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The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, May 06, 1903, Image 2

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/ LUKE H
I THE i
I j By Prof. Wm. Henry P
jfl I Author of the "T5? Stone-Cut
i ? of Lisbon," Etc.
CHAPTER XIII.
WARNING FROM THE DEAD.
"You will listen patiently, now. Johr
Marks," said Nancy Harker, -with f
grim smile at his position.
"As Luke Hammond will have mj
life at hig command as much -when be
fore me as there where he is," saic
VCo.tro a o-hnatlxr smile. hrave ai
luaiaa * QMv.v.v .. ?
be certainly was, "I think I can under
stand what you say much better witi
cold iron further from my ears. A pis
tol is liable to go off of Its own accord
you know."
Hammond came around to the front
and sat down with the table betweer
them, yet retaining the pistols read]
for service.
John Marks heaved a long sigh 01
Infinite relief, and nodded to Nanej
Earker to continue.
"Our child still lives, John Blarks??
grown-up man; your image, too, wher
1 last saw him. We?Luke Hammonc
and I?alone can restore him to you
but to regain your son, you must ac
with us, and do as we shall dictate.7'
"I agree," said Marks. "You hav<
been deceiving me; but for the mer<
hope of ever greeting a son, I will ac
mn T.aot 1'nil tnld 1I1P VOl
would need me in three days. Is thii
the need you have of me?"
"Not all?partly. I am glad you hav<
come, however," said Hammond. "Ani
now tell us how Harriet Foss tracec
us to New York."
"Give me some confidence, also,'
said Marks, warmly. "Tell me whs
this woman. Harriet Foss, so hates
you both. She came to New York or
the same steamer with me; I recog
nized ber, and so she did me. She in
quired very cunningly after you, bj
the name you bore when you were hei
sister's husband; but I could give hej
no information, for I had been so long
a convict that I had lost all trace ol
you. She told me that, after I was
transported for that unfortunate Durglary
affair, some twenty-four years
ago, you murdered her sister, then youi
wife, and that she had sworn youi
destruction. That at the time of hei
sister's death she was in Paris. On
hearing of her sister's death, she hast'
ened to London, but was taken suddenly
ill on the way; and when she
reached the city, some weeks after,
you had fled, having first converted all
her sister's estate and your own into
ready money, as well as having fleeced
her, Harriet, of much of her own patrimony.
She told me she and her sister
were twins, and orphans at the time
of your marriage to her sister; that she
bad trusted you with the guardianship
of her estate.
"You will remember that Harriet
was of a totally different temperament
from her sister. Harriet "was quick,
passionate, impulsive even to fierceness,
You remember she shot and severely
wounded an officer who trifled with hei
affections."
"What is her appearance now? Has
ehe never married?" asked Luke.
"She lias never married, so she stated
to me," replied John Marks; "and I
know of no reason to doubt her word.
Harriet Foss, impulsive and passionate
as she was, was and is one of those
women who can love but once, in their
youth,, and when they once love, they
pour forth their whole soul and being
at the feet of the beloved one. Harriet
Foss devotedly loved the officer whom
she shot, but when he trifled with her,
her anger flamed to very fury. She
told me, on the voyage to New York,
that she had now but one object in life
?revenge for her sister's death. You
ask of her appearance. She is still a
fine and stately looking woman, Jet
black hair and eyes, in her fortieth,
perhaps forty-fifth year."
"She is forty-six, my age,*' said
Nancy Harker, decisively.
"She does cot look so near to forty,
madame, as you do to sixty," said
Marks, with a grin of malice.
Nancy took no notice of the sneer;
she had long since ceased to care for
her looks, good or bad.
"But how came she to think her sister
had died other than a natural
, death?" asked Hammond; "and why
lay it to me?"
"She says," replied Marks, "that hei
sister died at But let me ask a
question, Luke Hammond?merely tc
satisfy my own mind. Cn what day
did her sister die?"
"On Tuesday, the 11th of August,"
said Hammond.
"Ul IUC llUUl'e UJL Ul'i ucaill 1U IUC
London papers stated Monday, the
10th. Harriet Foss showed me two
old gazettes with it so printed," said
Marks unsasily.
"This mistake arose," said Luke, "ic
the incorrectness of the timepiece tc
which I referred when Harriet's sistei
breathed her last. I immediately wrott
* notice of it, and sent it to the papers
that it should appear in the next issue
The timepiece at which I looked Indi
cated live minutes of twelve?five min
utes of midnight; but I afterwards no
ticed that the watch was not running
und on comparing my own watch witl
that of my sister, who was present, w<
. - 1 iK-i tiftonr
L'OUL'lUUeU TiJUl Illy YYiitr uicu at minri
minutes after twelve, on Tuesday, th<
11th of August."
"Great heavens!" cried Marks, start
tag up. "Luke Hammond. thes<
dreams and visions have some terribh
meaning!"
"Ah! what do you mean, Johr
Marks?" said Luke.
"This," said Marks. "The sister ol
Harriet Foss died and was buried, anc
flo suspicion of foul play entered th(
mind of any cue of all who knew hei
nd you."
"True." said Luke. "I fled from
London to appropriate the proceeds ol
a forced sale of Harriet Koss's estate
and tu'eadiug to meet her. There was
' . -v.,-'. .
AMMOND, 1
MISER. I
eck, I Copyright 1896, | 5
^ I by Robikt Bonkeb's Sokb. | S
. ] (jIH rights reserved.) ^ ,?j
I no suspicion of violence, poison, or of
anything not natural."
j "Then listen to what Harriet Foss
l told me," said Marks. "She says she
was in Paris, France, dancing at a
r ball, on the night of the 10th of August.
18?. and. while dancing, a sud
j den weakness seized her limbs, and
i feeling as if about to faint, she retired
to the dressing-room, and lay down on
j a sofa. A moment after she saw
standing by her the form of her sister,
clad in white. 'Look at your watch!'
said the image. Harriet, half dead
with f-ear, looked at her timepiece
' which she said she had set by yours,
1 a week before. In London. The hour
7 was fifteen minutes past twelve, on
Tuesday, 11th of August. 'I am no
more of earth.' said the apparition.
