'il's in it, I canna see ye!" "Wait a minute, old friend!" said the voice more faintly, and Eenmore knew that the revulsion of feeling had overcome the young man, and he had hard ado to keep from bursting into tears himself. "Oh, Captain, where come ye frae, only tell me that?" said he bewilderedly. "Never mind now?only gflt me out of this living grave before I go mad!" said Edgar, in great excitement "I have wandered in the bowels of the rock? how long, Kenmore?" "Twa nights an' a dayl" said Kenmore, who was peering all up and down klnnlr fn/?A r\f i?nrtlr in flto train buc u J an a x av/O vx vuo i vva ?u vuo thiu search for an aperture. "How am I to get at ye, sir?" shouted he in desperation. " .ook at the foot of the rock where tfte water trickles through," came the answer, "you must begin work here." Kenmore saw a pale hand creep out with the water pouring over it. He grasped it with a cry of joy and grief, for it was cruelly lacerated by its vain efforts to tear dowh the flinty wall. "Thank God, I've got hold of a kindly human hand onse more, for I thought my day was done," said Edgar, clinging piteously to him. "Now, brave old friend, off with you for help, and get me out" "Faitht I can hardly let go of ye, sir," said Kenmore. huskily. "We've mourned ye as drowned so bitterly." "Drowned!" echoed Edgar, amazedly; "did not Mr. Sircombe?drownedl My God!" There was a brief but pregnant silence; Konmore was straining his ears for more, all his suspicions of Sircombe on the alert;' Edgar's very blood ran cold as it, for the first time, flashed upon him that Sircombe had played him false. "Who said I was drowned?" cried he. "Naebody hinted at anything else," said Kenmore, significantly. "Kenmore, I want you to get me out of this without rousing a soul," said Edgar. "That will I, sir. But I hope the ladies can be told that you are safe." "Bless your loyal heart: But don't tempt me, my fine fellow; you little know?there, off with you for your pick, and get mo out; that's the first duty." Kenmore strode away without further parley; and was back in an incredibly short time with a bag of tools from bis own shed; also a basket of food and good Highland whisky. Then he went to work; and, after an hour's industry with chisel and mallet he had broken throush an aperture wide enough to allow Edgar to escape from his living tomb. It wa9 a heart-felt grasp they gave 1 rach other's hands; and two trusty souls zed at each other, for the first time, discerningly. Kenmore would not permit a word to be said till Edgar had taken refreshment, and then Edgar eagerly questioned him about all that transpired?very wistfully returning again and again to Lady Ulva's sickness aud what Lady I^chcape had said about 11 [TO a* C0NTI50ED.] WHEELMEN TO BUILD A LONG TRACK Scheme to Connect Chicago and St. Joseph by a Bicycle Courje. The business men of St. Joseph', Mo., and Bonton Harbor are interesting themselves in a project to build a cement bicycle track five feet wide from St. Joseph to Chicago, which will be eighty-one miles the way they propose to build it. They will follow the lake snore to the outskirts of Chicago. It is estimated that the cost will be $2000 a mile, or ?160.000 for the road complete. It will ?be a stock company made up of wheelmen principally, who can take stock from $2 up. Discouraged With Public Life. "I would not advise any young man." said the veteran Mr. Holman, of Indiana, addressing a group of Congressmen on the floor of the House on the day of adjournment, ''to enter public life. There is nothing in it. I reach this conclusion after an experience covering a period of risarly thirty-five years. From a financial standpoint, at least, it does not pay one. I have lived frugally since I came to the Thirty-sixth Congress, but I have never been able to save a penny out oi my salary." The Nation's Cabbage Patch. aoamc fa }\a tViA /inKKarra nfltflll vaiuuiuia oocuio wu ug vuu |/i?vvu | of the United States at the moment. In the winter from fifteen to twenty-five ear loads Ser week of cabbage are sent to Texas and [issouri River points, but this year, owing to the great southern and southwestern freeze, the quantity is doubled. They are now bringing fifty cents per Rental. Heart mirty-one indies In Circumference. Alice De Long, of La Porte. Ind.. three years old, has become strangely afflicted. Her head is gradually enlarging, now measuring thirty-one inches in circumference. The child has returned from a Chicago hos* pital, where physicians pronounced her incurable. To add to the physical suffering, tho child has