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CHAPTER IX.— iCoxtinosb.)
An unpleasant, sinister look croseed
tny listener's fare, but his voice still
remained bland and suave. "I am sorry
to differ from you. Dr. Brand,” he
said, "but I know him better than you
do. I have seen him as you bsve never
yet seen him. Only last night be came
to me in a frantic state. I expected
every moment be would make a mur
derous attack on me.”
"Perhaps he fancied he had some
reasons for anger,” I said.
Ralph Carrlston looked at me with
those cold eyes of which his cousin had
spoken. "If the boy has succeeded In
converting you to any of his delusions,
I can only say that doctors are more
credulous than I fancied. But the
question Is not. worth arguing. Vou
decline to assist me. so I must do with
out you. (Jood-mornlng, Dr. Brand.”
He left the room as gracefully as he
had entered It. I remained In a state
of doubt, It was curious that Ralph
Carrlston turned out to be the man
whom I had met. In the train; but the
evidence offered by the coincidence was
not enough to convict him of the crime |
of endeavoring to drive his cousin mad i
by such a far-fetched stratagem as the
Inveigling of Madeline Rowan. Be
•Ides, even In wishing to prove Charles
Carrlston mad, he had much to say on
Ms side. Supposing him to be Innocent
of having abducted Madeline, Carrls
ton's violent behavior on the precedlug
evening must have seemed very much
like Insanity. In spite of the aversion
with which Ralph Carrlston Inspired
roe, I scarcely knew which side to he- |
lleve.
Carrlston still slept; so when I went
out on my arternoon rounds i i«n a
note, tagging him to remain In the
house until my leturn. Then I found
him up, dressed, and looking much
more like himself. When I entered, j
dinner was on the table, so not until :
that meal was over could we talk un- j
l-estrainedly upon the subject which
whs uppermost In both our mind*.
As soon as we were ulone I turned
toward my guest. "And now," I said, '
"we must settle what to do. There
seems to me to be but one course open.
You have plenty of money, so your
best plan Is to engage skilled police as
sistance. Young ladies ran't be spirited
away like this without leaving a
trace.”
To my surprise Carrlston flatly ob
jected to this course. "No,” he said, "I
shall not go to the police. The man
who took her away has placed her
where no police can find her. I must
And her myself."
"Find her yourself! Why, It may be
months— years—before you do that!
Hood heavens, Carrlston! She may be
murdered, or even woise-”
“I shall know If any further evil
happens to her—then I shall kill Ralph
Carrlston.”
“But you tell me you have no clew
whatever to trace her by. Do talk
plainly. Tell me all or nothing.”
Carrlston smiled, very faintly. "No
clew that you, at any rate, will believe
In," he said. "But 1 know this much,
she is a prisoner somewhere. She !«
unhappy; but not, as yet, ill-treated.
Heavens! Do you think if I did not
know this I should keep my senses for
an hour?"
"How can you possibly know It?"
"By that gift—that extra sense or
whatever It is—which you deride. I
knew it would come to me some day,
but I little thought how I should wel
come it. 1 know that In some way 1
shall find her by It. 1 tell you 1 have
already seen her three tinges. I may
set* her again at any moment when the
strange fit comes over me."
• X.
