The Leon reporter., December 06, 1900, Image 5

About The Leon reporter. (Leon, Iowa) 1887-1930

Image provided by: State Historical Society of Iowa

                
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A Sacrifice
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CHAPTER III.—(Continued.)
r, They talked for a little about the
reception, about the last new book,
the most recent concert Then Miss
Lennox said, halt carelessly:
"By the way, Mr. Dalton told mo
an interesting story about having seen
jyou on Westminster bridge with a
girl—a bare-headed girl, he .said—
iabout one o'clock in the morning. It
was some poor girl you were befriend
ing, I suppose? Do tell me all about
her. It sounds so romantic."
Enderby laughed rather uneasily.
''Yes, she was a glvl whom I thought
I could help, but I can tell you no
more about her. Miss Lennox. I am
under a promise to her."
Miss Lennox's purple-gray eyes re
garded him for a moment as if in
sheer astonishment. Then she said,
In her soft, caressing tones:
"You can trust me surely, Mr. En
derby? I am a woman: if the poor
girl requires help, surely I could give
It, if not more effectually, perhaps,
at least, more—well, naturally than
you." She smiled right into his eyes,
her enchanting, friendly smile. "You
see, a woman always understands a
woman better than a man. And surely
you will let me take this much of a
share in your life and its work."
''You know that there is nothing
on earth I desire more than that, Miss
Lennox," said Enderby, a little hoarse
ly. "But I am afraid this is a matter
tn which neither of us can do any
thing. I hare given my promise. You
would not ask me, I am sure, to break
It."
"No, no!" Cecil smiled again into
his eyes "but I see you have no con
fidence in me as being one whit better
than the rest of my sex, Mr. Enderby.
If you had, you would trust me with
this secret. But let us change this
subject: after all it cannot concern
me in the least. I only thought I
might be of some service to you."
The subject dropped, but Enderby
was conscious of an almost impercep
tible change in the atmosphere. Cecil
was as caressing, as fascinating as
ever in her manner but there was a
feeling as of some barrier that had
risen between them in Enderby's mind
He could not utter now the words
that he had almost dared to think he
might speak, and not be said nay to.
He was about to leave when the en
trance of Sir Henry Lennox himself
compelled him to wait a little longer.
,3k1, Henry was a man looked upon
with "k respect approaching^ to rever
ence by the younger members of the
Bar. He was a stately and fine look
ing man still, on the right side of fif
ty, and he was considered one of the
shining lights of his profession.
Paul Enderby, the rising young bar
rister, was a favorite with Sir Henry,
and the latter had always made him
welcome at his West End mansion.
Besides that, Enderby had several
times visited at Sir Henry's place in
the country—the beautiful property
of Courtwyse, from which Sir Henry
derived hi3 wealth.
He looked rather careworn and
anxious today, and Enderby conclud
ed he had some unusually trying case
on hand.
"Ah, Enderby, glad to see you!'' he
said, extending his hand in a friendly
manner. After a few minutes desul
tory conversation, he turned to his
daughter. "My dear, I expect a gen
tleman to dinner tonight perhaps
.Mr. Enderby would remain and make
a fourth?"
Paul began some excuse. He was
not in evening dress, and the rules of
society were always strictly observed
*by Sir Henry.
"Never mind," said the latter, as if
guessing Enderby's reason. "Or, if
you care to do so, you can leave us
now, and come back for dinner. I
wish you particularly to stop. I
•should like you to meet Doctor Lyn
don he is an exceedingly clever man,
and a specialist op the most interest
ting of all medical studies—brain dis
eases.".
Enderby started. Doctor Lyndon!
iAs in a flash he remembered the
name. In that moment he determin
ed to meet the man.
"I shall come with much pleasure,"
he said, "if you will allow me to do
as you have suggested."
He felt strangely unsettled, vaguely
apprehensive, as he returned to the
Lennoxes In the evening. Oddly
enough It was less of Cecil Lennox he
was thinking than of the man he was
going to meet Who and what was
he? There was reaMy nothing singu
lar in the fact that Sir Henry Lennox
should know this man, to whom the
daughter of David Lloyd was going
for help for her father yet somehow
the thing seemed an odd coincidence
to Enderby. And taken along with the
tact that Cecil Lennox knew of his
chance meeting with the girl, and was
evidently for some reason deeply In
terested In it, the whole affair began
to assume the appearance of an irri
tating and perplexing mystery to Paul
Enderby.
He found the other guest in the
drawing room with Sir Henry Cecil
had not yet appeared. Sir Henry
came forward and introduced the two
i-men.
Dr. Dundas Lyndon—Mr. Enderby."
