. I
3T OflT OF
INTERNATIONAL PRiSS ASSOCIATION.
CHAPTBll
K was strongly
tempted to rush off
home and dress
himself and go iff
to the Hall after
Dick, but he resist
ed the temptation
with a hopnl^ts
feeling that he ,
would gain nothing
by It, that he would j
i only vex himself
by the sight of the other fellow philan
dering after the girl he had loved all
bis life. ’She ll find him out after a
bit," he said to himself, ’’and then j
she'll know how to value a man who |
means every word ay. and more than
every word—that he says.”
Tn the meantime Diek Aylmer went |
on and turned In at the hospitably j
open gate of Oravelclgh Hall, with tne
assured air of one who knows before
hand what his welcome would he. “Is
Miss Dlir.sdale at home?” he asked of
Barbara, who came to the door In an
swer to his knock,
"I am not sure, sir,” Barbara an
swered. But she may bo in the gar
den I’ll find out, sir, in a minute.”
Mhc disappeared again, leaving him
there, and then a man ran out from
the side of the house, to take the
horse’s head; and before Barbara ap
peared again, Dick heard a light foot
step on the gravel, and Dorothy her
self. wearing a blue dress and a white
sailor hat. came into sight. ‘‘Oh! Mr.
Harris,” she cried, in such a Joyous
tone that Dick's heart fairly thumped
In response. "I had no idea that you
" if nrir. I nuuuci UUtt li. nfl'' I mu* ,
not hear the wheels. Come and be in
troduced to my aunt; site is here, round
this shrubbery—we always sit here* in
the hot weather; the night of the sea
help* to keep one cool. Auntie,” she
continued, not giving him time to say
a word, "this is Mr. Harris, whom I
met at Lady Jane's, who brought me
home that day, you know;” then, turn
ing to Dick, she said, "This is my
aunt, Miss Dimsdale.”
I am very pleased to see you, Mr.
Harris,” said Miss Dimsdale, holding
out her hand in a frank amt gracious
welcome. Miss Dimsdale had the
somewhat stiff manners of th** last
generation, or, 1 might say, of the
first half of the century, but in her I
own house she was always more genial
than in any other place, and Dick j
Aylmer shook hands with her and
felt well, that a very fate was fol
lowing him in bis acquaintance with
.Dorothy Strode, for here lie was again
forced, as it were, to lie known as Har
ris, when all the time his real name
was Aylmer, and how was he to tell
the old lady that some one or other
had made a mistake that is, without
giving himself the look of an impos
ter? Like lightning there Hashed
through his mind an idea that if Lady
Jane iiad mistaken him for somebody
else, she had really no guarantee of
liis respectability, and with equal rap
idity there shot through his brain a
remembrance of his uncle's letter, his
mirte's threats and his uncle's unyield
ing unbendable yes. I must he hon
est and finish up the sentence as Dick
thought it—his unde's unyielding, un
heiuiable, devil of a temper. And so,
not from any contrivance or wish of
}iis own. Dick, in that awkward mo
Tin iii, i*• t iin- iiilsuiKit jia.si. anu a.
lowed the two ladies at (Iraveleigh
Hall to believe that his name was, as
they had imagined. Man is.
In behavior he was very judlidoun;
he talked more to the aunt than to the
liltin' although his eyes followed her
wherever she went In a wav which told
Mian Dimsdale all too plainly what
had brought him there.
But, judging by his serene and sober
ronvei .it Ion with Miss Ibmsdale, you
mi gilt have th> light that Dick was
sixty instead Oi slx-and-twenty, and
Mtsa Dimsdale wa., charmed with him
"Suih a thoughtful, sensible fellow."
ahe said to herself as she watched
him presently go across the lawn with
Dorothy to see her Persian kittens.
Just at that time the very pride ami
Joy of her heart. Ay. but men were
ib reiver* ever, sometimes quite UU
ronsi ions though It !*• \t that mo
Alt ui Db'h wa saving to Dorothy.