7 *My husband and his sister have suffocated
me!'"
j There was a groan and a crash as
j John Marks uttered these words.
. Nancy Harker?hard-hearted Nancy
^ Harker?had swooned and fallen upon
the floor!
s "Great heavens!" said Marks; "this
\ is terrible!"
j "And true," said Luke, with white
j lips, as he raised his sister and placed
, her upon a settee. "It Is needless to
' attempt concealment from you. The
1 sister of Harriet Foss died as the apj
parition stated."
j "Why did you and that wretched
woman commit the deed?" demanded
( Marks.
"My wife had discovered that we
' counterfeited the notes of the "Bank of
k England," said Hammond. "She upbraided
us, and threatened to denounce
us to the law. Though a mild woman,
r she was firm; and being absurdly pious,
. deemed it her duty to inform on us. I
. think I might have changed her
| tention, had not my sister urged me
I to the deed, saying that my wife would
! not fail to tell Harriet; and as Harriet
hated my sister terribly, there was
( reason to believe that the dangerous
. secret would leak out and the punish"1 i
. ment would have been death."
Nancy Harker here opened her eyes
! and sat up.
"Tell me," said she, staring around,
"have I been dreaming?"
, John Marks, wicked as he was, was
no murderer, and he shrank from her
! ns from lenrosv.
i "No dream," said Hammond, in a
hollow tone. "Harriet Foss "
"I remember now," cried Nancy, as
, if the speaking of that name was an
, electric shock. "Go on with your story,
| John Marks."
' "After her sister's spirit?for such it
must have been," said Marks, "had
said, 'My husband and his sister have
' suffocated me,' Harriet Foss instantly
left the ball and hastened on her journey
to London. As she told me she
fell very ill on the way. and when she
arrived in London you were gone. All
the rest of her life has been devoted to
a search for you."
1 "But how was she directed to New
York?" asked Luke.
"You son," said Marks, "is your facsimile
when you were of his age."
"Ah! she has seen my son, Charles!"
exclaimed Luke, clenching his hands.
"She saw him one month ago in Liverpool,"
said Marks, "so she told me.
I But did not know he was your son. Yet
' the resemblance to you, whom she
sought, was so striking that her suspicions
were aroused, and she managed
to learn bis name, bis business, and. In
1 fact, all about him."
"Ungrateful wretch! Why did you
1 not tell me this last night?" cried Luke.
1 "Because she did not tell me of the
trace she had found till this night?not
two hours ago," said Marks. "I was
trying to persuade her to embark for
Cuba by telling her that I had good
I cause -to believe you were there, when
she checked me by saying: 'I have a
, clue of my own. I am waiting for the
1 bark Gleaner,' and then told me, as I
have told you, of Charles Hammond.
; You had paid me well, and I told her
' that I once knew the father of Charles
in Australia, and that, though the re.
semblance was great it was a decepI
tion."
"Then what said she?" asked Nancy.
"That she had learned the name of
the young man's father. That it was
1 Luke Hammond, and that she only
1 waited for the bark Gleaner to have
Charles Hammond redeem his promise
made to her in Liverpool to Introduce
her to his father."
"Cunning, terrible woman!" cried
! Luke. "The bark Gleaner haa been re?
ported in the bay; my son is undoubt1
edly aboard. She will accompany him,
' that there may be no deceit practiced
upon her. TVe are lost! She must die,
i Marks!"
) "I fear my alarmed visage excited
her suspicions," said Marks. "For 1
? noticed that as I left the Astor House?
. we stoi> there?some person dogged me
. rather closely, and, fearing a trap, 1
- walked and rode at least ten miles out
- of my way in getting here."
"John Marks." snirt Hnmmnnrl sit
. tins down and writing rapidly. "I have
1 a plan to baffle her. Its success dei
pends upon speed. I have written:
3 "Charles?Place entire confidence in
1 the bearer, John Marks. Your father,
"Luke Hammond."
Haste with this. The storm has fortu?
natel.v delayed the bark Gleaner. Use?
any means to board her. If Charles is
aboard you know what to tell liira. Tell
1 him not too much. Warn him against
that woman. Spare not gold. Take
tliis purse. Employ some one to guide
I you; and haste! haste!"
! lie rang a bell, while Marks made
' ready to depart.
Stephen appeared.
i "Show this gentleman out by the
! rear. Go with him, in fact. He is un
> acquainted with the ci?y. Hp will tell
: you what he wants. Haste. And. I
Marks, tell my son not to come here un- '
til be sball hare received a letter from '
me. Go! Haste!"
"Remember," said Marks, sternly. "I j
am serving you for tbe hope of regain- j
ing my son."
"Right," said L,uiie. "me nope suan ,
be mnde a reality if you perform as desired."
"I swear It, John Marks," said Nancy.
Marks and Stephen then hurried
away,
"Now," said Luke to Nancy. "I feel ;
easier in mind. But will you keep i
your promise with Marks?" ! ;
"Perhaps?we shall see. Harriet Foss j
is not dead yet," said Nancy..
"Come; let's visit our prisoners." said j
Luke. "I have brave news for Kate
Elgin."
"I hite her," said Nancy.
" 'Twas vice hating virtue.
A devil hating an angel."
Lighting their lamps, the wicked
entered the eastern wing.
CHAPTER XIV.
POOR KATE'S MISERY INCREASES.
Hammond found old Fan croucning i
in the antechamber of the white and
gold apartment.
"Why are you here?" he asked.
"I was lonely, Luke Hammond." She
had dropped the . Mr. from his name.
Id her opinion a damnable deed bad
made them equal. "I was lonely, and
afraid to be alone. I came here where
I can hear Daniel walking the hall, and
know some living thing is near me.
I'm very old and weak?very old?not
so brave as I was."
"Old fool," said Hammond, "you have
slept in that part of the house alone,
off and on, for a year."
"I know it, yes, true," said Fan. raising
her head and nodding It. "But
then, you know, there was?nothing in
the old well?augb!"
