The Morris County chronicle. [volume], November 23, 1909, Page 2, Image 2

About The Morris County chronicle. [volume] (Morristown, N.J.) 1877-1915

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v Truth, avers the Chicago Record
Herald, is more of a stranger than
fiction. __
r When the rich take up flying as a
tad, prophesies the Kansas City
Times, there will be two classes, the
plain people and the aeroplane peo
ple.
Remarks the St. Louis Post-Dis
patch: From a punctuation point of
view a trip to the North Pole begins
with a dash and ends with an interro
gation. _
Now that the North Pole has been
discovered, who is going to be the
first intrepid young Westerner, asks
the Pittsburg Dispatch, to explore
Beacon street in Boston?
'An older man than the King of
Spain would have realized the danger
of lending the prestige of martyrdom
to a representative of antagonistic
sentiment, suggests the Washington
Star. _
Every one is bound to tip nowa
days, admits the Louisville Courier
Journal. No one, by any sort of rea
soning, is bound to accord to the tip
taker the measure of respect which
Is readily accorded to the working
min who hires himself out for wages
and earns his wages, asking no gra
tuties. The tip not only degrades the
taker in the estimation of the giver,
but also in his own estimation.
Within certain defined limits, con
tends the Atlanta Constitution, age
and efficiency are only relative. The
mere mechanical fact that a man has
turned the forty-fifth or fiftieth mile
stone has in itself no significance. If
he has preserved all these years the
open mind, industrious and clean hab
its, there is every logical reason tc
expect that he should be as efficient at
fifty as his rival of twenty-five.
■ Ex-Secretary of the Treasury Les
lie M. Shaw gave Philadelphia manu
facturers something to think about,
notes the Philadelphia Record, when
he advised them that their future
prosperity would be largely depend
ent upon “doing all in their power to
create, secure and hold on to foreign
trade.” At present our'policy Is di
rected toward the crippling of our
foreign trade by making it impossible
to exchange at advantage with other
peoples what we have to sell for what
they have to sell.
.-.I"... "TTTT!*!.V „
By resolution of the Vienna City
Fathers a plot has been set aside in
St. Mark’s Cemetery for the Strauss
family. The last, bodies, relates the
New York Tribune, to be buried there
were exhumed from another cemetery
a few weeks ago. They were those of
the wife of the innkeeper Streim and
her daughters, Anna, who when she
died, was known as the Hofballmuslk
direktorswittwe Strauss, and Jose
phine, who was the widow of a phy
sician. Frau Streim was the grand
mother of the famous brothers.
Pedestrian tours have been in
vogue for several years and are grow
ing in popularity. Their object is a
commenable one to the Louisville
Courier-Journal, and they are pro
motive to health and pleasure. To
those who are keenly alive to the
manifold attractions of woods and
fields walking is a delight. Automo
bile trips, carriage drives and trolley
rides are in large part unsatisfactory
to those who are close students of na
ture and would commune with "her
visible forms.” The slow and easy
methods of pedestrianism are more
favorable to leisurely inspection.
The necessity for public protection
in the use of a mundane vehicle like
the automobile warns the Pittsburg
Dispatch that a set of new dangers
and injuries may be developed when
flying becomes as general and seduc
tive an amusement as joy-riding.
Suppose that a wreck dumps a can of
burning gasoline on the house or barn
of the earth-dweller, or that a de
tached propeller blade fractures the
skull of his wife? Contingencies of
this sort may easily become so fre
quent as to call for a strict system
of licensing airships with a bond or
deposit to cover all damages caused
by their flight.
A South African correspondent tells
the story of a large meteorite, weigh
ing more than half a ton, which has
been sent by Dr. Rogers, of the Geo
logical Survey, from Prieaka, in the
Kenhardt territory of Cape Colony, to
the South African museum at Cape
Town. The meteorite was found at
Rateldraai, explains the London
Standard, and it looks like a mass of
molten metal, with a number of cavi
ties or pockets in it, and where not
earth soiled is of a dark bluish
leaden color.' In parts it has been
chipped with a chisel or pickaxe, and
In such cut3 it shows small shiny
specks. It is described as a dull,
■warped mass of nlckeliferous iron,
and Dr. Peringuey, the director of the
museum, ascribes its event as one to
the disintegration of some cometary
body.
the!
i <
HOUSE
ON
ITHEi
>_<
ISLAND
By
[ ETTA
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(
| PIERCE, j
Copyright 1901. hy F. M. LUI*TUN.