lost the power of speech. Schools for Fanners. President Stickney. of the Chicago Great Western, has organized a series of meetings! along the lino of his railroad to educate farmers in advanced methods of agriculture.: His primary object is to have enough pota-, toes raised by farmers to make unnecessary the importation every year of 100,000,000 KncKolc nf itArntnac int/%I"nitr?rl Ql nfpi] Wheat in RuKftia and Argentine. It is expscted that Russia will export 120,000,000 bushels of wheat this year, or 20,000,000 more than she did last year. The Argentina crop has all been harvested, and is esti-' mated from 64,000,000 to 72.000,000 bushels.' Cost 81,500,000; Bought In for 828,000. _ At Middlesboro. Ky.. the Four Seasons Hotel was bought in by I. Untermyer, of New York, for S2H.000. The original cost to the J>riUiIl ^YUUi^lD UJL UUUlUwiD WW 81,500,000. ^ Broke His Heart. Herman Switzer dropped dead at Terra Haute, Ind., while moving an ice chest, and the coroner's autopsy showed that the heart was broken iu two as if it had divided under strong pressure. The Chlnete Troops Foutrht Nobly. Details of the battle ut Wei-Hai-Wei show the Chinese fought with unusual valor. SABBATH SCHOOL I INTERNATIONAL LESSON FOR MARCH 31. Review of the Fourth Quarter?Scrip* tare Reading, Hebrews I., 1-14 ?Golden Text: .Matt, xl., 20?Commentary. Lesson I.?John the Baptist Beheadea (Mark vi., 17-29). Golden text. Math. x.. 28. "Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul." Here we see the the mystery of the sufferings of the righteous through the hatred of the wicked, as in the case of Joseph at the hands of his brethren and the wife of Potiphar; David from his own son. Absalom; Laniel and Jeremiah from their enemies; the apostles from the Christ hating Jews, the Jesus Himself from those for whom He laid down His life. The times of these things are still on and the need to remember His words: -'Fear none of these things. Be thou faithful unto death" (Rev. ii.. 10). Lesson II.? Feeding the Five Thousand (Markvi.. 30-44). Golden text, Luke i., 53. "He hath filled the hungry with good things." If the last lesson taught us to endure patiently. even unto death, for His sake, this teaches us to ploco ourselves unreservedly in His hands that He may use us to feed the perishing multitudes who have no bread of life. We are not to calculate, like Philip, how or with what It may be done, but simply look to Him who knows what He will do and how He will do it. Lesson IIL?Christ the Bread of Life (John vi., 25-35). Golden text, John vi.. 81. "He gave them bread from heaven to eat." fViA TTdtflr m tlin xuc luauuo.iiuui UOQTOU) uav nunvt ** uut ?mv rock, the serpent upon the pole, the morning and evening burnt offering?in, fact, every whit of the sanctuary and its ritual all spake of Him. Apart from Him there is no life, but in Him are life and joy and peace and all true welfare for time and eternity. Lesson IV.?The Great Confession (Math, xvi., 13-23). Golden text, Math, xvi., 16, "Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God." The one question for every individual 1 that rises mountain high in importance above all other questions is. What think ye of Christ? We talk about the weat*- - and the crops, the tariff and the labor t. jubles, the fashions and amusements, and are all the while drawing nearer to an eternity the 1 happiness or misery of which depends upon ' our present estimate of and relation to the 1 'Lord Jesus Christ. It is either pity self and 1 reject Him or deny self and receive Him. ' Lesson V.?The Transfiguration (Luke OB_QP.\ Anlrian teirf Mftth TVII.. fi; ' This is My beloved Son. in whom I am well pleased. Hear ye Him." It does n'ot look ! attractive to take up tho cross and die to self and all the pleasures and enjoyments of this sinful world, and perhaps literally die to gratify some ungodly person as John the Baptist did and James and many ofhers. But there is another side to it. The present and all things seen are only for a little while. There is an eternity of glory for the righteous who die to self, and of torment for the unrighteous. who live for self. Lesson VI.?Christ and the Children (Math, xvili., 1-14). Golden text, Math, xviii., 14: ''It is not the will of your Father which is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish." The way to the kingdom and the eternity of glory is here set before us in the object lesson of the little child who came to Jesus when called. TLe little child came without doublings or reasonings and trustingly let Jesus take him up and set him in the