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KATHARINE TRENT. TSp T WAS half-past 3, /.'II and almost dark. / \ic/cii' Most of the seats *1 / were occupied, ei- C! f« ! ~' ther by the passen rX*w)[) V £ers >n person or y ; llT«m by their represen- :Jrr> ' tative luggage, and Jl V Vli th e lamplighter (c&jj«• had just completed disposed of wraps, cane, umbrella, and the bundle somo fruit of a day’s shopping in town; had exerted himself in every possible way to secure the com fort and amusement of his companion, and then, having failed to elicit th** slightest response, had gone into per manent retirement behind the even ing paper. But Miss Katharine Trent failed to find anything interesting in the new magazines, and was now leaning dis consolately back in her seat, wrapped in penitent eontemplation of the half inch of Dick’s forehead and smoothly parted brown hair visible above the edge of the paper. A box of choco lates and a big bunch of violets in her lap seemed equally unregarded. “1 suppose,” she thought, drawing together her pretty brows, ‘‘if news papers were .made of glass. I could see Dick’s eyes; but it’s a good thing they aren’t, for I should certainly feel in clined to break that one into a thou sand pieces.” The train was going at a fair speed now, and murmurs of contented con versation reached her ear. “Dick,” she said suddenly, sitting holt upright, “here we are almost to Bushey. Are you really going to go as far as Watford with me?” “I am afraid I must,” and Dick laid down his paper with grave courtesy, and looked for a moment straight into ’ter eyes. “Mother is down there with Bessie, you know, and I telegraphed ihem to expect me out to dinner. I never like to disappoint Bess.” But Kate had dropped her eyes when Dick looked at her; the smile and the “I’m so glad!” with which she meant to begin her overtures of peace had died on her lips, and she stared with burning cheeks out into ilie darkness, while Dick, with a hard ly repressed sigh, again took refuge in his .paper. But he read line after line without catching a word of the sense. “I suppose T was an ass to think she eared for me,” he was thinking. “It’s plain enough now' that she doesn't and never did:” and Dick spread out his paper and refolded it with a vicious punch. The truth was that Miss Katharine Trent was a bundle of startling contra dictions. That she had a tender heart, or that she was thoughtful and earn est, no one who looked for a moment into her big, serious blue eyes could doubt. Yet often, if not indeed gen >rally. she acted without a moment’s reflection. Her little Italian singing master was fond of calling her his “beautiful chord of the ninth.” and <aid that everything depended upon her proper resolution. It had begun to rain. A few drops zigzagged their downward career across the pane with most fascinating unexpected movements; but Katharine did not even see them. She was think ing desperately of that look in Dick’s eyes. Of course he loved her. She knew that. Didn’t she love him just us much? But here her conscience awoke with a start, and informed her KISSED IIIM. that if she did love him she ha , Jnken every precaution to conceal the fact from herself, and Dick, and every one else. “And don’t you,” conscience went on, “don’t you treat almost every fellow you know better than you treat Dick? And didn’t yon this very after noon refuse even to talk about mar rying him?” The train was flying now, and Kath arine found herself listening frantieal ’y to the measured double slam of the wheels, that brought nearer every in stant the time when Dick would go. "I know he’ll never look at me or speak to me again. I don’t blame him. I can’t ask him to forgive me. because I should certainly cry, and —O!” Her heart almost choked her with its heat ing, for the train had begun to slow up, and Dick was putting on his coat. Suddenly a voice pitched in a girlish sopranno fell on her ear. “Good-bye, Will,” it said,“and please write to us at once, won’t you? You know mamma always worries so about you. Good-bye”—a kiss —“good-bye!” That was all, but it was enough; not n minute for reflection, but Katherine needed none. Dick was beside her, hat and cane in band, but Kate was already on her feet. “I will.” she said to herself, with a swift glance around, while the pink in her cheeks changed to red and flamed clear up to her hair; “I will!” The man at the other side of the car riage was -looking out of the window. “No one will ever know the differ ence,” she went on, “and I can’t bear to have him go.” ”1 