Bnderby looked at the other man
jwlth curiosity and interest.
tor Lyndon was, a man of. about
5rty-flye, of a slight, but remark
ably agile figure. His face was not
handsome one, yet no one would
have decided It to be the reverse. It
was somewhat full in contour, with
la healthy enough complexion, and the
•only features that seemed to call for
any special notice were the mouth and
chin, the latter of which, In Its
hreadth of Jaw and set firmness, gave
Jlndarby the impression of a man of
ijflXUsimilMiT strength at wflL His
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eyes were a cold grey, his hair
rather spare on the top—a mouse
colored brown.
His manner was suave and polite,
as It is to the Interest of a physician
that it Bhould be.
When Cecil appeared he was deput
ed to take her into dinner, while Sir
Henry and Enderby followed.
Lady Lennox had died a few years
ago.
Enderby wondered if he should
have the chance of mentioning the
name of Lloyd to Doctor Lyndon.
Dinner was a cheerful enough af
fair. Doctor Lyndon proved himself
an excellent conversationalist, and he
and Cecil kept the ball of dinner talk
rolllns.
Sir Henry still wore the same anx
ious expression, though sometimes ho
made an evident effort to throw it
oft, and Enderby was absorbed in
watching Dundas Lyndon.
When Cecil had retired the three
men sat over their fruit and wine.
Enderby was next thing to an ab
stainer, and never drank wine, and
he noticed Doctor Lyndon was equally
abstemious.
"By the by, I have a recollection of
having heard your name in connec
tion with St Thomas', Doctor Lyn
don," ho said, as carelessly as he
could. "Might I ask if you were there
at one time?" .?
"I was," said Doctor Lyndori^ quite
readily. "I wished to get a little in
sight into one particular branch, and
I gave my assistance to Doctor Bil
lantyre gratuitously for a few months.
It was of great use to me."
It was on the tip of Enderby's ton
gue to put the question: "Did you
happen to know any one of the name
of Lloyd during that period?" when
Sir Henry spoke.
"My dear Enderby, perhaps you
guessed that I had a professional rea
son for bringing you and Doctor Lyn
don together tonight I think I can
mention the matter now.
"It is with regard to a case which
is expected to come off shortly, and
which will be, I have no doubt, a
celebrated case. I will ask you to
carry your mind back, Enderby, to a
trial which interested the public
greatly six years ago. I think you
will remember it if I mention briefly
the facts of the case.
"It was called at that time, and
still is, I dare say, if reference is ever
made to it, 'The Brownlow Pearl
Case.' Well, as you know, then, the
pearls referred to were a magnificent
necklace belonging to Lady Brownlow
of Caergollen in Wales. They were
valued at $15,000. They disappeared.
Suspicion fell on the tutor of Lady
Brownlow's children, a man named
Gerard. The case came on, Gerard
being charged with the crime. I had
to conduct the prosecution.
"During my investigations I met
with evidence which, though proving
the man to be guilty, yet showed cer
tain extraordinary circumstances in
the case which moved me to—to pity.
The whole affair was an unpleasant
one to me, because we—that is, Lady
Lennox, who was then alive, and my
self, were personally acquainted with
the Brownlows. However, in the very
middle of the case the man, Gerard,
managed to escape, and could not be
found. It was supposed he had gone
abroad, and he was outlawed.
"Now, Enderby, an unpleasant
thing has happened. We have learned
that the man, Gerard, has returned to
this country. The case is bound to
come on, and I, of course, shall have
to undertake the prosecution. Doctor
Lyndon, who—who is an old friend,
and, as I have told you, a specialist in
brain diseases, has suggested to me
the likelihood of the man's being in
sane, and, in fact, having committed
the crime as the result of that terrible
form of lunacy which is recognized as
such under the name of kleptomania.
If we can prove this, we shall save
Gerard from punishment, and he will
simply be put under restraint as in
sane.
"Are you willing, Enderby, to ac
cept a brief in the case as my junior?"
CHAPTER IV.
Paul Enderby had sat in perfect si
lence listening to the full, rich voice
of Sir Henry—that voice which went
so far in convincing juries—as he re
lated the chief points of the case. He
remembered it, though the particulars
had passed from his memory long
since.
But as Sir Henry went on, strange,
formless doubts, and half-formed
ideas began to float dimly through
Paul's mind like the dark, shadowy
forms of bats flitting through some
darkened and deserted barn. He could
hardly formulate them, or give them
a name In his own mind but they dis
turbed him vaguely, and filled him
with a strange foreboding.
When, at last he raised his face,
which had been bent over his fruit
plate, his eyes fell first, not on Sir
Henry's face, but on that of Doctor
Lynddn, whose cold, grey eyes were
fixed on him with a strange, expect
ant expression. There was some
thing In it which sent a curious
shudder through Enderby yet he felt
irritated the next moment at his own
absurd sentimentality.
