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Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, March 07, 1884, Image 8

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THE HERALD.
•T BATDUX A MeBOBfAUk
'WKSSINGTON SPRINGS. D.TL
1
PHAETON.
Before Oopernieufc and others proved
The Sun stood still, and't was the Earth that
moved,
Phoebus Apollo, as all freshmen know,
Was the Sun's coachman. This was long ago.
Across the sky from east to west all day
He drove, but took no passengers or pay.
A splendid team it was and there was none
But he eould drive this chariot of the Sun.
The world was safe so long as in bis hand
He held the reins and kept supreme command.
But Phoebus had a wild, conceited son,
A raBh and lively youth, named Phaeton,
Who used to watch his father mount his car
And whirl through space like a great shooting*
star
And thought what fun 't would be, could be
contrive
Some dav to mount the car and take a drivel
The mischief of it was, Apollo loved
The boy so well that once his heart was moved
To promise him whatever he might ask.
He never thought how hard would be the task
To keep his word. 60. one day, Phaeton
Said to his sire "I'd like to drive your Sun—
That is, myself—dear sir, excuse the pun
Twelve hours through space. You know you
promised once
Whatever I might ask."
"I was a dunce,"
Apollo said. "My foolish love for you, t*g
I fear, my son, that I shall sadly rue.
Lend you my chariot? No —I really can't
Is n't there something else ttiat I can grant
Instead of this? A serious thing't would be
To have my horse6 run away, you see.
You might bring ruin on the eart and sky,
And I'm responsible, you know—yes, I.
Try something else. Here's a great wheel of
light,
The moon—a bicycle—almost as bright
As my sun-chariot. Get astride of this,
And move your legs, and you'll enjoy a bliss
Of motion through the clouds almost as great
As if you rode like me in royal state.
No. my dear boy—why, can't you understand?
I dare not trust you with my four-in-hand."
"I have no taste for bicycles," the boy
Replied. "That thing is but an idle toy.
My genius is for horses, and I long
To try my hand at yours. They're not so
strong
But I can hold them. I know all their tricks.
Father, you swore it by the Biver Styx—
You know you did—and you are in a fix.
You can't retract. Besides you needn't fear,
You'll see I am a skillful charioteer.
I've taken lessons of a man of worth—
A iirst-rate driver down there on the earth."
"I see," said Phoebus, "that I can go back
Upon my promise. Well, thcn.clearthetrack!'
So Phaeton leaped up and grasped the reins.
His anxious father took a deal of pains
To teach him how to hold them—how to keep
The broad high way—how dangerous and steep
It was and how to avoid the moon and stars,
Keep clear of Jupiter, the Earth, and Mars—
And dodge the asteroids and comets red
Follow the zodiac turnpike, straight ahead,
Though clouds and thunder-storms should
round him spread..
Alas! 't was all in vain. A little while—
Two hours perhaps—his fortune seemed to
smile
When a huge meteor, whizzing through the
sky,
Alarmed the horses, who began to shy.
And shake their flery manes then plunged
and reared,
And whirling him zigzag downward, till they
neared
The Earth. A conflagration spread below.
And everything seemed burning up like tow
In the Sun's flames. Then Jupiter looked
down
And saw the Earth, like toast, all turning
brown.
And threw a blazing thunder-bolt (but wait
Here in parenthesis I'd like to state
This may have been a telegram for then
Lightning dispatches were not known to men,
But only used by heathen gods) which struck
The youth and by the greatest piece of luck
Prevented further loss.
This tale they told
In olden times. If I might be so bold
As to suggest an explanation here
Of a phenomenon by no means clear,
I'd say those spots upon the Sun's red face
Were bruises that he got in that mad race.
—C. P. Cranch, in St. Nicholas.
THE EMBROIDERED FLOUNCE.
Rosalie Drew was a very pretty girl
with pink cheeks, blue eyes and golden
hair and not having any faith in the
truth of the old saying that "Beauty
unadorned is adorned the most," she
was fond of wearing bi'ight ribbons,
pretty laces and fashionable hats. But
ler father was a poor man and it was
not often that she could indulge her
taste in making a purchase and she
never went shopping that she did not
jebel against the poverty which made
the best and costliest of everything im
possible for her. It was this love for
finery which led her to commit a crime
which cost her very dearly.
