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T B. F. SCHWEIER, THE COnSTITUTIOnTHE URI0R-AI1D THE Ell FORCE BERT OF THE LAWS. Editor and Prtprltr. V .f l A T ar jm Jk II . J v. x l 1 1 1 1' 1 1 1 1 1 Vi r rr. 1 1 l 7. I I V II 1 1 I I II I I I I I 1 11 II I K II I III II II II IV ii - . llVJltAttfcVAtav a . '''''1'aalaaaaan ni nnnnri Aitiinn nnnrii nnnnn rmha imk xiiiiiiuv . . . - - faptaiti BY B. l.ynilitapy.omaDce.of.goiitl.irficji CHAITEK XIX. (Continued.) 1'oor Miss Jane bad felt her nephew's inih acutely, more than anyone would tare believed, lue lew ne oaa Drat with her bad entirely reinstated him Id her good graves. She liked him for kiniwlf; be was gentler, more consider ate. ud more manly, than the old, trou blesome Teddy; and he evoked mem ory which endeared him to her especially, (or be seemed to link old memories of fie oast to realities of the present. A mem- try, notably, of a smart young offl .-er of light dragoons, whose presence i'e re ralled by bis soldierly figure, hie clink ing spurs and his off-hand manners and his handsome face. This officer's epis tles, on large letter paper, written in fad rd ink, were treasured up. along, with a miniature, in the most secret recesaes of Mies Jane's bureau; also a lock of br. rn hair, the very self-same shade as Ved dy's. The smart young dragoon might at7e been a burly, stout, red-faced squire ay this time, discussing shorthorns and turnips, addicted to snnbbing his wife, bad he lived. But he had not; he had died, saber in hand, on a far-away Sikh battlefield, and a halo of romance and regret forever enshrined his memory . Time works wonders. Who can stand against him? Esme has bowed to fate at last. She has even, in a way, become reconciled to Teddy'a death. She can speak of it now quite calmly; for have not three months elapsed since the day of that fatal foray, and as yet no letter has come from Captain Brabazon, and she feels more drawn to him than ever now for her dead brother is a bond between them. Did not Teddy die in Miles arms, with him alone beside him? She makes every excuse that a fertile brain can con trive for his unlooked-for silence. How eagerly does she scan the mall news. How early she is down the morning the South African post is due, and she is always disappointed. Even ruthless Mrs. Braba ton herself feels a little pang of remorse as, in answer to an unspoken appeal, she ays. with a smile, "Nothing for you, my dear, this morning," and then there is an other long week to get through; "but it will come, will surely come," she tells her self, bravely. There are so many thing that may have happened. The mails have been lost, stolen or seized by the Boers. The camp may be now beyond postal com munication. She reads with blanched cheeks of the battles. Miles waa there: but Miles is safe, his name is not among the killed or wounded. Still he may be ill. And with thoughts and specula tions of a more or less gloomy complexion does she torture herself through seven lays more. Then the house is full of a subdued, but busy, bustle, for Gussie is going tc be married. It is to be a very quiet wed ding, she tella everybody, apologetically, and "Fred ia so anxioua to be back for the cub-hunting." The trousseau is mag niheent, though many of the dresses are of a mourning type the pretty laven ders and grays, and black and white tulles. The presents are numerous and costly, as has been previously stated. The wedding takes place without the smallest bitch in the program, one lovely Septem ber morning. There was no waiting bride, no missing bridegroom, this time, air. Vashon, looking very red, and very nervous, was awaiting his extremely self possessed little bride for fully a quartet of an hour. She came at last, escorted by Flo, and followed by Esme. who waf Dearly as white as her dress Esme, who hould have stood at that altar herself Just one year ago. Her face was thin, haggard and woe-begone, her eyes had lost their brilliancy, there were dark marks under them, and her lovely colo: bad entirely faded from her cheeks. Truly people were beginning to whisper that the beautiful Miss Brabazon was now a posi tive wreck, and almost plain being noth ing more than a very thin, pale, deject ed looking girl. Augusta made a charm ing bride and beamed and smiled gra ciously on all her friends, aa ahe walked town the aisle on the bridegroom's arm. Bhe drove away from the chorda to By ford, and traveled by the mall np to Lon ion. Mr. Vashon, who had a shrinking horror of being recognised aa a bride groom, indignantly rejected the coupe which was tendered by an obsequious guard, and plunged, along with his Au gusta, into a Pullman car full of other passengers. Alas, poor ostrich! little did Four off band manner, or a newspaper, avail you. At the next station the beam ing Miss Clippertons were in waiting, with an enormous white bridal bouquet. Gussie saw them eagerly searching the carriages, and shuddered; she closed her eyes, to shut out, if possible, what was Mining. It was this: Hatty Clipperton's milling face at the window, saying. "Oh. there yon are, Mrs. Vashon. We brought rou thia bouquet with our best, best wishes. Be sure you send ns a piece of take." Over Mr. Vashon'a face and the faces f the other passengers, permit us to drop t kindly veil. CHAPTER XX. What does this picture convey to the mind of even the most obtuse in such matters? The scene before ns represents t dull December afternoon, a leaden gray iky, brown hedges, bare treea and damp country lane. The only bit of color in :he landscape ia the scarlet coat of the young gentleman who. in splashy top boots and leathers, is standing at the side of the road with hi, horse'a bridle over his arm, while with the other he endeav ors to seise the hand of a tali girl in black, whose face is turned away in an apposite direction. Emboldened by a wedding in the fam Jy, Mr. Hepburn thought that surely he might now come forward and urge his uit. his courage permitting. He waa very much in love, and had more than once been on the point of asking the U-m-portant question, when his courage failed a .11 iu knm anbseanently. UIU1, aUW M ..,, - and until the next occasion when he met the object of his adoration, he would rate mmaeir soundly for his cowardice, and pass valiant new resolutions "to do bet ter next time!" But Mlsa Esme waa so unaffected, so ready to accept him aa a friend, and she looked him in the face n frankly and yet so innocently with her dark blue eyes, that hia tongue remained tied. This particular afternoon fate M4 favored him. He was returning from hunting when, in turning the corner of road, he suddenly came upon gm U grabajon CROKER mourning, .