CHAPTER IV. 0
^ Continued.
Jacqueline slept badly that night.
Through the hours of darkness wild
dreams pursued her. She arose
early, made her toilet, and drew back
the curtains of the window. The
ocean was blotted out in swirling
mists. The surf pounded on the
rocks. Dismal flurries of rain lashed
the pane. Jacqueline felt a thrill of
dismay. She knew enough of her
surroundings to understand that she
could not leave the island in such
weather. Yet her very soul revolted
at the thought of an enforced stay
there. She felt certain that Philip
Trevor was not ill. Would he see
her to-day? How could she gain ac
cess to him, if he persisted in refus
ing to meet her? He was on his own
ground. He might elude her indefi
nitely. She leaned her handsome
head against the window, and looked
forlornly out into the thick drift of
mist.
Perhaps she had better remained
at the Wingate’s, and married Teddy
Craven. And at the thought of poor
Teddy she could hardly suppress an
hysterical Inclination to laughter. He
had warned her not to come to Dead
man’s Island. A rap at the door.
Breakfast was waiting. Again the
table was spread for one person only,
and again Vic attended her.
•'Will the sloop go to Watchhaven
to-day, Vic?” she asked.
‘‘Goodness, no, miss—not with this
sea running,” answered Vic. "It
never goes in any weather, unless
Mr. Trevor sends it. Skipper Joe
takes orders from none but him. You
know, I told you in storms we’re cut
off from the mainland for days, and
even weeks at a time.” '
"A dubious prospect for me,” she
said.
As she arose from the table she
saw a man standing behind her chair
—the smooth-shaven, cross-eyed
Peter.
“Mr. Trevor is waiting for you in
his library, miss,” he said.
At last! Jacqueline’s heart gave a
bound. With a firm step she crossed
the hall, and Peter flung open the li
brary door.
"Miss Hatton, sir,” he announced,
and Jacqueline swept bravely into the
room, and was face to face with
Philip Trevor.
He arose from a table at -which he
had been sitting—a man of flve-and
forty, elegant in dress and bearing,
with a pale, smiling face, a brown
Vandyke beard, and dark, narrow
eyes that flashed over Jacqueline with
feverish swiftness. His whole ap
pearance was' that of a fastidious,
high-bred gentleman. He held out
a white, well-kept hand, on which a
single diamond blazed like an angry
eye.
"I am charmed to see you, Miss
Hatton,” he began, cordially..
“I hardly expected you to say
that,” she answered, quietly Ignoring
the hand.
"And why, my dear child? 'Any
body by the name of Hatton must
command a welcome in this house.
Pray pardon me for declining to re
ceive you on your arrival. A sudden
attack of vertigo disabled me for sev
eral hours. I trust my servants have
cared for you properly in the mean
time?”
She made an assenting bow. He
drew a step nearer to her, as if fas
cinated.
"Let me look at you cloner,” he
said. "Yes, that is the same Jacque
line that X used to pet in the Hatton
nursery, and, I may add, the -woman
has entirely fulfilled the promise of
the child.”
His attempt at gallantry fell flat.
Jacqueline stood up, tall and grand,
her eyes fired steadily upon him. His
lips twitched—his uneasy look
shifted.
"Your—mother?” he stan*nered. ;
"She died five years ago—of a I
broken heart.”
"Ah, how sad! And the other:
daughter—your sister?”
“She is a frail, delicate gjvi, liv
ing, much against her inclination, on
the charity of friends."
He stroked his pointed beartd.
“I hear that some boor from
Watchhaven brought you over from
the mainland yesterday and dropped
you on the pier before any objection
could be raised by my servants. You i
see, we do not encourage visitors at
Deadman’s. As you have sought me
under such difficulties, I must infer
that you still keep a corner in your
heart lor your lather’s old friend.”
“Mr. Trevor, I leave you judge of
the place to which you are entitled
in the heart of my father’s daughter.”
A dull red tint suffused his face
for a moment.