The summer Rosalie was fifteen, her
father was induced to take charge of the
house of a Mr. Spear, who, with his
wife and daughter, was summoned to
Europe very suddenly by the dangerous
illness of a son who was studying art in
the Royal Academy at Munich.
The house was a very handsome one,
with spacious grounds attached, and
Rosalie was delighted at the idea of hav
ing plenty of room at her disposal for
lawn-tennis and croquet, and made all
sorts of plans for the pleasure of herself
and young friends.
Mrs. Spear had had scarcely any
time to prepare for her sudden depart
ure, and so she had hurriedly stored in
a large room in the basement of her
house all those things which she did not
wish to leave in Mrs. Drew's care.
"Everything is in confusion in there,"
she said to Mrs. Drew, as she locked
the door of the basement and put the
key in her pocket, "but it can't be
helped. I have no time to put anything
away neatly."
Now Rosalie had a large share of
curiosity, and she often wished she could
take a look into this room, for she had
no doubt that Mrs. Spear had all sorts
of pretty things in there that would well
repay examination.
It happened one day when her father
and mother were out that while roaming
in the garden she discovered a window
which looked into this room, and which
she found—on opening the shutters—
was unfastened. She hesitated a mo
ment, and then, thinking that surely a
look into the room could do no one any
harm, she raised the window.
As Mrs. Spear had said, everything
was in great confusion. There were
several boxes and half a dozen trunks,
all full to overflowing of garments of
every sort, and in one corner, on a large
table, was a heap of brackets, busts and
other ornaments, covered only with
A
sheet.
Rosalie, catching sight of a black,
beaded dolman, which she had often
seen Louise Spear wear to church, was
seized with a desire to examine it
minutely, and though her conscience
toid her she was doing wrong, she finally
climbed through the window and en
tered the room.
How true it was that one wrong step
leads to another! After examining the
dolman, Rosalie looked at other things,
and ended by taking everything out of
one of the largest trunks. In doing so
she came across a piece of embroidered
white linen, a strip about three yards in
length, which seemed to her the hand-
someet thing of the sort she had ever
seen. The pattern was novel and very
elaborate, and it was worked in the
most exquisite manner. Rosalie em
broidered a little herself, but she had
never even thought of attempting any
thing like this.
"I wonder if I could copy it," she
murmured. "What harm would there
be in my doing so? I think I will take
it and try, ana I can put it back at any
time."
So, when at length she. left the room,
she carried the piece of embroidery with
her. She was very careful to shutdown
the window but in her haste—for she
heard her mother's voice in the kitchen,
and feared discovery—she forgot to close
the shutters.
"The idea of Mrs. Spear going off and
leaving the window of that basement
room unlocked," said Mr. Drew that
evening at supper. "I discovered this
afternoon that the shutters were not even
closed."
"I hope you closed them at once,"
said Mrs. Drew.
"Yes, and I nailed the window se
curely down," was the answer. "I im
agine it would take a burglar some time
to get it open now."
Rosalie had turned very pale at the
first mention of the room, and now she
found it impossible to eat the food she
had taken on her plate, so great was her
dismay. How was she ever to restore
the embroidery to the trunk? And she
had not the couraee to confess to her
parents what she had done.
She scarcely slept at all that night,
and she wished with all her heart that
she had never entered that basement
room. But it seemed to her now that
the only thing she could do was to keep
the embroidery. She saw no way of
restoring it to the trunk without letting
her parents know of it, and this she felt
she could not do. She thought she
would not be able to endure their ex
pressions of sorrow and surprise. And
then it was not likely that Mrs. Spear
would ever discover her loss.
She put the embroidery away at the
bottom of the bureau drawer, and there
it lay for two years. Long before the
expiration of that time, Mr. and Mrs.
Spear and their two children had re
turned and taken possession of their
home again, but though Rosaile trem
bled a little at first for fear the em
broidery would be missed, she recovered
her equanimity when she found that
nothing had been said about it to her
mother.
On her seventeenth birthday Rosalie
received from an aunt, who she had
never seen, a present of fifty dollars and
an invitation to pay her a visit.
