Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume], January 19, 1899, Image 4

About Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925

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WANT MORE DAVIDS
DR. TALMAGE SAYS EVERY COM
MUNITY SHOULD HAVE ONE.
UNUSUAL TEXT CHOSEN
The People, Declares the Great Divine,
Need Energetic Christian Leaders
In Their Fight Against Satan—
Lesson of Value Drawn From the
f Old Prophet
From a text probably nevti lie fore
fiacourscd upon Dr Taliuagc in this
•era)on shows how some people multi
ply their resources for usefulness and
in a novel way urges the putting forth
of more energy in right directions;
text, 11. Samuel 18:3: “Thou art worth
10,000 of us."
One of the most wturdrou* characters
of his time was David. A red-haired boy,
he could shepherd a dock or carry "ten
loaves and ten slices of milk cheese to
his brothers in the regiment.” nr with
leathern thong, stone-loaded, bring
down a giant whose armor weighed
two hundredweight of metal, or cause
• lion which roared at him in rage to
roar with pain as he tiling it. dying,
to the roadside, or could marshal a host
or rule an empire, or thumb a harp so
successfully that it cured Saul’s demen
tia— a harp from whose airings dripped
pastorals, elegies, lyrics, triumphal
marches, benedictions. Now, this man,
a combination of music and heroics, of
dithyrambs and battlefields, of coun
try quietudes and statesmanship, is to
flt out it military expedition. Four
thousand troops. according to Jo
sephus. were seat into the field. The
captains were put in command of the
companies anil the colonels in com
mand of the regiments, which were
disposed into right wing, left w'ing
and center. Gen Joab, Gen. Abishai
and Gen. It,ini are to lead these three
divisions. Hut who shall take the Held
as commander in chief? Duvid offers
his services, and proposes to go to the
front lie will lead them in the awful
charge, lor he has not a cowardly nerve
in all his body He did not propose to
have his troops go into perils which tie
himself would not brave, mill the bat-
tlefleld required ns much courage then
as now, for the opposing forces must,
in order to do any execution at all,
come up to within positive reach of
saber and spear Hut there came up
from the troops mid the civilians n
mighty protest uguiu.t David's taking
tha field. His life was too important to
the nation If he went down, the em
pire went down, whereas if the whole
4.000 of the ranks were slain another
army might he marshaled ami the de
feat turned into victory. The army and
the nation practically cried out: ’'No!
No! You cannot go to the front. VYe
estimate you as Kt.OOO men. Thou art
worth 10.000 of us!"
That anny and that nation then and
theTe reminded David and now remind
ns, of the tact which we forget or never
apprecint< at all that some people are
morally or spiritually worth ftir more
than others and some worth far less.
The censi -and statistic* of neighoor
hoods, of churches, of nations, serve
their purpose, but they can never ac
curately express the real state of
things. The practical subject that I
want to present to-day is that those
w ho have especial opportunity, especial
graces, especial wealtii. especial talent,
especial eloquence, ought to make up
by es|Hcinl assiduity and consecration
for those who have less opportunities
and less gifts. You ought to do ten
times more for God and human uplift
ing than those who have only a tenth
of your equipment. The rank ami the
tile of the 4.000 of the text told the
truth when they said: “Thou art
worth 10,000 of us.”
In no city of its size are there so
many men of talent as are gat hr red in
this capital of the American nation.
Some of the states are at times repre
sented by men who have ueitbu tal
ents nor good morals. Their political
party compensates them for partisan
scrvloes by sending them to congress,
or by securing for them |>ositions In
the war or nuvy or pension or print
ing departments. Tliey were nobodies
before they left home, and they are no
bodies here. Rut they are exceptional
All the states of the Union generally
send their most talented men and men
of exemplary lives and noble pur|Hj*e*.
Some of them have the gifts and quali
fications of ten men. of 100 men yen,
of 1,000 men-—and their constituents
could truthfully employ the words of
my text and soy: “Thou art worth 10,-
000 of us.”
With such opportunity are they aug
menting their usefulness in every pos
sible direction V It i a atupcndous
thing to have power —political power,
social power, oflleial power. It has
often been printed and often quoted as
one of the wise sayings of the ancients:
‘•Knowledge is power “ Yet. it may as
certainly be power for evil as for good.