midst. When we thus trustfully come at His call and commit ourselves unto Him, we become children of God and come under special angelic care. Lesson VII.?The Good Samaritan (Luke x., 25-37). Golden text, Lev. xix., 18, ,-Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." The law, although holy and just and good, cannot give life, for we all come short of its requirements through the sinfulness and weakness of the flesh. Lesson Yin.?Christ and the Man Born Blind (John ix., 1-11). Golden text, John ix.. 5, "I am the light of the world." Every sinner is like this poor blind man. blind Irom birth, not through any special sin of our parents, but through Adam. If we know that we are only poor blind beggars, then Jesus stands ready to open our eyes and cause us to.see. but if, while blind, we insist on thiaking that wo can see and talk about things of which we know nothing, as if we could see. then we are fools indeed and hopelessly blind. There is more hope for publicans and harlots who know they arc sinners than for the self righteous. I Lesson IX.?The Raising of Lazarus (John j xi.. 30-45). Golden text, John xi.. 25. "I am . the resurrection and the life." As hopeless { as was the case of Lazarus, dead and buried t and corrupting,' so utterly hopeless is the r case of every sinner apart from the power of ? God, but there is nothing too hard for Him } who made the heaven and the earth. This t same Jesus who could open the eyes of one , born blind and bring to life one who was four J days buried is able to save to the uttermost ? all who come unto God by Him. , Lesson X.?The Rich Young Ruler (Mark j x.. 17-27). Golden text, Math vi., 33, "Seek , ye first the kingdom of God.:' In this lesson j we have one of the great hindranaes in the t way of coming to Christ. He can give sight to a poor blind beggar or life to a aeaa. corrupting body, but He cannot do anything for one whp has life and sight and riches, which insnare and ehtangle him and come between his soul and God. Better to be empty and dependent as the child, wounded and helpless as the man wJ?o fell among thieves,blind as the poor beggar or dead as Lazarus than rich and self righteous as this young ruler. Lesson XL?Zaccheus, the Publican (Luke xix.. 1-10). Golden text. Luke xix., 10. The Son of Man is come to seek and to save that which was lost." Although the rich young ruler did not receive Christ, here Is a rich publican who did. The ruler was the one to be coveted for the church, some would think, while the publican was not so desirable, even though rich, but the Lord seeth not as man seeth, and His choice is often very unlike what ours would be. 8ee Samuel looking upon Eliab and read carefully I Sam., xvi-, 6, 7. Mark well the substantial evidences of Zaccheus's sincerity and i remember that faith without works is dead, < being alone. When Jesus is truly received, ] He will live His life In us. 1 Lesson XII.?The Mission of the 8eventy t ("Luke x.. 1-9). Golden text, Luke x.. 2. < "Pray ye, therefore, the Lord of the harv- j aa* Keif Tta mmiM sonrt forth ^.laborers c into His harvest." Willing hearted men and woman are the instruments whom the Spirit uses to gather out this elect body. The infallible and God breathed word is the all sufficient equipment foi: every Spirit filled worker. ?Lesson Helper. THOMAS A. JONES DEAD. He Helped Assassin Booth Escape, and lie- i fused a 8100,000 Offer. ? Thomas A. Jon'.?% made famous during the , troublous times mai ;diately following the j assassination ci -'resident Lincoln, died s recently at his home, near La Plata. Charles County, Md. Jones secreted John Wilkes Booth on his premises after his flight from "Washington, and kept him hidden from the officers for seven days. Fearing that his Kuest would be discovered. Jone3 placed 1 Booth and Harold on a mule and led the ani- < mitl seven miles to the Potomac River, where t iie procured a boat, in which they reached I the Virginia shore and made' their escape, t He was promised $100,000 if h'> would make 1 known the hiding place of Booth, but re- 1 fused the money. Jones \va- subsequently ' arrested and tried in Washington for his 1 connection with Booth's flight, hut was ac- I uuitted. He was seventy-too: ve^a oii I POPULATION OF UNITED KINGDOM, J 1 lleturns or tlie Year 1894 Show Almost ' 39,000,000 British People. In 1894 the population of the United King- 1 dom. according to the registrar general's re- ' turns, was 38.776,154; England and Wales < having 30.060.763, Scotland 4,124,691, and Ireland 4,51)0,700. The birth rate for the year in Engiand and Wales was the smallest on record. 