Of course Rosalie was overjoyed at
the prospect of a change, ana began
immediately to make preparations for
her visit.
"Oh, how I wish father was a little
better off," she said to her mother as
she packed her trunk. "I have only one
really nice dress to my name, and all the
others are almost shabby."
"Try to forget your clothes, and enjoy
yourself as much as you can," said her
mother. "You will have a pleasant
time, I know, if you will only make up
your mind not to compare your appear
ance with that of others in better cir
cumstances.
In packing her trunk, Rosalie took
care to put in the embroidered flounce.
She took it with her simply because she
did not dare leave it at home, where, by
some unfortunate chance, her mother
might see it.
A week after her arrival at her aunt's,
Rosalie was invited to a large party.
"I haven't a thing to wear," she said.
"My best dress is my black silk, and
that is not suitable."
"A pretty white muslin would do,"
said her aunt.
"All my muslins have been worn out
of all freshness," said Rosalie.
"Suppose you let me look over them,"
said Mrs. Arde. "1 am a famous hand
at planning."
Rosalie willingly threw open the door
of her closet and put up the lid of her
trunk, and dragged out the contents of
both. In doing so, she inadvertently
displaced to view the embroidered
flounce.
"How beautiful!" exclaimed Mrs.
Arde. "Why, Rosalie, I wonder that
you did not mention that you had this,
it is just the thing to make up with a
very queer piece of white muslin. And
you can wear peach-colored or blue rib
bons with it. Come put on your hat,
and we will go shopping at once. I will
make you a present of the dress.
Rosalie felt very averse to using the
embroidery, but she did not know what
excuse to make for not doing so. And
so she obediently put on her hat and
went out with her aunt, who, after buy
ing the materials for the dress, engaged
a dressmaker to come to the house and
make it up at once.
As may be supposed, Rosalie took lit
tle pride in her appearance the night of
the party, for she could not forget what
it was that made her look so well
dressed. She was silent and subdued
throughout the evening, and was very
glad when the party was over, and she
could take the dress off and put it out of
her sight.
"I will never wear it again," she
thought.
But a few days later when her aunt
packed her trunk to go to the seashore
for a week, the dress went in as a mat
ter of course.
"Just the thing for you to wear at the
hotel hops," said Mrs. Arde, who was
not to accompany her niece to the sea
shore, but who had willingly consented
to Rosalie's acceptance of an invitation
from an old lady who had taken a fancy
to the jroung girl's bright face and pleas
ant manners.
In spite of her resolution not to wear
the dress again, Rosalie was obliged to
put it on before she had been two days
at the seashore, for she had nothing else
to wear suitable for an evening enter
tainment, and Mrs. Darling, the lady
with whom she was staying, would not
listen to her protestations of a prefer
ence for a quiet evening at home.
The hotel was crowded, and the ball
room was thronged with young and old.
Rosalie enjoyed at first looking at the
various beautiful costumes ana study
ing the many different faces about her
bat she received a sudden shock when
she discovered that some one was study
ing her—or rather, her dress.
She felt uncomfortable and ill at ease
at once, and would have gone home im
mediately had such a thing been possi
ble! but she oould see nothing of Mr&.
Darling, and was obliged to stand the
scrutiny of the stranger—who was a
young and elegantly dressed lady—as
best die could.
So long a time had passed since she
had taken the flounce that she no longei
feared discovery but any attention pud
her dress always reminded her so un
pleasantly of her sin that she was made
utterly wretched.
How much more was she when the
young lady approaching her said, with
a pleasant smile:
"Will you excuse my speaking to yon
without an introduction? My name is
Eleanor Willoughby, and I am staying
here for a few days with my mother.
The reason I have taken the liberty o!
.speaking to you is that I want to ask
you if you are willing to let me know
who embroidered the flounce on your
dress? It is beautiful."
Rosalie started and turned deadly
pale. It was a full minute before she
could control herself sufficiently to
reply:
"I am quite willing to tell you, but I
am afraid you will not be able to get
one like it—for I suppose that is your
idea—for my aunt embroidered it."
"Is that old lady with whom you
came in your aunt?"
"No, that is Mrs. Darling. My aunt,
Mrs. Arde, lives in Brockton."