-vow was bis time. Now or never! he said to himself imperatively, aud trotting hastily forward before his TgeuhaJ time lo co1' e jumped off his horse and accosted her warmly. . 21 " "he Iw"' Ai,l Pleased) io see mm, and questioned him eagerly about the run, about the people who were out; but be quickly cut short all nr quenea by an abrupt question of his own. "Never mind the hnnt now, 1 want to ak yon something," he said, becoming r.XCTvn17 red miserable looking. and I m shot If I know how to put it. Uo yon know why I have been so much e at your place lately?" beating his boo? with his hunting-crop as he spoke. "Oh, yes," she replied, unhesitatingly. "Of coarse I do," her mind at once re curring to his friendship for Teddy, and jbia sympathy in their trouble. "Of course I know, and it has been very kind of yon. Mr. Hepburn stared at for nearlv mmnta n ... J don't believe you understand what 1 mean; though I think you might have noticed it. I've been going to see you all along, and no one else. The more 1 see of you the more I like you. And and my father and mother and I want to know if yon will marry me. I'm not a bad fellow, and I'm awfully fond of yon." It was now Esme's turn to stare at him in blank amazement. "Don't talk to me in thia way," she said impatiently. "You are making fun; you are not in earnest." "I should think 1 waa in earnest. And I hope you like me, even a little, Esme," venturing her name rather shyly. "I do, I always did, aa Teddy'a friend, but now now you have spoiled it all." "Can't you like me as something more than a friend of Teddy's?" appealing to her with a wistful face, and endeavoring to possess himself of her hand. "No, I can be nothing more than a friend to you always," she replied, ignor ing his hand, and stepping back two paces, perilously near the edge of a ditch. "And why? why? Tell me the rea son." "You know the reason," she returned, now averting her face, which had borrow ed its complexion from his scarlet coat. "Yon have heard," she proceeded, in a still lower voice, "of my cousin Miles?" "Yea, but I don't mind a bit," very eagerly, and quite misunderstanding her meaning. "He treated you vilely. He waa confounded "Stop, stop, before you say anything more," cried Esme, "and listen to what 1 have to tell yon." And thereupon, with rapid, almost incoherent, utterances, and faltering breathless sentences, she told the whole story of Teddy's secret and of Miles' mistake a tale which the young man beside her heard with sinking heart and remarkable and various changes of countenance. When she brought her story to a close he put this one abrupt end crucial question: "And you like him still?" "Yes." in a very low voice. "And would marry him after all?" "'Yes," in a whisper. "Then there is no more to be said," giv ing his innocent horse an angry chuck of the bridle. "Of course, if 1 had knowt I wouldn't have made such an awful fool of myself," turning away with ill-assumed dignity. "Yon are angry with me," said Esme, tearfully, "and I don't know what I am to say to yon," detaining him by ges ture. "If I had known or dreamed of thia, of course I would hare told you; but I never dreamed of it, and now I sup pose," with trembling lipa, "yon will hate me, and never be friends with me again T" Mr. Hepburn waa very much cut up; but at the same time he had a soft heart, and to see a very pretty girl with large tears In her eyea, deploring the loss of bia friendship, considerably cooled his in dignation, and he hastened to assure her that when he had got over it a bit he would still be her friend. Of course it was a facer. But he was not such a dog in the manger as to grudge the other fellow what he could not have himself. "I don't understand It, you know, not a bit; for Mrs. Brabazon told the mater that you never bad cared a straw for him. nor he for you. It was all a mere ques tion of money, and you know, Esme, I can give you heaps of that. The gov ernor aaid he'd let na start with live thousand a year. He ia very much taken with you himself " "I don't care for money," said the young lady, hastily. "Mrs. Brabazon wa quite wrong. I was not going to marry Miles for money, nor he me, and 1 would be proud to marry him without a shil- "And live on love," suggested Mr. Hep burn, whose heart was stiU very sore in deed, and could not refrain from this one PEme colored painfully, and was about to make some angry retort when he add ed "Forgive me. I cannot help it. 1 envy that Mllea of yours. He ia a lucky fel tow! ItVnot every pretty girl in these daya that aaya she doesn't care for thou sanda a year, and will take a chap with out penny. .Well." with one foot now T tf.r stirrup, holding out his hand, "good-by." wringing her fingera in a vise likTgrasp. -What can't be cured must be endured," taking off hi. hat to her a. uttered this truism; and nth moment he waa trotting away down the .d on hi. brown hunter, leaving Eame "'xawre are oome thing, cannot he hid, esoecially from a lynx-eyed lady, such M SrT Brabazon. Mr. Hepburn's inf.W n fo" her atepdaughter was one of them. She waa alarmed ZZl ater to casually overhear tea, that "young Hepburn had sent his tea J"u .d was going Z" mediately, to Nice or Mont. I r.X " What did it mean? Had be pro- 'terpen? of l"- UTS2 home and rang for Noke. toi se no Br.b.aon to L the doX" ..ioTr stepmother thetant'she .p'pe.re " .ent jl iue nui--K --- WAat abroad. -er"j - MIPFLINTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY, PENN., WEDNESDAY, it means? Can yon tell me tue reason ot this unaccountable conduct?" "I? I, Mrs. Brabazon?" stammered game, faintly. "Why should yon ask "Come, come, thia fencing ia no nse. The man was head over ears in love with yon. Is It possible that he has gone away