29.6 per 1000. two per 1000 less than < the aiean for the last ten years: the death rate j (16.6per 1000; was also the lowest on rec- t ord, ueing 1.5 per 1000 less than the pre- '< vious lowest rate, that for 1888, and 2.6 lower . than the ten-year average. J Ohio I.ea<ls With Faroifi. The statistics show that Ohio has the c largest number of farms of any State in the t Union, 256,204; Illinois comes second. 252,- i 253: then Missouri. 250,832; Texas, 248.782; New York. 22G.632; Pennsylvania. 211.472; Iowa, 205.435; Indiana, 205.331. No other State has more than 200,000. The percentage of ownership in farms is largest in the North o and "West, as ic the percentage of homes also. 0 RELIGIOUS READING, "be clothed with htmh-ity." Is there no getting to heaven without hn mility? No. Cannot the proud be saved No. Is lowliness essential to true piety Yes. Is the human heart naturally proud' Yes. Why are men so slow in learning God'i will? Because they are no more like littl< children.?Why are they bo averse to salva tion by the righteousness of Christ? Because they are so puffed up with conceit of theli own goodness. Why do so many go to hell Because they will not bumble themselves un der the mighty hand of God. Why must w< preach humility, seeing it is an unpopulai doctrine? Because God resisteth the proud and giveth grace to the humble. Nothing in Christianity is more opposed bj carnal men than humbleness of mind It was so from the beginning. "The philosopher thought humility to be the opposite of mag naminity." The wicked still regard it in ver< much the same light. It is the opposite o pride. It is "the peculiar glow of Cnristiam and the parent and nurse of our graces. I preserve? in us the light of faith and the hea of love. It begets modesty in prosperity, anc patience in adversity. It is the root of grat itude and obedience." The feigned humility of a hypocrite hides hla pretended good qua! ities; but the genuine lowliness of a tru< Christian hides even itself. It bas no secre method of display. This virtue adorns all who possess it. Be becca was not the less lovely when she tool a veil and covered her beauty and jewels.? Moses' face shone not the less brightly, be cause he wist It not Even the appearance of this virtue is often put on by cunning men In all virtues the reality is better than th< semblance. Gold is better than any ofiti counterfeits. Christ said, "Whosoever shall exalt himeel nV.ll Vm .UonnJ . nr>/4 Ka iKnf oVloll KnmKli "Uttll UO auuocu j auu uo buai ouuu uuuiuu himself shall be exalted." In studying God's word, nothing Is mor< necessary than humbleness of mind. "Witl the lowly is wisdom." "The meek will h< teach his way." VGod knoweth the prouc afar off." "Be not wise in your own eyes.' "Seestthou a man wise in his own conceit' there is more hope of a fool than of him. It seeking to become wise, all the proud oecomt fools. The mysteries of salvation are revealec unto babes, but bid from the wise and pru dent. He who prays much, will learn mucl of the mysteries of salvation. But the prouc will not offer humble prayer. He thinks h< already sees, and why should he cry. "Opei thou mine eyes, that I may behold wondroui things out of thy law?" If you would lean of Christ, bow your neck, and take his yok< upon you. The most difficult thing in man's salvatloi Is sufficiently to Abase his pride. He natural ly trusts in himself that he is righteous. He counts himself rich and increased in goods, When Harvey said, "The most difflcull thing in religion is to get rid of sinful self," be went as Tar as unrenewed nature evei goes. But when the boor peasant said to him "The most difficult thing in religion Is to gel rid of righteous self," he spoke like one taught of God. Strangely, wickedly, unlver sally unrenewed men follow those who dc not submit themselves into the righteousnesf Df God, but go about to establish their owr righteousness. The last thing a convicted sinner does, is to consent to be saved by the merits of Jesus Christ. Yet is there no othei way of eseapingtho wrath to come, or of lay. ing hold on eternal life. Oh, that all men Lhus believed. Would you grow in strength know your weakness; would you gain wisiom, know your folly; would you gaiu righteousness, know your own guilt and helplessness, and the g.orious fullness and sufficiency there are in Christ. "Be clothed frith humility,", and you will cast away the filthy rugs of your own righteousness, and jlailly accept the spotless, seamless robe )ffered you by the Lord Christ. Jesus is the Evay. the truth, and