"Could you tell me, then, who de
signed the pattern?"
"No, I do not know," answered
Rosalie.
After a few general remarks on'the
warmth of the evening and the-ability
of the musicians, Miss Willoughby
moved away, and Rosalie was left to the
misery of her own thoughts.
She had .told her first falsehood! This
knowledge oppressed her like a night
mare. Oh, how bitterly she regretted
ever having been so weak as to touch
anything not her own!
•she saw no more 'of Miss Willoughby
during the rest of her stay at the sea
shore, but a few days after her return to
Brockton, her aunt came to her with
the following note, which she had re
ceived in the morning mail:
MRS. AHDE: Pardon the liberty I take in
addressing you but I desire very much to
know where you obtained the pattern of the
embroidered flounce worn by your niece at a
hop given at this hotel a week ago. If you
will reply to my inquiry I shall be very much
indebted to you. Sincerely yours,
"ELEANOR WILLOUGHBY."
"NOW,
what does this mean?" asked
Mrs. Arde. "I can't understand it.
Did you meet this Miss Willoughby?"
"Yes, answered Rosalie, her heart
beating almost to suffocation.
"And did she ask you about the
flounce?"
"Yes, she seemed to admire it very
much. I told her it had been given to
me by my i#other. She misunderstood
me in some way, it seems."
After some further conversation on
the subject, Mrs. Arde dispatch the fol
lowing note to Miss Willoughby:
"Your letter of inquiry reached me to-day,
and in reply I would say that I never embroid
ered anything in my life, and that you must
have misunderstood my niece, who assures me
that she told you that it was her mother who
gave her the flounce. I am sorry that I can
not tell you where you can find the pattern.'*
Rosalie did not exactly like the lan
guage of this letter, but she refrained
from suggesting any change, for fear of
exciting suspicion. And she comforted
herself with the thought that of course
the matter would now end.
But she was mistaken.
A week after her return home, when
she and her mother and aunt—who had
accompanied her home—were sitting to
gether in the parlor, there came a ring
at the door-bell, and to her horror ana
surprise, Louise Spear and Eleanor
Willoughby were shown in.
Louise introduced Eleanor as an inti
mate friend who was visiting her, and
after a little conversation on general
subjects, said:
'My principle object in calling to-day,
Mrs. Drew, was to make some inquiries
concerning apiece of embroidery which
was lent to me nearly three years ago by
Eleanor, who is an adept in all sorts of
fancy work. She desired the pattern
herself, and I thought it so beautiful that
I asked her to let me copy it. But be
fore I had had time to do so the tele
gram came which took us all so suddenly
to Europe, and in the hurry, anxiety
and confusion consequent upon our de
parture, I forgot to return the embroid
ery to Eleanor. She wrote to me while
I was in Germany, asking me about it
but I could not tell her where I had
packed it. And when I returned, and
we put things to rights again, it could
not be found. Now, Eleanor met your
daughter at the seashore a few weeks
ago, and saw to her surprise a similiar
piece of embroidery on Rosalie's dress.
Mrs. Arde wrote her that you had given
it to your daughter, and I come to ask
where you obtained the pattern, for in
this way we may be able to trace Elean
or's property."
"There is some mistake here," said
Mrs. Drew, "I do not embroider, and I
never saw the embroidery you mention.
Rosalie," turning to her daughter,
"what does Miss Spear mean? Can you
explain it?"
Rosalie started to her feet her lips
opened, and she essayed to speak but
before she could utter a word, she fell
insensible to the floor.
When she recovered consciousness the
visitors were gone, and only her mother
and aunt were in the room. It needed
but one glance at their sad, pained
faces to tell her that they knew at last
the crime of which she had been guilty.
The embroidery was returned to Miss
Willoughby but its restoration had no
effect on Rosalie's spirits. From a
bright, laughing girl, she became in one
day a most unhappy woman. Her par
ents never alluded to her sin but she
knew that it was frequently in their
thoughts, and that they felt her disgrace
very keenly. It was years before she
recovered from the shock of that terrible
discovery, and though she lived to be an
old woman, she never forgot that one
weakness of her girlhood, and it embit
tered many an otherwise happy hour.—
Florence B. Hallowell.