without speaking?" ahe aaked in a tone of resentful wonder. To thia ahe received no answer. Bsme sat quite still, her eyes glued on one par ticular pattern in the carpet, and made no reply. However, ahe had become ex tremely and painfuUy red. "He proposed to you, 1 see. And when?" demanded Mrs. Brabazon, au thoritatively. "Last week," returned Esme, in a low voice, not daring to raise her eyes. "And what did yon say, might I be per mitted to ask?" proceeded Mrs. Braba zon in convulsive tones. "I said nor replied Esme, scarcely daring to apeak above her breath. "You said nor almost screamed her stepmother, now rising to her feet. "Said no, to the heir to twenty-five thousand a year, to the finest emeralda in England! Oh!" casting her bonnet on the bed with such furious Impetus that it rolled off it t the other side, "I can't believe it. Vou could not not be so wicked, it is im possible." To this harangue Eame made no reply. evidently ahe had been quite capable of this outrageous deed. After glaring st her down-faced companion for some sec onds Mrs. Brabazon said hoarsely: "I should like to know what you said to nlm, and why you refused him; in fact, I insist upon hearing yoifr reasons," de manded the lady, with a lurid gaze. Visions of her beautiful castle in the air, her atepdaughter's high position in the county, and her own increased impor tance, were now dispersing like mists be fore the sue. "Your reason, miss, at once," with aa imperious gesture. "My reason was," returned Esme, tremulously, "was was because oi Miles!" "Because of Miles! Forsooth, and a pretty reason! Do you mean to say you would hold to your engagement still, and marry him if he would have you, yon idiot?" "I would," rejoined the victim, firmly, raising her eyes now for the first time. "And what would you say if Miles would not have anything to do with youl What would you say if you were told that, now the money was gone. Miles waa not such a fool as to marry a girl without a penny? What would you say if Miles broke off the match?" "I would simply say nothing, for I would not believe it," returned Esme. also rising, and casting a tall, pale reflection into a mirror in an opposite wardrobe. "I suppose if you saw It in bis own handwriting you would believe it. Seeing is 'believing. Will'' that convince you?" taking a letter from her desk and handing it to Esme. (To be continued.! Notes of Inventions. A Portugese Inventor has secured nl t.U. I mAKn t9 hunt. i . .1 Tka anKomu Is to fasten a small Ugnt in the collar I f the Hunting aog. so as io iigm ine (way for him through the underground haunts of these animals. . James F. Bromley, of Scranton. Pa.. has invented an automatlo swing vhich needs no "working" to propel It. The start is made by touching a, but ton, and after that tne swing runs it self, each forward motion imparting the Impetus for the return. 1 A new bard coal Durning engine, i,rhlh la an M tn hftVe 0Te&t0r SIn?ed and power with less fuel, is being tried experimentally oy ine rciimjnanu Railroad, and if satisfactory several of them will. It is understood, be put into service on the Long Island Road. According to the London Mull, a pho nograph which shouts so loud that its words can be heard for ten miles was recently tried at Brighton. The ma chine is the invention of Horace L. Short, of that place, and it is designed for use in the coast service particu larly. In some cases It would take the p'ace of a light house. A new type of reflector lamp Is be ing placed on the market by the Kdl son people, and it Is said to be very efficient where the light ie wanted in one direction rather than diffused. The bulb is of what is known as the um brella shae and the back is coated with a substance which reflects the rays and whfch is at the sam- time un affected by the heat generated by the George Lans, of the Chlcaieo Arm of Lans, Owen & Co., has devised a can teen for the use of soldiers in the trop ical countries, or anywhere in fact, by the means of which water is always maintained at a pleasant temperature for drinking. This is done by means of a coating, the composition of which is Mr. Lans" secret. He has also In vented a canteen for horses, to be strung on the saddle or swung on the axles of the batteries or army wag ons. Personals. lenor Alvarez Calderon. the new Pe ruvian Minister at Washington, has placed two of his sons and two neph ews as students at the Maryland Agri cultural College at Hyattsvllle. The will take the regular course In agri culture and mechanics. Miss M. E. Braddon has written ovei sixty novels since 1862. Previous tc entering upon her literary career she appeared on the stage, having made her debut at the Brighton Theatre Koyal in 1857. During the five montht following her Initial performance sh Impersonated 58 different characters Her stage name was Mary Leyton Though she is now known to the put lie as Miss Braddon. she Is really Mr? Maxwell and a widow. Sims Reeves is 82 years of age anc still singing. Though he was a choir master at 14, his first appearance on the stage was in 1839. By the recent death of Mrs. R. II. Eddy In Boston, a contingent bequest of $30,000 left by her husband becomes available for the erection of a statue of John Paul Jones In Portsmouth, N. cousin of Dr. Livingstone. Mrs, MacQueeny, who was Kate Livingstone Is alive at the age of 104, at Salon, In the Isle of Mull The World's Progress. Five boats of the submarine type will be built for this government on the lines of the Holland. This will give this country a submarine flotilla equal in numbers to that of France, and if all reports are true, of greater effl clpncy The finest lightship afloat will be soon stationed on the Diamond Joals. Its entire operation will be elec trie, al though provision ia made for supply ing the Hghts with oil In case of acci dent to the electric plant- Her mooring tackle will be something marvelous, ev er precaution being taken to prevent her from being moved by the wind or Waves. MY CREED. ' I count the day aa lost that I have done No loving deed nor word of kindness said. While ever near me, wheresoe'er I go. Are sad hearts waiting to be comforted. May God forbid that e'er my llfrs should close To