telegraphed your father to meet tills train," Dick was saying. “I real ly must hurry.” “Good-bye, Dick,” said Kate, her voice positively ringing with cousinly affection. “I am awfully sorry I can’t go with you and see Cousin Bess; and be sure to give my love to Aunt Katie;” and, tiptoeing a little, she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him straight on the mouth. For a moment, the universe seemed to reel about Dick's head. Then he sank into the seat and pulled Kate down beside him. “You will be carried by—O, Dick!" and Kate was almost sobbing in an agony of blushes. “I think I'll change my mind, and go on to Pinner!” remarked Dick, cheer fullly, taking in at a glance the too interested observer on the opposite seat. “Your father —er —Uncle John might not meet you, you know; and, besides” —crushing both her hands against him as he bent over her in a blissful moment when their fellow pas senger was looking the other way— “besides, you have not told me when you will marry me.” —Folks at Home. CRIME IN LITERATURE. A Significant Fact That Deserves a Tittle Consideration. An article in the Westminster Re view deals with “Crime in Current Literature,” the anonymous author as serting that “never were there so many pens engaged in dealing with crime and criminals as at the present time; the few, seriously and solemnly; the many, lightly and irreverently, and unwitting of the moral mischief they thereby engender.” He refers especi ally to the fondness for “detective stories,” most of which, he finds, are written by individuals who have not and never had the remotest connec tion with the police.” On this head the writer furnishes the following sta tistics: The number of newspapers, strictly so-called, published weekly in Great Britain and containing serial stories of one kind or another is nearly 800. Of these 392 are published in England and Wales, 113 in Scotland and 80 in Ireland. Out of this total it has been ascertained that in the year 1893 no fewer than 240 published complete, or portions of, detective stories —stories of all phases and forms of criminal ity, describing the details thereof with greater or less degrees of minuteness: here making the criminal a sort of Claude Duval, or highway hero worthy of emulation, and there rightly brand ing him as an iniquitous scoundrel fit only for the clutch of Jack Ketch, but almost Invariably depicting the hide ousness of crime as it certainly ought not to be depicted. Many such week ly newspapers as are published in pop ulous centers have long ago recognized the importance of this factor in help ing to increase their circulation, and they cannot be blamed for it. But it ia a somewhat remarkable fact, which the inquiry into this phase of the sub ject has made evident, that in newspa pers of the class indicated which are published in Ireland tlie general char acter of the serial stories was, and like enough still is, much above that of tlie stories published in the same place in English or Scottisli newspa pers. On an average, there are fewer by far that make the same literary spe cialty ,in story or “experience" form, of the subject of crime and its detec tion. In tlie light of the pas*, or even of present, events in Ireland this evi dence may be taken for what it is worth; but it is none the less a sig nificant fact deserving of a little con sideration by those whom it may hap pen to concern. AT MONTE CARLO. Characteristic! ALout Those Who Hay at This Famous Kesort. From a letter on the present season at Monte Carlo, the famous resort and gambling place, which is published in a l'arls paper, the following extract is not without interest to American read ers, says the Baltimore Sun. In the Salon de Jettx each afternoon and evening there is a great crowd just now and considerable sensation is being created by the playing of some of tlie more determined punters. Most re marked among the boldest is an American artist, a painter, recently decorated with the cross of the Legion of Honor, lie bets large sums with out a moment's hesitation, and fre quently makes enormous wins. It is all done so rapidly as to astonish look ers-on. The gentleman in question wins or loses with but little show of excitement and is certainly and em phatically what the French style beau jouetir. He seldom sits at a table, al ways plays roulette and walks about from table to table, attracting much attention by his impetuous play. In marked contrast to his style is that of a stout gentleman, who never plays except when seated, anti who, having made selection