—It seems that St, Louis has one
Mexican Consul, two Mexican ex
changes, three Mexican papers and no
Mexican trade. There is a disparity
somewhere in thi? arrangement.—Si.
Louis Post-Dispatch.
—Mrs. Langtry has bought the man
sion at 120 West Thirteenth street, New
York, and will make her permanent
residence there subject to occasional
trips to Lamina.—if. Y. Herald.
Jf
OF GENERAL INTEREST.
—A Denison (Tex.) man pawned a
cork leg with a pawnbroker for anadr
vance of twenty-five cents.
—Deer in Florida are being slaugh
tered so rapidly that it is believed they
will become extinct in a few years.
—It is said to be a habit in rural
Germany to-day for men to comb their
hair the first thing after they have sat
down to table.
—The name of Tussekiah Post-offic%
Lunenburg County, Va., has been
changed to "Nutbrush," with Lucy F.
Hart as postmistress.
—The mail rider who carries letters
to and from the Cour d'Alene mines
charges fifty cents each, and often has
from forty to fifty. He takes the risk
of being either scalped or frozen.—Chi
cago Herald.
—After a physician had tried in vain
to dislodge two false teeth_ which a
pottsville (Pa.) woman insisted had.
lodged in her throat, she found the
teeth in a drawer, where she had put
them.—Pittsburgh Post.
DV
their
sister, who recently died of diphtheria.
—Troy (N. Y.) Times.
—There are three thousand seven hun
dred Chinamen in New York City, and
quite a number of them attend Sunday
school, where they go to learn the En
glish language. Many more Chinamen
are leaving the country for China than
are coming here.—N. Y. Times.
—Mono Lake, in Colorado,-was re
cently swept from one end to the other
by a tornado, which lashed the water
and piled lathery foam upon the shore
twenty feet high. In the mass of foam
were thousands of dead ducks that had
been dashed against the rocks.—Denver
Tribune.
—We are thinking of writing a greav
temperance drama in four parts, as fol
lows: Part I.—Admitted to the bar.
Part II.—Hanging around the bar
(same actors, Dut different scenery.)
Part III.—Behind the bars.—Part IV.—
Stranded (on the bar).—Burlington
Free Press.
—In certain countries in South Amer
ica birds are kept to tend flocks as dogs
are here. The bird generally used is
the chana, an allied form to the horned
screamers. It is extremely pugnacious,
darting at dogs or other birds when they
approach its charge, driving them away
with loud cries and sturdy blows trom
the beak and tail.
—William Hycks, of Huntingdon,
sold his little daughter, aged about
twelve years, to a laborer at tne reform
atory for the consideration of three
drinks of whisky. The child, upon re
fusing to accede to the inhuman trans
action when called for by the purchaser,
was mercilessly beaten by her' brutal
and drunken father.—Philadelphia
Press.
—We met two of our friends from
the country, both disabled, one with a
black eye and the other with a lame
back, and both attributed their mis
fortunes to a dream. The first sprang
upon an imaginary foe who was about
to assail him, and ran the bed post
into his eye, and the other poor fellow,
tumbled over a chair trying to kill a
snake.—New Boston (Tex.) Herald.
—Matters must have come to a pretty
pass in Boston, when the Herald talks
out in this strain: "Between garroters
on the streets and bald-headed old
'mashers' in the horse-cars making
themselves diragreeable to ladies.
Boston is nqt improving her reputation.
A few straight shots or long sentences
for the footpads, and a woman or two
with spirit enough to grind the corns
or slap the faees of the salacious old
wretches, will help to restore good
order and decency.
—Navy and army officers enjoy much
leisure which they frequently employ in
the cultivation of the fine" arts. This
privilege has often been noted half en
viously by men less favored as to time.
These persons will be more envious than
ever when they hear about a young
naval officer in Washington, who spends
his spare hours in making fancy work.
He is an adept at macrame lace and
crazy quilts, and makes elaborate
pieces for charity fairs, besides little
gifts for his young lady friends.—In
dianapolis Journal.