“And l thought the week would never
gel ovet ihe very longest week I ever
lived.M
"Then why didn’t you ram* be
fore?" he .sakeJ with inuo ■ at au
ili* it)
"Pom e-fure1 tbit you »*lil that I
wa.n t t,. I IB* till this week h# an
•acred ttesnie* t didn't know I
wasn’t -ne that I mightn t «> l bun
died oil g*ek an 'top when I t|H
*u«u t»b no. I didn’t want to rue
|K* rl»i ? that
"Ijm you ofien *«< handled ant «**• *
•ad m«>p when v *n *>• l# '<*11 *
poo*.' ' Ihirothy t i i|r«t temurg!)
pad With a *a ' - I * i gt * i' k't *r <
••Vfo. I d.mt," h» replied With
laugh lint 1 ha..' kn i* I »h*i r
• a* i» bat* a *'.# i».i >> i i •
*pd I del* t till to hu t I lw ■
"A*d »«4 ha*. » * I Uriah Van'
Pa* t*v parttcaliMir nt t* >x »h<
a*td a* ah* *p*pad iv >1*-*r raadiai
•aid th« atabl*
|Mb*k pot hta hand o«> to «*»• th<
dMW a>*o and «» doing »***« h*
p,r» • t tPtnb ' aaW h in a dh> *••
ouaiy Vanda* ton* whbk a •**•» *<aat
ty ka-1 Bli#ht*a*d Mt*a tn».d*.*
AP*t . ta * d^Uhtfui *« nu t
in ill u» iip >'Hir uniii, iiini uiru
Dorothy laughed a little, and pushed
the door open.
“See, this Is my Lorna I)oono," file ;
said, going into the n irest stall, and
showing him a hall of white fluff
coiled up in a deep bed of hay. “Isn't
she lovely?"
Dick Aylmer groaned within him
self; he had fallen from a paradise
of tenderness to the comparative per
sonality of a eat -commonplace even
though It was a Persian eat which j
bore the name of Lorna Doone, and
she loved It.
It was a beautiful cn without doubt,
and It turned Its head hack at the
sight of Dorothy, and purred loudly,
and with evident satisfaction.
“I want to know Just what you
think of her.” said Dorothy to Dick -
“truly and honestly. Don't flatter me
about her. Lorna and I don't like
flattery we want to know the truth
about ourselves the brutal truth If
you will, hut truth at any price. Now
what, do you think of her?"
“I can't tee her properly," answered
I)iek.
“Ivorna dearie, get up and show
yourself off,'' said Dorothy to the eat;
then finding that the great white Per- ]
sian did not move, she turned her out
of her bed, ami took the four kits Into .
her own lap.
“I think she Is lovely.” said Dick, j
i aii ♦•mil iii'iiib mac.
"Immense." Dorothy answeted, ‘‘and
a great beauty too."
By this litrie iJjrk liad begun to
tickle l/orna Boone's ear. and that
lady began to respond after the man- j
ner of cats when they are not shy— j
that is to say, she had put her two j
forepaws upon his knee as he sat on
the bed of hay. and was vigorously
rubbing her checks, first one side and
then the other, against bis hand.
"She has taken to you,” cried Do
rothy gladly.
"Of course she has; I»rna Boone
knows a good tiling when she sees
it," he answered, laughing. "Besides,
why shouldn't she take to me?"
"Some people don’t like cats,” said
Dorothy, "especially men."
She had not forgotten how, the very
last time he was in the house, David
Stevenson had kicked her favorite out
of his way, not brutally or to hurt j
her—for David, whatever his faults, I
was not a brute—but because be was j
so jealous of Dorothy that he could
:<ot endure to see her care for any- I
thing. “Hew can you waste your love
WASTK YOI'it IX)VK OX A CAT.
on a brute of a cat?" ho had burst out.
when Dorothy had caught itj* !.urna
and hold her to tier cheek.