Judge him who In weakness goes astray; Nay, let me rather with a tender hand Help him to seek and find the bet ter way. I hate all selfishness and greed of gain; So may I atrlve to make my own life free From selfish deeds, and with my nelgh . bor deal . As I would ask that he should deal with me. And at the last. If only I may feel That full of helpfulnts my life hath been, I will have peace; for this I know la true. He serves God best who loves his fellow men! A WIDOW'S FRIEND. It coat ten thousand dollars a year more or less, to live at the Renwood. But it was worth It. The Renwcod was the most aristo cratic apartment house in the city. There may have been other buildings whose stairways were made of finer marble, whose plate glass was a trifle heavier and whose telephone wires got crossed less frequently, but they were not occupied by people with such large incomes and such Irreproachable rec ords as was the Renwood. It was a great feather In one's cap to have the name of living there. There waa nothing like it for gaining social distinction. Families that had recently found the way to wealth and were still on the lookout for the road that led Into so ciety's exalted sphere, had been known to resort to every plan that could be devised by inventive minds for reach ing the desired haven without avail; but as soon as they took rooms at the Ren wood all prejudice was swept away and they sailed triumphantly on to their goal. If a woman gave a tea and the soci- . ety columns of the newspapers con- ' tained paragraphs descriptive of the "assemblage of wit and beauty at the home of Mrs. Mark, who is residing at the Renwood this winter," that good woman's reputation as a social leader , was straightway established. When somebody else waa shopping . tnd said, "Send It to the Renwood," the ' clerks knew at - once that they were dealing with a person who sclntllated as one of the most sparkling lights in : that upper world of which they caught ' faint glimpses over the counter now and then, and they humbled themselves ac cordingly. It was considered a great honor to to respond with any one who was dom iciled at the Renwood, and Renwood women frequently received notes which they were compelled to answer through common courtesy. The recipients of these replies, however brief and formal they might be, always tcok particular pains to show them and to remark cas ually: "I have received a letter from my friend, Mrs. Blank, who lives at the Renwood," and everybody, even In the fourth and fifth circles of our great complex social system, seemed to take on an air of excluslvenesa from the little transaction and felt themselves raised several degrees In the estimation of the world. But it required a great deal of wire pulling to secure accommodations at the Renwood. People who wished to re side there had to put In their appli cations months beforehand. Just as would-be Incumbents of appointive gov ernment offices and lucrative positions in corporations file their petitions and await their turn. The Renwood contained but twenty five apartments, and as people seldom moved and the list of applications was lengthy, It seemed a foregone conclu. alon that there were a good many anx ious aspirants who would pass through time and eternity without finding shel ter beneath the Renwood'a roof. Another thing that made admission difficult to any except recognized social lights was the rigid examination through which each new tenan' was required to pass. ' Men who had come through civil service examinations with an average of 99 p. c, and still others who had taken their degrees at West Point. Annapolis and Yale fell down on the questions put to them by the pro prietor of the Renwood. Age, pedigree, occupation and amount of wealth possessed were sworn to be fore a notary public, and those Inter esting family histories were pasted in a follo-slxed morocco-leund book which was kept on a special table In the re ception room, where other residents of the Renwood might refer to It at any time and see Just whom they were as sociating with. It would be difficult to determine who was responsible for the ultra exclusive ness ot the Renwood. It certainly waa not the proprietor. He was a plain, unassuming man, whose tastes were Inclined decidedly toward simplicity rather than ostentation, and when he bought the site of the Ren wood and put up his fine building he had no Intention of making It other than a first-class apartment house which should rank with others of its kind. He proposed to conduct his business in a modest, quiet way, and when he found that his house was becoming a regular Mecca for the swell set, the shock of the surprise very nearly In capacitated him for business. The first member of the fashionable clans to ome to him was Mrs. Clyde Moore. After that the Renwood seemed to ;row Into favor without any special ffort from any one. Mrs. Moore unconsciously served as a brilliant orb which attracted numerous satellites to circle round her, and be rre Mr. Merrick waa aware of what waa taking place his fortune waa made. The unexpected social maelstrom In which he found himself helplessly float ing around was very bewildering. The Renwood like many another thing whose popularity can never be explained had acquired unparalleled celebrity without any adequate cause, so far as he could see, and- it took him some time to lqarn to accept the situ ation philosophically. There were a good many times when he longed for a brief period during which he could once more assume the careless habits of former days, but his business acumen bade him cater to Fashion, who had -takeo him firmly within her grasp, and he stood valiant ly at his post, managing his property and collecting his wonderful rentals. . Up to last November there had been no changes made In the place for a good many months. Then the family that had occupied apartment No. 19 for the past two years went to Denver and gave somebody else a chance. The lucky one who was first on the list was a woman. She passed through the examination with one mark to her discredit; she was a widow. Somehow the Renwood had always discriminated against widows. The other women in the house, espec ially Mrs. Hannibal