LL. this fantastic
nonsense was
spoken so simply
ami with Nucb an
air of conviction
that once more my
suspicions as lo the
state of his mlml
were aroused, in
spite of the brave
answers which I
bad given M>
Itslph t’arrlaton I felt that common
fense was undeniably ou his side
"Tell me what you mean by your
strange tit," 1 said, resolved lo Itnd out
the nature of t'arrtslou* famsra or
hallucinations Is It a kind of trance
yau fall into?1
He seemed loath to give any it
formation on the subject, but I pressed
him tor an answer
vYe», * be said at last "It must be a
bind of trams. An indescribable feel
ug eotnee ever me I know that my
*yea are tied aa snm* object yuwin
ly that object vanish**, and I see Made
Una.1*
“Hoe do yan see her**
(the seem* In stand In a blurred
circle of light as cant by a magi- tan
tern that la the uni) way that I > an
(escribe it Mot her Kgote t* *t«at and
• iam -ah* vtokl be < lose ta as* The
>art** ** eMet she ateads I vaa se*,
iba abair en whkh *h* cu# tha labr •
«ut *ht«h aba teabs hat head, amthl.g
atm touch** I ran «aa but no swir )
ban* seen b*r bribing Ome abe • **
•stiHUai some earn but that some
one wae in visible Tet. II sh* touche#
Me far an I >s»m saw t'arrtMon a earn
typMrel in be abe af u«*r »h> *ghi «e
unduly stlmata>*d t>nsaiuait>m Ilia I
bad always cadatdered in be a mind
af Ihn aauat peculiar mustru* km In
lb peasant atat* ef lev* ffief and
uagTitT thee* bnlinataatktbs mlahi
come in the same way in which dreams
come. For a little while I sat in si
lence, considering how 1 could best
combat with and dispel his remarkable
delusions. Before I had arrived at
any decision 1 was called away to aee
a patient. I was but a short time en
gaged. Then I returned to Carrlston,
Intending to continue my inquiries.
I’pon re-entering the room I found
him sitting as I had left him directly
opposite to the door Ills face was
turned fully toward me. and I trem
bled as I caught sight of It. He was
leaning forward; bis hands on the
table-cloth, his whole frame rigid, his
eyes staring In one direction, yet, I
knew, capable of seeing nothing that I
could see. He seemed even oblivious
to sound, for I entered the room and
closed the door behind me without
causing him to change look or position.
The moment t saw the man I knew
that he had been overtaken by what
he called hie strange lit.
My first Impulse a natural one-—
was to arouse him; but second thoughts
(old me that this was an opportunity
for, studying his disease which should
not be lost—I felt that I could call It
by no other name than disease so I
proceeded to niHke a systematic exam
ination of his symptoms.
I leaned across the table, and. with
my face about a foot from his, looked
atralght Into his eyes. They betrayed
no sign of recognition no knowledge
of my presence, I am ashamed to say
I could not divest myself of the Im
pression that they, were looking
through me. The pupils were greatly
dilated. The lids were wide aDart. I
lighted a taper and held It before them,
but could see no expansion of the iris.
It was a case, I confess, entirely be
yond my comprehension. I had no
experience which might serve as a
guide as to what was the best course
to adopt. All I could do was to stand
and watch carefully for any change.
Save for his regular breathing and a
sort of convulsive twitching of his fin
gers, Carrlaton might have l>een a
corpse or a statue. His face could
scarcely grow paler than it had been
before the attack. Altogether, it was
an uncomfortable sight, a creepy sight
this motionless man. utterly regard
less of all that went on around him,
and aeelng. or giving one the Idea that
he saw, something far away. 1 sighed
as I looked at the strange spectacle,
and foresaw what the end must surely
be. Hut although 1 longed for him to
awake, I determined on this occasion to
let the trance, or fit, run ita full course,
that I might notice in what manner
and how soon consciousness returned.
I must have waited and watched
some ten minutes- minutes which
seamed to me interminable. At laat I
saw the lips quiver, the lids flicker
once or twice, and eventually close
wearily over the eyeB. The unnatural
tension of every muscle seemed to re
lax, and, sighing deeply, and appar
ently quite exhausted, Carrlaton sunk
back into his chair with beads of per
spiration forming on his white brow.
The fit was over.
In a moment I was at his side and
forcing a glass of wine down his throat.
He looked up at me and spoke. His
voice was faint, but his words were
quite collected.
“I have seen her again," he said.
“She is well; but so unhappy. I saw
her kneel down and pray. She
stretched her beautiful arms out to me.
And yet 1 know not where to look for
her my poor love! ray poor love!"
I waited until 1 thought he had suffi
ciently recovered from his exhaustion
to talk without injurious consequences.