He turned Sir Henry.'
"You are o'e than good, Sir Hen
ry.- I do not Vnow.how I can thank,
you for your r-meroslty in thinking
of- me. Of corp se, you can count on
me, if you think I am able to under
take the responsibility."
"There is no rising, young barrister
at the bar today to whom I would
sooner trust the conducting' of the
ease, than to you, Bnderby," said Sir
Henry, graciously. "I hate a very
high oplnloa of your talents."
Esderby'a heart heat high as he re
joined Gsoflta the drfcwlfll rotmuTUs
would be the making of him. If he
conducted the case efficiently his for
tune was made, and he would then
be able to ask Cecil to come to him
as his own. Somehow he felt pretty
sure she would, not say him nay.
When he went to his rooms his
head was in a whirl. Cecil had smil
ed upon him, and her lovely eyes had
fallen as he bade farewelL Cecil.
Cecil!—the most queenly of women!
Was it possible that one day she
should be his?
But as Enderby sat down before the
grate in which some dead ashes still
faintly glowed, a strange revulsion of
feeling came over him.
Dundas Lyndon's face—its cold
grey eyes, its watchful expression—•
came up before his mind. There was
something sinister in the man—some
thing he did not like. Then sudden
ly there succeeded, as by the instan
taneous shutting of a camera, another
face in the eye of his mind—that pale,
quivering, childlike, yet strangely wo
manly, face of David Lloyd's daugh
ter.
He started to his feet and began to
pace the room.
How had these people come to know
Dundas Lyndon? What strange con
nection was there between them? Was
it possible—But no, no, the idea was
too wild, too utterly improbable for
real life.
Nevertheless he made up his mind
to go to Burdon Mansions next day.
He managed to do so in the after
noon, walking there, as he had no
wish even to give the clue of a cab
to any one. He hardly knew why he
was so careful now he would not ad
mit to himself that he had any tang
ible reason for thinking these poor
people wished to hide themselves from
the world.
He knocked again and again. At
last the door was cautiously opened,
and in the darkness within he could
dimly make out a slim, girlish figure.
"Is it you, Miss Lloyd?" he asked,
in a low voice. "I have come to ask
how you both are."
The girl stared at the sound of
hi3
voice. He could not see her face dis
tinctly, so he did not know that a
light blush had swept over it.
She opened the door more widely.
"Will you come in?" she said, her
voice just a little uncertain. "I have
told my father about meeting you."
Enderby followed her in. The hall
was a small one, and dark he saw
two doors. She opened one and ad
mitted him into a small dingy room,
whose only furniture consisted of a
cheap tapestry carpet on the-"floor, a
painted wooden table, and one or
two chairs. A curtain of coarse serge
hung over an embrasure in the wall
and Enderby guessed there was a bed
behind it.
(To be Continued.)
DESTROYING TREES.
Folly of Forest Destruction Slowly Gain
ing Belief,
Polly of forest destruction Is a fact
slowly gaining belief. The tree-felling
ax has turned some 5,000,000 once fer
tile miles into deserts and has made
one-third of the eastern continent an
unfit abode for the human race. Dis
appearance of arboreal vegetation is
the main cause of many sad changes
on our planet, according to Health
Culture. Spain in the glory of her an
cient woodlands was the Eden of south
Europe, treeless Spain is a wilderness.
When Sicily had forests it also had
poets, philosophers, heroes and mer
chant princes without her trees ban
dits and beggars are the chief prod
ucts. The same story could be told of
southern France, Portugal, Asia Min
or, Persia and Hindustan. Forests of
shady trees mitigate climatic condi
tions and there is no doubt they attract
rain showers. Leaves generate oxygen
and absorb noxious gases, forming a
natural antidote to grievances of
crowded cities. Shade trees prevent
sunstroke and they also prevent
ophthalmia, the curse of lower Egypt
and Southern Italy. Where there are
no trees the glare of the sun on the
sand and white buildings is equal to its
shining on snow. Malaria in many of
its forms Is a result of forest destruc
tion. The clearing of the woods that
once protected the slopes of the south
ern Alps has avenged itself upon the
valleys of tho north Italian rivers.
Millions of cubic feet of mud are car
ried down hill, swamping the fields
and forming pestilential marshes at
the mouths of streams once healthful.
Then fevers ripen every summer and
coast dwellers are short-lived.
Social Whirl In Pekln,
The Westminster Budget remarks
that winters in Pekin in the past have
not been dull among the foreigners,
and in support of the assertion quotes
from the North China Herald as fol
lows: "A French comedy at the Brit
ish legation, where there is a special
ly built theater, is succeeded by a
bal costume at the Russian, and that
again by a concert at Sir Robert
Hart's. Dinners follow one another
uninterruptedly—varying from the
strictly official function of the diplo
matic corps to the jolly carousal of a
students' mess, where speeches begin
soon after the joint, stories with the
cheese, and comic songs at 1 in the
morning still find delighted auditors.