"Some men hate cats a man who
comes hero sometimes loathes her"
she said to Dick, and Dick knew by a
sort of instinct who the "some one”
W UK.
"Oh. some men are cross-grained
enough fur anything he >nui good
naturedly he foulil ufTonl to lie good
natured, fur he hub realized what thli
Kiri's real feelings for some one"
wete. "For my jiari. I must say I've
gut a liking for a cat. tun I should
hardly a beauty like this with
ordinary ' ats. She Is not only a beau
ty lit look at. hut she Is .'111101111) af
fectionate. and and and she'* yours.
, you know."
•The te.i |s waiting, MDs Dorothy "
\ said Itnrbnru. appearing at the door
just at that moment
I "tome, said Dorothy gen’ty.
.
ClIU'TKit VI
•> man ..
11 and nee you
I .1 I ! 1 I I.
I
I] when tie tuab
her that
af‘erns.11
i »hc
•pawned J*'
:
tie-debt y <d hit
IW lUUsf * Vow Will host IP
1 ( Id al'.el' f Sir u I Its » lot we ale let '
.J.uet people awd a few tewwte PwMI
■ «p w ih two are at! tk» 11outbi
* H«i of life p.tib»ei'M.e« I Wibh Mia
' it *<** different hot *»'d in**. |o*
ktbOW. WHh <b ••***■ *<* dt#* wit t*
I 1 t rawatwaal
And tile* |s t ab' * - * I* . «b »
• if ap« fwond Utu at ilt»»«l»itk tweup
I po*AnM* * want In* h with deifc a i
1 delta*«
■ . sg*. Ik Moth i la • **■*»! gift. M. <
, |i,s..lc replied * end-. <*»•
I «wl than ah* §•*# * Mtllo •■*
which wd Tiirk wondering what it
could mean.
Well, altpr this it very soon became
nn established custom that Pick should
find his way over to Oravelelgh at ;
least twlee In every week, and some- i
times Miss Dimsdale asked him to j
stay to share their dinner, for she j
was a woman of very hospitable nn- ;
tore, though she was quiet and some
what stiff in manner, and a little old - |
fashioned In her Ideas. And although 1
David Stevenson had all her wishes on
tils side, she really grew to like Dick
the better of the two, for Dick was
gentle ami kind in ills manner to
each and ail alike, content to let his
wooing do Itself if the truth between
you and me be told, happy in the
present, and a little inclined to leave
the future to he as long the future as
might be because of the terrible old
uncle In the background. Then, too,
there was always present in his mind
the knowledge that, sooner or later, h'1
would have to make a clean breast of
his Identity to Miss Dimsdale and to
Dorothy, and to cast himself upon
their mercy as regards the deception
which had really been no fault of his,
and to persuade them to consent to a
secret marriage. And whenever poor
Dick reached this point In his retire
tions. he Invariably gave a groan of
litter despair, for he hail a dreadful
foreboding that never, never would
Dorothy's aunt give even the most re
luctant consent to anything of the
kind.
Ho the swret autumn days skipped
over September tiled and October wa
born, lived its alloted time, and in turn
passed away, and wintry November
came In. The last tinted leaves fell
from the trees of the great oaks and
horse chestnuts, and the tall poplars
which shrouded the hall were now but
gaunt and shivering skeletons, only a j
memory of their old luxuriance and
. ... It.a i _ I,. tkn f.r. «...
.... ... ~.
and leafless trees were more beautiful j
ih.tn they were cither in their summer ;
gowns of green or in all the niany
hued loveliness of tlieir autumn frock
for to Dorothy all me world was light- |
ed and beautified by the warmth and
fire of radiant love -better to her the
leafless branches of November with
love than the fairest blooms of spring
time into which love had not yet come.
During this autumn site had seen
but little of her old admirer, David
Stevenson. Ho had gone to the Hall j
once or twice after he knew that "the j
man front Colchester” hail Ixcjme a
frequent visitor there- gone with a I
savage assertion of his rights as an
old friend and a life-long intimate of
the house. But when lie found that
Miss Dimsdale had, as he put it, "gone
over to the enemy,” he gave up even
that much intercourse, and gave all
his energies to his farming, content,
as he told himself, to bide hi3 time.