The lightning express rail train has
power for good if it is oti the track, but
horrible power for disaster if it leaves
the track and plunges down the em
bankment. The ocean steamer hu> pow
er for good sailing in right direction
and in safe waters and uiidet good
helmsm'-n and wide awake watchmen
on the lookout, but indescribable power
for evil if under full headway it strikes
the breakers. As el earn power or elec
tricity or water forces may be stored in
boilers, in dynamos, in reservoirs, to
hr employed all over a town or city, so
God sometimes puts in one man enough
faith tu supply thousands of met with
courage. If a mat. happens to hi thus
endowed, let him realize his opportu
nity and improve it At this time mil
lions of men ate a-tri mble lest this ua
rlon make a -mistake, and enter upon
soon policy of government for 'he isl
ands of 'he sea • hat will founder the re
public. God will give to a few men on
both sides of this question faith and
courage for all the rest. There are
two false positions many are now tak
ing, false as false can be. The one is
that If we decline to take under full
liarge Cuba and Porto Rico and the
Philippine* we make a declaration that
will be disastrous to our nation, and
other nations will take control of those
archipelago"* and rule them, and per*
haps to our humiliation and destruc
tion. The other theory is that if we
be the demolition of this government.
Doth positions are immeasurable mis*
takes. God has set apart i his continent
for free government, and the triumphs
of Christianity, and we may tukeeither
the first or the second course without
ruin. We may say to those islands,
“We do not want you, but we have set
you free; now stay free, while we see
that the Spanish panther never agnin
puts it*, paw on your neck,” or we may
invite the annexation ofCubaand Porto
Rico, and say to the Philippines: “Get
ready, by education and good n.orals,
for free government, and at the right
time you shall be one of our territories
on the way to be one of our states.”
And there is no power in Europe. Asia
or Africa or all combined that could
harm this nation in its worldwide en
deavor. God is on the side of the right,
and by earnest imploratioo for Divine
guidance on the part of this nation \\<-
will be led to do the right. We are on
the brink of nothing. There is no
frightful crisis. This train ~>f repuli
liesn and democratic institutions is a
through train, and all we want is to
have the engineer and the brakeman
and the conductor attend to their busi
ness and the passengers keep their
places. We want men Id this nation
with faith enough for all. We want
here and there a David worth 10,000
tneu.
A vast majority of men have no sur
plus of confidence for others and hardly
enough confidence for themselves.
T hey go through life saying depressing
things and doing depressing things.
They chill prayer meetings, discourage
charitable institutions, injure com
merce uud kill churches. They blow out
light* when they ought to be kindling
them. They hover around a dull fire
on their own hearth and take up so
much room that no one can catch the
least caloric, instead of stirring the
hearth into a blaze, the crackle of
whose backlog would invite the whole
neighborhood to come in to feel the
abounding warmth and see the trains
tiguratiou of the faces. As we all have
to guess a great deal about the future,
let us guess something good, for it will
be more cncouragiug and the guess w ill
be just as apt to come true. What a lot
of ingrates the Lord has at His table
people who have had three meals a day
for 50 years and yet fear that they will
soon have to rattle their knife and fork
<m an empty dinner plate! How many
have had, winter and spring and sum
mer and full, clothing for 60 years, but
i \peet an empty wardrobe shortly!
How many have lived under free insti
tutions all their days, but fear that the
United States may be telescoped in
some foreign collision! Oh. but the
taxes have gone up! Yes. but. thank
God. it is easier, witli money, to pay the
taxes now that they are up than it was
without money to pay the taxes when
they wen down. We want a few men
who have faitli in God and that mighty
future which holds several tilings,
among them a millennium. ( oltim
banus said to his friend: “Deicolus.
why are you always smiling?” The re
ply was: “Because no one can take my
God from inei” We want more men to
feel that they have a mission to cheer
others and to draw up the corners of
people's mouths which have a long while
been drawn down—more Davids who
can shepherd whole Hocks of bright
hopes and play a harp of encourage
ment aud strike down a Goliath of de
spair. and of whom we can say: “Thou
art worth 100.000 of us.”