Card parties, too, are many, increas
ing from the mild 'dollar and. quar
ter' whist at the club to the 'ten dol
lar' limit and all-night poker parties
In an attache's rooms." 'f-
Americans In Scotland.
Every hotel in Edinburgh is crowd
ed nightly with American visitors, and
still they come, says M. E. Gilbert,
writing from that city to the Chicago
Record. Many large parties have ar
rived. These, driving around the
sights of the town, create a consider
able stir upon the streets. The other
.day over 100 visitors from the United
States were in St Giles' cathedral at
one time. At Holyrood palace, the
castle and the Seott monument there
has been a: constant flow of visitors.
It has been the same all over Scotland,
for, many have extended their tours
beyond Edinburgh and have penetrat
ed the highlands. Jane was a very
wet month, hut with the advent of
July and our visitors from the states
We have had several day* of warn
TAJ,MAGE'S SERMON.
SPEAKS ON ONE OF THE CHIEF
CHRISTIAN VIRTUES.
Tho Need of Graoo In tli» AfTuIra o
Dilily I.lfe—Turns DltcorU Into Marf
mony Finn] Reward of raCioooe—
Causes of I'eMlmlsm*
(Copyright., 3900, T.ouls Klopsch. N. T.)
Vvasmngton, Dec. 2.—Tins discourse
of Dr. Talmago is a full length portrait
of a virtue which nil admire, and the
lessons taught are very helpful test,
Hebrews x, 36, "Ye have need of pa
tience."
"i es, we are in awful need of It. Some
of us have a little of it, and some or
us have none at all. There is legs of
this grace in the world than of almost
any other. Faith, hope and charity
are all abloom in hundreds of fouls
where you iind one specimen of pa
tience. Paul, the author of the text,
on a conspicuous occasion
lo3t
his
patience with a co-worker, and from
the way he urges this virtue upm the
Hebrews, upon tho Corinthians, upon
tho Thessalonians, upon the Romans,
upon the Coiossians, upon the young
theological student Timothy, I con
clude he was speaking out of his own
need of more of this excellence. And
I only wonder that Paul had any
nerves left. Imprisonment, llagel.a
tion, Mediterranean cyclone, arrest for
treason and conspiracy, the wear and
tear of preaching to angry mobs, those
at the door of a theater and those on
the rocks of Mars hill, left him ema
ciated and invalid and with a broken
voice and sore eyes and "nerves a-jan
gle. He gives us a snap-shot of him
self when he describes his appearance
and his sermonic delivery by saying,
"In bodily presence weak and in
speech contemptible," and refers to his
inflamed eyelids when speaking of the
ardent .friendship of the Galatians he
says, "If It had been possible, ye
would have plucked out your own eyes
and have given them to me."
Patience Under Difficult Ira.
Some of the people ordinarily most
excellent have a deficit in this respect.
That man who is the impersonation of
amiability, his mouth full of soft
words and his face a spring morning,
If a passing wheel splash the mud
across his broadcloth, see how he col
ors up, and hear him denounce the
passing jehu. The Christian woman,
un angel of suavity, now that some so
cial slight is put upon her or her fam
ily, hear how her utterances lncreass
Intensity. One of the ablest and best
tninisters of the gospel in America,
Stopping at a hotel in a town where he
had an evening engagement,- was in
terrupted in his afternoon nap by a
knock at the door by a minister who
had come to welcome him, and after
the second and third knock the sleeper
Opened the door and took the invader
Of his repose by the collar and twisted
It with a force that, if continued,
Would have been strangulation. Oh,
It is easy enough to he patient when
there is nothing to be patient about.
When the bank account is good and in
no danger of being overdrawn, and
the wardrobe is crowded with apparel
fippropriate for the cold, or the heat,
or the wet, and all the family have at
tested their health by keen appetites at
a loaded table, and the newspapers, if
they mention us at all,' put right con
struction upon what we do or say, and
We can walk ten miles without getting
tired, and we sleep eight solid hours
Without turning from side to side,
the most useless grace I can think of
Is patience. It has no business any
where in your house, you have no
more need of it than a life preserver
while you are walking the pavement
of a city, no more, need of it than an
umbrella under a cloudless sky, no
knore need of it than of Sir Humphry
Davy's safety lamp for miners while
you are breathing the tonic air of an
October morning.
Cause* of rcfuimUm.
