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CHAPTER XXIV. (Costisued.)
"Oh, yes, my young lady. I'll tell Kou all about It; and Indeed, It warms up the old man's heart to see that pleasant smile of yours again so much that I can tell It briskly. You remem ber the terrible night there, there, I won't talk oL it! I won't say a word more than I can help, it makes me shiver myself. We servants were half frightened to death, such of us as were not in that wretch of an M. Pierre a plot, and we huddled together, not knowing what to do. for they wouldn t let us fly away from the chateau. We guessed what terrible thing was hap pening, but couldn't get near you to see, until the new band came, the masked men, which drove M. Pierre s folks away. Then, while they were fighting outside, I crept into the chapel. My old blood quite froze in my veins at the sight I saw, I thought you were an vniPfi t wns Mine to try to bring a little life to those who showed no a mue me 10 muau wounds; but I heard some one coming through the broken window, and I ran away as fast as I could; 1 tnousm should be killed for being there, so ran and hid away till everything was g0 away and that I was going to Jour quiet. When I came out I found most ney wtn ner to Calais. I dressed her ,.t , onrvantu trnne! OUt lucie la) poor Victoria's body right in the cor rifl'rtr "The masked men were most of them outside, keeping guard, I thoug u, an outside, Keeping guaru, i i.iwo--- some were getting together blankets . l Inin VlQ Q I trun onrl nillnET them IntO baS OUU 1WU, MUM ' hnpv noftlv and looked in tho "hnnpi A tall man in a mask was mere giving u"- - , , burying the bodies. He seemed to feel was there e ving airecuuu- rfvonfifiiliv About: tne muruci, ui cauiuu; till curse he uttered against that villain - - .,mni curse ue uuereu usiwn. " ous Pierre made me feel sure he was ... i onnidn't see rrinrtiv to vnnr family. I couldn t see anything of my young mistress, and this man kept asking wnere sue One of his men said that they must ,., hoi- nfr and then he start H4f u vainvu v t it fast as he could go The men followed him. and so I hurried in and took my last look, as i expen r rioor miKtress. While I was hendine over her. I saw a little flutter kAAilnff at nor throat. I put my III UCUltUg M V whiv tn her heart: it was a min i.tA Mm i rmild make sure, then I knew she was not dead. I stood a mo ment wringing my hands, not knowing An- then some itood saint put it into my head to think of Victorie u-in. fw.,.A hphii i tore out imo iuc iiini.' nnn liroueht the body in changed the ornaments and mantles, and put the long training silk skirt of the countess on the dead girl, and the peasant cloak I wrapped around my mistress. "The masked people came and car ried the poor Victcrle to the grave in stead of her mistress. They seemed expecting M. Pierre every moment, and paid no attention to the rear door. Taking my mistress in my arms, I ran off through the darkness, on that side, and got safely to my cottage. I could not trust a soul, but telling my daugh ter it was Victorie, I laid her on a bed, and irnvp her the best cordial I could find. She laid so all the next day, Just breathing a little, enough to show she was not dead, but never opening her eyes. "I went over the spot where the chateau had stood the next day. It was a terrible sight, that smoking ring of charred ground; but my heart was too full of the fear of the knowledge of what I had done getting to M. Pierre, to feel so badly as 1 ahould have done any other time. "I found out from the other servants that it was M. Pierre who struck Vic torie, because she begged the mistress' life, but none of "cm seemed to know she' was dead. Perhaps some of his men gave the last blows which made the face so none could have told who il was. "He came up to me, and asked me it I knew what had become of the vnnmr mistress. I could answer inno- cent enough there, and I pointed to Uie grave. "Nn nn' said he: 'there are two bodies missing. The old woman is dead fast enough, but the other has escaped,' and with a terrible oath he warned me not to harbor her. "I shook like a leaf with fear, and asked meekly enough if he cared about my keeping Victorie, that she was at my cottage sick. " "Keep her as long as you like,'' said he, 'but mind you, keep clear of any other. "I went home, trembling you may be lieve, but the saints seemed to help me. My lady never came to herself for three long, dreary weeks, so as to know anything, I mean, and I managed to keep everybody out, and my daughter and I took all