At last about the middle of Novem
ber when half the officers of the regi
ment were i n leave, and soldiering j
and Colchester alike were as flat and i
dull as ditch water, Dick Aylmer got !
into his dog-cart and turned the
horse's head toward the big gates.
"Hullo. Dick!" called out a brother
officer to him, "where arc vou going?’
"Oh, a drive," returned Dick prompt ;
ly.
"Oh, a drive." repeated the other,
noting the evasion instantly trust a j
soldier for that, "(lot any room for a i
fellow?”
"Take you as far as the town if
you like," said Pick good-naturedly.
"No, never mind,'' answered C'<> oth
tr. "I’ll walk down with rinooks pres
ently."
"Didn't want a lift, you know.” he
explained to Snooks, who in polite so
ilety was known as Lord William
Veryl, "but I did want to find out
where old Dick was going. Hut Dick |
was ready for tne, and as close as
wax."
"Ye*. I know tried it on myself
with him the other day." said Snook*
reflectively. "Dick informed me he
was making a careful study of mare’s- .
nest.; for the benefit of the British As:- J
r notation.'
(To lie continued >
Hut ley »•*«! %rnol«l.
Ih-an Farrar records in his Men 1
Have Known" an iimusIhr and perfect- |
ly Rood nature.! etort which Mr. Mat
thew Arnold provoked from I’rofec -or i
Huxley, for the licit t apprecln:ion ot i
which it may h* udited that the mwc. i
ne-s and liRltt" nt which Mi Vrnoid
w rote were excmpUtit d In his ow n very
«!!•> I ud t'ha: tut lilt UI..IUU**' l "111!
tino-s met Itarle} la company with
Matihew Arnold and nothing could .«
mote delightful than the eonteraa' ion 1
cilcllid hy their run!rusted Individual
ities I ruuientlter a walk which l
once took with them truth through the
pleasant uroO'ids of Fails IlHI, where I
Mi Vruotda • ullage was Ho w.i
a*ktllg It'ixle whether he liked RoluR
out tn dinner parlies and the prof* - or i
anawered that as a rule he did not like !
it at all Mt." .i d M< Vrnohl I
rai'.ev Hhe it It u rather nice to meet
people * *t»i. Yea r. piled Hupn
h i : we ale not all • n U * • ei taa: lug
* uptda aa you are*"
I •!» tgoHdM*.
It !• pnf< ul a J*.< Wi » duly to h. ■ p
up tha spirtk* uf hl*> pattenl allow
hep* i am* o Is flew 'he I*, l of u > t
ell*,., nut ike t’ n* inn til Knurr tret
a * »aw in *h‘ h *ut ageutent * .»
■ allied a Into* la* far V tn tit fctet
• i p a ftigh ul a- «i*l«»i aa a result
i uf whis h h»dh h«t legs had so hu .lupi
i tilted N«l*i U*.n l said > .*• turgaott*
a f* * gty* at*, i a aid Aw -Hug ’he p.«M
l ii, . ■ , a >»i n*.d wu
. ».**• r. t i eat n *g*.g
i auhra Hare** uauha
i flow l au*. h»fo.a « half, k a-w
I eiute wilt a*«afa ergot a lady it
I i*«M trek
TALK AGE’S SEID10N.j
"THE FIELD OF BLOOD'' LAST '
SUNDAYS SUBJECT.
I rnm tl»«* Trxt» Arti l. Vornr 19. nt
Fullowii: “Atii;i. That I v to Say,
tha lh*I«! of lllooil'* Dountiiinl l'ulli
uf tl»«* (iiinicitter I'otutrd Out.
The money that Jmlas gave for nur
rcnderlng Christ was used to purchase
a graveyard. As the money was blood
money, the ground bought by it was
called in ihe Syriac tongue. "Acelda
ma,” meaning "the field of blood."