"Carrlston.” 1 said, "let me ask you
one question Are these trances or vi
sions voluntary, or not?"
lie reflected ror a few moments. "I
can't quite tell you," he said; "or.
rather, I would put It in this way. 1
do not thiuk I can ex>'irl*« my power
at will; but I can feel when the fit la
coming on me. and. 1 believe, can. if I
choose, stop myself from yielding to
It."
"Very well. Now listen. Promise
me you will light against throe seixures
as much as you can If you don't you
will be raving mad In a month "
"I can t promise that.' said t'arrlaton
1 quietly. See her at times I must, ur
I shall die Hut I promise to yield as
seldom as may be 1 know is well as
you do that the very exhaustion I uow
feel must be Injurious to anyone '
la truth he looked utietly Worn out
Very much dlssailslled with his con
> essoin. the beet I could get from him
I eeai him to bed knowing that natural
test If he could gel it. would do more
than anything else toward restoring
a healthy ion* to hia mind
XI.
l.rMot UII t arn.
■»u guff that ■».
■
pn»*vtioa he nsan
if**t*d the groat**
tslm tan ■
*
I off* *1 him f|«
toaat to afctoto »h#
4wm«s>« of the
ptotto placed m* la a predicament
Thai Madettoe K«*«* had really dm
appealed I was >*» .wore* .wwpsllsd «*
believe li might **»a ho possible tbsi
too • a* kepi ago iw d her atu la mm*
ptore of concealment la oo*h *ase It
behoo«ed «a Is tahe prop** steps to
traee bet Her *»ir*t* should am 4«
pea# opto the WaiivMtmsiioa* and as
centric ideas of a man half out of his
j sense* with love and grief. I all but
resolved, even at the risk of forfeiting
Oarriaton's friendship, to put the whole
matter In the hands of the police, un
less In the course of a day or two we
heard from the girl herself, or Carris
ton suggested some better plan.
Curiously enough, although refusing
to be guided by me, he made no sug
gestion on his own account. He was
racked by fear and suspense, yot hla
only Idea of solving his difficulties
seemed to be that of waiting. He did
nothing. He simply waited, as If be
expected that chance would bring what
he should have been searching for high
and low.
Some days passed before I could get
a tardy consent that aid should be
sought. Even then he would not go
to the proper quarter; but he allowed
me to summon lo our councils a man
who advertised himself as being a pri
vate detective. This man, or one of
his men, came at our call and heard
what was wanted of him. Carriaton
reluctantly gave him one of Madeline’s
photographs. He also told him that
only by watching and spying on Ralph
Carrlston's every action could he hope
to obtain the clew, J did not much
like the course adopted, nor did I like
the look of the man to whom the Inqul
ry was intrusted; but at any rate some
thing was being done.
A week pawed without news front
our agent. Carriaton. In truth, did not
seem to expect any. I believe he only
employed the man in deference to ray
wishes. He moved about the house In
a disconsolate fashion. I had not told
him of my interview with his cousin,
but had cautioned him on the rare oc
casions upon which he went out of
doors to avoid speaking to strangers,
and my servants had Instruction* to
prevent anyone coming In and taking
' my guest by surprise.
I nail miring tiione days opened
: a confidential Inquiry on my own ac
count. I wanted to learn something
about thin Mr. Ralph Carrlston. So I
asked a man who knew everybody to
find out all about him.
He reported that Ralph Carrlston was
a man well known about London. He J
was married and had a house In Dor
setshire; but the greater part of hi* I
j time wa* spent In town Once he was I
I supposed to he well off; but now it was
| the general opinion that every acre !
j he owned was mortgaged, and that he 1
l was much pressed for money. “But,” >
my Informant said, "there Is but one j
life between him and the reversion to !
large estates, and that life is a poor ’
one. I believe even now there Is a j
talk about the man who stands In his j
way being mad. If so. Ralph Carriaton !
will get the management of every- j
thing."