the care of her. They were such wild times folks had enough to do to manage for themselves, with out meddling with their neighbors' af fairs. M. Pierre came to the cottage once, but he only glanced into the room where he supposed Victorie was sick. He kept a guard around my place, I know, so no one should come to . .1 t. a I me, and he had me watched wherever I went; but he never thought I had ber all the time in my cottage. "When my lady woke up to know herself, she was like a little child. I had dreaded it not being sure but the shock would kill her; but when she asked for her daughter, I told her she was safe (the saints know I meant In Heaven), and she was so feeble, she asked no more. I waited till she was strong again, and that wasn't for months, before I let her know what tai happened, and sorry enough was I. that I didn't go on cheating her; I thought she would just die after all my saving her, for lack of trying to live. When she was able to go about, we fixed up Just such a patch as Vic toria would lmvo hnil to wear, and thore she lived in my cottage, no one mistrusting but it was Victorie, ana sne never stepping her foot out or that room, except at midnight. I made up a storv that Vintnrlp wan so hurt at her scarred face she wouldn't allow any one to see her; and the poor wench had been such a proud-spirited piece they all believed it. I was dreadful un easy, though, expecting every day that something: ' would hannen to let M Pierre know of the truth. Many's the night I've laid awake planning; but I never should have got the chance if M. Pierre hadn't suddenly taken him self off to Paris. Something very queer had happened at the Little Forest, which he had been guarding night and day, and he went off In wrath, vowing ""- vengeance on everybody, they said "Tlinn T nrnn A wxwlr In no ft! Dct T I got all the money I could, and gave out I I iYini ri.ttA.-lA ItArl taL-pn n Tl fit inil tfl an up, and put a thick veil on, so mey could only see the great patch, and my lady and I set off on foot. Wo had a terrible tlni? of It: it was only now and then we got a ride In a cart or uuu men l; BUl a. nuc - v v . on a donkey; bnt after sleeping in sheds .3 1 t . . m J I ..ll,,nln nrA and lieEeine for dogs' victuals, we made our way to Lyons. There I stop ped a good while, because of the troubles we heard of all about Paris. "".- "c uca.u ui i got BOme WOrk. and we just kept from starving, wcause 1 uau iu tax uj . . enough to help her to a passage to tu5u i" h--i m a. panada England, if ever we could get to the Aoot " coast "Noble, faithful Jeannot!" exclaimed Felicie, catching his hand, and kiss- ing jt fervently Noble, indeed; he has not told you half the self-sucriflce and devotion!" echoed the countesti. CHAPTER XXV. OOR old Jeannot tried to conquer the sudden weak ness that came over him at this earnest gratitude, but the tears came pouring over his wrinkled cheeks, and his voice broke down entirely. Jules had stood gazing blankly, from one to another. "Monsieur Emile," said he. sudden ly, as a momentary silence ensued; "I don't understand this at all. You told me that Chlotilde was your niece; I un derstood that she was of peasant birth." Emile smiled proudly. "I adopted her for my niece when I believed her friendless now her mother has returned she must go back to her true name. Will it matter to you, who asked me for my niece, though I warned you of my peasant origin, that she conies from a noble family?" "Ah, not to me, who looked upon her while Chlotilde as the peer of our proudest duchess; but I am penniless, stripped of everything her mother may object." "I see you are still mystified; but what does the lady say herself?" and he touched the hand of Lady Felicie gently. She smiled, blushed and then, look ing up with tears still sparkling in her eyes, she answered: "I say I would rather remain Chlo tilde, always if another name will take me from the love of Jules, or his be trothal vow." Then turning to the countess, she said eagerly: "My mother surely will not consid er It any hindrance, that ho I love has no claim to noble birth, when his na ture has proved to be. thoroughly hero ic and grand." "Heaven forbid ! sinswered the coun tess, earnestly, "but I am perplexed " "So are we all. Let me unravel a little of the mystery. Jules, allow me to introduce you to the bride who can now claim your heart as well as nuptial vow. Gentle hearted, devoted little maiden, willing to waive so generous ly the claims or hlrth and iortune, know who In truth Is this Jules you have promised to love and cherish