Wade, who had gradually grown to be regarded as a leader, and who had helped to revise the latest catechism, objected to them. "If you can help it, Mr. Merrick," Mrs. Wade said to the proprietor one day, when she was Inflicting one of her confidential talks upon him, "never take widows In the house." "The most of them have worried one man Into the grave or the divorce court, and their sole object in living is to entrap other victims. I am afraid I shall have to give you warning now, Mr. Merrick, that if you ever take a widow Into the Renwood I shall be forced to leave you." The friendly advice and admonition ought to have been sufficient cause for the Instant dismissal of the case of the widow. Mrs. Raynor, but she averaged such an extraordinary percentage on other points that the genial landlord could not summon the hardihood to re fuse her admission. Mrs. Wade chanced to be away at the time and Mrs. Raynor had been oc cupying apartment No. 19 for more than a week when she came home. One of Mrs. Hannibal Wade's strong points was a display of fine indignation whenever occasion demanded it, and she came out with unusual brilliancy in her chosen role when she examined the records in the morocco-bound book and learned what had been done In her absence. She went to the proprietor about it at once. "I see," she said, "that you have broken the rule which waa tacitly agreed uoon some time ago between you and your patrons and have let No. 19 to a widow. It Is needless to state that I am greatly surprised at such a breach of faith on your part. Can you give me an explanation. Mr Merrick, that will justifv such a course?" "Well. Mrs. Wade;" returned the pro prietor, phlegmatically, "I am sorry if I have offended you, but I fail to see how I have violated any agreement. "This Mrs. Raynor came to see me several months ago about taking a suite of rooms here and I promised to let her know as soon as there was a vacancy. I assure you, Mrs. Wade, that even vou can take no exception to her. She is good-looking but not so handsome as yourself," be added, diplomatically. "She Is 45 years old, and unencum bered. She belongs to an excellent family and is rich enough to start a national bank of her own if she cared to do so. I wiBh you would call on her Mrs. Wade, I am sure acquaintance would banish prejudice." But Mrs. Hannibal Wade's righteous wrath was not to be appeased by any excuses which the unlucky landlord could oroduce in his own defense. "No," she returned, "I do not care to know her. She may be all right, but she is not to be trusted and ought not to have been nermitted to come here. "However, it is not too late to remedy the evil. Surely, Mr. Merrick, you can eject her from the house on some pre text or other at the end of the month. If you don't I am afraid you will have trouble." As a general thing the latest arrival at the Renwood were accorded a royal welcome. Teas, dinners, and receptions were elven In their honor, and they were installed In thetr new quarters with great eclat. But no such hospitality marked the coming of Mrs. Raynor. To be sure, the great events of the Renwood'a so ciety calendar came and went as usual, but the handsome widow was religious ly excluded from them all. "She means mischief," said Mrs. Hannibal Wade. "She will bring dis credit udoii our house. It Is our duty to Issue a bull of social excommunica tion. Perhaps that will bring Mr. Mer rick to his senses." The general animosity manifested toward Mrs. Raynor became more active as the end of the first month drew near. This Intense bitterness was greatly aggravated by the outspoken admira tion of the men, who wert strongly dis posed to champion the cause of the woman who had apparently done noth ing to merit such severe condemna tion of the men who were strongly dis creet remonstrance which Mr. Hanni bal Wade urged against the injustice of the case which prompted his wife to seek another Interview with Mr. Mer rick. "That Mrs. Raynor has now been here a month," she said, "and I trust you have hit upon some plan whereby we may get rid of her." "No," said Merrick, slowly; "I can't say that I have." "I hope you understand the case, Mr. Merrick," she said, severely. "'There is munity at Renwood. You have rented an apartment to a woman who has no natural protector and who smiles and flirts with our husbands, sons and brothers, who, I am sorry to say, seem to be highly gratified by such pro ceedings. -"Mr. Merrick. I. with the other influ NOVEMBER 7, 1900 ential families now here, have made Renwood what it la. I am proud of it I am proud of living at Renwood. I should hate to go elsewhere. But I shall leave at once if Mrs. Raynor does not." "As I. understand it," said Mr. Mer rick, cautiously. "You object to Mrs. Raynor simply because she is a wid ow?" "Certainly. As I have said before, she haa no natural protector. She has nothing to do but make trouble for other people. I consider her danger ous." "Well," said Mr. Merrick, dejectedly, "I'll see what can be done about It." A few minutes after Mrs. Hannibal Wade had left the room Mrs. Raynor came In. The widow's handsome blonde face was flushed, her eyes were swol len and the bit of a handkerchief she carried in her hand was limp and damp as If with tears. - "Mr. Merrick," she said, "I have come to complain to you about the way I am treated here. What have. I done that I should be so ostracized? I nev er heard of anything like It. I have long wanted to live at the Renwood, Mr. Merrick, because of the unusual advantages your patrons enjoy, but if this thing is to continue. I must go away. It is breaking my heart." She raised the web of a handkerchief to her eyes. Mr. Merrick swore for a moment In silence. "Madam," said he, at length, "I'll stand by you If every family moves out to-day and I have to put 'for rent' sfgns in every window. I won't see a woman imposed upon in this way. They objest to you. Mrs. Raynor, because you are a widow." "Because I am a widow!" repeated Mrs. Raynor, applying the white web to her eyes again. "Good gracious, 1 can't help that." "Of course you can't." returned the proprietor, sympathetically. "That is, you haven't helped It, although I wouldn't be afraid to wager