“Sit down!" he commanded stern
ly. “Do you come to me of your own
accord, or has another person sent
you?”
"I come of my own accord and
against the advice of my best
friends.”
"Ha! As a child you were always
willful. It is plain I do not owe this
visit to any whim—you have some
strong motive behind it. Be quite
frank with me—that is always the
best. What motive brings you to
Headman's Island?”
She did not take the seat to wh^ch
he motioned her, but remained erect,
uncompromising, her fine eyes never
wavering from his face.
“I came,” she answered, “to ask
you to restore the money which you
stole five years ago from my father.
You have reduced his children to ab
solute want. Doris and I are in need.
I am here to tell you this, and to en
treat you to make restitution.”
A preparation of four-and-twenty
hours enabled him to bear her first
thrust without flinching—he even
smiled.
“You speak frankly—you do not
mince your wordst Miss Hatton!
These are grave accusations. Are
you sure they are true?—sure you
are not laboring under some mis
take?”
Her lips curled.
“Am I sure that my father died
ruined and a suicide?—that my sis
ter and I are homeless and penniless?
Oh, yes, Philip Trevor, I am very
sure?”
She was, indeed, a girl of spirit.
The fact that she was far from
friends and helpless, alone in this
man’s house, on an isolated island,
of which he was sole owner and
ruler, could not daunt Jacqueline.
“My father trusted you, and you
destroyed him!” she said. “You are
hiding in a strange, wild place, Philip
Trevor. Does John Hatton’s money
never intrude here?—his ghost never
walk? Is Deadman’s Island far
enough, to hold him at bay? For
years you have kept your booty—
the fortune of two girls, whom you
made orphans. The law could not
touch you, and no one cared to fol
low you to your lair and denounce
you as a thief and a murderer. But
now you will no longer remain un
disturbed. While I live you shall
know no more peace.”
She had not meant to begin the in
terview with an open declaration of
war; but her natural impetuosity car
ried her beyond the bounds of pru
dence. A disdain of half measures
overmastered her—led her to define
her position recklessly. The words
were not out, however, when she
thought of Doris, and tears rushed to
her eyes.
“I have no diplomacy,” she said, in
a deeply chagrined tone. “My sister
is not like me—she is so gentle and
forbearing. For Doris’ sake, give up
my father’s money!”
His face had grown absolutely
livid. He raised one hand involun
tarily to his head.
“Great Heaven! you have provoked
a return of my vertigo! Miss Hat
ton, your father was as dear to me
as a brother; but you accuse me of
robbing and murderlrg him, and so
force me to make counter charges,
which you will not like to hear. If
you ask why I have not told the truth
before, I shall answer—because John
Hatton persuaded me long ago to
s.. ear silence. And to shield him, I
am still living an exile, a hermit, my
name disgraced, all sorts of appro
brium heaped upon me!” He paused
and wiped his face with his handker
chief.
“Explain your words! said Jac
queline, coldly.
"I will. Your father was a horn
gambler. His passion for play
amounted to a mania. To gratify it
he not only ruined himself but me
also. When Hatton lost heavily at
the gaming table, my purse supplied
his needs. He borrowed of me till
my private resources were badly crip
pled. I alone knew his secret—even
your mother never guessed it. His
indulgence of the vice was concealed
even from his nearest and dearest.
As I could not reclaim him, I did the
next best thing—held my tongue.”
He stopped to cough nervously.
Jacqueline’s eyes seemed piercing
him like swords.
“Go on!” she commanded.
“Of course, the hour came when
exposure could no longer be avoided.
Then Hatton’s conscience awoke. He
bade me take the money and securi
ties that remained to us and leave
him to make a full public confession,
and face the situation alone. It was
my weak hour. I was madly in love
with a charming woman, who fully
returned my affection. Unfortunate
ly for my good name, I yielded to
your father’s importunities. But he
was a coward at heart. He found
death easier than confession. Upon
my departure he quite lost his head
—accused me of robbing him, blamed
me for all that had happened, and
then ended everything with a pistol
shot. His death, needless to say,
sealed my ruin. After that event who
would believe in my innocence?
Moreover, I scorned to bring charges
against a dead man—to gay, ’John
Hatton’s fortune was not stolen, but
spent by himself at the gaming table.’