Well, there Is one word I want to write
today over every race-course where
wagers are staked, and every poolroom,
and every gambling saloon, and every
table, public or private, where men and
women bet for sums of money, large or
small, and that is a word incarnadined
with ihe Ilf*’ of Innumerable victims -
"Aceldama,”
The gambling spirit, which is at all
limes a stupendous evil, ever and anon
sweeps over the country like an epi
demic. prostrating uncounted thou
sands. There has never been a worse
attack than that from which all the
villages, towns and cities are now suf
fering.
While among my hearer* and readers
are those who have passed on into the
afternoon of life, and the shadows are
lengthening, and the sky crimsons with
the glow of the setting sun, a large
number of them are In early life ,and
ilie morning Is coming down out of
the clear sky upon them, and the
bright air is redolent with spring blos
soms, and the stream of life, gleam
ing and glancing, rushes on between
flowery banks, making music as It
goes. Home of you are engaged in mer
cantile concerns, a - clerk., and book
1 , , ni,r« soot vnllt' whole life lS to be
passed in the exciting world of traffic. [
The sound of busy life stirs you ns the |
drum stirs the fiery war horse. Olliers
are in the mechanical arts, to hammer J
and chiral your way through life, and j
success awaits you. Home are prepar
ing for professional life, and grand op
portunities are before you; nay. some
of you already have buckled on the
armor. But, whatever your age and
lulling, the subject of gambling about
which 1 speak today is pertinent.
Some years ago, when an association
for the suppression of gambling was
organized, an agent of the association
came to a prominent citizen and asked
him to patronize the society. Ha said: j
"No, I can have no interest in such an j
organization. I am in no wise affected
by the evil.” At that very time his ;
son, who was iiis partner in business, i
was one of the heaviest players In a i
famous gambling establishment. An- j
other refused his patronage on the 1
same ground, not. knowing that his first
book keeper, though receiving a salary
of only $4,000. was losing from $'.o to
$100 per night. The president of a j
railroad company refused to patronize
the institution, saying: “That society ;
Is good for the defense of merchants, |
but we railroad people are uot injured j
by this evil;” not knowing that, at
that very time, two of his conductors
were spending three nights of each
week at faro tables in New York. Di
rectly or indirectly this evil strikes at
the whole world.
Gambling is the risking of some
thing more or less valuable ill the hope
of winning more than you hazard. The
instruments of gaming may differ, but
the principle is the same. The shuffling
and dealing cards, however full cf
temptation. Is not gambling unles
stakes are put up; while, on the other
hand, gambling may lie carried on
without cards, or dice, or billiards, or
a ten-pin alley. The man who bets
on horses, or elections, on battles, the
man who deals in "fancy" stocks, or j
conducts a business .vhi li hazards ex- ,
tra capital, or goes into transactions
without foundation but dependent, upou
what men call link'' is a gambler.
Whatever you expect to get from
your neighbor without offering an
equivalent in money, or tint--, or skill,
is either the product of theft or earning.
funic into the same category. Bazaars
for the founding of hospital.',, .-a hoois
and ehttrehes. conducted on the rattling
system, coni" tr tier lite tattle denom
ination. Ito t.*n. therefore u-u>uri::ie
gambling necessarily witit any liistru
ment. or game, or time, or place, or
think the principle depends upon
whether you play for a glass of win*
or one hundred shares of railroad
stock. Whether on patronize 'auc
tion pool-;," Krenrh mutuals," or
'book-making." wlictlur you tiiploy
faro ot billiards, rondo uttd kuuo.