you could have done so a score of times." The pretty hand that held the tear bedewed handkerchief trembled vio lently. "Oh, Mr. Merrick," she said, and there was a pitiful little quaver in her soft voice that made honest Mr. Mer rick sink back in his chair in a tre mor of sympathy. "You don't know what we poor wid ows have to bear. We are always un der suspicion and the awfulest things are imputed to us, whereas we are real ly the kindest, most sensible, most honorable women In the world." "I'm sure of that," replied Mr. Mer rick. ""And they have trampled upon my feelings and my reputation solely be cause I am a widow," she went on mournfully. "Oh, Mr. Merrick, it is an awful thing to be a widow." "I haven't a doubt of it," said Mr. Merrick, promptly, "and I can't keep one In mv house." "Then I'll have to leave the Renwood after all the trouble I've taken to get In here." "I didn't say that," returned Mr. Merrick, slyly, "I said I wouldn't keep a widow." Mrs. Hannibal Wade came down an hour later to consult Mr. Merrick again. The widow was sitting close beside him, and Mrs. Wade looked at het scornfully. The mutiny had reached a climax and there was no longer any necessity for preserving even a sem blance of forbearance. "Mr. Merrick." she said, "have you come to a decision in the matter? Shal1 she go or stay?" "Stay," was the prompt reply. "And on what conditions, pray?" "On the condition that she becomel my wife." said Mr. Merrick. MARK TWAIN. Mr. Clemens Is Home After Many Tears' Stay in Knropr, Mark Twain is home after his long stay in London. During the years he has made his home abroad he has been at times reported as slowly starving tc death, and at other times as banquet ing sumptuously with dukes, earls and emperors. In 1S07 and 1S9S Mr. Clem ens was feted at Vienna ns no othei American had been feted. On one of these occasions he addressed his audi ence in the German language. The great humorist Is now J5, but has not yet laid aside bis pen. His recent work abows no signs of decrepitude. Hi financial prospects are good, and hit health was never better than at pres ent I How a Japanese Hero Died. j A lieutenant of engineers at Ticn-tsln, I with three sappers, crept up in the dark and placed a charge of guncotton at tne nuge gate, mere was 10 oe an electric wire to fire the gun cotton, but It failed somehow; and, as daylight was dawning already, the four Japanese felt that their maneuver was In danger of falling, so one of them fired the charge with a match, blowing himself to death and glory and giving entry to the allied army. Easy-Going Mexican Business Men. Most of the business houses in Mex ico are closed for an hour and a half In the middle of the day. MARK TWAIN. SERMON V Rev. Dr. Ztim Subject: The Rolilen Cair or Modern Idol atry The Rpilit of Oreeil lenttOTB ThoM Who Are in Its Graup Mone? Got Wrongfully la a Curse. (Copyright 1W1M Washington, D. C In this discourse Dr. Talmage shows how the spirit of greed destroys when it takes possession of a man and that money tcot in wrong ways is a curse; text, Exodus xxxii, 20, "And he took the calf which they had made and burnt it in the fire and ground it to powder and strewed it upon the water and made the children of Israel lrink of it." People will have a god of some kind, and they prefer one of their own making. Here co e the Israelites, breaking otf their golden earrings, the men as well as the women, for in those times there was masculine as well as feminine decoration. Where ti. I they get these beautiful gold earrings, coming up, as they did. from the desert? Oh. they borrowed them of the Egyptians when they left Egypt. These earrings are piled up into a pyramid of glittering beauty. "Any more earrings to bring?" says Aaron. None." Fire is kindled, the earrings are melted and pour ed into a mold not of an eagle or a war charger, but of a silly calf; the gold cools down, the mold is taken away, and the idol is set up on its four legs. An altar is built in front w the shining calf. Then the peoi - throw uo their amis and gy rate and iek and dance vigorously and worship Moses has been six weeks on Mount Sinai, and he comes bark and hears the howling a ' sees the dancing of thesd golden calf fanatics, anil he lor-es hi pa tience, anil he takes the two plates of stone on which were written the Ten Com mandments and flings them so hard against a rock that they split all to pieces, W hen a man gets angry, he is i-.pt to break all the Ten Commandments. Moses rushes in. and he takes this calf god and throws it into a hot tire until it is melted all out of shape and then pulverizes it not by the modern appliance of nilro mu riatic acid, but by the ancient appliance of niter or by the oid fashioned tile. He stirs for the people a most nauseating dntt. He takes this pulverized golden calf ..d throws it in the only brook which is ac cessible, and the people are compelled to drink of that brook or not drink at all. But they did not drink all the glittering stuff thrown on the surface. Some of it flows on down the surface of the brook to the river and then Hows on down" the river to the sea, and the sea takes it up and bears it to the mouth of all the rivers, and when the tides set back the lemains of this golden calf are carried up into the Potomac and the Hudson and the Thames and the Clyde and the Tiber. And men go out and they skim the glittering sur face, and they bring it ashore aiv.1 thty make another golden calf, and California and Australia break off their gold'm fai rings to augment the pile, and in the tires of financial excitement and strug'e all these things are melted together, ami while we stand looking and won-.!eri;ig what will come of it, lo, we find tint the golden calf of Israelitish worship has be come the golden calf of European and American worship. Pull aside this curtain, and you see the golden calf of modern idolatry. It is not. like other idols, made out of stocks or stone, but it has an ear so sensitive that it can hear the whispers on Wall street ami Third street and Utate street, and the footfalls in the Bank of England and the flutter of a Frenchman's heart on the bourse. It has an eye so keen that it can see the rust on the farm of Michigan wheat and the insect in the Maryland peach orchard and the trampled grain un der the hoof of the Russian war charger. It is so mighty that it swings any way it will the world's shipping. It has Its foot on all the merchantmen and the steam ers. It started the American Civil War and under God stopped it, and it decided the Turko-Russian contest. One broker in September. lHtiit. in New York, shouted. "One hundred and sixty for a million ?" 