She shuddered and drew herself into
a heap, tlie light from the lamps borne
by Hammond and his sister shone on
her hideous disease-distorted visage,
and Luke wondered at the change that
had passed over it. Old Fan looked like
a living corpse, Quailing amid a myriad
dreadful deaths.
"Get up, old fool!" said Hammond,
sternly, and then he whispered to Nancy,
who seemed to shrink from Fan's
old eyes.
"Watch her ever! Her .remorse or
terror may be our ruin."
Old Fan rose and made way for^-ammond,
who knocked at the door,
No summons from within.
"Unlock the door, and see if I may
enter," said he to Nancy.
She opened the door and looked in.
Catharine Elgin was asleep in her
chair. Poor girl! she dared not lie
down upon the bed, lest she might
sleep too profoundly for her safety,
for she knew not what terrible cruelty
her persecutor might have in
store for her.
Her beautiful head was supported
by her hand and arm resting upon
the side of the bed, and her rich black
curls, all disheveled, fell in pitiable
disorder over her face and bosom.
She was very pale, and her features
miirh .sunken. The food furnished
by her Jailers was all untasted, for, I
even had she had any wish to partake
of It she felt a horrible dread of
drugs or.poison.
Nancy beckoned to Luke, and he
entered on tiptoe. Old Fan, dreading
the outside, crept In after and curled
herself in a heap near the door.
Kate heaved a long and painful
sigh, and Hammond saw her pale
lips forming words in bi;r slumber.
He drew near and listened eagerly.
"Father ? James ? God!" were the
disjointed words he heard, nothing
more.
To all of these he would one day
have to account!
Hammond knitted his brows and
muttered:
"Father?James?God! The first is
in my power, the second is dead and
the third"?he paused for a moment^
and then added, "the third made me
what I am?an animal, to live, die,
and be no more."
Kate awoke and drew herself erect;
sht flashed ono glance over the group
and then fixed her steady gaze upon
Hammond's face.
"Niece"?he began.
"Liar!" she said, quickly.
4ITT_I 1 i:?_ flnin
na. \\ uy uui, vuiuunuc
"You call me 'niece,'" said Kate,
tossing back her disordered curls, to
show the lofty scorn of her face,
"and I know you lie. Nature's instinct
tells me you are no uncle of
mine."
"Nonsense," said Hammond. "That
idea is absurd. You seem ill aud
weak."
To be continued.
Fauncefot?'s Pens.
In the Peace Congress at The Hague
Lord Pauncefote attracted the attention
of the delegates by taking notes
with a fountain pen, the handle of
which was formed by the shell of a
dumdum bullet. One day the representative
of a foreign power, excited
hv thA hpnt of the discussion in the
interests of eternal peace, said to biro,
sharply:
"My lord, it isn't right for you to
use that murderous shell in this congress.
The instruments used by persons
are almost emblematic. They can
become a part of themselves, an ex[
pression of their ideas and of Llieir
personality."
L.rd Pauncefote smiled, but said
nothing.
The following day his critic, wanting
to write something, turned to the English
diplomat to borrow a pen. The ,
ambassador pulled out of bis pocket
an old-fashioned pen made of a gray
goose quill, and after the borrower had I
finished said:
"Mousieui-; it isn't right Tor jou to :
I ? "1> nn inclrllniant in this foil- I '
use auLii uu .?
jress. The instruments used by persons
are almost emblematic. They eau
become a part of themselves, an ex- 1
pression of their ideas and of their |
personality."?1'aris Lc Gaulois. 1
<
<
A Sen Sword Mrtal. ?
According to liie I.ondou Globe, the J
Austrian Government has, it is said, j
decided to arm several cavalry regl- f
ments with swords made of a new ?
metal named ningnalium, -.vbich is as- {
serted to combine the lightness of s
aluminium w:tL tie fclienstl. ami fl^x- J
ibility of ste?-I ! j
i SERMON FOR SUNDAY
kN ElOaUENT DISCOURSE ENTITLED
"INCREASE OF FAITH." j
The Kcv. Qnlncy EwIub SIiowb How Thin
Kecouirs the Prnyer of Our Soul*
When tho World's Perplexities Bear
Down Upon Us.
New York City. ? The Rev. Quincy
Ewing, of St. James' Episcopal Church,
Greenville. Miss., who was at one time under
consideration for one of the important
pulpits of Brooklyn, recently preached a
thoughtful sermon on "Increase of Faith."
Mr. Ewing took his text from Luke xvii:
5: "Lord, increase our faith." In the
course of the sermon he said:
We do not know why precisely the disciples
should have made this request at this
particular time. Jesus had just said to
them: "If thy brother trespass against thee
rebuke him, "and if he repent, forgive bim.
and if he trespass against thee seven times
in a day, and seven times in a dav turn to
thee, saying, 'I repent.' thou shalt forgive
him." Then very abruptly comcs from
them the request, "increase our lann.
Possibly there was some tone of impatience
in their voices as they spoke. They may
have recalled that in the old book of Leviticus
was to be found practically the
same commandment that He was giving
them; that in the book of Leviticus they
were taught not to hate their brethren,
nor to bear grudge against the children of
their people, but to love their neighbor as
themselves; and they may have felt that
there was.no need for them to bear this
old teaching over acrain from the lips of
the Master: that He was but wasting
time in telling them what they already
knew so well.
So their request. Increase our faith may
have meant, "Tell us something that we do
not already know?something hid from the
prophets and wise men of old times; tell
us something, 6how us something, do something
which will make us surer that you
are indeed the Messiah we and our fathers
have looked for; that our hope in You is
not misplaced; that Yon are truly the
promised Deliverer. Make us more certain
that we were justified in breaking away
from the authority of the Scribes anH
Pharisees, in forsaking all to follow You.
Do not be simply repeating to us what we
may read ourseives in an ancient book;
say something, do something, reveal something
which will certify our faith in You
US LUC iUbSOiau.