No, I remembered our long friend
ship, and preferred to suffer rather
than drag his name in the dirt. Ah,
my poor child, not only am I guilt
less of defrauding your father, but
he died deeply in debt to me!”
It was a long speech. He looked
"un-owly at Jacqueline, as though
curing Its effect upon her. A spot
'ndignant red leaped into her
.My father a gambler!” she cried.
’I do not believe your story, sir—I
cannot!”
“Your incredulity does you credit!
It is difficult for a daughter to com
prehend a father’s sins.”
“By what proofs do you support
your statements?”
“Proofs!” he echoed, irritably.
“Oh, I might know that a girl of your
statnp would demand proofs! Well,
(.hey shall be forthcoming as soon as
I Have time to search my private pa
pers. Meanwhile, let us understand
each other. Miss Hatton, what do
you expect me to do?”
“I have already told you. Restore
ohn Hatton’s money to John Hat
ton's daughters."
“Great Heaven! will you not be
lieve me, when I say you wore made
poor by your father’s vices—not by
me—never by me?”
"Pardon—I will believe you when
your word is sustained by unimpeach
able evidence.' It is always easy to
defame the dead.”
His brows contracted in an ugly
frown.
“This is dreadful! You are an
extraordinary girl!" He sprang nim
bly to the table. “But, for your fa
ther’s sake, I cannot ref use. to help
yon. I will write a check for five
thousand dollars, and you shall carry
It Immediately to your sister.”
"A sop to Cerberus,” murmured
Jacqueline, with fine scorn. "Spare
yourself the trouble, sir. I will not
accept it.”
"Think twice. I offer you this
money on condition that you never
come near me again. The painful
memories ygu arouse are really more
than I can Endure.”
"Mr. Trevor, I decline your offer.
My father’s children mu?t have all
that belongs to them or nothing.”
He-dropped the pen which he had
taken. For a moment he looked as
though he was about to rush upon
her.
“That Insult again! Well, you ire
my guest, and I must bear with you.
Heaven give me patience! See! the
storm is increasing. You cannot
leave the island to-day. Mrs. Trevor
will meet you at lunch. When I set
up my Lares and Penates on this rock
she came with me—her love is my
solace here—it makes my desert to
blossom like the rose. I am practi
cally an outcast from the world and
my fellow-men, yet I find life still de
sirable, because it is shared by the
sweetest and loveliest of women.”
Jacqueline felt a thrill of aston
ishment. Philip Trevor, in the char
acter of a lover, bewildered her. He
waved her smilingly toward the door.
The interview was over. Had she ac
complished anything by it? She fled
to her own room, and sat down there
to think. She was still thinking when
the lunch bell rang. An unbidden
and unwilling guest, she descended
to the room where the table was
spread. Philip Trevor was standing
on the hearth in the light of a drift
wood fire, conversing with a lady.
The entrance of Jacqueline cut short
the conversation. He turned toward
her with a sprightly air.
"Let me,” he said, “present yoE to
Mrs. Trevor, who desires to make
your acquaintance.”
Mrs. Trevor bowed. Her hand just
touched Jacqueline’s, and dropped
away—nerveless, cold as snow. She
was a slender woman, white as ala
baster, with ash and gold hair and
melancholy gray eyes. Her features
were as regular as a cameo, but thin,
almost to sharpness. Her dress of
rich, severe black, accentuated her
extreme pallor. Whatever her feel
ings may have been, she certainly
evinced no pleasure at meeting Jac
queline—on the contrary, her manner
was distant—even forbidding.
"The woman that I saw at the win
dow as I came up from the pier!”
said Jacqueline to herself.
The three sat down to a table glit
tering with French porcelain, cut
glass and massive silver. Peter of
the cross eyes passed the dishes and
did the honors. Jacqueline might
easily have fancied herself in a Bea
con Hill house, instead of on a lonely,
hostile island far out in the wild sea.
Both Trevor and his wife had their
drawing-room manners on, and cer
tainly they had managed to preserve
them intact during their long exile.