the life; no man cometh into the father but by him.?"When men ire cast down, then shalt thou say, There is ifting up; and he shall save the humble jerson." All doctrinal statements, all usages, houghts, and notions which exalt the creaure, are false and wicked. And all views ol Christ which make him a mere helper and jot the sole author of salvation?an auxilary, but not the well-spring of life, are false md wicked. Christ is the end of the law for ighteousness to every one that believeth. Humble thyself and accept of Jesus Christ. Without him you aro nothing?can do noth?cnri hone for nothine.?American lies "O wanger. HE GOT THE BLESSIXO. Canon Wilberforce tells a pathetic story ilustrating the force of the little word "now." [t was of a miner who, hearing the Gospel ^reached. determined that if the promised >!eseing of immediate salvation were indeed rue, he would not leave the presence o( the ninister who was declaring it until issured of possessing it himself. He vaited, consequently, after the meeting ;o speak with the minister, and in his mtutored way, said: "Didn't ye say I could lave the blessin' now?" "l'es, my friend." 'Then prav \yith me, for I'm not goin' awa' vi'hout.it." And they.did pray, these two nen, until the wrestling minor heard silent vords of comfort and cheer. "I've got it low!" cried the minor; his face reflecting he joy within; "I've got it now!" The next duy a frightful accident >ccurred at the mines. The same minster was called to the scene, and among he men, dead and dying, was the quivsring, aimost breathless body of a man who, >nly the night before, big and brawny, came o him to know if salvation could really be lad now for the asking. There was but a leeting moment of recognition between the wo ere the miner's soul took flight; but in hat moment he had time to say, in response o the minister's sympathy: "Oh, I don't nind. for I've got it?I've got it?it's mine!" ["hen the name of this poor man went into he sad list of the "killed." There was no lote made of the royal inheritance of which le had but a few hours before come into xjsspseion. and all by his believing grip of vord "now." DANGER OF FIRST SINS. I bave observed one very undesirable fact n my own experience and in my observation )f others; this fact is, that everything defends on the manner in which first sins and irst slips from the right path are treated. II i first false step is promptly met by a thor>ugh repentance (as in the case of Feter's lie n Pilate's hall J there the mischief ends. The ion 1 ?oon recovers its healthy tone, and ie sometimes the wiser and stronger for its sad ixperience. But if the first sin is followed by i second aDd a third and fourth, without any iontrition before God, then conscience soon jecomes benumbed and powerless. In time t is "seared as with a hot iron." This is the :ase with those professed Christians who apse into sensual vices, or who are detected n dishonest defalcation* or breaches of trust. Ill these men could easily have been saved Iglit after the first transgression; but when hat was passed without compunction the apids soon whirled them over the cataract, [t is astonishing to observe how fast sin will loothe even u Christian conscience.? L'uyler. THE OC8PEL OF JOHN. Simple and childlike hearts that have newy entered into the joy of salvation, ignorant )f scientific theology, but hungering and hirsting for God, turn to the writings of robn with never failing desire, and find in hem green pastures and living waters. To a argo extent it is the same with those who lave reached the most advanced stages of Christian experience, whose spiritual nature las become deepened and expanded by the nauifold teachings of God. Here the simplicity of youth and the ripest and holiest visdom of nge agree. I have taken paius to nquire of many belonging to i>otn classes low they have i>een guided iu their reading, ind what thev have found most fruitful of spiritual blessing and delight: and almost ;very answer has included, at least. the goslel of John,often named in a tone of personal iffectioii, as men name a dear friend.?I?t. 2ulross. Dlicnnraiwl TVlth Public I.Ife. 