Or the request may have had a profounder
import and been uttered in a tone of
self-distrust, of unfeigned humility and
supplication. Suddenly while Jesus was
speaking there may have awakened in the
souls of His hearers the accusing consciousness
that, though they had known for so
long the divine law of duty toward their
neighbors, yet never had thej[ or their
fathers been able to live up to it, to realize
in their human life the aivine ideal, and
accompanying the consciousness of past
failure may have been the reflection that
never should they be able to realize that
divine ideal, to expel from their human
hearts all hatreds, all resentments, all contempts.
all unforgivingness and look upon
their fellow-men with the steady Christvision
of redemptive charity.
And so their request may have meant,
"Open wider our spiritual eyes, that we
may^'Bee^with You; lead us, draw us up to
Your spiritual height; let us share with
You Your visiUMi of God and man; let us
drink from the hmsfbfe--fosntain of Yout
vast strength and goodness; Yet. us "know
the secret of Your Christliness,"' that we
may rise to full sympathy with VtHir di?>
j v..:u Irinc
vine purpose auu uuuu xwu x---^
dom of God among men as You wdi^ld
have it builded." But whatever may haw
been the character of the disciples' request,
whether of impatient criticism or
humble speculation in the words that came
from their lips. Increase our faith, we
may all utter the deepest and devoutest
prayer of the most needful moments of
our human life, "Increase our faith." How
inevitably that becomes the prayer of our
souls at times when the infinite problems
and perplexities of this problematical, perplexing
world bear down upon us and
threaten to weigh us down; when we are
forced to give ourselves to reflection upon
the long rind cruel and, apparently, unending
suffering of good and evil; the suffering
of unnumbered millions; the vast failures
of justice and triumphs of injustice; the
tragic defeat of right and victories of
wrong; the bitter battles of uplifting truth
for recognition by the mind and heart of
humanity; the painful, questionable progress
of indubitable good everywhere upon
earth; and, so reflecting, are tempted to
cry out in loud desD&ir, or in danger of
being mastered by that deep hopelessness
which utters no sound and shows itself in
no outward 6ign; hopelessness, that a
deathless heart of good does, indeed, throb
on to victorv in things evil; hopelessness.
that the to-morrows of humanity will be
gladder and nobler than its yesterdays:
hopelessness, that the wrones we know will
be done away, and the ^-fiod we dream embody
itoeu in fact; hopelessness, that our
individual efforts, all that we can say, all
that we can do, aVe not mere vain, transient
strivings against eternal fate, powerless,
as the wings of insects fluttering in
the storm, to effect any betterment of
things that are! How much that prayer
of the apostles, Increase our faith, mav
mean, then, to our individual souls! .A silent,
unsyllabled cry for rescue to the Invisible
Power that made us and the world;
a pleading with that Power Invisible,
whose name we cannot then utter, whosp
attributes we hesitate then to declare, that
again we may be privileged to pray, "Our
Father;" that again we may feel ourselves
His children; that real enough may become
His presence in our lives, to banish
from us all doubt that the world intelligim
st jo '3iq]8i[[aiuiun jo 'a|0
His keeping; all suspicion, that anv good
dies, that any right fails, that any throned
and crowned power of iniauity can swing
this earth outside the circle of His Father's
purpose and His Father's love.
But it is not only in times of sorrow, sadness,
perplexity that the request of the
apostles should be our prayer, for that request
of theirs points to an eternal and
universal need of the human soul, the need
to-day, to-morrow and forever of a firmer
grasp of God, a clearer vision of His purjjoses,
a deeper reading of His will, in order
that we may live and save ourselves in
the way divine. Perhaps from the standpoint
of the need of some of us it is more
necessary for us to pray fervently that
prayer, "Increase our laith," jn tne seasons
of our greatest joy than in the days of
our deepest anguish; more necessary at
times wnen the woria shines bright about
us and we are conscious of the burden of
no perplexity and no misgiving, and disposed
to be thoroughly satisfied with ourselves,
our performances and with thing?
aB they are; for then, it may be, we are m
greatest danger of forgetting God, of growing
unmindful of our personal dependence
upon Him, of crowding Him out of our life,
of skimming gayly the gay surface of thing?
with eyes and ears blind and deaf to their
eternal aspect, their profound and supreme
appeal, rerplexed, bewildered, crushed,
under the stress of deep personal anguish,
we may think God far from us, all out of
touch with our lives and their needs. But
to think God at all, however far we put
Him from us, however grimly we deny ourselves
all consoling faith in His wisdom
and goodness?to think God at all is infinitely
better than to forget, to ignore Him
utterly, as if our goodness and our happiness
aid not need Him; as if the world
about us were fair enough and bright
enough, and altoeether satisfactory enough
with or without His presence!
Do you ask what sort of faith this is we
need to pray for to have increased? Is it
faith in some particular dogma?clearer
mpntal pomnrphpTiKion nf snmo sorif>.a nf
metaphysical propositions?faith in the infallibleness
of some verbal formula? Nay,
the faith of our deeper need is that faith
which means steadying vision of the diune
unseen and the divine eternal; proFound
consciousness from moment to moment
of what the poet has called "the drcp
below the deep and the height beyond the
heightnobler conviction within us, beaming
ever more ineradicable and unconquerable,
that the real value of things is a
spiritual value, their real meaning a spiritual
meaning, their real end a spiritual end.
rhis is the faith upon which depends ultimately
our strengthening and saving; the
aith which our Bibles, our churches, our
reeds, our dogmaS. our devotions were
neant to inspire, and which, if they do not
nsp'ie. they are but as sounding brass and
i tinkling cymbal. This is the faith we
wed to pray for. Irrcc'ins in our pews on
vandnvs. or busy at our work on \r<'! '<
lays, increase of vision, of fatally, to '
I
and feel be'ow the earthly deeps and beyond
the earthly heights, and when we
pray God to increase for us this fundamental
faith, be tempted to dictate to
God how He shall answer us or when. We j
may want one answer; He may know that
1 Al XT'~ ? ?Kaaoo hnrp I
we neea anozner. we
our answer in full all at once; He may j
choose to give us but the first syllable of it
l o-day, and to prolong the giving of it
through the years of a lifetime, perhaps
through the aeons of eternity. We may
undertake in our wisdom to impose conditions
noon God that we imagine He must
fulfill if He would answer our prayer, forpetting
the one fundamental condition,
that we must impose upon ourselves honest
eagerness to hear the higher voices that
may call to us from day to day, and to
obev them wli^n thev <lo; honest struggle
to beu.t back the unholy temptations that
beset us. darkening the way to our feet;
honest purpose to do the duties that
throng us hourly, momently. :.nd in their
doing ultimately illumine any darknesa the
sou! can enter!