with a wife's tenderness. Lady Felicie Languedoc, the Marquis Edward Jules Do Berri. I hope you duly appreciate each other's claims." And Emile. his face glowing with happiness, clasped the two youthful hands together. They stared at each other In amaze ment. "The marquis I dreaded and feared," uttered Felicie. "Tho Lndv Felirie I so thorouchly detested!" stammered Edward Jules. Emile smiled joyously, and bending rinu'n tn tha nmtntpaa hpsnn a whlsoer- cd explanation. iir .i "I knew that they were prejudiced against each other; I saw It was your wish they should be united, w hen i found the young marquis was only stunned by the blow on his head, I knew I must keep them together in my secret retreat, and I formed this plan, foreseeing how it would end." "Our benefactor " and preserver al ways," said the countess, softly; "alas! we have no reward to give In return." Emile opened his lipa eagerly, and then closed them again, murmuring, as he turned away: "It is no time now; I can aord to' wait." Edward, leading the smiling Felicie, came to the countess. "Dearest mother, will you give us your blessing, though I com stripped of coronet, fortune, estate; et every thing except a devoted love, a strong arm, and resolute will." "A thousand times more Joyfully, ray dear boy, than I could have done in the Chateau Languedoc on that fatal even ing; you will give my Fcllclo the price less offering It was not then in your power to bestow, a loving and appreci ating heart," answered the countess. "As regards tho fortune," observed Emile, "the package of diamonds re mains untouched, Just as your hapless father secured it in readiness for leav ing France. I have kept it on my per son day and night through maa7 perils and vicissitudes, but It is safo, and bo are all the valuable gems of the Lan guedoc family. You may lack the grandeur of the old days, but poverty you will never need to fear." "Noble, generous Emile!" echoed one and all; "you have done all for us, noth ing for yourself." He smiled dreamily. Lady Felloie drew his stately head down to her lips, and whispered some thing in his car. He smiled again, kissrd her fondly, and turned away hastily. "What did you say, my child?" asked the countess. "I made him a promise; sometime I'll tell you what it was. Oh, mamma, mamma, how can we be thankful enough for this joyful ending of our troubles!" The other passengers had discreetly retired. Jeannot had retreated after Emile, and now Edward Jules discov ered it were judicious for him also to leave the agitated mother and daugh ter to themselves. It was a long and perfectly open conversation which en sued. And the good ship sped on her way, and bore them all safely to the friendly English shore. They found a pretty country seat a little distance from the seashore, but whose cupola gave a glimpse of the blue waves stretching toward their poor, distracted, but still dearly be loved France, and thither l hey all went. Jules and Felicie were lo be marrltd at once, in the most private and un ostentatious manner. Emile was very grave, and very restless after the day was actually fixed upon.' Lady Felicie had watched him anxi ously, and one morning she suddenly seized his hand, and with an arch smile, though a dewy eye, she led him to the easy chair where her mother sat looking out thoughtfully into the sunny garden. Her new found happiness, and cloth ing becoming her station, had wrought a marvelous change in the appearance of the countess. A soft color restored the youthful outline to her face, the peaceful look In tho dark eyes, the be coming head dress, all had restored as If by magic, her olden beauty. "Try, dearest Emile, and remember that I have promised it," cried Felicie, and ran hastily away. What followed was too sacred for Felicie even to inquire about, much more, then, for me to give to pen de scription. But in a little more than an hour, they came out to the garden where Felicie and Edward were wait ing in painful suspense. A single glance showed the young couple what had happened. What a serene peace deepened the tints of Emile's eagle eyes, what a sweet content nestled around the lips of the countess! "Felicie," said Emile, "my child in deed; we will have a double wedding." Felicie kissed them both in extrava gance of delight. And so both members of the haughty count's family parted with the proud name of Languedoc. Neither ever re pented it. They lived in England in peace and quiet, until tranquillity re turned to France, when they sough again hei- beloved shores. The End. ANIMALS KILLED BY TRAINS. Fok-h