Now you understand how people can
oecome pessimistic and cynical and
despairful. You have reached that
stage yourself. Now you need some
thing that you have not. But I know
of a re-enforcement that you can have
if you will accept it. Yonder comes up
the road or the sidewalk a messenger
of God. Her attire is unpretending.
She has no wing3, for she is not an
hngel, but there is something in her
countenance that implies rescue and
deliverance. She comes up the steps
that once were populous with the af
fluent and into the hallway where the
tapestry is getting faded and frayed,
the place now all empty of worldly ad
mirers. I will tell you her name if
you would like to know it. Paul bap
tized her and gave her the right
name. She is not brilliant, but strong.
There is a deep quiethood lu her man
ner, and a firmness in her tread, and
in her hand is a scroll revealing her
mission. She comes from heaven. She
was torn in the throne room of the
King. This is Patience. "Ye have
need of patience."
Many of the nations of the earth
have put their admiration of this vir
tue into proverb or epigram. One of
those eastern proverbs says, "With
time and patience the mulberry leaf
becomes satin." A Spanish proverb
says, "If I have lost the- rings, here
are the fingers still." The Italian pro
verb says, "The world is his who has
patience." The English proverb de
clares, "When one door shuts, anoth
er opens." All these proverbs only
put in another way Paul's terseness
when he says, "Ye have need of pa
tience."
v.
Warm Hearted Chrtftttan*
But here comes a warm hearted,
sympathetic, Christian man. He says:
"There is a man down in the ditch.
I must get him out God help me to
get him out" And standing there on
the edge of the ditch the good man so
liloquizes and says to himself, "It I
had had as bad a father and mother as
he had and all the surroundings of
my life had been as depraving as those
that have cursed him I myself would
probably have been down in the ditch,
and If that man had bpen blessed with
as good a father and mother as I have
and he had been surrounded by the
kindly influences which have encom
passed all my days he would probably
have "been standing here looking down
at me In the ditch." Then the good
man puts his knee to the side of the
ditch tad bends over and say* to the
fallen one, I'Brother. gtrej oie your
4 AjShO
•mr-.
hand," and with one stout grip lifts
him up to God and heaven. There are
wounds of the world that need tho
probe and the sharp knife and severe
surgery, but the most of the wounds
want an application of ointment or
salve, and we ought to have three
or four boxes of that gospel medica
ment in our pocket as we go out into
the world. We all need to carry more
of the "balm of Gilead" and less caus
tic, more benediction and less anathe
ma. When I find a professed Chris
tian man harsh and merciless In his
estimates of others, I silently wonder
if he has not been misusing trust
funds or heating his wife. There is
something awful the matter with
him.
We also have need of patience with
slow results of Christian work. We
want to see our attempts to do good
immediately successful. The world is
improving, but improving at so de-lib
erate a rate. Why not more rap:'lily
and momentum? Other wheels turn
so sv.ifUy, why not the gospel char'ot
take speed electric? I do not know.
I only know that, it is God's way. We
whose cradle and grave are so near to
gether have to hurry up, but God, whn
manages this world and the universe,
is from everlasting to everlasting. Ho
takes 600 years to do that which He
could do in five minutes. His clock
strikes once in a thousand years.
While God took only a week to fit up
the world for human residence, geji
ogy reveals that the foundations of
the world were eons in being laid, and
God watched tho glaciers and the fires
and the earthquakes and volcanoes as
through centuries and milleniums they
were shaping this world, before that
last week that put on the arborescence.
A few days ago my friend was talk
ing with a geologist As they stood
near a pile of rocks my friend said
to the scientist, "I suppose these rocks
were hundreds of thousands of years
in construction?'' And tho geologist
replied, "Yes, and you might say mil
lions of years, for no one knows but
the Lord, and He won't tell." It it
took so long to make this world at
the start, bo not surprised if it takes
a long while to make it over again
now that it has been ruined. The Ar
chitect has promised to reconstruct it,
and the plans are all made, and at
just the right time it will bo so com
plete that it will be fit for heaven to
move in, if, according to the belief
of some of my friends, this world is
to be made the eternal abode of the
righteous. The wall of that temple is
going up, and my only anxiety is to
have the one brick that I am trying
to make for that wall turn out to be
of the right shape and smooth on a'.l
sides, so that the Master Mason will
not reject it, or have much work with
the trowel to get It into place. I am
responsible for only that one brick
though you may be responsible for a
panel of the door or a carved pillar or
a glittering dome.
Putlence Under Injury.