I admit that this thought of inv text,
fully carried out, would change many
of the world s statistics. Suppose a vil
lage is said to have 1,000 inhabitants
atul that oue-half of them—namely. 500
have for years been becoming less in
body, and through niggardliness and
grumbling, less in soul. Each one of
these is only one-half of what he once
was. or one-half of what she once was.
I he original 500 have been reduoed one
half in moral quality, and are really
only 250. Suppose that the other 500
have maintained their original status
and are neither better nor worse. Then
'be entire population of that village is
T.Vi Hut suppose another village of
1.000. and 500 of them as the years go
by. through mental and spiritual cul
ture. augment themselves until they
are really twice the tneu ami women
they originally were, and the other 500
remain unchanged atul are neither bet
ter nor worse, then the population of
that village is 1.500. Meatiness is sub
traction and nobility is addition. Ac
cording as you rise in the scale of holi
ness ami generosity and consecration,
you are worth 5 or to or 50 or too or 1,000
or 10,000.
Notioe. my friend, that this David,
warrior, strategist, minstrel, master of
blank verse and stone stinger a, the
giant, whom the soldiers of the text es
timated clear up iuto the thousandfold
of usefulness, on this particular occa
sion staid at home or in his place of
temporary residence. Gen. Joab. lieu.
Abishai and Gen Ittai. who commanded
the hoys in the right wingaud left wing
and center, did their work bravely and
left 25,000 of the Lord's enemies dead on
the Held, and many of the survivors got
entangled in the woods of Ephraim,
and mixed up in the bushes, and stum
bled over the stumps of trees, and fell
into bogs, and were devoured by wild
beasts which seized them in the thick
ets, But David did his work at home.
We all huzza for heroes who have been
in battle, and on their return what pro
cessions we form, and what triumpl al
arches we spriug. and what banquets
we spread, and what garlands we
wreathe, ami wbat orations we deliver,
and wbat bells we ring, and what can
nonades we tire! Hut do we do justice
to the stay at homes? Dr vid. who was
worth 10.000 of those who went out to
meet the Lord’s enemies in the woods of
Ephraim that day did 'ais work in re
tirement.
Ob, the world need* a day of judg
ment to give many of vbe stay at homes
proper recognition. In the different
wars the sons went to the front and on
■hip's deck or battlefield exposed tbeit
lives and earned the admiration of tb<
country. Hut how about the mothers
and fathers who through long years
taught those sons the uoble sentiments
that inspired their, to go and then gave
them uf). when perhaps a few words of
earnest protest would have kept them
on the farm and in the homestead? The
day of final reward will reveal the self
sacrifice and the fidelity of thousands
who never In all their lives received one
word of praise. Oh. ye unknown, ye
faithful and Christian and ail enduring
stay at homes! I have no power now to
do you justice, but I tell you of one who
ha* the power, and of the day when He
will put it forth. It will be the day
when the thimble, and the ladle, and the
darning needle, and the washtub, and
the spinning wheel, and the scythe, and
the thrashing machine, and the ham
mer, aud the trowel, and the plow, will
come to as high an appreciation as a
74-pounder, or the sword, or the batter
ing ram that pounded down the wall,
or the flag that was hoisted on the
scaled parapets
The warrior David of my text showed
more self-control and moral ptymess in
staying at home than he could have
shown commanding in the field. He
was a natural warrior. Martial air*
stirred him. The glitter of opposing
shields fired him. lie was one’of those
men who feel at home in the saddle.
Some of the greatest Sedans and Aus
teriitzes have been in backwoods
kitchens or in nursery with three chil
dren down with scarlet fever, soon to
join the two already in the churchyard
or amid domestic wrongs and outrages
enough to transform angels into devils,
oi in commercial life within their own
counting-rooms in time of Hlack Fri
day panics, or in mechanical life in their
own carpenter shop, or on the scailitil
ingof walls swept by cold or smitten by
heat. No telegraphic wires reported
tlie crisis of the conflict, no banner \\ .is
j ever waved to celebrate their victory ,
but God knows and God will remember,
and God will adjust, and by Him the
falling of a tear is as certainly noticed
as the burning of a world and the flut
ter of a sparrow’s wing as the flight of
the apocalyptic archangel.