—The Baltimore Sun says: "Woman
is a luxury-loving and generous buyer,
and it is to her demand for the beauti
ful fabrics that the manufacturer, un
der the new social conditions of the
last two centuries, has looked with
most confidence for his reward. This
demand did not exist to anything like
the same extent a hundred years ago,
when woman, being regarded in the
ordinary walks of life as a somewhat
inferior creature, was restricted in her
liberty, her expenditure and her discre
tion as to a number of things, dress in
included, aflecting her happiness."
How She Tried to Propose.
Handsome Young Smithers—Th6
weather is getting a little more pleasant.
Antiqe Miss Blifkins—Yes it is just
lovely now for wedding tours.
H. Y. Smithers—By.the way, I un
derstand that the Government is to pur
sue a vigorous foreign policy.
A. M. Blifkins—Indeed! I should
think ypu would be more interested in
domestic policies. Every young man
should get a
H- Y. Smithers—Yes, should get a
position which would enable him to
earn a living.
A. M. Blifkins—Yes for himself and
wi——
H. Y. Smithers—Ah, beg pardon I
believe a big fire has broken out up
street. I must run and see if any of my
property is in 4«nger—Philadelphia
fcyJIHW 5 hCK.
Religious.
I CLIMB TO REST.
Still must I climb, if Iwouldrest:
The bird soars upward to his nest
The young leaf on the tree-top tuglk
Cradles itself within the sky.
The streams, that seem to hasten down,
Keturn in clouds, the hills to crown
The plant arises from her root.
To rock aloft her flower and fruit.
I can not in the valley stay:
The great horizons stretch away!
The very cliffs that wall me round
Are ladders unto higher ground.
To work—to rest—for each a time
I toil, but I must also climb.
What soul was ever quite at case
Shut in by earthly boundaries?
I am not glad till I have known
Life that can lift me from my own.
A loftier level must be won,
A mightier strength to lean upon.
1
—The deep bass of the organ ceased
suddenly in a church in Lewiston, Me.,
when a lady voice was heard by the
whole congregation distinctly to declare:
"I don't care one bit I do want a
piano."—Boston Transcript.
—Frank Bert, a fourteen-year old boy
of Lynn, Mass., hung himself the other
day because he coula find nothing to do
to support himself and wlieve his par
ents of the burden of his board and
clothes. He was soon cut down.—Bos
ton Herald.
—Physicians declared that two chil
dren of L. E. Grant Strang, of Amster
dam, who were sufferingfrom diptheri3,
caught the disease by playing with a
doll, which had been handled
And Heaven draws near as I ascend:
The breeze invites, the stars befriend,
All things are beckoning to the Best
I climb to thee, my God, for rest.
—Lucy Larcom, in Cottage Hearth.
OVERCOMING.
"No man can go back of his jaw,"
is a Slav proverb signifying that no
man can conquer inherited qualities.
How far transmitted traits creep
through a family was shown by an odd
incident which is stated to have occured
during the Prince of Wales' visit to In
dia. Among the guard drawn up to re
ceive him in Calcutta, was a soldier
who bore so startling a likeness to the
Prince himself that the curiosity of his
attendants was excited as to who he
could be. It appeared, on inquiry, that
both the soldier and his father had been
born in India. His grandfather was a
Hanoverian mechanic, who claimed and
boasted of a distant connection with
George II. Yet in this, his descendant,
born and trained in the climatic influ
ences of Asia, peculiarities of feature
and of manner of the heir apparent to
the British throne were reproduced as
closely as if they had been twins. Nat
ure has her whims sometimes of exact
reproduction, but the germinal seed al
ways proves to have been the same.
A child with six fingers and six toes
was born last summer in Germany of
American parents. The mother was
startled and annoyed at the physician's
declaration that the deformity was he
reditary but on writing home, learned
for the lirst time the family secret, that
this peculiarity had repeated itself
once in every generation for two or
three centuries.
Natural features recurring in the
widely branching members of a family
invariably index some corresponding
trait of a character—a fault to be over
come, or a virtue which exaggerates it
self into a vice. "Wherever the drooped
lid of the Stuart. goes, a selfish soul
walks after," was the essence of popu
lar experience of that cold-blooded
race.
"Poor Jennie! she has worn out her
life fighting the hung jaw of the Car
lyles," said a friend of Jennie Welsh,
long before her death made the tragedy
of the house at Clieyne Walk open to
the public.