untl (twin Oflrn till) let Inn -l.uri'il liy Fint'H. The report printed a few days age that a buck deer had been killed by s train near Sayvllle. L. I., reminded sportsmen of many similar tragedies of the animal world. When the buffa loes ronined across the plains ihey not infrequently compelled trains to stop until the herds had passed. Antelopes were killed quite often by the locomo tives. The glare of the headlights al night seems to stupefy birds and beast; that cross railroad tracks. Owls ftr killed frequently, as well as many otflei birds, during the migrating season. -An engineer on a New Jersey railroad, while passing through the pineries on night, heard a faint crash of glass above the roar of the train. Instantly the headlight went out, and the fire man went forward to learn the caOse. A short-eared owl had flown Into the glass, broken It, broken the chittvnej of the lamp, and lodged against the re flector, a dead bird. The fox, in spin of its craft, is cne of the animals most frequently killed by trains. Th chances are that most of the foxes kill ed are young and Inexperienced. In England foxes, closely followed by a pack of hounds, have been known to run in front of a train along the track, then Jump off again .before the train came up. The dogs would follow aftei in full cry and a dozen or more would, be killed. One pack ran under the wheels of an oxpregs in their eagerness to get the fox. Rabbits, wild turkeys, skunko, partridges, quail, squirrels, wild ducks and geese, and many other kinds of animals that abide near rail road!, have been killed bv the train TALM AGE'S SERMON. "A RESURRECTION MISTAKE" EASTER SUNDAY SUBJECT. l'runi tlin Trxtl "Slip. SiippiiKliijt lllm to li I lie Uurdtmor, Sultli t'nlo lllmi Toll M When) Thou Hunt l.itlil lllm unit I Will Tali lllm Awiiy" .lolin SO: I JI. ERE are Mary Magdalen and Christ, just after Yt I u roulirlTMInn. For four thousand years a grim and ghastly tyrant had been killing people and dragging them into his cold palace. He had a passion for human skulls. For forty centuries he hud been unhin dered in his work. He had taken down kings and queens and conquerors, and ihoso without fame. In that cold pal ace there were shelved of skulls, and pillars of skulls, and altars of skull3, and even the chalices at the table were made of bleached skulls. To the skele ton of Abel had been added the skeleton of all the agf-s, and no one had disputed his right until one good Friday, about eighteen hundred and sixty-seven years ago, as near as I can calculate it. a mighty stranger came to the door of that awful place, rolled back the door, and went In, and seizing the tyrant threw him to the pavement and put upon the tyrant's neck the heel of tri umph. Then the mighty stranger, exploring all the ghastly furniture of the place, and walking through the labyrinths, and opening the dark cellars of mys tery, and tarrying under a roof the ribs of which were made of human bones tarrying for two nights and a day. the nights very dark and the day very dismal, he seized the two chief pil lars of that awful palace and rocked them until it began to fall, and then laying hold of tho ponderous front gate hoisted It from its hinges, nnd marched forth crying, "I am the Resurrection!" That event we celcbrato this Easter morn, Handellan and Beethovean mira cles of sound added to this floral deco ration which hns set the place abloom. There are three or four thlnga which the world and the church have not no ticed in regard to the resurrection of Christ. First, our Lord in the garden er's attiro. Mary Magdalen, grief struck, stands by the rifled sarcophagus of Christ, and turns around, hoping she can find the track of the sacrilegious resurrectionist who has despoiled the grave, and she finds some one in work ing apparel come forth as If to water the flowers, or uproot the weeds from the garden, or to set reclimbing the fallen vine some one in working ap parel, his garments perhaps having the sign of the dust and dirt of the occupa tion. Mary Magdalen, on her face the raiu of a fresh thower of weeping, turns to this workman, and charges him with the desecration of the tomb, when lo! the stranger responds, flinging his whole soul into one word which trem bles with all the sweetest rhythm of earth and heaven, saying, "Mary!" In that peculiarity of accentuation all tho incognito fell off, and she found that instead of talking with an humble gar dener of Asia Minor, she was talking with lllm who owns all tho hanging gardens of heaven. Constellations the clusters of forget-me-nots, the