Oh, what a God we have for smak
things as well as big things! David
no more helped at the front than helped
at home. The four regiments mobil
ized for the defense of the throne of
Israel were right in protesting against
David's exposure of his life at the front.
Had lie been pierced of an arrow, or
cloven down with a bait leas, or fatally
slung from snorting war charger, what
a disaster to the throne of Israel! Ab
solom, his son, was alow fellow and un
fit to reign; his two chief characteris
tics were his handsome face and his
long hair—-so long that when he had it
cut that which was scissored off
weighed “200 shekels after the king’s
weight,” and when a man has nothing
but a handsome face and un exuberance
of hair, there is not much of him. The
captureandslayingof David would have
been a calamity irreparable. Unneces
sary exposure would have been a cruue
for David, as it is a crime for you.
In nine cases out of ten the fatali
ties every day reported are not the
fault of engineers or brakemen or con
ductors or cab drivers, but of the stu
pidity and recklessness of people at
street or railroad crossings. They
would like to have the Chicago limited
express train, with 300 passengers, ad
vertised to arrive at a certain hour in
a certain city, slow up to let them get
two minutesisooner to t heir dest inalion,
not one farthing of their own or any
one else’s welfare dependent on wheth
er they arrive one minute before 12
o’clock or one minute after. You ought
to get permission from a railroad super
intendent to mount beside the engineer
on a locomotive to realize how many
evils of recklessness there are in the
world —funeral processions whipping
up to get across before the cowcatcher
strikes the hearse: man of family, with
wife and children beside him in a wag
on. evidently having made close calcu
lation as to whether a stroke from the
locomotive would put them backward
or forward in the journey to the village
grocery: traveler on a railroad bridge
hoping that he could get to the ind of
the bridge before the train reaches it.
You have no right to put your life in
peril unless by such exposure some
thing is to be gained for others. What
imbecility in thousands of Americans
during our recent Americo-Spanlsh war
disappointed because the surrender
eatne so soon, and they eou!d not have
the advantage of being shot at San
Juan hill, or brought down with the
yellow fever and carried on a litter
to transport steamers, already so many
floating lazarettos, instead of thanking
God that they got no nearer to the
slaughter than Tampa or Chattanooga
or the encampment at their own state
capital, mad at the government, mad
at God. because they could not get to
he front in time to join the 4.000 corpses
ihat are now being transported from
the tropics to the national cemeteries
of the United States! Exposure and
daring arc admirable when duty calls,
but keep out of peri! when nothing
practical and useful is to be gained for
your family or your country or your
God. 1 admire the David of my text
as he suppresses hJmself and enters the
gate of his castle as much as l admire
him when with his four fingers and
thumb clutched into the grlxr'y lock*
of Goliath’s head, which he had decapi
tated. and Saul admiringly asks:
“Whose son art thou, young man?” and
David, blushing with genuine modesty
responds: “I am the son of thy servant
Jesse, the Retblvhcroite.”
HAND THAT RULES THE WORLD.
Bltaalngs on the hand of woman!
Angels guard her strength and
grace;
In the cottage, palace, hovel,
O, no matter where the place!
Would that never storms assail It;
Rainbows ever gently curled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Infancy’s the tender fountain;
Power may with beauty flow,
Mother’s first to guide the streamlet,
From them souls unresting grow,
Grow on for good or ’evil,
Sunshine streamed or darkness
hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
fc the hand that rules the world.
Woman, how divine your mission
Here upon our natal sod;
Keep, O keep the young heart open
Always to the breath of God!
All the trophies of the ages
Are from mother earth impearled,
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Blessings on the hand of woman!
Fathers, sons and daughters cry,
And the sacred song is mingled
With the worship of the sky—
Mingles where no tempest darkens,
Rainbows evermore are curled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the worldi
The Belfry of St. Hyacinth.
The sound traveled out of the gray
rolling mists, and on a tall mountain
peak a man heard it and turned his
head, now this way and now that, to
discover whence it came.
Dingdong! a deep-toned call, now
silent for a little, then booming out
again.