But we are all apt to forget that it is,
after all, the Stuarts, and not their fol
lowers, who are handicapped in the
race of life by their sluggish blood and
soul and that Carlyle's hung lip and
ill-conditioned temper were a fiercer
torture to himself than to his wife.
The hardest fight awaiting any man
is, as the Russians call it, to "go back
of his jaw," to conquer the legacy of
evil tendencies left him by
his fathers. Every mother ought
to be able to define to her boy this work
which lies before him, and to show him
where to begin. The harder the strug
gle, the more charitable he will be to
other boys whose task is heavier.
But only God knows how much harder
it is for bull-necked, heavy-jowled Ben
to be patient, modest and sober, than
for his thin, pale, low-voiced comrade.
But God does know, and whatever man
may do. He holds the reckoning just.
He who overcomes his inherited bad
qualities is a benefactor to those who
come after. His children may inherit
his resolution and power of resistance.
Truly the words: "He that overcometh
shall inherit all things," has an applica
tion to this life as well as that which is
to come.
Struggle! If you overcome, the world
will be better for your living. Struggle!
No man lives for himselt alone "no
man's influence ends with his own fam
ily or frieuds or his own generation.
Every one's triumph of good is an
added treasure to the gold of good in
the world. Struggle on! God will keep
the account.
You may not be able to see the result
now. The llower and fruit do not ap
pear when a good seed is planted. But
right resolution and right endeavor will
bring the beneficent harvest in the end.
Therefore struggle on.—Youth's Com
panion.
The God of the Bible.
The Scriptures bear the seal of their
Divine origin in the character which
they ascribe to God. The*conception of
God which they present was not bor
rowed from surrounding nations.
Egypt did not give to Moses the idea
of one God, the creator of all, holy and
good, able and present to save. The
prophets did not get their inspiration
from the worshipers of Baal and Ash
taroth. The evangelists of Christ did
not proclaim simply the highest thought
of their age, but a character which their
age in its wisdom did not know. Paul
did not take lessons of the philosophers
u-n
9 before
speaking on Mars
Hill, but boldly asserted that he pro
claimed to them a God unknown to
them. No people had at any time risen
to a conception of God that was in mor
al attribute higher than man. The o-ods
of the nations were but their defiled
thoughts aiul passions, and had nothino
111 their character to bind the heart to
them, or to promote purity,. or give
the strength of confident hope. Pas
sionate, vengeful and cruel, they in
spired fear and required costly offerino-s
and cruel sacrifices to appease their an
?u1' Zheii"
worslliP
was debasing, the
thought of their presence a terror, or
an inspiration to evil.
Now the marvel is that, wlier. men
were bowing to such gods, w)»
try was the basest, there W:
Wii°A- th?
holiness delights in purity, who in jUs,
tice must punish sin, and who yet loveg
os with an overflowing love, and by the
most marvelous saenfioe redeems ua
from sin and gives us eternal life
Moses stood far above the world's con
ception when he made the revelation of
"The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and
gracious, long-suffering and abund&nti
in goodness and truth, keeping mercy
for thousands, forgiving iniquity, trans-'
gression and sin, and that will by no
means clear the guilty." The messa^
of Christ is the only Gospel the world
has ever heard: "God so loved the
world that He gave His only-begotten
Son, that whosoever believetn in Him
should not perish but have eternal1
life." This alone meets the need of
man. and it meets it perfectly. With
out one higher than ourselves, one
purer and in every way better, one who
is infinitely above our highest ideal, we
would sink to lower depths. Without
a righteousness acceptable to the in
finitely just and holy one we would
perish in our sins. Without the rev
elation of the love of God, a love
infinite in its greatness and tenderness,
in its resources and its power, we could
not. bow the heart before Him. With
out the quickening power of His Spirit
we could not be raised into the new
and eternal life. But with this love re
vealed to us in the Son of God we are
drawn to Him, and by His Spirit are
born-again to a life that can not die be
cause it is the life God gives to us.