The prayer of the apostles was answered
hardly as they expected certainly it might I
be. but answered nevertheless and to a do gree
of richness that they were not able |
all a; once to fathom; answered for them, i
as it has been through the ases for all
their successors by right of spiritual inher- |
itance; for them as for him. great and good i
apostle unto us of our modern time, who '
walked through the fires of sacrifice and ,
came ir. and out here among us for a score |
of years, fighting hb good ficht, his fight
of good, his fight for God and man. whose I
words are vital yet within these walls, and
beyond them where men speak the English
tongue; answered. I say, that prayei
for them of the earlier time, for him oi
this later, not by any flashing miracle oi
1 Vit- r-nv ctarHincr levelft'
tion of a new heavens and a new earth;
not by any suddenness of divine destruction
and reconstruction; nay, but hy and
through a gradual growing sympthj
with the purno3es of the Redeeming Mag ]
ter; by and through the deepening, widen
ing. atonement of their souls and his; bj
and through their effort to live the lift
that worshiped His, and suffering and eru
tifixions. it meant to them to be and d<
what should bear true witness to a Christ.
And thus only is it that God can fulfil!
for any of us the nrayer, Increase oui
faith. "The eternal Father of our spiriti
ran meet their deeper yearning for largei
faith, for clearer vision, only tniough anc
by the human experiences He has mad?
possible for us from day to day. tk** life ol
effort, of struggle, of heroism. He haf
made it our nrivilege to live. The readiness
to do His will reveals it; the seeking to re'
alize His purposes interprets them, anc
closer, ever clpser, becomes the meetinj
point of our actual earth and our possiblf
heaven, as we resolve that our earthliesl
efforts shall be noble enough to bespeak j
heavenly meaning, and our earthliest hope!
heroic enough to prophesy a heavenly consummation^
God'a Education of Man.
God's fatherhood makes him a teacher
| Man's childhood gives him a claim to bt
I fnimKf Fnr mnn is not a finished nroducl
of God's skill, but a product in the making.
Our will, our thoughts, our knowl <
edge, all need training. And because wt
are God's children one prayer we may al
ways make with confidence i* that of th*
Hebrew psalmist long ago: "Teach me Thj
will: for Thou art my God: Tny spirit if
rrood: lead me in the land of uprightness.''
Tt is unthinkable that God our Father will
leave such a childlike, earnest prayer unanswered.
Yet some of us are like foplisb
children who refuse to learn unless they
can go to some famous school and listen ti
1 ""ne well-known teacher. We forget that
the greatest instructor of all dwells iu
every man who turns to God with true
repentance ajiJ seeks His presence with a
v childlike faith. "He shall teach you," said
\the Master. The place of teaching matters
IfMJe if we have God's Spirit to assign and
follott\up the lessons, and if we first possess
thVy8cholar's willing heart.
It is, n??.n, in the common circumstances
of our liveK-that we are to learn the lessons
of God'&, school. Unusual conditions
and experience arc like examinations
which test andS declare what we have
learned. The orctVarv day, with its routine
of drudgery, isNihe time for learning.
Wo TOhri Hpsnise.q thisl common school oi
life, with ftVTittle tasksVnd opportunities,
its frequent perplexities Sfldite recurring
weariness, despises the plan iof God s for
his education. >n.
To recognize God's teaching in vCe*e ex~
periences of common life requires faiV^ and
obedience. God's will for daily wot* 1?
plain enough in outline through the re??A*
tion of the word and the long experience,
of His children. If we use our present
knowledge and listen for His voice in con*
science, willing ever to carry out His will,
we shall know of His teaching. All Christian
experience is hare at one. He who desires
to do shall know. It will not he without
mistakes and disillusionments, but in
experience with Him our growth in knowledge
shall proceed along with growth in
character toward a completed strength in
Chridt.?Boston Congregationalism
Growlnc: Faith.
Growth is characteristic of all life. It is
an evidence of health and increasing
strength. Every soul is born as a child
into God's kinrdom. It must bejrin, and all
beginnings are small, in our judgments 01
others we ought to remember this fact.
One has no right to expect from a child
that which belongs to manhood. When j
Abraham was first called into God's service '
he came as has every one since. His faitb
was untried and his growth just begun.
God promised him great things which he
hesitated to believe. When toid that his
descendants were to be as numerous as the
stars he stageered at the thought. All
passed like a dream before him. The patriarch
was skeptical. "Lord, how shall I
know that I shall inherit it?" God's word
was not sufficient. He wished some evidence
that would appeal to his positive
knowledge. He wishod to know. Years
after^ that man staggered not at the com* ,
ni?.r?ti of God when told to slay his own.
The difference was not in the quality of
of his faith. It was the same man further
on. God's laws apply in principle alike to '
all. Abraham's experience becomes in a
measure a nart of our own. A living faitb
solves all things. Abraham's vision of the
smoking lamp an.d parted sacrifice was but
temporary. It served him for the moment ;
and then became a recollection. But his !
faith became a permanent one. It was a
'1 ' iL- 1 ?L L IT? i:
lamp mat grew tne origiuer. iiciu iica unc
strongest evidence of our acceptance with
God. The vine liees because of its attach- (
ment to the tree. It draws its life from j
other veins. Is your horizon wider, your ;
faith stronger, your sacrifice more willing?
These are your assurances of greater things
beyond.?Presbyterian Journal.
Chriitlnn Faith.
"Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear," is
a line that ouiht to be said every hour of
a Chr istian's life. Some good people are j
the prey of natural despondent tempera- |
ments. Such need a double supply of grace J
and must pray for it. The worries of busi- i
ness or household care, the loss of sleep |
or the derangement of the bodily machir- ,
er". put such Christian folk under a cloud
very often. To-day they sing like larks.
To-morrow the barometer goe3 down and
they are in the dumps again. Such people
should look after their bodily health as a
sniritual duty. Moreover they should keep
their Christian faith where it will not be
exposed to every east wind or drenched to j
death by every shower that falls.
Home Thouclit*.
High thinking chiscls the features into
the beauty of a pure and refinsd expression.
The tone of the mind assuredly reveals it- |
self on the face. If our thoughts are kind, !
generous and forgiving, our faces will un- j
consciously reveal the sweetness of these !
virtues, jtuo a Kina nc.-irt i.oii pours ms j
light, which radiates ou the face and makes
it fail and pleasing.
Chrigtlan Joy.
Christian joy is an experience of great j
depth and solemnity. It never ovenooks
that sadness and sternness of life; it is
never shallow or unreflecting; it is restrained,
tender, sympathetic, confident.
Wc know ii when we see it in the face of
any whom we love; it helps us.?11. J.
Campbell.
Do Good Son.
It is Cod that speaks in secret promptings.
The Spirit will leave you if you refuse
obedience; every warning disregarded
h a door closed against future progress.
It' you do not now the good which you can
the time v.ii ccmic vhen yon ca:i/io: do the
vjyci which you-.vyuM.?i'Veicric 11. Ued^e.
'THE RELIGIOUS LIFI
READINC FOR THE QUIET HOUP
WHEN THE SOUL INVITES ITSELF;
Poein: In Hla Step*?What Christ Tcschei
About Trust?We Should Cast Powb
Our Cares at the Feet of Jesus ?
Christians Practice What They French.
I said, "I will walk in the fields." God
said,
"Nay, walk in the town."
I said, ['There are no flowers there." He
said,
"No flowers, but a crown."
I said, "But the fogs are thick and clouds
Are veiling the sun."
He answered, But hearts are sick, and
souls
In the dark undone."
I said, "But the skies are black; there is
Nothing but noise and din.
And He wept as He led me back?"There
is more,"
He said, "There is sin."
V * J itT .11 il 1 I 1 O
j. saici, i snail miss me ngnt, ana mena?
will
Miss me, they say."
He answered: "Choose ye to-night if I
must '
Miss you, or they." X
I pleaded for time to be given, He said,
"Is it hard to decide? >
It will not seem hard in heaven, to'have
Followed the steps of your guide."
?George Macdonald.
??? i V
Tlil? Llf? of Trusting.
Men are willing to trust everybody andN
1 everything but God. They will trust the
| milkman, and the butcher, and the druggist
with his deadly drugs, the doctor and
the plumber; they trust the man who
builds their houses that they will not foil
in a high wind, and they trust the man
who puts up the chimney that it wiH not
get the house on fire. They trust the banks
though they often break, and they hoard
their treasures in vaults that are somej
times broken open. The savings of a lifei
time are put into property that they have
I not seen, whose title they are not eure of
I being clear. They trust their little, helpI
1 poo in fna lian/la nP
| cruel servants, and they trust their reputa*
I tions in the hands of unscrupulous, unloving
friends. But God they are afraid to
! trust. And yet God made them, put them
j on this earth, where was all they needed
i to maintain life He had created, and still
give3 them all they have.
| It is sad that even the near and dear
! disciples had to be reminded by this lily
j lesson. That a God who had cared to
| paint the ephemeral blossom in colors so
i rare, and array it in texture so exquisite,
! should forget to give His own loved ones
j the clothing they need! How strange that
| they or we should think itt And yet it
6eem8 as if we did.
j Take, for instance, the man who is coni
sidering the adoption of the tenth plan of
' giving. He says: "But I must first support
my family, that is my first duty. What if
I should give a tenth of my income to the
: Lord and then not be able to pay my bills
! at the close of the year?" He leaves altogether
out of his calculations the fact that
God promised in many places in the Bible
I that man shall lose nothing by giving, but
only gain the more. Also, ne leaves out of
his calculation the fact that God cares
about what he eats or drinks or wears.
Furthermore, he is putting down his will as
- ? ? 1 J _1 _ ! t__
lo wuat styie 01 iooa ana cio^ning snau oe
his, whereas the lily takes what comes,
whether of white petals, or pink, or yellow,
or crimson, as ordered by the Father, and
counts none less worthy to be worn because
all are designed by Him who knows
what color best fits in the little corner of
the world, where He means Hie flower to
grow.
It is time we Christians began to practice
tetter what we profess to believe. It
is time we stopped fretting lest we cannot
buy the new piano that Kitty "reallv
aeeds," or lest the summer outing, whicn
will make father so happy and so much better
able to go through his next year's work,
cannot be accomplished. It is time we
Bmoothed the fret-lines from our brows
and gave our lives the light of trust, not
, darkening that light by vain fears and futile
planning?, not trying to serve both
God and gold, not feeling uncomfortable
and refusing to go out because we are not
dressed in the latest style. Be sure if we
have the lily nature in our hearts our God
k will see that we are fitly clothed when His
\(ime comes to glorify us before others.
Atwi. the despisea garments we sometimes
have\o wear may be in Hie eyes as fair of
fashioning as the veined petals of His flow
?rs.
1 Then, if wK^re to be Christians at all,
we should be tKPBtful Christians, for how
is our lot better than*ofthe if we may not
cast down our care at thJ? of Him who
has borne it for us. and\wnat 19 our J?y
i that we have a Father if w?may no' come
to Him for everything? .. .
' And in this life of trust'in^J6 1S, not
meant that we should nezlect ai^F ?f our
duties, onlv that we should "first of eager
about His kingdom and about wm^ -^e
thinks is right," and after that we n?ye a
right to go singing and trusting on ?i""
way.?New York Mail and Express. \
I
Brooding Over lllatilcei.