of a number upon tlie roulette table, remains faithful to it, and, with an air of unending patience, covers it with gold until, having made a large win, lie slowly retires, all the while having remained in his seat impassive— not even the most marvel ous good fortune causing his vacant ex pression to alter in the least. It is curious to note that, while the oilier player seems to lie so popular and gen erally liked, the stout party, wiiose good or bad fortune seems to have so little effect upon him, is decidedly un popular. People appear to dislike see ing him so unaffected by his phenome nal good luck. “G’est pas un liornme,” exclaimed a vivacious little French lady, after the punter had so phleg matically put into his pocket the 20,- 000 francs he had won in a single coup, “e’est unc machine.” And that those standing around felt as she did was evinced liy their approving laughter. In Oregon there are 25,000 acres of prune orchards. TALMAUE’S SERMON. ’’CONTRARY WINDS" THE P-3- JECT LAST SUNDAY. From the Following Text, “Tlie Wind Wm Contrary"— Matt. —Tlie Voice of Chi'Utlaulty the Only Alter native La MUfoctuno. - S I well know by [ experience on Lake Galilee, one hour I all may be crilm LZj waves will be so j A boisterous that you : <, j are in doubt as to ! whether you will J * land on the shore Kn or on the bottom of j the deep. The disciples in the text were caught in such a stress of weather | and the sails bent and the ship plunged ! for “the wind was contrary.” There | ! is in one of the European straits a i I place, where, whichever way you sail | the winds are opposing. There are j people who all their life seem sailing In the teeth of the wind. All things seem against them. It may be said of their condition as of that of the dis ! ciples in my text; "the wind was con- i ! trary.” A great multitude of people are un- j der seeming disadvantage, and I will i today, in the swarthiest Anglo-Saxon | that I can manage, treat their cases; ! not as a nurse counts out eight or ten j drops of a prescription, and stirs ihem I in a half-glass of water, but as when ; I a man has by a mistake taken a large ! i amount of strychnine, or Paris green, 1 I or belladonna, and the patient is walk- I ; ed rapidly round the room, and shaken j i tip, until he gels wide awake. Many of ! you have taken a large draught of the { poison of discouragement, and I come j out by the order of the Divine Physl- j cian to rouse you out of that lethargy. First, many people are under the dis i advantage of an unfortunate name ! given them by parents who thought they were doing a good thing. Homo times at the baptism of children, while I hare held up one hand in prayer, I have held up the other hand in amaze ment that parents should have weight ed the babe with such a dissonant and repulsive nomenclature. 1 have not so much wondered that some children should cry out at the christening font as that others with such smiling face should take a title that will be the bur den of their lifetime. It is outrageous to sftllct children with an undesirable ; name because it happened to be pos- | scssed by a parent or a rich unde from j whom favors are expected, or some prominent man of the day who may end his life in disgrace. It is no ex | cuse, because they are Scripture names, ; to call a child Jehoikim. or Tiglath | Plleser. I baptized one by the name ; Bathsheba! Why, under all the cir j cumambient heaven, any parent should i want to give to a child the name of that | loose creature of Scripture times 1 can not imagine. I have often felt at the I baptismal altar, when names were an ! nouneed tq me, like saying, as did the Rev. Dr. Richards, of Morristown, N. J., when a child was handed aim for baptism and the name given; “Hadn't you better call it something else?** Impose not upon that babe a name suggestive of flippancy or meanness. There is no excuse for such assault and battery on the cradle when our lan guage is opulent with names musical and suggestive in meaning, such as John, meaning “the gracious gift ol God;” or Henry, meaning “the chief ; of a household;” or Alfred, meaning I "good counsellor;” or Joshua, meaniug “God, our salvation;” or Ambrose, meaning “Immortal;” or Andrew, meaning “manly;” or Esther, meaniug “star;” or Abigail, meaning “toy fath er’s Joy;” or Anna, meaning “grace;" or Victoria, meaning “victory;" or Ros alie, meaning "beautiful as a rose;” or Margaret, meaning “a pearl;” or Ida, meaning “godlike;” or Clara, meaning “Illustrious;” or Amelia, meaning “busy;” or Bertha, meauing "beauti