After this news I felt it more than
ever needful to keep a watchful eye on
my friend. Ho far as I knew there had
been no recurrence of the trance, and
1 began to hope that proper treatment
would effect a complete cure, when, to
my great alarm and annoyance, Carria
ton, whilst sitting with me, suddenly
and without warning fell Into the same
strange state of body and mind aa pre
viously described. This time he waa
sluing in another part of the room.
After watching him for a minute or
two, and Just as I was making up my
mind to arouse him and scold him
thoroughly for his folly, he sprung to
his feet, and shouting, “Let her go!
Loose her, I say!" rushed violently
across the room—so violently, that 1
had barely time to Interpose and pre
vent him from coming Into contact
with the opposite wall.
:to hc coxTi.vusa.»
A .lu.lgr of Kiblmim.
In one of the large department stores
up town is a pale-faced, red-headed
child with a pair of heavy spectacles
that impart a solemn look to her deli
cate face. She stands all day In front
of a counter hung with gayly colored
ribbons, and it is her particular duty
to take ribbons out from the electric
light of the shop to the street dooi
and decide there whether or not they
nr» exactly the same shade. The shop
girls have learned that her Judgment Is
to be relied upon, and it was the acci
dental discovery of her exactness In ea
tlmg ing color# that gained fur her the
novel place she occupies at present.
All day she Is kept running backward
and forward between the ribbons and
j the door deriding whether ribbon la
‘ream or white and the complicated
. iiiu-ul Inna a a las llhla .taut sha.l us tlku
j la an Important perauuagt* In her way,
ctnsiilrrablv more rxultr.l !u poelllon
j limn the > on us . «mh glrla of bar own
: age liar dm Ira are really Imiortinl.
I and out of iba yard* of ribbon that ara
dally Bold utar the <ouut*r avert eat*
»111 I. dr|ianda on a ((naallun of maltb
lug la ■»•■> Mad by fear Saw York dun
4a I mpurtaui id|«»i
Sadia lw all rigkl but bar faibar
don < Ilka m« ’
' Nut youra not going to many the
i father.’*
Not eyaall* tat he tool rule the
; ■ ha> h booh Philadelphia North
| 4 merit an
] —-- -m
I thee amt IMtidn *1 hwh
It ta raid that bird# ara neatly an
>**t«Ulva in th. 'r Ilk'* and dlellhee tan
{ d«fg» Sum* p*v*pi« an never gain Iba
| trt*Md»htp al g .aged bird A bird ban
J ta tear* by enperteaug that It In eafw
! «Nb • human being be foie M wit) »*
•goad to bind ireatmegl
Hum Ittitt uun
Miaat* that Unit t'gg bad tba
tin god* to* la tal* me that t wee ba
am* tag to abo« my age
yi*n.t*i tUgu.nibg Ut* laitrg tioaya
dM have a iuao>itillty nay gf ,ma
*1 doling anything IndtaaggnMIa four
I hat
FARM AM) GARDEN.
MATTERS OF INTEREST TO
AGRICULTURISTS.
Monir Hints About i'ulllru*
tiixi «»f tl»* Hoil slid Viritis Thereof
- Horticulture, t ItInilltire xmi Mori
rnltnre.
UR1N0 the long
dry spell In sum
mer the wagon tires
become lnoae and
cause mu ny a
break down ami re
pair bill, beside*
the setting of the
tire*, write* Clar
ence J. Norton In
Kiiitn Farmer.