sun flower the chief of all, the morning sky and the midnight aurora, flaring ter races of beauty, blitzing like a summer wall with coronation roses and giants of battle. Blessed and glorious mis take of Mary Magdalen. "She suppos ing him to be the gardener." What does that mean? It means that we have an every-day Christ for overy-day work in every-duy apparel. Not on Sabbath morning in our most seemly apparel are we more attractive to Christ than we are In our every-day work dress, managing our merchan dise, smiting our anvil, ploughing our field, tending the flying shuttles, mend ing the garments for our household, providing food for our families, or toil ing with weary pen, or weary pencil, or weary chisel. A working-day Christ iu working-day appare! for us in our every-day toil. Put it Into the highest strain of this Easter anthem, "Suppos ing him to be the gardener." If Christ had appeared at daybreak with a crown upon his head, that, would have seemed to suggest especial sym pathy for monarchs; if Christ had ap peared in chain of gold and with robe bedlamonded, thut would have seemed to be pspecial sympathy for the af iluent; If Christ had appeared with sol dier's sash and sword dangling at his side, that would have seemed to imply especial sympathy for warriors; but when I find Christ In gardener's hablf, then I spell it out that he has hearty and pathetic understanding with every day work, and every-day anxiety, and every-day fatigue. Roll It down In comfort all through these aisles. A working-day Christ In working-day apparel. .Tell it In the darkert corridor of the mountain to the poor miner. 1 ell it to me factory mala in most unvcntllated establishment at Lowell or. Lancaster, Tell it to the clearer of roughest new ground lu the western wilderness. Tell it to the sew ing woman, a stitch in the ..iOe for-j every stitch In the garment, some of j their cruel employers having no right to think that they will get through the door of heaven any more than they could through the eye of a broken needle which has just dropped on the bare floor from the pricked r.r.i bleed ing fingers of the consumptive sewlng- Sirl. Away with your talk about hy postatic union, and soteriology of the Council of Trent, and the metaphysics of religion which would freeze practi cal Christianity out of the world; but pa an along the gardener's coat to all nations that they may touch the hem si of it and fool the thrill of the Chrlstly brotherhood. Not supposing the man to bo Caesur, not supposing him to be Socrates, but "supposing him to be the gardener." Oh, that 13 what helped Joseph Wedgwood, toiling amid tho heat and the duat of the potteries, until he could make for Queen Charlotte the first royal table service of English manu facture. That was what helped James Watt, scoffed at and caricatured, until he could put on wheels the thunderbolt of power which roars by day and night in every furnace of the locomotive en gines of Americn. That is what helped Hugh Miller, toiling amid the quarries of Cromarty, until every rock became to him n volume of the world's biog raphy, and he found the footsteps of the Creator in the old red sandstone. Oh, the world wants a Christ for the office, a Christ for the kitchen, a Christ for the shop, a Christ for the banking house, a Christ for the garden, while spading and planting und irrigating the territory. Oh, of course, we want to see Christ at last In royal robe and bediamoned, a celestial equestrian mounting the white horse, but from this Easter of 1897 to our last Easter on earth we most need to see Christ as Mary Magdalen saw him at tho day break, "supposing him to be a gar dener." Another thing which the church and the world have not noticed in regard to tho resurrection of Christ is that he made his first post-mortem appearance to one who had been tho seven-deviled Mary Magdalen. . One would have sup posed he would havo made hla first posthumous appearance to a Woman who had always been illustrious for goodneus. There are saintly women who have always been saintly, saintly in girlhood, saintly In infancy, always saintly. In nearly all our families there have been saintly aunts. In my family circle it was aunt Phebe; In yours saintly aunt Martha or saintly aunt Ruth. Oue always saintly. But not so with the one spoken of in the text. While you are not to confound her with the repugnant courtesan who had made her long locks do the work of towel at Christ's footwashing, you are not to forget that she was exorcised of seven devils. What a capital of de monology she must