ful,” and hundreds of other names just as good, that are a help rather than a | hindrance. But sometimes the great hindrance 1 In life In not in the given name, but In ; the family name. While legislatures are willing to lift such incubus, there are families that keep a name which mortgages all the generations with a great disadvantage. You say; "1 won der if he is any relation to So-aud-zo,” mentioning some family celebrated for crime or deception. It is a wonder to | me that in all such famlies some sp:rit ?d young man does not rise, saying to 1 liis brothers and sisters; ’if you want I to keep this nuisance or scandalization of a name, I will keep it no longer than until the quickest course of law I can slough off this gangrene.” The city directory has hundreds of names the mere pronunciation of which has been a life-long obstacle. If you have started life under a name which either through ridiculous orthography or vicious sug gestion has been au encumbrance, re solve that the next generation shaii not be so weighted. It is not bemcaniug |to change a n;une. .Saul of Tarsus be jamo Paul tbe Apostle. Hudnssah, “the myrtle,” became Esther, " the | star.” We have In America, and I sup pose it is so in all countries, names which ought to be abolished, and can be, and will be abolished for tlie reason that they are a libel and a slander. But if for any reason you are submerged either by a given name or by a family name that you must bear. God will help you to overcome the outrage by a life consecrated to the good and useful. You may erase the curse from the asms. If It one© stood for meanness, yon can make it stand for genorosity. If once it atood for pride, you can make It gt’tml fur humility, if it once j stnd for fraud, you can make It stand ; for honesty. If once it stood for wick edness. you can make it stand for pur ity. There have been multitutdcs of in stances where men and women Inve magnificently conquered tlie disasters of the name inflicted upon thorn. Again, many people labor under the misfortune of incomplete physical | equipment. We are by our Creator so | economically built that we cannot af ford the obliteration of any physical faculty. We want our two eyes, our two ears, our two hands, our two feet, our eight lingers and two thumbs. Yet what multitudes of people have but one eye, or but one foot! The ordinary casualties of life have been quadrupled, ! quintupled, scxtupled, aye, centupled, , in our time by the Civil War, and at the North and South a great multitude I are fighting the battle of life with hall, j or less than half the needed physical j armaments. 1 do not wonder at the j, pathos of a soldier during the war, who, when told that lie must have his hand I amputated, said: “Doctor, can't you ! save it?” and when told that i: was im j possible, said, with tears rolling down his checks: “Well, then, good-bye, old band; I hate to part with you. You have done me a good service for many years, but it seems you must go. Good bye.” A celebrated surgeon told me of a ! scene in the Clinical Department of one ! of the New’ York hospitals, when a poor man with a wounded leg was ! brought in before the students to be i operated on. The surgeon was point | ing out this and that to the students, j and handling the wounded leg, and was I about to proceed to amputation, when ; the poor man leaped from the table | and hobbled to the door, and said, l “Gentlemen, l am sorry to disappoint you, but by the help of God r . will die I with my leg on." What a terrific loss j is the loss of our physical faculties! * * * Put to full use all the faculties that I remain, and charge on all opposing cir cumstances with the determination of John of Bohemia, who was totally blind, and yet at a battle cried out. “I pray and beseech you to lead me so tar Into the light that I may strike one good blow with this sword of mine.” Do not think so much of what faculties you have lost as of what faculties re main. You have enough left to make yourself lelt in three worlds, while you help the earth, and balk hell, and win heaven. Arise from your discourage ments, O men and women of depleted or crippled physical faculties and see what, by the special help of God you can accomplish! The skilled horsemen stood around • Bucephalus, unable to mount or man age him, so wild was the steed. But Alexander noticed that the sight of his own shadow seemed to disturb the horse. So Alexander clutched him by the bridle, and turned his head away from the shadow, and toward the sun, and the horse’s agitation was gone, and Alexander mounted him and rode off, to the astonishment of all who stood by. And what you people need is to have your sight turned away from the ! shadows of your earthly lot over which you have so long pondered, and your head turned toward the sun —the glorious sun of Gospel consolation, and Christiau hope, and spiritual triumph. 