i irds or bagatelle, the very td<w of
the thing is dishonest, for it professes
to bestow upon you a good for which
you gtv »■ uo Htuivilffit
‘I Iti« A*rima i# no OYwbcirti f>mr, but
u hdKKirU I run Mgr* 44 lug ih.it rmutM
«>4KK«TltlK do*u U11>UT 4 SIM lit Vt* of
nirwii through many tniturlrt- Ml
l.tttU’A*. I .IlKtIU'la 411*1 cllUud, h.MC
lw*«*ti iddii ltd la it
Hut n<»* tit** law* of th» arhuiw *-4vil
world d* noun* * the »y<**«<rti Kit*
act a** id * h4t« !** *»» [M«u*t|. but nitty
I virttally vntoi«*d. and at iiium not **u
jforvad at all Tb«* »m«n iutar*‘*i**<l In
a i u»ota h»»*iuMpj» aad Iti j»w dob*
wtfdd «»t* b inflMHu** by Uidf auuth«'t*
tad itfllupHHt* 11* it th th* Jury
ard lb* ptMfcrw iittt r w»u*t U bold it
* h«» would afTwv lb*wtihtt
•i tuid iH«w* IhfftliaMw 'tab! <lui> u*
, I H* b**o««* of * > HMtt.w uf Kiiil.tin) #*
1141U n iyo i iii *•»» ftriby day that
m» mb f t mat aiuad ib* r*it* >u t tt*
I ib* t>*it mi l*«i uf It tfcia *4tua
i try to«baf aVv RiiA> bmudfvda a# |*m*
family ltbh’ m*b w feu lit
i k« «4tib *fw
Mai4u b of (In**f 4wll%nt In
' thin laud arw tyary day haing *ou 4ad
' bat tbr i-iib ibrtr (gticubuaa flay* a
! o«««l«f ihrtioah tb« tb*** I b H
• iNttifd a tb*WNitt1 wilt* At a * «*#
I 1 tw wfiton aaNia, And await
itabliN At rot* **kt*« wuiwnI
ft**a% tb* niaw^N nuH 1 tw tb* ttral
W HHb wf »|f jAHAftH?f 1 bi Itt’lffft
of tliid country reeks with sin. In some
of those cities every third or fourth
'lOUae in many of the streets is a gain
ing place, and it may be truthfully
averred that each of our cities 13 cursed
with this evil.
Men wishing to gamble will find
placed just suited to their capacity, not
only in the underground oyster cellar,
or at the table back of the curtain,
covered with greasy cards, or ia the
steamboat smoking cabin, where the
bloated wretch with rings in Ills ear*
deals out hl.s pack, and winks In the
unsuspecting traveler- providing free
drinks all around -but in glided ,*ar
lors and amid gorgeous surroundings.
This sin works ruin, first, by provid
ing an unhealthful stimulant. Excite
ment Is pleasurable. I'nder every sky
and in every age men have sought It.
We must at times have excitement. A
thousand voice:: in our nature demand
it. It Is right. It is healthful. It Is
Inspiriting. It is a desire God-given,
lint anything that first gratifies this
appetite and hurls it back in a terrific
reaction. Is deplorable and wicked.
Look out for the agitation that, like a
rough musician, in bringing out the
tune plays so hard he breaks down the
instrument! God never made a man
strong enough to endure the wear and
tear of gambling cxeitenienta.
What dull work 1s plowing to the far
mer when In the village saloon In on
night he makes and lew* the value of
a. summer harvest! Who will want to
aril capes and measure nankeen and
cut garments and weigh sue.tr, when in
a night’s game lit makes and lot s, and
makes again and loses again, the prof
its of a season?
John liorack was sent as a tncr. an
tl!e agcn» from firemen to England and
this country. After two years Ills em
ployers mistrusted that nil was not
right. He was a default r f ,r ?S7,0C0.
It was found that h" had lost in Lom
bard street, London, $29.00); in Fulton
street, New York, $10,000, and In N?w
Orleans, ?3,000. He was In prisoned.
Inn afterwards evaped. and went into
tb" gambling profession. Hr died In
a lunatic asylum. This i t line Is grt
ting its lever mid t many a mercantile
house in our cities, and before I'.n ;
down will conic the great establish
ment, crushing r>'pu’alion, b me com
fort and immortal souls. How It di
verts and sinks capital may 1 e inferred
from some authentic r,tat merit l>< fore
us. The ten gaming houses that once
were authorized in Paris passed
through the banks yearly 321,000,000
francs.