have been. What a chorus of all diabolism. Seven devils two for the eyes, and two for the hands, and two for the feet, and one for the tongue. Seven devils. Yet all these are extirpated, and now she Is as good as once she was bad, and Christ honors her with the first posthu mous appearance? What doth that mean? There Is a man seven-deviled devil of avarice, devil of pride, devil of hate, devil of indolence, devil of falsehood, devil of strong drink, devil of impuri ty. God can take them all away, sev en or seventy. I rode over the new cantilever bridge that spans Niagara a bridge 900 feet long, 850 feet of chasm from bluff to bluff. I passed over It without anxiety. Why? Be cause twenty-two locomotives and twenty-two cars laden with gravel had tested the bridge, thousands of people standing on the Canadian side, thous ands standing on the American side to applaud the achievement. And how ever long the train of our immortal in terests may bo we are to remember that God's bridge of mercy spanning the chasm of sin has been fully tested by the awful tonagc of all the pardoned sin of all ages, church militant stand ing on one bank, church triumphant standing on the other bank. Oh, it was to the seven-deviled Mary that Christ made His first post-mortem ap pearance. There is another thing that the world and the church have not observed in regard to this resurrection, and that is, it was the morning twilight. If the chronometer had been invent ed and Mary had as good a watch as som ot the Marys of our time have, he would have found it was about half-past 5 o'clock a. m. Matthew says it was in the dawn. Mark says it was at the sunrlaing; Luke says it was very early In the morning; John says it was while It was yet dark. In other words, it was twilight. That was tho o'clock at which Mary Magdalen mistook Christ for the gardener. What does that mean? 11 means there are shadows over the grave unllfted, shadows of mystery that arc hovering. Mary stooped down and tried to look to the other end of the crypt. She gave hys teric outcry. She could not see to the other end of the crypt. Neither can you see to the other end of the grave of your dead. Neither can we see to the other end of our grave. Oh. if there were shadows over the fnmily plot be longing to Joseph of Arimathea, is it strango that there should be some shadows over our family lot?' Easter dawn, not Easter noon. Shadow of unanswered question! Why were they taken away from us? why were they ever given to us if they were to be taken so soon? why were they taken so suddenly? why could they not have uttered some farewell words? why? A short question, but a whole crucifixion of ngony In it. Why? Shadow on the graves of good nies and women who seemed to dio before '.heir work was done. Shadow on all the graves of children because we. ask our selves why so beautlfiil a craft launch ed at al; if ic whb to be wrecked one mile outside of the harbor? But what did Mary Magdalen have to do In order to get more light on that grave? She had only to .wait- After a while the Easter sun rolled up, and the whole place was flooded with light. What have you and I to do in order to get more light on our own graves and light upon the graves of our dear loved ones? Only to wait. After Christ's interment every cellu lar tissue broke down, and nerve and artery and brain were a physiological wreck, and yet he comes up swarthy, rubicund and well. When I see after such mortuary silence such radiant ap pearance, that littles it that whatever should bnconio of the bodies of our Christian dead, they are going to conm up, the nerves restr ing, the optic nerve relllurninod, the ear drum u-vlbrate. thn whole body lifted up, without. Its weak ness and worldly uses for which lhcr Is no resurrection. Come. U it not al most time for ua to go out to meet our reanimated dcud? Can you not hear tho lifting of the rusted latch? Oh, the glorious thought, the glorious consolation of this subject when I find Christ coming up without any of the lacerations, for you must remember Ho was lacerated and wounded fearfully In the crucifixion coming "P without one. What doo.i that muke mo think? That the grave will get nothing of im except our wounds and Imperfections. Christ went inta the grave exhausted nnd bloodless. All the currents of HU life had poured out from His wounds. He had lived a life of trouble, sorrow, and privation, and then He died a lin gering death. 