'I would not advise any young man."' ho veteran Mr. Holman, of Indiana, addressng a proup of Congressmen on thtf floor of he House on the day of adjournment, "to mter public life. There is nothing in it. I each this conclusion after an experience (overing a period of nearly thirty-flve years, from a financial standpoint, at least, it does lot pay one. I have lived frugally since I line to the Thirty-sixth Congress, but I invo novor hAP.n n.hlu to <mvp 11 nunnv nut of uy salary." The Greater Chicago. Chicago has annexed another square mile f Cook County. It is now bigger than Lon,on in area. ; ... ' 'U - - " IS# . TEMPERANCE. ? - 'fH EPTECT OF BEEB ON HEART AND KIDXEYft. v J Dr. Bollinger. Director of the Anatomic#* , pathological Institute of Munich, asserts thlr ( it is very rare to And a normal heart and f normal kidneys in an auult resident of that ' 3 city. The reason for the kidney disease ia 5 the tax put upon these organs by the drink- , ing of excessive amounts of beer, and the ' oardi..o hypertrophy and degeneration arc \ secondary lesions for the most part. For' merly the population of the city was recruited by accessions from the country, but the 3 abuse of beer has spread now to the rural r communities, so that this source of healthy ? new blood is cut off,-?-M?<ilcal Becord. ... > 'I A BISHOP 3 EXPEBIEMCE. Young men who break away from God yott will find have taken their first step downward in the saloon. Now, I am an old man with a ; great deal of experience, and often my heart * is sad to see young persons who have begun so well, drop away from God, and naturally : I had to study the cause, and I found it was 1 in the saloon. Although a young "inn may " be all right when he goes Into a saloon, he ' toon comes to glory in the kind of oompany 3 he finds there, and taking to their speech ana ? habits, be becomes a drunkard like them, ' and a drunkard 1b a digraoo to the oommunlty and on the highway to hell. Now. If " we can only save the young to sobriety until 1 they are twenty-one years of age. they are generally saved forever.?BIsho p McQuaid. S SOWIKO THE WISD. \ "They that sow the wind shall reap tho 3 whirlwind" is being exemplified anew in wine-drinking France, where one of the probf lems most seriously discussed is the. conneci tion between crime and youth, baek of whom lie generations of moderate wine-drinkere. 4 3 . The most daring, the most sanguinary and i the most hardened criminals with whom 3 France has of late yean had to deal, have I been with few exceptions mere youths,- the great majority being under twenty years. M. ? Guillot, an investigating magistrate, sayB: 'i' ! "During my long career as judge d'instruc3 tion I have seen the lowest depth of human 1 corruption, but it is only since 1 have had to . do especially with young criminals that I havo * t become acquainted with it." I ??? => "BEING IS TBI CHOICEST LIQUOB." i Snmo Hma ncrn oirrhf rtf tan lnmharmfin . 3 went into a hotel in one of oar Western cities, i and engaged a private parlor. They were i jolly, well-to-do fellows, and met to settle up ' a year's business over a social glass, having ; i had a successful speculation together. 8um inonlng the gentlemanly clerk of the house, ag > they ordered him to bring in the choicest , liquor to be obtained?"nothing but tha 1 t purest and finest article." ' The table was spread, glasses brought out, . $ ? and mirth and jollity prevailed. Presently s i in came the clerk with a silver pitcher of ice $ t water, and, as he filled each goblet, with ' ' i quiet dignity, he remarked. "Gentlemen, I " ? . have done the best I could to obey your or- t > der. and here is the purest article to be found ifl i in the United States" i All looked in dumb amazement, so unex- ' / i pected and so ludicrous was their position. >'' > But they were equal to the occasion. Not a * , word was said till each had his glass before him, filled with the sparkling fiulld. Almost . 'i, i simultaneously they all raised their glasses, i and pledging each other's health, made the additional pledge not to drink anything 7' j i stronger for the year to come. Nearly twelve ' [ months have passed, and they have been [ loyal to their vow. May we not hope that :> [ the pledge may be renewed for life.?Zlon's , Watchman. ALCOHOL AXD BEEOIATISX. i One item in Dr. Richardson's report of his i practice in the London Temperance Hospital i;< i refers to his treatment of rheumatism without i alcohol. He says: "Out of seventy-one cases of acute or sul> "V acute rheumatism, the large majority ac'utfll '&? and attended with temperatures moving u? ' . v , ; to 104 degrees Fahr., sixty-nine recovered. and, two, although thsy were discharged (i without being put on the recovery list, were . .r 1 so far relieved that a few days'change in '/. country air seemed all that was required to induce full restoration. Comparing the ex- ''.'M peri en ce of the treatment of acute rheumatic disease without alcohol with that which I :'# have previously observed