Dubarre was circled by mountains
and hv valleys, for the peak where he
stood was like a signal tower set in
the midst of them all. Never before
had he passed this way, and of all the
men that he knew in the north, none
had ever spoken to him of the place.
But on the edge of the Arctic circle a
trapper had given him a rough chart
for his travel, and he knew that these
were the St. Hyacinth mountains.
What should a bell be doing in this
vast untenanted cathedral?
It was no dream, for again and
again the sonorous notes came to hint,
muffled yet strong, seeming now here,
now there, but palpable, warning,
solicitous, as though to summon im
periled wanderers home.
He imgang! So Dubarre had heard
a waif of Saxony say as the bell of a
fort once rang out at the deatn of
the factor.
Dingdong! Heimgang! Dingdong!
For five long days and nights Du
barre traveled and searched, lured by
the long, monotonous ringing. Near
and yet far, it .was like a voice call
inging from the little doorway behind
which is the peg where the tired
hunter hangs his cap, and the fire
were love waits.
Dingdong! Heimgang! Dingdong!
He would not give it up till he had
found it. for food was to be had when
his knapsack should be empty—his
sight was sure along the rifle barrel
and there were herds of wapiti
swinging along the slopes.
He had had none of the hunter’s
spirit in him since he had entered
these valleys, but now as he ate his
last scrap of dried food necessity
flashed anew device in his mind, the
sound of the rifle might be answered
by the bell ringer himself.
He sent a shot down the valley. It
echoed along the hills, and almost on
the instant the bell began ringing,
but faster now and joyfully, as it
seemed to him. Dubarre turned slow
ly round the circle of his vision, and
at last fastened his look upon a great
peak across the valley.
Presently the figure of a man
appeared. It looked no bigger than
a finger, but yet it was sharply out
lined. He fane'ed also that he could
see a tiny arm beckon.
As the sun was setting behind the
great peak, covering it as with a man
tle of amethyst, Dubarre came to the
end of the long path up the tall cliff
Hefore hint was a well-built hut and
in its doorway stood a man who held
out his hand in greeting.
He was dressed in a long robe of
well tanned deerskin; his beard fell
low on his breast, silvered and strong;
his hair was grizzled; his face had a
look of secretive bitterness, made
impressive by a singular dignity.
“You are welcome.” he said, as his
hand touched Dttbarre’s.
At the sound of his voice a strange
look passed over Duburre’s face. He
took off his hat and drew back in as
tonishment.
“Moniseur le eomte —” began Du
barre. and paused.
“Wherefore ‘le eomte’?” asked the
other keenly and instantly.
“I saw you in Quebec, at the citadel,
years ago.”
“It was not me you saw.” was the
deliberate reply.
Dubarre bowed in assent, but his
eyes showed incredulity.
Their words were few until they
stood In a chapel built of the wood of
cedar. Inside the little tower of the
chapel was a bell, and the old man
set it ringing—a church bell in the
wild, lonely mountains of the north.
Presently the old bell ringer passed
the rope of hemlet fiber into the
nands of Dubarre, who went on ring
ing till he saw his host issue into the
tiny chancel from the tinier vestry,
robed for the saying of the mass. He
stopped ringing and the solemn mass
proceeded—the mass for the dead!
When it was ended the priest (if
such he was> came to the chancel
steps and preached as to a congrega
tion of 1.000. his voice sonorous, clear
penetrating: now persuasive. now
eager and commanding
“Thou art not far from the kingdom
of God,” he cried, repeating his text,
“but what avails It If thou canst not
reach that blessed place of quiet and
healing?”
Despair at once deep and convincing
crept into his tone. He spoke as
from the darkness of forever sealed
shades.
“Who shall pierce the souls of
thess?” he continued, “who stand just
without the kingdom, beating the
treadmill of their sins, yet coming
never nearer to the gate which is
peace. * * *Peace! How shall ye
know peace, ye who can never know
repentance! Ye shall sow desire, but
ye may not reap; ye shall hope, but
ye may not achieve; ye are the child
ren of penalty—ye have no home. No
fire on the hearthstone awaits you,
no warm beating bosom gives you
rest! Behold this is the mass of the
unredeemable!