Their conversation was brilliant and
witty. Trevor maintained a tender,
even adoring attitude toward the ala
baster woman. He deferred to her in
everything—hung on her words,
looked unutterable things, whenever
his smiling eyes sought hers. This
devotion she seemed to accept as a
matter of course. She had been edu
cated abroad—had wintered in Egypt
and summered in Norway, and ]
seemed familiar with most of the civ
ilized globe. She asked a few lan
guid questions concerning places once
visited, but hardly appeared to listen
to Jacqueline’s replies. Her appe
tite was like a bird’s—she barely
tasted the food which the man Peter
pressed upon her; and once, when he
chanced to touch her shoulder, she
started nervously, and a look of un
speakable horror and aversion swept
over her cold face. It was gone in a
breath, but not before Jacqueline had
seen and interpreted it.
"She detests Peter!” was our hero
ine’s inward comment.
Jacqueline responded briefly to
such scraps of conversation as were
addressed to herself. She was upon
unknown ground, and it behooved
her to be on her guard. Presently a
long, lamentable blast of wind shook
the stone house, rattled the casement,
shrieked in the chimney. Mrs. Tre
vor threw up her head like a startled
deer.
To be Continued.
Dodging the Water Wagon.
"I don’t know what’s to become o'
the ol’ man ef they keep on votin’ the
States dry,” said the old lady. “It
didn’t cost so much fer him to go to
Chattynoogy, but as Tennessee will
be as dry as a bone in July, that’ll
take him a step further, an’ he jest
can’t afford the money. Of course,
he kin blind-tiger it in Georgy, but
it’s no longer safe fer him to do so,
seem’ that he kin no more kiver up
his tracks, fer ever’ time he tries it
they ketch up with him, an’ haul him
up before meeting’, an’ he’s gittin’
too ol’ now ter risk bein’ turned out
the church, fer Satan might ketch
him on the outside an’ sweep him off
’fore he has a chance to git back
ag’in. Bpt the States dry in’ up, one
after another, an’ I kin see him buy
in’ a railroad ticket as fur as Kala
mazoo—an’ I b’lieve that country
would be dry ’fOre he hit it!”—Atlan
ta Constitution.
Mr. Rockefeller and Dr, Harper.
My first meeting with Dr. Harper
was at Vassar College, where one of
my daughters was a atudent. He
used to come, as the guest of Dr.
James M. Taylor, the president, to
lecture on Sundays; and as I fre
quently spent week-ends there, I saw
and talked much with the young pro
fessor, then of Yale, and caught in
some degree the contagion of his en
thusiasm.—World’s Work.
The intense cold caused the cote
d’Azur express to break down near
Dijon, France, recently. The water
in the tender was frozen hard. The
passengers had to pass the night in
the village.
According to Dr. Sven Hedin, the
Swedish explorer, the famous Asia.tio
River, Brahmaputra, rises from ’an
enormous glacier in the northernmost
Himalaya Mountains.
We season’s new designs
r-rrr'—
New York City.—A waist that 1b
trimmed with such a garniture as
this one is both new and attractive.
It can be utilized with any skirt, but
Is especially well suited to the semi
prlncesse gown. There are several
pleats over the shoulders, which mean
becoming fulness, , and there are
sleeves of the very newest design.
A great many materials are appro
priate, but cashmere in one of the
beautiful new wine shades with the
sleeve puffs of crepe, Ninon and the
trimming of silk, embroidered, make
the combination illustrated. The
chemisette and the under-sleeves are
of cream-colored net, however, giving
Jet Barrettes.
Huge cut jet barrettes are being
worn and are particularly effective
upon blond heads.
Middy Blouse Appears.
The old favorite middy blouse now
has a rival in the middy sweater,
which is very like the original blouse.
Betrothal Bracelet.
Again the betrothal bracelet has
come into partial favor to try to dis
place the engagement ring. It is
locked upon the arm by the lover,
and he is supposed to keep the key. ■
Peter Pan Collar.
The Peter Pan collar, though ex
tremely dainty, is only becoming to a
few women with almost perfect necks.
The empire frill, too, did much to
eclipse the stiff linen collar, but this
frill has entirely disappeared.
Buttonholes in Strips.
The home dressmaker or the seam
stress who dislikes to work button
holes will find joy in the fact that
they can be bought by the yard and
in all kinds of fabrics. They come
on muslin or silk strips, and can be
easily attached to the edge of a blouse
which is to fasten under a fly.