Blacksmith* charge
60 cents per wheel, or $- per wagon,
for setting tire*, and every one knows
that after the dry spell is over and the
wood In the wheel* become* soaked vtp
with moisture Instead of air. they tthe
wheels) must of necessity swell, or vio
late a law of nature As they canno:
swell any larger in circumference on
account of the tire, they turn out or
dish, as we call It- and thereby greai
ly weaken the wheel. A wheel with
inn,i, ,ii.h i. verv easily
broken down, and can never be
depended upon until it is entirely re
built, so It will be seen that to set tires
Is only equal to ruining the wheel. A
new wagon does not need the tires set,
simply because the woodwork Is full of
moisture and oil when the tire Is set
and the paint prevents all evaporation
of the moisture and oil, hence, of
course, the tires remain tight. Now, It
will occur to many that If we keep this
paint from coming off, the wood will
not shrink and the tires will remain
tight. This Is strictly true, but how
can we do it? Some will say, “Paint
the wagon wheel often.” Very well,
this Is a good plan; but how many of
us do It? When a new wagon Is about
one year old the paint has got rubbed
off and the tires can be seen to be
slightly loose—that Is, a well-defined
erack can be seen where the Iron and
wood touch each other. Now, could this
tire he shrunk about one-sixteenth of
an Inch It would be perfectly tight and
go through the summer all right. But
we can not get a smith to do so delicate
a Job. He must shrink them nearly an
Inch and put them on quite hot and
"tighten up the wlie.el.” In either of
these cases the wheel will swell out of
shape, more or less, after wet weather
comes , on. Now, as the tires be
come loose because the oil and mois
ture evaporate out of the wood, why not,
remedy the evil by supplying the oil
and moisture? We all know that If we
should submerge the wheels in a pond
of water they would soak up perfectly
tight and as good as new, but will soon
dry out and be as bad as ever. This
could not happen If the wheels were
thoroughly painted before they dried
out, so it will be seen that to swell the
wood with water and then prevent It
escaping by painting the wheel takes
the place of setting tires and avoids
after dishing of wheel. By the same
rule, If a wheel with a freshly-set tire
be well painted the wood can not ab
sorb moisture, and of course can not
swell and dish out of shape. But there
Is a better way than all this. It Is to
run the felloes In hot oil. There are
Iron and zinc trouahs made for this
purpose. The zinc or galvanized iron
are the cheapest, and, to my notion, the
best. Take a good-sized sheet of zinc,
sheet-iron or corrugated iron, say two
feet by four feet, and cut a slot in the
middle to sink the oil trough through,
having the trough drop nearly but not
quite through. Nail this metal to the
edges of two six-inch damp boards and
stretch the boards on the ground and
pin them solid with old harrow teeth.
Build a Are of old shingles under the
oil trough, that is about half full of
paint oil, then set up two posts with
spikes driven in them to hang tbe
wheels on. 1 used a tumbling rod to a
horse-power, but a crowbar or post
auger will do as well. Mark the top of
tbe hub, and Just as soon as tbe oil
comes to a boil, turn the wheel until
the next spoke is down in the oil. In
about a minute the oil will boll again,
and you must turn the wheel again.
Serve the wheel this way three times,
and the hot oil will drive out all tbe air
in the pores of tlio wood and take pos
session of the poies Itself. As soon as
the wheel is turned a little, the oil on
tbe felloe will be constantly seen to
bubble, which Is the air coming out of
the pores to give place to tbe oil.
Should the wheel iu any one place be
allowed to boll Afteen minutes, the
wood will be ruined and will break off
abort just like cast-iron will, so you see
there la ' too much of a good thing" In
runuing a wheel In hot oil. A email
piece of ahlugle must be added to the
tiie at every spoke of the wheel. 1
have an old coat Iron cuokatove bottom
that baa a low place la the center, and
by putting the oil in thle depression
and setting the etove bottom upon Its
lags and building a lire under It. a good
Job can be done. It tahee about half a
stilus of oil m start with, and a half
g-tllua mure will We enough for eae
farm a agon, • buggy and cart and per
bape a pair el hay rake wheela There
are iwu dun is. and- they are lot t
boll the wood over half a minute aa I
dua l attompl to do the Job In the bay
bar* Take a good, yktMti, dry day
and do Ike Job well, aad tbe oil will
U»ly coat you lb sente fur tbe ball gal
|«a used- Tbe rim of tbe wheel* will
nbeerb «» muck oil that a real hoi day
will esfNMtd It so aa lo bate It mart out
some To make a pet feet Jab, petal the
wheela well after wiling ib*to tluw
ewer, without pointing the tub will taat
I pent, and if repeated yearly the Urwa
will a*«er become home and hoove owed
never be rowel by ebrloklog- It will
take as long to go to tbe ebop and wait
lot tbe rcootllag af tbe tti ta aa It will
three wegwoa. an I th* hill for •*
sett tag ollt b Id per wagea while Ik.
oil eewid aoly ewet 9k aeoia.
i
t I iinnlr* of 111**
THK GUAPKVINK FID1A.