with alcohol. I can / have no hesitation in declaring that it is of . * the greatest advantage to follow total abstl- nence absolutely in this disease. The pais. t and swelling of joints is more quickly re- ' lieved under abstinence, the fever falls more ? rapidly, there is less frequent relapse, and ,-r- A there is quicker recovery. In brief, the experience of treatment of rheumatic fever , minus alcohol presents to me as much ntfvelty as it does pleasure, and I am convinced that if any candid member of the profession could have witnessed what I have witnessed in this JS 1 1J Uk .lnn1.nl ? J 30M manor, Lie wouiu njjitx witu uiu >uh <u\.uuv> in rheumatic fever, however acute, is altogether out of place. I am also under the conviction, though I express it with great reserve, that in acute rheumatism, treated ' fW without alcohol, the cardiac complications, endocardial and pericardial, are much less frequently developed than where alcohol is supplied. THE EXQ1NE WENT 02*. I once had a curious and instructive con versation with an engineer who had charg? of a large stationary engine. It was a beautiful engine, and worked as true as steel I Thft man aiirnrfapri mA hv tall- J 1 ing me it had been at work ninety year?,- 1 1 '-and do you know." he added, 'it has had J eight masters. I am the eighth who has had 1 the care of it. The others are all either dead or worn out, and yet it goes on as if 4t wert as young as ever. Very strange, sir. isn't it, that an engine should live so much longer than a man. and it is not hard work for us either, or exposed work, for the room is al- f --i ways warm and comfortable, and the place is of course clean and light." ' What did the men die from?" I asked. "Well, three or four. I am afraid, died of drink, another of bad temper, another of - ?. ?___i? worry, ana so on, uui me cukluc ncm v? iust the same." The fate of the engine, Its v long life and continued Industry puzzled the man. He often in his lonely hours thought of it and wondered how many men would follow hi before the engine began to break down. It did not puzzle me. That engine worked a great many hours a day truly, but 1 it was equable in Its work; it never ran loose, It was true in its vocation; it was bright as a new pin. clean in every point; it was served with best but simplest fuel food; it had its furnace tubes clear; it was saved friction byhaving its parts properly oiled, and it drank 1 nothing but water. So it lived on through 1 nearly three generations, with k good chance of living through three more. It was -11 J '> mnlr?> fho mrmt- of it3 >L'^S ailUWCU, IU Jttlil, IV/ munv physical life. Its masters did not make the most of their lives. They might have been somewhat in- . " ' dustrious. but they were not so orderly, eo true, so steady, so clean as they made tho engine. They had not learned so well how to llnd the best food and drink for their own labor as bad been found for the engine. They did not make the most of their lives, and, therefore, they stopped, but the engino went, still merrily, on its way.?Sir E. W. Richardson, in Longman's Magazine. _____ temperance news and notes. In St. Petersburg the names of habitual drunkard* are displayed on posters in the leading thoroughfares. Barrooms are closed on. Sunday in all of Scotland, in -all of Wales, and in all of Ireland, except live towns. The cost of liquor consumed throughout the United Kingdom last year was *693,140, v. ill I" nor h.trifl nf IlOlinllltiun. sJL ^ll.h mvmm r-t The receipts of the German Government from tax on brandy and spirits during tho fiscal year 1892-3 amounted to ?35.000,030. A bill fca> passed the Alabama House prohibiting the sal" of liquor anywhere throughout th^ State outside of incorporated towns. Xhe total destruction by fin) in the United States during the last twenty years amounts to $2,062.383.774?less than the direct and in- , direct expense of th" liquor traffl<; for tho single year lnv-i. The Temperance Cbroniclo of London says: "It must not be forgotten that tho state of Sweden to-day, both as regards tho ^ consumption of alcohol and the convictions fl| for drunkenness, is worse than the state of ? Great Britain or Ireland. ' | ; According to medical records, the British i Medical Association ha< investigated 4234 deaths, taken at random, with reference to the question of alcohol and longevity. They found the average age of temperate drinkers to be sixty-three years; careless drinkers, fifty-nine years: free drinkers, fifty-seven years: intemperate drinkers, fifty-three years; 1 total abstainers, tifty-one years."