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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.