“In vain does the rain oi spring
come and the earth be green, the
August fields turn yellow, the harvest
wains come home. In vain do the
trees drop their ripe fruits, the gar
dens swell with the corn and oil; ye
shall not have joy in them all —your
souls are dry—they may not be
nourished. This is the church of the
undying penalties. * * •”
*********
Night fell., For a long time there
was silencp in the little hut.
“it was not me you saw —at the
citadel,” said the priestly hermit at
last.
Dubarre made no answer, uut looked
steadily and incredulously into the
other’s eyes.
“It was my brother you saw, M le
Comte, who looked like me. I will tell
you my story and his. There was a
girl I had loved. She disappeared.
For years I knew not whither she
had gone. I became a priest. At
last one day, after my brother had
returned from a long visit to France,
there was an accident near by the
cathedral. I had been a student
of medicine before I became a priest,
and I was summoned to the little
house. There was the girl, my lost
love. There also was my brother.
It was he who had stolen her away
from me. As I looked I flew into a
rage; I did not know ther that he had
married her. I was mad. I called
him vile names while she was dying
for want of care —bleeding to death.
When I did turn to her at last it
was too late. With a look of horror
she turned her face to the wall and
died. I might have saved her, but
she had gone—hating me.
"Three nights afterward I sent for
my brother. The girl was in her
grave. Then I settled all with him.
I will show you how.”
Going to a cupboard he brought out
four glasses and put them on the
table. Then from two bottles he
poured out what looked like red wine,
two glasses from each bottle. Putting
the bottles back he returned to the
table.
“We sat like this,” he said, taking
a chair, “then we bound our eyes”—he
drew a handkerchief from his breast
and wound it round his nose and
eyes. “I moved the glasses about and
lie did the same, till neither could
know which two held poisoned wine
and which two pure wine. At last
each raised a glass to his lips. We
hung all upon a chance. I drank
of the two glasses of pure wine, he
of the two poisoned glasses. When I
took the handkerchief from my face
he was dead.”
“Nothing was known.”
“The truth was not known.”
“Why did you come here?”
“I could not and would not repent
of my brother’s death, nor the death
of the girl. Then I said— perhaps I
was a little mad. perhaps I am a lit
tle mad now—l will say mass for the
repentant no longer, but for the un
repentant, in remote corner of
the world.”
“It is a pity that someone could not
play this game again with you.” He
pointed to the four glasses filled with
wine.
“I should be ready. Life is all
chance —we are wisps of straw in
the wind.”
“You were a priest!” rejoined TJp
barre meaningly.
“I was a priest because in the
church there seemed to be one shelter.
You went with a multitude, not all
alone.”
“Do you dare to drink with me?”
Dubarre asked, nodding toward the
glasses. Villiard looked at the other
with contracting, questioning eyes.
“You will play that game with me?”
he asked in a mechanical voice.
“It would give me great pleasure.”
The voice had a strange Ironical
tone.
"What is your object?’’
“T’sh!” was the reply; "it is a
coward who takes his life; but this to
you and me—it is a grand snort —as
one would take a run at a crevasse
and clear it. or fall. If we both fall
we are iu good company; if you fall,
have the greater joy of escape; if I
fall, you have the same joy and can
say mass for me!”
“But there is some other reason?"
urged Villiard wavering.
“Pshaw! I have played pitch-and
toss for life often enough; it is my
whim —If you are not afraid.”
”1 am not afraid,” was the answer.
“But let us eat first.”
A great fire burned in the chimney,
for the night wao cool. Upon the
fire a pot was simmering and a good
savor came from it. A wind went
lilting outside the hut, in tune with
the singing of the kettle.
Villiard took the four glasses filled
with the wine and laid them on a
shelf against the wall, then began to j
put the table in order for their sup
per and to take the pot from the fire.
Dubarre noticed that just above
where the glasses stood on the shelf!
a crucifix was hanging, and that
rubies sparkled in the hands and Mfl't
Where the nails should be driven ML
There was a painful humor In top
association. He smiled, then turned
his head away, for old memories
flashed through his brain— he had
been an acolyte once; he had served
at the altar.
Suddenly he rose, took the glasses
from the shelf and placed them In
the middle of the table. Villiard saw,
aniiTsomething in the act touched
involuntarily he made the
sign of the cross, but his face a mo
ment afterward became rigid, telling
nothing.