1:1s onlirn body hung on four spikes. No invalid of twenty years' suffering ever went into thn giave so white and ghastly and broken down as Chris, nnd yet hero He come:-, up so rubicund and robust site supposed Him lo be t he gardener. Ah! all tho side-aches, and the head aches, and the bnck-nchos, and the leg aches, nnd the lwart-nrhes we will leave where Christ left His. The ear will come up without its heaviness, the eye will come up without Its dimness, the lungs will come up without oppressed respiration. Oh, what races we will run when we become immortal ath letes! Oh, what circuits we will takii when all earthly imperfections sub tracted and all celestial velocities ad dod we shall s?t up our residence in that city which, though vaster tbau alt the cities of this world, shall never have one obsequy! Standing this morning round Hid shattered masonry of our Lord's tomb, I point you to e. world without hearse, without muffled drum, without tumu lus, without catafalque, and without a tear.' Amid all the cathedrals of the blessed no longsr the '.nead March in Saul," but wholo libretti of "Hallelujah Chorus." Oh, imt trumpet to lip and finger to key, and loving forehead against the bosom of a risen Chris;. Hallelujah. Anion. Hallelujah, Amen! CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR. The Junior Society of Christian En deavor was thirteen years old on March 27. On March 20 there were enrolled on Secretary Baer's books 31.537 so cieties, with 316,110 members. The first society was organized iu Tabor, Iowa, by Rev. John W. Cowan. The first signer of the Junior pledge is now ; clergyman. "She hath done what she could." The members of the Christian Endeavor so ciety in the Indiana state prison at Michigan City have no money to con tribute toward state Christian Endeav or work, but the other day the state treasurer received from this society fifty-two stamped envelopes. One of these envelopes Is issued to each pris oner every two weeks and an extra one is given instead of a ration of tobacco. By abstaining from the luxury of cor respondence, and from the use of to bacco, tho men were enabled to fulfill their pledge. An endeavor after apostolic fashion is recorded of a native Christian En-' deavor society in Shaingay, West Af rica. The young men of the society set out, two by two, to preach the gospel throughout, all their district, a region forty by seventy miles In extent. They held 238 services and reached 4,572 hearers, and all without a penny of ex pense. The young men had many in teresting experiences. One of them philosophically remarked, when de terred from crossing a river by the al ligators in the atream, "The Ixrd sent us to preach the gospel, not to feed these fellows." A company of Endeavorcrs from the Broadway Baptist church, Cmnbrldge port, Mass., hold weekly meet'ngs In a rescue mission in Boston, providing a free lunch for the men, in opposition to a free lunch saloon in the neigh borhood. These meetings have result ed in many conversions, and in several accessions to tho church. The Eudeav orers make It a practice to secure em ployment for the converts When possi ble. The Endenvorrrs iu the State of Washington have made earnest efforts to secure temperance and Sabbath ob servance legislation. A temperance bill was recently before tho legislature and the Endeavorers prompted prominent representatives to personally visit the capitol, while about five hundred tele grams were sent from all parts of the state to the senators and representa tives. Mass meetings were also held in many districts, all with the aim o properly influencing legislation. The first year of Christian Endeavor' In Tremont Temple Baptist church. Boston, has been a fruitful one. Sev eral members of the society have unit- ed with the church. One of the Art,, deeds of the society was the publication of a sermon on baptism by Dr. lx)ri- mer. Two more of the pastor's ser mons were published during the year. a total of eight thousand copies. The Instruction committee of the society has maintained a Bible history class under the direction of the - assistant pastor, and It" has also" provided two courses - of university extension lec tures! Since Tremont Temple Jri very peculiarly situated in the business dis trict, the society has made -every efTort . to apply business enterprise to its methods, and at the beginning of the year kit issued for general distribution a neantirui caienuar. advertising, -the church and society and time of meet ings. As a recognition of the good work done by the Salvation Army in Detroit in relieving distress among, the poor, the citizens have contributed 74,0OO to purchase the building used by the army as headquarters.