During midsummer the leaves of
grapes are frequently riddled with ir
regular holes by the attacks of a little
acetle which, wheu dlaturbed. falls to
the ground with Its legs folded up
against its body, feigning death, or
"playing 'possum." The beetle Is
about a quarter of an inch long, rather
robust and of a brown color, aotnewbat
whitened by a dense covering of yel
lowtah-whlte hairs. In the nature and
amount of (he Injury It does at this
I stage It resembles the rose-chafer, for
I which It Is sometimes mistaken, hol
! lowing the Injury to the foliage, the
j vines may be oapccted. If the beetles
I have been abundant, to present a sickly
! appearance, with checking of growth
I and ultimate death, due to the feeding
I >m the roots of the larvae; for. aa In the
| case of the phylloxera, the root Injury
I Is much more serious than the Injury
I to the foliage. Vines sometimes die
i after having developed half their
| leaves, or may survive until the fruit
| is nearly mature. The Insect occurs
very generally In the Mississippi Valley
states, from Dakota to Texas, and more
rarely east of the Alteghanles and
southward to Florida. The beetle has
caused serious damage to foliage, no
! table m Missouri, Illinois and Ohio,
having been recognised over thirty
years ago In the first mentioned state
a* one of the worst enemies of the
grape. The work of the larvae has been
recognised only recently by Mr. Web
ster and others In northern Ohio, but
It may be looked for wherever the
beetle occurs.
• • •
i-ne History.— i ne me oisiwiy
worked out by Mr. Webster Is, Briefly,
as follows: The yellowish eggs In large
batches are thrust In cracks of the bark
of the old wood, usually well above
ground, as many as 700 having been
counted on a single vine. Very rarely
are they placed In cracks of the soil
about the busc of the vine, but so loose
ly are they attached to the bark that
they not Infrequently fall to the
ground. The larvae, on hatching, fall
clumsily to the ground, and quickly dis
appear In cracks In the soil, chiefly
near or just at the base of the vine.
They feea at first on the fibrous roots
uear the point of entrance, but soon
reach the large roots, and completely
denude them of bark, gradually extend
ing outward through the soil to a
distance of at least three feet, and
downward to at least a depth of one
foot. Most of them reach full growth
by the middle of August, attaining a
length of nearly half an Inch, and con
struct little cavities or earthen cells In
the soil, In which they hibernate until
June of the following year, when they
change to pupae. The beetles emerge
about two weeks after pupation, and
begin to feed from the upper surface
of the leaves. With thin-leaved grapes
they eat the entire substance of the
leaf, hut with thick-leaved varieties the
downy lower surface Is left, giving the
foliage a ragged, skeletonized look.
They feed on any cultivated grape, also
on the wild grapea, which have prob
ably been their food from time Imme
morial. Most of the adults disappear
by the first of August, a few scattering
Individuals remaining until the first of
September.
• • •
Remedies and Preventives.—It Is evi
dent that if the beetle can be promptly
exterminated the Injury to the foliage
will be limited, and the subsequent
much greater damage by larvae to the
roots avoided. The first effort should
therefore be to effect the killing of the
beetles, which may be done by the use
of an arsenical spray, with lime, ap
plying it at the customary strength of
one pound to 160 gallons of water. The
feeding of the beetles on the upper sur
face of the leaves makes them especial
ly easy to control by this means. If
this* deferred until Ir nnuafo tn i
apply an arsenical spray to vines, the
beetles may be collected and destroyed
in the manner hereafter recommended
for the rose-chafer. The larvae may
be destroyed about the roots by injec
tions of bisulphide of carbon, made In
the way already described for the
phylloxera. A safer remedy and a very
effective one If applied before the end
of June, or before the larvae have scat
tered, Is to wet the soil about the
vines with a solution of kerosene emul
sion. The emulsion should be diluted
nine times, And a gallon or two of the
mixture poured In a basin excavated
about the base of the vine, washing It
down to greater depths an hour after
wards with a copious waterlog.