Opera or Auto Hood.
Hoods are being worn just now
both for evening occasion and for
automobile wear. Here is one that
can be utilized for both purposes,
which is attractive and becoming yet
perfectly simple. It can be worn as
a bit of brightness and relief to the
whole. For the garniture, either the
same or contrasting material can be
embroidered, braided with soutache
or overlaid with applique, or the gar
niture could be cut from one of the
beautiful jetted or beaded nets If
such suited the material of the gown.
The new trimmings are marvelously
beautiful in color, and selecting some
thing suitable and effective is an ex
ceedingly simple matter. For the
waist itself every seasonable material
is appropriate.
The waist is made with a fitted lin
ing and itself consists of the front
and backs. The chemisette is faced
onto the ,-ining and the waist is laid
in pleats over the shoulders. There
are linings for the sleeves, which are
faced to form the under-sleeves and
over which the puffs and caps are ar
ranged. The closing 1b made invisibly
at the back.
The quantity of material required
for the medium size is two and three
fourth yards twenty-four, two and
one-fourth yards thirty-two, or one
and one-half yards forty-four inches
wide; three-fourth yard twenty-four
for puffs, one and three-eighth yards
of silk for garniture, seven-eighth
yard eighteen inches wide for chem
isette and under sleeves.
A Square Train.
A square train is now being used
on some evening gowns, and the court
shape comes as a relief from the
rounded edges of other styles. It
swings back from the side and rests
on the floor in straight lines. The
square effect is carried out in an over
drapery of gauze or net which drops
from the shoulders in a plain, sweep
ing line. The new shape is for even
ing gowns by way of variety.
Model For Sleeves.
Sleeves cut in one with the rest of
the bodice are to be seen on some of
the newest models from Paris, and
they are so cut and modeled that no
armhole seam appears.
_ I
shown in either view, the scarf ends
forming a cape or being brought
around to tie in the front. Chiffon
cloth is the material shown in the
illustration, but soft, thin silks,
crepes and all materials of the sort
are appropriate. The rosettes can
be of the same or of ribbon, as liked.
The hood consists of one piece,
which is pleated and gathered to pro
duce an effective result. There are
ties attached to the neck edge be
neath the rosettes.
The quantity of material required
is three and three-eighth yards
eighteen, one and three-fourth yards
thirty-six or forty-four inches wide,
with three and one-half yards five
inches wide for the rosettes.
Shapely Bolero.
A shapely bolero of satin, sparing
ly embroidered by the needle worker
at home, makes an astonishingly fash
ionable flniBh for a simple .evening
gown of silk Chantilly.
The
Sunday-School
._* <;
INTERNATIONAL LESSON COlVfJ
MENTS FOR NOVEMBER 28,
Subject: Paul on Self-Denial—World's!
Temperance Lesson, Rom. 14 ij
10-21—Golden Text: Rom. 14 g
21—Commit Verses 19, 20.
TIME.—Spring, 58 A. D. j
PLACE.—Corinth. j
EXPOSITION.—I. Judge Not One!
Another, But Help One Another, 10-J
15. There are three things to mark well
in v. 12. (1) Who is to give accounn
—“each one of us.” Not one of ua
shall escape that account. There iii
not a man so great or obscure that ha
will not be summoned. Are yoi2
ready? (2) To whom are we to give)
account—“to God.” That is thd
dreadful thing about it and that id
the blessed thing about it. It id
dreadful to some because God is so
holy; dreadful, too, because He id
omnisq|pnt and His all-seeing eyes
look us through and through, and no
deed has been so covered, and nO
thought or imagination so hidden,
but He knows them all. To Him wei
are to give account, and there is no)
deceiving Him, and there can be no
false returns. It is blessed to somO
because God is so loving, so just, sd|
tender, so discerning; because “HO
knoweth our frame,” and because Ha
is the One who redeemed; and how-)
ever poor and bad the account has^
been, we are glad to render it to Him.:
I am glad that I am to render my ac-j
count to God, not to man. (3) Ofi
whom is each to render account—“ofj
himself.” Many of us act as if it waas
of some one else we were to render)
account. Those who are making the
inconsistencies of others an excuse!
for not being Christians themselves
better ponder these words carefully.i
As we are each to render our account!
to God, we should stop judging one an
other. Food is a very proper thing..