Probably the one thing that does thb
most to make men and women grow; old
and to wear out the springs of energy is
the habit of turning over in mind what
might have been. We brood over past
mistakes and see how at some turning
point we made a wrong choice, and then
narrass ourselves unceasingly by imagining
what we would have gained if we had
taken the other path. Somehow we cannot
eet the bright alternative out of mind,
and its very brightness makes the conditions
in which we live abnormally dark.
Sometimes we doubt whether forebodings
as to what may come, or regrets for what
might have been do the more to cloud _and
depress sensitive spirits. But this is a
case in which philosophy and faith have
their say. Suppose you had made a better
choice at that crisis, there is no certainty
that you wouia nave contmuea to mane
wise choices to the end of the chapter, and
subsequent mistakes might have been as
ruinous as the one you now deplore. Furthermore,
no amount of regret is going to
bring back the lost opportunity. You have
to take things as they are. and the very
weakening of your powers through vain regrets
will certainly prevent your making
the best of your present opportunities.
Above all it is not in man that walketh
to direct his steps. If there is a God we
certainly are in His hands, and the final
issues of life are safe with Him. Very often,
even in this life, wc come to see that
what we deemed to be errors, were working
out higher purposes of good. The faith
that all things, even our blunders and mistakes.
work together for good to those who
in rrtf Via ViAiiro nf
devotion, but to be taken boldly into the
interpretation of daily life.?Boston Watchman.
True Heroism.
Heroism is largely based upon two qualities?truthfulness
and unselfishness, a readiness
to put one's own pleasure aside for
that of others, to be courteous to all, kind
to those younger thnn yourself, help to
your parents, even if that helpfulness demands
some slight sacrifice of your own
pleasure. You must remember that these
two qualities are true signs of Christian
heroism. If one is to be a true Christian,
one must be a Christian hero. True heroism
is inseparable from true Christianity,
and as a step toward the former I would
urge most strongly ar.d urgently the practice
of the latter.?G. A. Hentv.
lie TeiHe-l Tlielr Vlcilnnoe.
T1>? n!linr niwllt PfPOnil Wai'dcil E.
Mel'hcrson c'.imbcd I lie penitentiary wall
at Salem. to teat the vigilance of t!ie
quanta. M-'Pherson's feat was performed
at the risk or his life, for had he been
discovered he would probably have been
shot. .He placed a ladder against the exterior
of the fall, climbed up, lowered his
ladder into the jail yard and descended.
He went through the prison shops, and as
a final touch carried away the coat and hai
of one of the guards. It was from this jail
that the famous Tracy escaped last summer.
and it is supposed that the rifle with
which he fought his way out was taken
into ;ho prison over the yard fenc.-. J
THE SABBATE SCHOOtfl
INTERNATIONAL LE&ON COMMENTS MB
J,FOR MAY 10. Hfl
Subject " The Plot Against Panl, Act*
xxill., 12-22 ? Golden Text, Act?, xxill.,. V
11? Memory Verses, 20-22?Study Vex*'
ti, 10-35?Commentary on the Uimu, 19
I. The conspiracy against Ptul (vg.l2? K9
15). 12. "Was day." Thursday, May 25,
"lJanded together." Made an agreement.
"Undei a curse." Literally, placed them- RgB
oolvou un^pr an anathpma. It' was an in* ifir
vocation of God's .vengeance upon thesa- 91
selves if they failed to do the work which JM
they undertook. But they could be ab*
solvedirom this vow by the rabbins if they
j -were unable to execute it. Such oaths apf^BS
Sear to have been common among tne^B|
cws. Josephus tells of a similar conapir> B
acy against the life of Herod into which a jH
party of ten Jews entered with a like fail13.
"More than forty." This large num- B
ber of desperate men, backed up by th?
Sanhedrin, the highest counsel among the .fl
Jews, would be likely to succeed in their -Hp*
murderous design, and Paul's life was in
great danger. "They ma/ have .been
prompted to this method of getting rid of ' I
i the apostle, because they aid not have the B
| power of life and death any ionjnr, ana
I were jot likely to procure Paul's death at ft* 1
i the hunda of the Koman authorities, on'^H
any accusation connected ;'etigioqp.JjH
^ 14. "To the chief priests ." Thq plotters jfl
no doubt went to the chief priests and eMera
who were Sadducees, as thwerer^H
strongly opposed to Pan) (vs. 6-10) and
would be glad to see ium. put ta death. JBS
"We have Dound," etc. Liteyallr.' "witha
yxurse havgwe cursed ourselves*' \A He* pM
Ctew mode tsi'expressing' the iotensity and ?
earnestness of any action. How firm they
made it, imprecating the beariest; <nrsee MB
upon themselves, their souls, bodies and SB
iamiues, jl lucy uiu wi iuu nan^ auk"7,hu[
men must hqye believe34hat Paojf'fcas the BS
-worst of irien, an enemy tp 'Qod'aia^ rclig*
ion, and the curse ana Wegener- flEc
ation, when really htt< changes' una the Hjj
reverse of ail thig. There Are-up laws o! |^H
truth and justice so sacred ere *&&&. thatr^B
malice and bigotry will not
15. "The Council." The Sknl&irin, thBM
greatest Jewish Council. ].wm. coai^^B
posed of.. seven ty-ona, .awanbarsyi chielHH
f nests, elders of the people aa^'fcribes.^B
ts meeting place adjoined tjig(j$ttnp]e on
the east siae. It met daily except on the M
Sabbath and festival davB.' It'had jnthority
to' interpret^thc ta,deci^;j^
ou me quiuiiicatiuu ^
those accused of idolatry, and- fiW Jjroph* VH
ets and heretics." The authority'fa pro* '
nounce the death sentence was taken from fl
it by the Romans about three*jrears before,
the crucifixion of Christ.''Rftttf,* cto. < I
Lysias was to be asked tp btoi&Paal-down
from the tower of Antoni* to place >
where the Sanhedrin iksi<L its xapetings. 'W
"Ready to kill him." They'intended to a
kill him while on thcwajrt^'tWr^uncil.