Again, we have need of patience un
der wrong inflicted, and who escapes
it in some form? It comes to all peo
ple in professional life in the shape of
being misunderstood. Because of this
how many people fly to newspapers for
an' explanation. You see their card
signed by their own name dec!aring
that they did not say this or did not
do that. They fluster and worry, not
realizing that every man comes to be
taken for what he Is worth, and you
cannot by any newspaper puff be taken
for more than you are worth nor by
any newspaper depreciation be put
down. There is a spirit of fairness
akroad in the world, and if you are
a public man you are classified among
the friends or foes of society, if you
are a friend of society, you will find
plenty of adherents, and if you are the
foe of society you cannot escape repre
hension. Paul, you were right when
you said, not more to the Hebrews
than to us, "Ye have need of patience."
I adopted a rule years ago which has
been of great service to me, and it
may be of some service to you: Cheer
fully consent to be misunderstood.
God knows whether we are right or
wrong, whether we are trying to serve
Him or damage His cause. When you
can cheerfully consent to be misun
derstood. many of the annoyances and
vexations of life will quit your heart,
and you will come into calmer seas
than you have ever sailed on. The
most misunderstood being that ever
trod the earth was the glorious Christ.
The world misunderstood His cradle
and concluded that one so poorly born
could never be of much importance.
They charged Him with inebriety and
called Him a winebibber. The sanhe
drin misunderstood Him, and when it
was put to the vote whether He was
guilty or not of treason He got but
one vote, while all the others voted
"Aye, aye." They misunderstood His
cross and concluded that if He had di
vine power He would effect His own
rescue. They misunderstood His
grave and declared that His body had
been stolen by infamous resurrection
ists. He so fully consented to be mis
understood that, harried and slapped
and submerged with scorn, he an
swered not a word. You cannot come
up to that, but you can imitate In
some small degree the patience of
Christ.
r&tl«ne« Under riiyalcal Palm
Again, this grace is needed to help
in time of physical ailments. What
vast multitudes are in perpetual pain
while others are subject to occasional
paroxysm! Almost every one has
some disorder to which he is occa
sionally subjected. It is rheumatism
or neuralgia or sick headache or indi
brings on that old spell and you think
you would rather have almost any
thing else, but that is because you
have not tried the other. Almost ev
eryone has something which he wishes
he had not There are scores of dis
eases ever ready to attack the human
frame. They have been in pursuit of
our race ever since Adam and Eve re
signed their innocence as well as the
world's health. It is amazing how
persistent and methodic those disor
ders are in their attack on the world
and how regular is the harvest which
with the sharp scythe of pain they
mow down for the grave. No such
disciplined and courageous army ever
marched as the army of physical suf
fering. They do their work in the or
der I name, and you may depend upon
their keeping on In that same order
ter a good while yet first of all tuber
culosis, &$xt organio heart -disease,
till 5
rr'
next pneumonia, nert In number of
its victims is apoplexy, next Bright.'s
disease, next cancer, next typhoid,
fever, next paralysis. Those eight dis
eases are the worst despoilers of hu
man life. The doctors with solutions^
and lancets and anodynes and cata
plasms are in a brave fight against
these physiological devils that try to
possess the human race. But after all
the scientists can do there is a de
mand for patience. Nothing can take
the place of that. It is needed this mo
ment In every sickroom and along the
streets and in business places and
shops where breadwinners are com
pelled to toil when physically Incom
petent to move a pen or calculate a
column of figures or control a shovel.
But every pastor could show yon in
stances of complete happiness under
physical suffering. He could take you
to that garret or to that hospital or to
some room in his parish where sits
in rocking chair or lies upon a pil
low some one who has not seen a well
clay in ton years and yet has never
been heard to utter a word of com
plaint. The grace of God has tri
umphed in her soul as It never tri
umphs in the soul of one who is vig
orous and athletic.
nanUhment of Cnre.
Now. let us this hour turn over a
new leaf and banish worriment and,
care out of all our lives. Just see how
these perversities have multiplied
wrinkles in your face and acidulated
your disposition and torn your nerves.
You are tea years older than you
ought to be. Do two things, one for
the betterment of your spiritual con
dition and the other for the safety of
your worldly interests. First, get your
heart right with God by being par
doned through the atonement of Jesus
Christ. That will give security for
you? soul's welfare. Then get your
life insured In some well established
life insurance company. That will
take from you all anxiety about the,
welfare of your household in case of
your sudden demise. The sanitary in
fluence of such insurance is not suffi
ciently understood.
Many a breadwinner long since de
ceased would now have been alive and
well but for the reason that when he
was prostrated he saw that in case of
his decease his family would go to
the poorhouse or have an awful strug
gle for daily bread. But for that anx
iety he would have got welL That
anxiety defied all that the best physi
cians could do. Suppose these two
duties attended to, the one for the
safety of your soul in this world and
the next, and the other for the safety
of your family if you pass out of this
life, make a new start. If possible have
your family sitting room where you
can let in the sunlight Have a music
al Instrument if you can afford it
harp or piano or bass viol or parlor
organ. Learn how to play on it your
self or have your children learn how
to play on it Let bright colors domi
nate in your room. If there are pic
tures on the wall, let them not be sug
gestive of battlefields which are al
ways cruel, of deathbeds which are al
ways sad, or partings which are al
ways heartbreaking. There are enough
present woes in the world without the
perpetual commemoration of past mis
eries. If you sing in your home vn
your church do not always choose
tunes in long meter.