1 1( j. them a'n(1 wh(m a man who and the whole continent shivered. lheln,., P,,nt ,lf i.;. hnine ininniiv. hut golden calf of the text has, as fai ar.aiJ -mer" I . lea ia concerned, its rii;ht front foot j Kew York, its left front foot in Chicago. its right back foot in Charleston, its left j back foot in Xew Orleans, and when it I shakes itself it shakes the world. Oh. this : is a mighty god the golden calf of the I world's worship! I But every god must have its temple, and this golden calf of the text is no excep- tion. Its temple is vaster than St. Paul's ' Cathedral in England, and St. Peter's in Italy, and the Alhambra of the Spaniards, and the Parthenon of the Greeks, and the Taj Mahal of the Hindoos, and all the cathedrals put together. Its pillars arc grooved and fluted with gold, and its ribbed arches are hovering gold, aud its chandeliers are descending gold, and its floors are tessellated gold, and its vaults are crowded heaps of goM nnd its spire ... .. . , .. and domes are soaring gold, and its organ pipes are resounding gold, and its pedils are tramping gold, and its stops pulled out are flashing gold, while, standing at the head of the temple, as the presiding diety. are the hoofs and shoulders and eyes and ears and nostrils of the calf of gold. Further, every god must have not only its temple, but its altar of sacrifice, and this golden calf of the text is no exception. Its altar is not made out of stone as other altars, but out of counting room desks and fireproof safes, and it is a broad, a long, a high altar. The victims sacrificed on it are the Swartouts and the Ketf-hams and the Fisks nnd ten thousand other people who are slain before this golden calf. What does this god care about the groans and struggles of the victims before it? With cold, metallic eye, it looks on and yet lets them suffer. What an altar! What a sacrifice of mind, body and soul! The physical health of a great multitude is flung ou to this sacrificial altar. They cannot sleep, and they take chloral and morphine and intoxicants. Some of them struggle in a nightmare of stocks, and at 1 o'clock in the morning suddenly rise up shouting: "A thousand shares of New York Central one hun dred and eight and a half, take it!" until the whole family is affrighted, and the speculators fall back on their pillows and sleep until they are awakened again by a "corner"' in Pacific Mail, or a sudden "rise" of Kock Island. Their nerves gone, their digestion gone, their brain onc, they die. The gowned ecclesiastic comes in and reads the funer al service, "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord!" Mistake. They did not "die in the Lord;" the golden calf kicked them. The trouble is. when the men sacrifice themselves on this altar suggested in the text they not only sacrifice themselves, but they sacrifice their families. If a man by a wrong course is determ ined to go to perdition, I suppose you will have to let him go. But he puts hi wife and children in an equipage that if the amazement of the avemies, and the driver lashes the horses into two whirl winds, and the spokes Hash in the sun and the golden headgear of tne harness glearm until black calamity takes the bits of the horses and stops them and shouts to the luxuriant occupants of the equipage, "Gel out!" They get out. They get down. That husband and father flung his family so hard they never got up. There was the mark on them for life the mark of a split hoof the death dealing hoof of the golden calf. Solomon offered in one sacrifice on one occasion 22,000 oxen and 120,000 sheep But that was a tame sacrifice compared with the multituoe 01 men who are sac- fiiicine themselves on this altar of the I Gold is an Idol worshiped in all cll their families ' mates without a single temple, and by with them. The soldiers of General Have- all classes without a single hypocrite, lock in India walked literally ankle deep I Repentance is the result of fear more in the blood of "the house of massacre, I often than of love. where 20.) white Women and children had i Cunning, at least, is either tha wla been slain by the sepoys. But the blood dotn of a fool or sharper, about this altar of the golden calf flows up Great talkers are not always the moat to the knee, flows up to the girdle, .flows instructive and interesting. NO. 48 to the shoiiiifer, iiows to the lip. Ureat ('(Hi of heaven and earth, have mercy on those who immolate -themselves on this altar! The golden calf has none. Still the degrading worship goes on, and the devotees kneel and kiss the dust and count tneir golden beads and cross them selves with the blood of their own sacri fice. The music rolls on under the arches. It is made of clinking silver and clinking gold and the rattling specie of the banks and brokers' shorai and the voices of all the exchanges. The soprano of the wor ship is carried by the timid voices of men who have just begun to speculate, while the deep bass rolls out from those who for ten years have been steeped in the seeth ing cauldron. Chorus of voices rejoicing over what they have made; chorus of voices wailing over what they have lost. This temple of which I speak stands open day nnd night, and there, is the glittering god with his four feet on broken heart, and there is the smoking altar of sacrifice, new victiros every moment on it. and there are the kneeling devotees, and the doxology of the worship rolls on, win!;, death i lands with moldy and skeleton arr beating time for the chorus Jtto, more!" Some people are very much surprised at the actions of people' in the Stock Ex change, New York. Indeed it ia a scene sometimes that paralyse description and is beyond the imagination of any one who has never looked in. What snapping of finirer and