Cultivation. In the minds o! many
(he sole object of cultivation la to de
atroy or keep down noxious growths
which interfere with the growth of u
rrop. Now while this Is an Importaut
min ilnn of cultivation, It is by 110
means the only one. "I he intellige nt
cultivator has three objects in view In
working the soil to promote the growth
of his crop*, the hist Is to supply the
glowing plants with food; second, to
conserve fur the use of that crop as
much moistuta as I* prmtieable; third,
tha destruction u| weeds.- fig
Poor and Hr. a Holt It senna para
duiksl that a soil may have been eg
haueted aa to nop producing power
and »*t he rich In plant luod the ele
ment* necessary ta plant giowth ‘I ha
•oiultnn I* iM». that In every till the
Utgef pot l leu * nf plant food tbeseia
in ln*t>. unavailable so far aa being
taken np by plant loots Is concerned.
I bey nre lev bed up. w t« speak, by
lunge Nature, Nhe only aliens tv he
,tteased lor euf Me an annual strata
ektek I* gt*a!*r or lees e«> vrding g
«Urn
y aiming in intern* ta an honornbt*
ailing because our farmer* ate fairly
well educated and rommsivd tfce re
vpect <t| NMnhind There nre euuntrtee
• here the termer le n desijised mental,
’ evauee he u * butty In every settee of
the nurd. We moat elevate ngrh-ut
lure by *do»eting the farmer* *, ns
*nd daughter*
THE SUNDAY SCHOOL
LESSON IX. FEB. 2S ACTS 8:1
17 DISCIPLES DISPERSED.
f«•«»: "They That Wert- Nr»t*
trrrd Abroad Went Everywhere Preach
ing the World” From Art*, Chapter
t, Verve 4— The (iood **ni«rttai»*.
N the simmer of 37
A. D. the events
hero related took
place. Places. Jeru
salem anil Hamarla.
The teat of the lea
son follows:
1. Arid Haul was
\. conseirjng unto his
*Y®**®*1 death. And at that
,lmi‘ v*'* W,M a
great persecution
^ against the church
which was at Jeru
salem; and they were ail scattered
abroad throughout the regions of Judea
and Haniarla, except the apostles. 2. And
devout men carried Stephen to hi* burial,
and made great lamentation over him.
3. As for Haul, he made havoc of the
church, entering into every house and
hailing men and women, committed them
to prison 4. Therefore they that were scat
tered abroad went everywhere preaching
the word. ft. Then Philip went down to
the city of Haniarla. and preached Christ
unto them. #. And the people with one
accord gave heed unto those things which
Philip spake, hearing arid seeing the
miracles which he did. 7. Kor unclean
spirits, crying with loud voice, came out
of many that were possessed with them;
mid many taken with palsies, and that
were lame, were healed, S, And there was
great joy In that city. ‘.t. Hut there was
a certain man, called Htmon which be
foretime in the same city used sorcery
and bewitched the people of Haniarla,
giving out that himself was some great
one: ]0. To whom they all gave heed,
from the least to the greatest, saying.
This man Is the great power of God. II.
And to him they had regard, localise that
sorceries. 12. But when they believed
Philip preaching the thing* concerning
the kingdom of God. and the name of
Jesus Christ, they were baptised, both
men and women. 13, Then Simon himself
believed also; and when he wh.* baptized,
he continued with Philip, and wondered,
beholding the miracles and signs which
were done. J4. Now when the apostlert
which were at Jerusalem heard that Ha
marfa had received the word of God. they
sent unto them Peter and John: lf>. Who.
when I hey were come dow n, prayed for
| them, that they might receive the Holy
Ghost.
HINTS TO THE TEACH KB.