It is near the close of the Scriptures
that the declaration is made: "God is
love." And it is not then announced
as a new doctrine it is a summing up
of all that had been revealed from the
beginning of the world. Immediately
after the fall there was a revelation of
mercy. The covenant with Noah was
one of grace. The covenant with Abra
ham was in love. Moses was sent on a
mission of mercy and covenant grace.
So also in the revelation of God in the
law, in the visions of the prophets, and
in the heart utterances of the Psalms,
there is everywhere the love of God. In'
the coming of Christ this love reached
its highest exhibition.
Therefore it is that God, at the clos
ing of the word of life, j^athers all the
revelations and manifetitions of Him
self into the declaration, "God is love."
In Himself, in His purposes and His
works, He is love.—United Presbyterian.
Small Annoyances.
How many people, patient and un
complaining about important matters,,
lapse into |uerulousness and discontent
over small annoyances, and especially1
over that, most momentary of ail
troubles, an unpleasant state of the
weather. They have learned that
clouds of trouble and affliction sooner
or later lift to let the sunshine through
lhat tears of sorrow sometimes nourish
the loveliest heart-flowers that the,
brightest days of a lifetime may follow
right after the darkest but that, in the
prosaic, material, every-day world, rain
is ever necessary, or that a cloudy day
may, and generally is, followed by a
pleasant one, are facts they practically
ignore. The storm that prevents a pro
posed excursion is received almost as if
it were an unjustifiable and impertinent:
freak of nature, regardless of the fact,
that it fills the stream that turns a hun
dred mills, ana refreshes the roots of
grasses that feed a thousand cattle. The
city pedestrian who, finding the side
walks slippery and troublesome, ex
claims against the snow, does not stop
to think, perhaps does not even know,
how much easier work is done in the
country for the presence of the snow.
The farmer's teaming is far more readily
accomplished on runners than on
wheels, the lumberman can get out his
logs with half the expense: most im
portant of all, the roots of flowers and
grasses are safe under the snow when
they would freeze without its protection.
And, after all the complaining, things
go on just as they would without it
and all the success the complainer
secures—if it efcn be called success—is
in manifesting a spirit of ingratitude to
Him who makes seed-time and harvest,
day and night, sunshine and storm.—
S. S. Times.
Wise Sayings.
—God hath His working in thos9
things which man can not frustrate.—
James Shirley.
—Zeal is the combination of will, in
tellect, afl'ections, passions and force,
and their practical concentration upon
the accomplishment of some object.
—If we could read the secret history
of our enemies we should find, in each
man's life,-borrow and suffering enough
to disarm all hostility.—Drift-Wood.
Our best friend is in our Father's
house on high. Our hearts and our
treasures are there. Why should we
not "look up and lift our heads" toward
the land where we shall "see the King
in His beauty," and meet the dear ones
who are waiting our coming?
Everything in life has aright and a
wrong side. You may take any joy,
and, by turning it around, find troubles,
on the other side or you can take the
greatest trouble, anil, bv turning it
around, find joys on the" other side.,
ihe gloomiest mountain never casts a
shadow on both sides at once.
I find one occupation which is ever
green, of which we shall never weary,!
which is good for all seasons, beautiful
at all times, a source of unvarying de-|
light,which comes nearest to the Divine,
and that is the act of doing good. This
is the one pleasure which will surely in
crease as life goes on.—Baptist Weekly.
Truth will ever be unpalatable to
those who are determined not to re
linquish error, but can never give
ollcnse to the honest and well-meaning
tor the plain-dealing remonstrances of a
iriena difler as widely from the ranoor
ot an enemy, as the friendly probe of a
pS11!?n,rrom
t^c
1
0
to
men the conception of one .,'as a
spirit, almighty, holy, just and lovino-
Word of His
Power,'
called all things into being, who in His
4
dagger of an assassin.
—-o. IK Montague.
—Nothing is more certain than that
when Sunday is lost as a sacred day, it
will be lost as a rest day, and then
a oring men will find seven days of
work
equired with the same waces now
given for six. It is easy to charge the
jf'f.nc.s the sacred day with bigotry
J1ar^ ^ess* yet they are the truest
ti lends ot those who wore hard for a
They honestly believe that
!T ®uty both to God and to man bindsi
them to stand fast against any invasion
mil
8
,day
83
grievous erron
and wrong. —Intelligencer.

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