And to tfaicr "plot the highest dignitaries of J
the church gave acteAcf. ,8fogh a course, j
however, seems to be in. perfect accord 1
with the Jewish opinions and practices of
those times. Philc,.a great Jewish writer,
in sneaking of the course to be t?ken towards
a Jew who has forsaken the worship -' V'j
of the true God saya that it is *highV
proper" to inflict "immediate punishmenJvJjj
anA^fofOfl " flrtf
VU OUCU luipivuo ajwvwvwy Mwr
time to' carry them before any cbirt or jH
magistrate, and this shouM be done be- I
cause of au abhorrence of evfl 4nd"a lore
IT. The plot disclosed (vs. 16-22). . Iff. |l
"Paul's sister's son." This it all that <talB
know of the family of Paul. Nor do we
know for what purpose he was at Jerasa' flj
lcm. It is possible that Paul might, have a ]
sister residing there: though, as Pkttl him- I
self had been sent there formerly for hte W
education it seems more probable that thia 9
young man wae sent there for the same H
Eurpose. "Heard." The secret ?f the plot
ad too many keepers to be Veil kept. -1
"Into the castle." Thus it appears that
Paul's friends had free access to him. fl|
17, 18. "Paul called." He had receiv?4^M
Christ's own promise of protection, (v. 11),
but he did'not on that account neglect to ;1
avail himself of the ordinary menu otpnK^n
tecting himBelf. God's promise; encoRr*- ^jJ
aged him to pat forth fas ,pffn ex?tion#>*rS
for his security "Yoang man." We do %
not know whether this youth was a Chris- 1
tian or a Jew, nor do we know .^ ma?Dlf ^
by which he discovered thq slot;, it-.ia '/?
enough for us that God was pleased, on
this occasion, to employ a lad as the guard- i
ian angel of the apostle. "The prisoney/7
A name which St. Paul was often af&r- i
ward to employ to himself.
19-22. "By the hand." To encourage the
young man and to allay any fear be might' /
nave, and as an expression of kindness and - P-i
civility. The plot was disclosed to Ljrsias '
with clearness and conciseness, and be ap*. Jfl
peared to know what to do immediately.
III. The journey to Caesarea (.tfs. 23- I
35). As soon as the chief captain learned j
of the plot he ordered 40$ infantry and aev-'
enty cavalry to be ready to leave Jerusa- .
lem at 9 o'clock that same night. _This was.
probably the largest bodyguard J*au1 ever
had. Beasts were also to te provided for \
Paul, ^nd they were to go with the greatest , *
despatch to Caesarea to Fell*, the Govern- |
or. The letter Ljrsias sent snows tib that v
he was favorably impressed with his pris- S
oner. Paql probably reached Caesajrea by " *?
Njtfce next evening. He had left Jerusalem
i?ever to return. That infamous city was
itill rejecting those that were sent unto ?
them and fact rushing, on to its own de- V
tstruction?the most terrible destruction tha ? F
Vorld has ever 3een. It was wise for Ly- fy*.
8i?8 to send Paul to Caesarea, for there he :Vi
woWd be 6afer than at Jerusalem, 'and it
%rouW be easier to rive him a fair trial.
PaulV"33 not confined in. to ordinary
prison, ^>ut resided in the palace of Felix;
thus the\P?3tIe remained fo* two ye?rs.
Thoughtfc~~G?d'8 under His %
especial carA The Lord is ?ble to over- ^
throw the r?ftn3 of kicked itren. We
should always ready to ftssist those in
trouble. Even \n"dren can sometimes do ;
very important \(Vor^ f?r God's people. .
Wicked men 6om?ime? resort to the most
diabolical methods Vf order!lo destroy tip ;
influei.ee of God's saw1*?*' Those who trust )
and obey need have ndy*64* of evil workersi
JHobin C!iauj;ln?^JHabits. ^
A writer in Country maKesiceiii- 1
teresting suggestion that tnek1"?"1" M graa- I
ually changing its habits becoming J
crepuscular lite the bat. Wne^t m . ? *1
gathering dusk of evening, you cat? Jus. vj
catch sight of a small bird that <&ts
lentlv and suddenly across yonr patnV^bu
may be almost sure it is a robin, and in I
the grey dawn it is the robin that geta up
before your feet from the roadside. Already,
too, the. lobin owes a good deal of ' 4
its beauty to its large, full eyes, indicating
powers of vision in such scanty light as
would render, say, canaries, with their i
Ettle beady eyes, practically blind. * i
Judge Found Unllty of b a rotary, a
A opnsntionai trial at Moscow has rc- I
suited in Judge Vladimir de Hatzuk being a|
condemned to serve for three years as
common soldier. The charges or which he jt
was found guilty were that he had com- M
mitted burglary and arson. Needing money S
he had broken into a neighbor's house. V
and with the skill of an expert burglar bad
forccd open the safe. After taking away I
money enough to meet immediate require- ~ I
ments he concluded by setting fire to the I
house. As the .Tiul^'e is a nobleman the I
sentence must be sanctioned by the Czar 9
before it can be enforced.
Fined For Impatience. i
Postoffice clerks ir. Paris are proverbially
slow. It frequently takes fifteen minutes
to buy a stamp or obtain a postal order.
After waiting for a considerable time with- Y
out receiving any attention a worthy citizen
named Mozohier the other day exI
claimed to one of the employes. "You are
I slower than any snail." For this he was
fined $3 and costs, the offense beinjt that
he had insulted a public official in tbe execution
of his duty. > Y
Hybrid Plant Developed.
Attorney-General Douglas has in ^ his
office at St. Paul, Minn., a hybrid plane
which at the roots is putting forth pota-'^SR
toes and above the pound several well de- H
vcloped tomatoes. It was produced at thff qH
State experiment station by grafting a to- ^
niato vine to a potato plant. 5
Wondorfnl Chronometer*. v ;
Chronometers now record the millionth
part of a second of time.

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