thumb and wild gesticulation nnd raving like hyenas, and stamping like buffaloes, and swaying to and fro, and jostling at . running one upon another, and deafening uproar, until the president of the exchange strikes with his mallet four or five times, crying. "Order, order!" and the astonished spectator goes out into the fresh air feeling that he has escaped from pandemonium. What does it all mean? I will tell yon what it means. The devotees of every heathen temple cut themselves to piec s and yell and gyrate. This vociferation ind gyration of the Stock Exchange is all apnropriate. This is the worship of the golden calf. l.ut my text suggests that this worship has to be broken up. as the behavior of Moses on this occasion indicated. There are those who say that this golden calf spoken of in the text was hollow and merely plated with gold. Otherwise Moses could not have carried it. 1 do not know- t. But somehow, perhaps by the assistance of his friends, he takes up this golden calf, which is an infernal in sult to God and man, and throws it into the fire, and it is melted. And then it conies out and is cooled off. and by some chemical appliance or by an old fashioned file it is pulverized, and it is thrown into the brook, and as a punishment tne people are compelled to drink the nauseating stuff. So you may depend upon it that God will burn and He will grind to pieces the golden calf of modern idolatry, and He will compel the people in their agony to drink it. If not before, it will lie on the last day. 1 know not where the fire will begin, 'whether at the Battery or Lom bard street, whether at Shoreditch or West End, but it will be a very hot blase. All the Government securities of the Unit ed States and Great Britain will curl up i.i the first blast. All the money safes and deposit vaults will melt under the first touch. The sea will burn like tinder, and the shipping will be abandoned forever. The melting gold in the broker's window will burst througn the melted window ulass into the street. But the flying popu lace will not ston to scoop it up. The cry of "Fire!" from the mountain will be answered by the cry of "Fire!" in the plain. The conflagration will burn out from the continent toward the sea and then burn in from the sea toward the land. .eir York and London, with one cut of the red scythe of destruction, will go down. Twenty-five thousand miles of conflagration! The earth will wrap itself round and round in shroud of flame and lie down to perish. What then will become of your golden calf? Who then so poor as io worship it? Melted or between the upper and nether millstones of falling mountains ground to powder. Dagon down, Moloch down. Juggernaut down, golden calf down! The judgments of God. like Moses in the text, will rush in and break up this worship, and I say let the work go on until every man shall learn to speak truth with his neighbor, and those who make engagements shall fell themselves bound iroes on wishing to satiate his cannibal ap- iietite bv devouring widows houses, stia II, lv the law of the land, be compelled to exchange the brownstone front for the penitentiary. Let the golden calf perish! Itut if we have made this world our god, when we come to die we shall sell our idol demolished. How much of this world are you going to take with you into the next? Will you have two pockets one ill each side of your shroud? Will you cushion your casket with bonds and mort gages and certificates of stock? Ah, no! The ferryboat that crosses this Jordan takes no baggage nothing heavier than an immaterial spirit. Where are the men who tried War ren Hastings in Westminster hall? Where are the pilgrim fathers who put oat for . iiiiti ; , , c uit; iiir , ritt on, nut, uu America? Where are the veterans who on the Fourth 0f jiVi 1794, marched from Xew York park to the Battery and fired a salute and then marched back again? And the Society of the Cincinnati, who dined that afternoon at Tontine Coffee House, on Wall street, and Grant Thor hum, who that afternoon waited fifteen minutes at the foot of Maiden lane for the Brooklyn ferryboat, then got in and was rowed across by two men with oars, the tide so strong that it was an hour and ten minutes before they lauded? Where arc the veterans that fired the salute, and the men of the Cincinnati Society w';r that afternoon drank to the patriot i! toast, and the oarsmen that rowed tin boat, and the people who "were trans ported? Gone! Oh, this is a fleeting world, it is a dying world. A man who had worshied it all his days in his dy ing moment described himself when he said. "Fool, fool, fool!" uen your parents have breathed their last and the old, wrinkled and trembling hands can no more be put upon your head for a blessing. God will be to you a father and mother both, giving you the defense of the one and the comfort of the other. For have we not Paul's blessed hope that as Jesus died and rose again, "Even so them also which sleep in Jesus shall God bring with Him?" And when your chil dren go away from you, the sweet darl ings, you will not ki.-s them and my good by forever. He only wants to hold them for you a little while. He will give them back to you again, and He will have them all waiting for you at the gates of eternal welcome. Oh, what a God He is! He will allow you to come so close that you can put your ; nis around His neck, w hile He in response will put His arms around your neck, and all the windows of heaven will be hoisted to let the redeemed look out and see the spect--'- of a rejoicing Father nnd a returned prodigal locked iu that glorious embrace. Quit worshiping the golden calf, and bow this day before llim in whose presence we must all appear when the world has turned to ashes. When shriveling like a parched scroll, The flaming heavens together roll, When .ouder yet and yet more dread Swells the high trump that wakes the dead An ImltafJ' to equal an original, must ae a great deal better. There may be no cure for love but seasickness la a good alterative. Gentleness comes the closest to a cure for fear. No matter how pure you are. It ien't healthy to be suspected. Lying is the easiest of all habits to acquire, and the hardest to get rid of.