The Reward of Patience*
•This last summer I stood on Spar
row hill, four miles from Moscow. It
was the place where Napoleon stood
and looked upon the city which he
was about to capture. His army had
been in long marches and awful fights
and fearful exhaustions, and when
they came to Sparrow hill the shout
went up from tens of thousands of
voices, "Moscow, Moscow!" I do not
wonder at the transport A ridge of
bills sweeps round the city. A river
semicircles it with brilliance. It is a
spectacle that you place in your mem
ory as one of three or four most beau
tiful scenes in all the earth. Napo
leon's army marched on it in four di
visions, four overwhelming torrents of
valor and pomp. Down Sparrow hill
and through the beautiful valley and
across the bridges and into the pal
aces, which surrendered without one
shot of resistance because the ava
lanche of trbops was irresistible.
There is the room in which Napoleon
slept, and his pillow, which must have
been very uneasy, for oh, how short
his stay! Fires kindled in all parts
of the city simultaneously drove out
that army into the snowstorms under
which 95,000 men perished. How soon
did triumphal march turn Into horri
ble demolition. Today, while I speak,
we come on a high hill, a glorious hill
of Christian anticipation. These hosts
of God have had a long march, and
fearful battles and defeats have again
and again mingled with the victories,
but today we come in sight of the great
city, the capital of the universe, the
residence of the King, and the home
of those who are to reign with him
for ever and ever. Look at the towers
and hear them ring with eternal jubi
lee. Look at the house of many man
sions, where many of our loved ones
are. Behold the streets of burnished
gold and hear the rumble of the char
iots of those who are more than con
querors. So far from being driven
back, all the twelve gates are wide
open for our entrance. We are march
ing on and marching on, and our ev
ery step brings us nearer to that city.
Comp'tmeoted His WHO. V.'l'/L'
f'-O'sv tS.
Some automobllists along a lonely
country road stopped at a wayside
cabin to get a drink. The men of the
house answered their knock. When
he withdrew for pitcher and glass
there came a voice from within aa of
some one objecting—a high feminine
voice not likely to languish for want
of practice. Through the open door
the automobllists could see that an
exquisite cleanliness prevailed. The
orderliness without had already struck
them. As they quaffed the water—
"Your wife must be a fine housekeep
er," remarked one of the party.
"Ya-as," eald the man thoughtfully,
his eyes fixed on the horizon, "she's
hell on dirt"
While men believe In ths possibili
ties of children being religious, they
are largely falling to make them so.
because they are offering them not a
child's but a man's religion—men's
forms of truth and men's forms of
experlenca.—Philips Brooks.
Sliiebaei notes.
"Nature's Miracles," by Elisha Gray,
Ph.D. LL.D., is «. series o£ familiar
talks in science in three volumes. Yel»
umc 1 is devoted to "Earth, Air and
Water," Volume 2 to "linerg-y.
Sounrl, Heat, Light and Explosions/'
and Volume 3 to "Electricity and
Magnetism." The name of Elisha
Gray is sumcient to stamp the work
as one of exceptional merit, tuid with
the unanimous endorsement of tho
leading scientists, journa's and edu
cators it will find a place in tho r
Iibrary of every ambitious student.
the Detroit Journal says: "The
books by I'rof. Klisha Gray are uot- s$i|
ably informing, due largely to t.lio
lucidity of his style and tho degree *jf|l
of interest he attaches to dry data, fi
On the subjects treated it is an. ^J|
encyclopedia of simple information.1''
Published by J'ords, Howard & Hul
pert, New
(rk.
1 lie Kagle's Heart," a story of the "'"v
west., by li.-iiiilin (,arland, recently
completed, is regarded as the strong- ,y
e«t, iind imist. important literary work
that that author has yet done. Tha
story prest nis em epic of the wert, {i
Wherein tiie hero with "the eagle's
heart goes westward and enters tip
on the strange and picturesque life
of the plains. The novel offers vivid
pictures of eat tie ranching and other
phases of western life. There am
interaction between the Middle West
and the J'ar West, which is adroitly
indicated, ami the variety of the sVrjr
is as noticeable as its vigor and dra
matic power. Air. tiariaiid has
IT. 1'ublishers,
New York.