9*9 Now. suppose a man finds himself in mid-life without education, what is he to do? Do the best he can. The most effective layman in a former pastoral charge that I ever heard speak on re ligious themes could, within five min utes of exhortation, break all the laws of English grammar, and if he left any law unfiactured he would complete the work of lingual devastation in the prayer with which he followed it. But I would rather have him pray for me, if I were sick or in trouble, ihan any Christian man I know of, and la that church all the people preferred him in exhortation and prayer to all others. Why? Because he was so thoroughly pious and bad such power with God he was irresistible; and as l;e went on in his prayer sinners repented and saints shouted for Joy, and the bereaved seem ed to get back their dead in celestial companionship. And when he had stopped praying, and as soon as I could wipe out of my eyes enough tears to see the closing hymn, I ended the meeting, fearful that some long-winded prayer meeting bore would pull us down from the seventh heaven. Not a word have I to say against ac curacy of speech, or tine elocution, or high mental culture. Get ail these you can. But I do say to those who were brought up in tbe day of paor cchool houses and ignorant schoolmasters, and no opportunity: You may have so much of good in your soul and so much of heaven in your everyday life that you will be mightier for good than any who went through the currieu'um of Harvard, or Yale, or Oxford, yet never graduated in the school of Christ. When you get up to the gate of heaven no one will ask you whether you can parse the first chapter of Genesis, but wheth er you have learned the fear of the Lord, which is the beginning of wis dom; nor whether you know liovv to square the circle, but whether you have lived a square life In a round world. Mount Zion Is higher than Meant Par nassus. But what other multitudes thero are under other disadvantages! Here is a Christian woman whose liusbanl thinks religion a sham, and while the wife prays the children one way tao hus band swears them another. Or hare is a Christian man who is trying to do his best for God and the Church, and his wife holds him back and says on the way home from prayer-meeting, whero ho gave testimony for Christ: “What a fool you made of yourself! I hope hereafter you will keen still.” And when he would be benevolent and give fifty dollars, she criticises li.nj for not giving fifty cents. I must do jus tice and publicly thank God that J never proposed at home to give any thing for any cause of humanity or re ligion but the other partner in the do mestic firm approved it. And when it seemed beyond my ability and faith in God was necessary, she had three fourths the faith. But I know men who, when they contribute to charita ble objects are afraid that Ihe wife shall find It out. What ;* withering curse such a woman must be to a good man! Then there are others under the great disadvantage of poverty. Who ought to get things cheapest? You say those who have little means. But they pay more. You buy coal by tlie ton, they buy it by the bucket. You buy flour by the barrel, they buy it by the pound. You get apparel cheap, because you pay cash. They pay dear because the}’ have to get trusted. And the Bible was right when it said: “the de struction of the poor is their poverty.” Then there are those who made a mistake in early life, and that over shadows all their days. “Do you not know that that man was once In pris on,” is whispered. Or, “Do you know that that man once attempted suicide?” Or, “Do you know that that man once absconded?” Or, “Do yoji know that that man was once discharged for dis honesty?” Perhaps there was only one wrong deed in the man's life, and that one act haunts the subsequent half, cen tury of his existence. Others have unfortunate predomi nance of some mental faculty, and their rashness throws them into wild enterprises, or their trepidation makes them decline great opportunity, or there is a vein of melancholy in their disposition that defeats them, or they have au endowment of over-mirth that causes the impression of insincerity. Others have a mighty obstacle in their