The lesson opens with the picture of
the persecutor. 1. He was sincere. Haul's
tierce and apparently bloodthiisty con
duct Is set in It* true light !• such state
ment* as Acts 23, 1; Acts +y>. >. 10: 1 Tim.
1, 12. 13. Such bigots have been seen in
♦•very age, honest, but mistaken. Such
was the spirit of Dominic, of Calvin
against Servetus, of the Puritans in New
England. 2. He was Intense, because it
was his nature to be earnest in every
thing. Saul, like Paul, could do nothing
by halves. What aroused the persecution
was the doctrine, launched by Stephen,
that Jews arid Gentiles were to become
one In the Gospel. 3. He wa« neverthe
less, lighting against conviction. What
were “the pricks’ against which he was
kicking (Arts 9. 5j but a feeling which he
could not overcome, that Hyphen was
right, that Jesus was the Christ, and
that the? salvation was for all men? The
next picture is that of the Church. The
time to estimate a church or a character
is not when it Is prosperous, but when it.
is in the midst of trial. Notice here the
traits of a true Christianity. 1. It has.
growth--germinal lve power, it propa
gates Itself. It is a seed which spring*
up wherever It is dropped, whether in
Judea, Sarnarla, or Antioch; in America
or in Japan. 2* It has breadth. Verse* 5,
6. It overcomf?s the prejudices of race
and nation, breaks the bonds of sect, and
brings Jews and Samaritans into one fel
lowship. 3. It has power. Verse 7. The
physical miracles of the apostolic age
were pictures of its spiritual working in
all ages. Even now th** Gospel drives out
unclean spirits and gives power to the
Impotent. 4. It brings joy. Verse x. Ev
ery truly converted soul tastes the joy of
salvation, and has within a fountain of
happiness. it has discipline. Verses
14-16. The Church was a unit, whether
in Judea or Hamaria. It recognized tin*
central aumorny or me apostle-4, aim sun
mltted to It. The last picture is that of
Simon the Sorcerer, showing the traits
of a false Christianity. We need not
waste much time In the profitless Inquiry
about Simon's powers, which were not
unlike those of so-called "mediums" now
adays. I. Even In the true Church, and
iri Its purest days, there was a false dis
ciple. Simon, among the disciples, and.
believing after a fashion, he was not al
together a hypocrite. 2. lie was a Chris
tian in form, a baptized member, hut not
In heart and life lie carried worldly
alms and methods Into the Church 3. Me
supiHised that other disciples were on his
own plane, uud offered money to the
apostle* to buy the gift ot the Holy
Spirit. Ill* spirit was that of selfish am
hltlon. seeking power over men, rather
than power with Uod.
I onsal Jones *ud yuren Marglirrllu a
The Washington Post tell* this glory
of Col. Wallace 8. Junes I'ttlle I State
consul general at Horne, Italy, now on
a visit to this country. Col Jones la
a Floridian, and has been In the consu
lar service In Italy for the last ten
years. He Is a gentleman of wit tact
and culture, aud his ability to make a
happy response at the right time
htoughi him luto the good graces id
Queen Maigherlta on his Amt appear
ance at court. Tha queen asked him
Horn which elate he hailed and on be
ing told, said that she had often heard
Florida described a* a Very lo-aullful
country. "Vea," your majewiy." was
th* prompt reply, "we mi! it «t haute
the Hal) uf America." The neat com
pliment was nor lost eg royalty, and
the colonel waa rewarded with a turn
log smile from one of the loveliest
women In Hump*
HRAA.TM AND KRAUT V MINT*
tllov >-» uum at night m u9 ,
•re apt rather la teiU w ike hands th m
whiten them Vw »lm* yellow* tha
shin,
tllicerta and lemon (on* aofteg and
i
portion* It Is it itolli nt remedy for 1
< Ki(^p4 lumb
t tf«****! ittfti In if*# f%»| jMrfulfill
I* wmmI# i*I fv-AtjilMt tfeftivr m (
u»iA« «Um! «a«#cu*
*! **!*#«• «* uviiv