Yet as they sat down to eat the
eyes of both men unconsciously
wandered to the crucifix, attracted by
the red sparkle of the rubles. Each
ate heartily, as thought a long day
were oefore them and not the shadow
of the long night. There was no
speech save that of the usual courte
sies of the table.
At length the meal was finished,
and the two turned in their chaira to
ward the fire. There was no other
light in the room, and on the faces of
the two, still and cold, the flame
played as upon marble.
“Now?” asked Villiard, after an
hour had passed.
“I am ready.”
They came to the table.
“Shall we bind our eyes?” asked
Dubarre. “I do not know the glasses
that hold the poisoD.”
“Nor I the bottles that held It. I
will turn my back and do you change
about the glasses.”
Villiard turned his face toward the
time-piece on the wall. As he did
so it began to strike —a clear, silvery
chime: "One! two! three!” and so on.
Before it had finished striking both
men were facing the glasses again.
“Take one,” said Dubarre.
Viliaru took the one nearest him
self. Dubarre took one also. Without
a word they lifted the glasses and
drank.
“Again,” said Dubarre.
“You choose,” responded Villard
“Dubarre lifted the one nearest
himself and Villard picked up the
other. Raising their glasses again,
they bowed to each other and drank.
The watch struck 12 and stopped
its silvery chiming.
They both sat down, looking into
each other’s faces, the light of an
enormous chance in their eyes, the
tragedy of a great stake in their
clenched hands; but the deeper, in
tenser power was in the face of Du
barre, the explorer.
All at once a horrible pallor spread
over the face of Villard, and his
head jerked forward. His eyes stared
wildly at Dubarre, to whose face the
flush of wine had come, whose look
was now maliciously triumphant.
Villiard had drunk both glasses of
poison.
“I win!” Dubarre stood up. Then,
leaning over the table toward the dy
ing man, he added: “The girl was my
sister. She wronged you; you let her
die —well. Would you know the
truth? She loved you—always! Your
brother stole her from you, but he
married her in France.”
Villiard gasped, and his look wan
dered vaguely along the opposite wall.
“I knew you from the first,” Du
barre continued, coolly, “but I wanted
to hear your story. I played the game
with honesty, because —because it was
the greatest man could play. And I
too have sinned in my time —a great
sin. Now, die! T3he loved you—mur
derer!”
The man’s look still wandered dis
tractedly along the wall. The sweat
of death was on his face; his lips
were moving spasmodically.
“Pardon —blessed Jesus!” he said,
and stiffened where he sat.
His eyes were fixed on the jeweled’*
crucifix. Dubarre snatched it from the
wall aud, hastening to him, held It
to his lips; but the warm sparkle of
the rubies fell on eyes that were cold
as frosted glass. Dubarre saw that
he was dead.
“Because the woman loved him!”
he said, gazing curiously at the dead
man.
Then he started, for the bell was
ringing in the chapel.
Dingdong! Heimgang! Dingdong!
He went to the door and opened it.
But all was still on the clumberous
heights and in the wide valley. Yet
he could have sworn he had heard the
bell. Imagination plays strange tricks.
“Because the woman loved him he
repented.” said Dubarre again, with a
half-cynical gentleness, as he placed
the crucifix on the dead man’s breast.
—Black and White.
MOTHERS OF GREAT MEN.
Schumann’s mother was gifted with
musical ability.
Chopin's mother, like himself, was
very delicate.
Gounod's mother was fond of paint
ing and music.
Spohr’s mother was an excellent
judge of music, but ro musician.
Milton's letters often allude to his
mother in the most affectionate terms.
Wordsworth’s mother had a charac
ter as peculiar as that of her gifted
son.
Goethe pays several tributes in his
writings to the character of his
mother.
Haydn dedicated one of his most
important instrumental compositions
to his mother.
Sydney Smith’s mother was a clever
conversationalist and very quick at
repartee.
Gibbon's mother was passionately
food of reading and encouraged her
son to follow her example.
Charles Darwin’s mother had a de
cided taste for all branches of natural
history.
jm
to build a 125.000 court hous<i^O
Dartford.