personal appearance, for which they are not responsible. They forget that God fashioned their features, and their complexion, and their stature, *he siz.e of their nose, and mouth, and hands, and feet, and gave them their gait and their general appearance; and they forget that much of tlio world's best work and the Church's best work lias been done by homely people; and that Paul the Apostle is said to have been hump-backed, and his eye-sight weakened by ophthalmia, while many of the finest in appearance have passed their time in studying killing attitudes, and In displaying the richness of ward robes —not one ribbon, or vest, or sack, or glove, or button, or shoe-string of which they have had brains to earn for themselves. * • • In the way of practical relief for all disadvantages and all woes, the only voice that is worth listening to on this subject is the voice of Christianity, which is the voice of Almighty God. Whether I have mentioned the par ticular disadvantage under which you labor or not, I distinctly declare, in the name of God, that there is a way out and a way up for all of you. You can not be any w’orse off than that Chris tian young woman who was in the Pemberton mills when they fell some years ago, and from under the fallen timbers she was heard singing; “I am going home to die no more.” Take good courage from that Bible, all of whose promises are for those in bad predicament. There are better days for you, either on earth or in heaven. I put my hand under your chin, and lift your face into the light of tlie com ing dawn. Have God on your aide, and then you have for reserve troops ail the armies of heaven, the smallest company of which is twenty thousand chariots, and the smallest brigade one hundred and forty-four thousand, the lightnings of heaven their drawn sword. An ancient warrior saw an overpow ering host come down upon bis small company of armed men, and mounting bis horse he threw a handful of sand in the air, crying, “Let their faces be covered with confusion!” And both armies heard his voice, and history says it seemed as though the dust thrown in the air had become so many angels of supernatural deliverance, nnd the weak overcame tho mighty, and the immense host fell back, and the small number marched on. Have faith in God, and though all the allied forces of discouragement seem to come against you in battle array, and their laugh of deflnance and contempt resounds through all the valleys and mountains, you might by faith in God, and impor tunate prayer, pick up a handful of the very dust of your humiliation, and throw it into the air, and it ehall be como angels of victory over all the armies of earth and hell. The voices of your adversaries, human and Satan ic, shall be covered with confusion, while you shall be not only conqueror, but more than conqueror, through ihat grace which has so often made the fallen helmet of an overthrown antag onist the footstool of a Christian vic tory. Deep Diving to Rooovor Treasure. The greatest diving font ever at tempted was that of the raising of treasure that sank with the steamer rear Seal Rocks, New South Wales. News lias been received lhat every box of sovereigns that went to the bottom has been saved by Llie men who work ed under tlie sea at a depth of twenty seven fathoms. The names of the div ers are Briggs and May. At times they wore subject to a pressure of seventy to seventy-five pounds to the square ineh, causing ihem great suffering. The Catterthun was wrecked in Au gust, 1893, while on tho voyage from Sydney to Hong Kong. Fifty-four of her crew and passengers lost their lives, including brave Captain Shan non. The vessel’s cargo consisted of produce and £IO,OOO in sovereigns.— ban Francisco Examiner. FOREIGN NOTES. The monkey colony at Gibraltar —tbs only wild meukeys In Europe—includes about twenty Individuals at present. A Scottish railway company has en gaged a first-class speaker to give free illustrated lectures In cities and towns descriptive of the beautiful summer ro sorts in Scotland. Three hundred unpublished letters by Hofer, Haspinger and others, valu able documents to historians of the Ty rol, were lately discovered In a dilapi dated drug store at Bozen. Poisoned Blood These come from poi- sVj a | ar j a Bonous miasms arising from low marshy land and from decaying vegei bio matter, which, breathed into tbe lungs, enter and poison the blood. Keep the blood puro by taking Hood’s Sarsaparilla arid there will be little danger from malaria. 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