"The Girl at the Hallway House," .'i
a romance of the plains, by E. Kough, i|
an Iowa author who gained general $
recognition by his remarkable book,
"The Story of tUa^XkwboT." cornea
from D./Appleton & Oa-i juxsv
icacure
Bad
.J.l
i.ee.u
""gaged upon this romance for kcv
eial tears, and it embodies his most
earnest treatment of a theme which
lias apcaled especially to lu
LU,
both
from the artistic and the realistic,
points of view. The Eagle's Heart
has been published by D. Appietou
& Company, A'ew \ork.
Ldward S. Kllis' boy books are so
well known for their vivacity and in
terest, alluring the young folk to un
concious absorption of the useful aud
the earnest, that the title of his new
est story shows what to expect from
it. "Dorsey, the Young Inventor," is
the tale of a wide-awake country
boy, whose father's occupation of
brick-making incites his native iuge
ntt:ty and starts him on a career of
clever contriving of labor-saving de
vices. The boy's character is frank,
generous and manly, so that all his
adventures—at home, in school, in.
City wandering, with other boya, with
purloiners of his inventions, amid his
father's business mishaps, etc.—keep
the reader's sympathy with the youth
ful hero from start to finisn. The
amount of information the author
contrives to impart about the realm
of invention and the modes of invent
ing v.-ill be of keen interest to any
boy of the ingenious turn of mind,
and will arouse new ideas in many a
careless head. Ford, Howard & Hul
be
1
•The Girtl at the Halfway House has
beftn cailcxl an Amcficaxi cpic oy
critics wlio have read the manuscript.
The autlmor illustrates tho strange
life oi! J^fhe great westward movement
whieli/ljecame so marKed in this coun
try a(fter the civil 'var. A dramatio
of a bat.th !'eld, which has
compared to scenes in The
which the hero n.nt heroiiie first meet
there comes "The Day of the Buf
falo." The third part of the story,
called The Day of tLe Cattle,"
sketches the wild days when the^Q
range cattle covered the plains and
the cowboys owned tLe towns. The
Po-urth part ot the story is called-'"^
"The Day of the Plow," and in this
we find that the buffalo has passed
from the adopted country of ero
and heroine, ami the era of tewus
and land booms has beguii. Nothing
has been written on the opening of
the west to cxcel tnis romance in
epic quality, and its historic interest,
as well as its freshness, vividness ami
absorbing interest, should appeal to
every American reader. *"i
Among the noteworthy features of
McClnre's Magazine for 1901- will be
"Kim," a great novel of life in In-
dia, by Kudyard Kipling. It is the
latest, longest and most important
product of Mr. Kipling's genius, tho
most noteworthy contribution ti»i
modern fiction. The author returns
to the fields of hs earliest triumphs
and writes of that mysterious coun
try with all his extraordinary power
of description. It is a masterpiece'
of literature. Another feature will
be "Within the Gates," a drama of
the seen and unseen, by Elizabeth
Stuart !Phelps Ward. This is the au
thor's latest discussion of the great'
problem of death and the resurrec
tion and carries the problem beyond,
the grave. It is certain to arouse aa
much comment as her earliest work
on the subject.
The December number of St. Nich
olas is notable as containing the only'
prose, except "The Helmet' of Na
varre," yet published by Miss Bertha
Runkie. In "The Sorcery ox Hal th«
Wheelwright," she tells how a bicy
cle came to be made in the time of
Henry V., aud of the troubles it
brought to its inventor.
"The World's Work," the new illus
trated magazine by Doubleday, Pago
& Co., covers, with no waste of
words, everything of contempora
neous interest and achievement. Its
illustrations are of generous size
The type is large. It is a short cut
to what is most interesting eanh
month. No list of famous contribu
tors has been sought—the idea of tho
magazine, well carried out, is relied
upon to win respect.
The poor farm in Marion county,
Kansas, has only ten inmates. Last
year it cleared $200 pver expenses.
When the peel of a Japane.se
orange is removed, the sections fall
apart without further aid.
Electric street-sweeping machines
are in use in Paris. They are plan
ned after the model of an automobila
with revolving brooms.
Diamonds are always trumps with
Alfred Bett, the diamond ldng of
South Africa. He is only forty-six
yea-s old and has amassed' a for- ,:•!
tune of $200,000,000 in twenty fiv* -i*
years. $
If you are wise you will never hit
at a man after he has got you down.
There are lots of men who think
they understand women the women
know .better.
Theaters have wings, but no ontfi^
ever saw them fly.
When a young man goes to eourt it
Is usually to press his salt
Happiness is aboot vto on^ tjiing a
man continues to search for after h»^
has found 1
Every
admit thai
ym\
every ci(
ig
1
ie was oom
tobaaeo hotawTkands
tte purchaser* fitrabot*
1rmr*ri
re earn
what
it In
A west