Others may lay down laws for us asj
to what we should eat- or not eat,
that have no warrant in God’s Word,;
and we may very properly laugh ab
these man-made laws. Yet love isj
the ruling principle of a Christian^
life, and if our doing something thatl
in itself it is perfectly proper to do^
Is going to grieve some brother and6
Rbove all, lead him into sin and ruin,:
how can we do it? Better have ourj
liberty curtailed than have his soul'
lost. If we magnify our liberty taj
the sacrifice of our brother’s soul wo]
“walk no longer in love.” A true
Christian will forbear many things:
about which in themselves he has not
compunctions of conscience lest he!
destroy him “for whom Christ died.” :
II. The Kingdom of God is Not1
Meat and Drink, But Righteousness
sod Peace and Joy in the Holy Ghost,;
16-23. Liberty is given us but,we
may so use it that it is evil spoken:
of and becomes a Bource of evil. The1
real proof that we are in the kingdom
of God and that the kingdom of God,
is in us, is not found in our scrupu
lousness, or lack of scrupulousness.
In eating and drinking, but in our)
manifesting righteousness in oun
lives, having peace in our hearts (ch.
15:13). and manifesting it toward;
our fellow men (v. 19; ch. 15:18),!
and being filled with joy “in the HolM
Ghost." Many of those whom I haver
known who were most scrupu-i
lous regarding what they drink,
have given least proof of being
in the kingdom by the test of thidf
verse. The object of our pursuit is!
to be, the things which make for!
peace, the things whereby we may!
build one another,up. How many oil
our pet hobbies we must lay on the!
shelf if we obey God’s command ini
verse 19. They do not make fori
peace and they do not build up. But]
we are so fond of them and delight tcN
draw them out on every occasion. iq
is better, however, to obey God. Peace|
and growth are far more important ini
the church than skilful halr-splittlng.i
The true Christian principle of total!
abstinence is found in verse 21. It)
applies to the question of the u$e of]
intoxicating liquors. It applies alsri
to a great many other things. It will
go far toward settling many questional
that are troubling Christians as t<5
whether they should do this or that.
It is not merely a question as to)
whether the thing is wrong in itself,
or whether you will be hurt yourself!
by it, but the real question is, will
any one be Injured, made, to stumble,
by my doing it? I cannot have meat1
or drink or any other indulgence as a)
lover of my fellow men and a follow^
er of Jesus Christ if thereby I destroy)
the work of God. I know that all)
meats are clean, but I know that!
many cannot eat them with a clean
conscience and they are evil for that!
man. If any one else will be injured
by my indulgence, .no matter how in-J
nocent the thing itself may be, an®
how harmless it may be to me, I will)
not do it. It is well to have faith/
but it is well to have the love that!
has faith to itself and does not injurd
others by the exercise of its own
faith. “Happy indeed is the man1
who condemneth not himself in that1
thing which he approveth.” But if ai
man does that about which not onlyi
others condemn him, but about which!
his own conscience has doubts, then)
he is condemned indeed. “Whatever
is not of faith is sin.” This is a broad!
and searching definition of sin. Yon!
may keep saying to yourself, “I do)
not believe this thing is wrong. iU
great many good people do it," but ifl
you yourself have doubts in your!
mind about it, if you are not absolute-)
ly clear it is the v/ill of God, then it|
is sin in you. The question is not, are]
you sure the thing is wrong? Th®
question ia, are you perfectly sure it)
is right?
$140,000,000 Fo# Health. ^
The cost of safeguarding the. publid
health in the United States is now)
J140.000.000 a year, according to a)
statement of Walter F. Willcox, tha
Cornell statistician, in a lecture bey
fore the Cornell students at Utica, NI
Y. Judging from the death
speaker said that the put
seems to be improving^*
said that 104 to 10G
to every 100 females
ried people have
than the unmarria^l
Brother MentijJ
At Hastings J
of Brush, G|fl
Charles MeU
vine healedi
McLean hjfl
er’s wand
years ttfl
Chicagw
for th^H
3