A young man in London, on romittg
of age, received a fortune of one hun
dred and twenty thouand dollars, and
through gambling in three yvars w.is
thrown on his mother for support. An
only son went to Nf w Orleans. He
was rich, intellectual and elegant in
manners. His parents gave him. on
his departure from home, their last
blessing. The sharpers got hold of
him. They (latte.cd him. They lured
hint to the earning table and let him
w'n almost * very time for a good while,.
and flatted hfrn on lit • back and said,
"First rati' player." Hut fully In their
grasp, they fleec'd him, and his thirty
thousand dollars was lost. Last of
ail, he put up his watch and lost that.
Then h" began to think of his home,
and of his eld lather and mother, and
wrote thus:
••*,ly beloved parents, you will doubt
less feel a momentary Joy at the ns op
tion of this letter from th" child of
your bosom, on whom you have lav
ished all the favms of vour declining
years. Hat should a feeling of joy for
i moment spring up in y ur hoarta.
when you should have received this
from m*1-cherish it not I have ftil'on
deep, never to rise. Those gray hairs
that T should have honored and’ pro
tected I t all bring down in sorrow to
the grave, r will not curse my destroy
»r, but. oh. may God avenge the
wrongs and impositions practised' upon
the .-.nvv.iry. in a way that -i:all' best
please him! Tills, my dear parents, is
tlic last letter you will ever receive
. ■ t i i i • i a * • • • ‘ ' ' » J • • 1 . • "ii i ' / s ra i v '
ness. It i« ray dying prayer. Lung
before yon will have rr l ived thin from
me. the i-old grave will hav dosed up
on me “drover. Life to me is inaup
portable l vannut, nay. I will not. suf
fer the shame of having ruined you.
forget and forgive is the dying prayer
of yottr unfortunate son."
The old la* tier earns to the pos“
Offlee, got the letter itnd fell to th •
floor. They thought he was dead at
lirat. hot they blushed bail, tin* ■*hp,.
hair from bis brow and fann d him.
lie had only fainted. "Aeeldama. the
field "f blood!”
\Vh"d thin.. ■ go wrong ut a guming
hiblo they shout foul! foul!” Over
all ties Milling tnbo>a of the vvor.tf I t ry
out •*l>*nui! foul! fnliuitelv fpif
"Olft stores ‘ are abundant thrwtigu
oul these.in.rv HTth a boo* .ir knife,
or vet* ut'! Iiiaehilut. or eoat, nr Nffltltil,
theta gees a prlllt \t these Stores peo
ple g«t st.uieihits* thrown m with tb ir
puarhuM*. I: may be m l wawh. or
w set of silver, v ring, or 4 farm Mharp
war to *.’t off IH.4i.1lde gpotl' |t has
Riled the land With Kefteaw artleles,
4R<I t.ivrred 1,1 our |> poi.ltion »r|IH
bra*. (In*, r .■•»*• and despoiled the
mot 11 »’Rw of the eotaai iutit and i»
fuel matt!it* *• 4 IM ml of ttMlili rs
III* fh uvh of (hat has not M1*me 4
• illtn* tu allow the world to have sit
the mbvsott of itrw saint 1 of eh ..•
A 1 bur | lobut op. ii*. and tusml th
‘have it is fv n.l list soots it lit#
• thi hial# *rti i#4 »iv rntmUM*1 Kjmh
Htiil*. ||i# rwi |m .*r* al «al«i(kitt*
f‘m lu4<' Ui 1 «Ui ftift faff •
i*l Mh utv-Mo*' »tt«l ihtl*»f |if»*
!« (|*# uf **%..«:*' I to U. ftk* Ilk I# MUtUttf
4 flit #>»«« *1 Wit' fttMti
J*#f ut III* t Ha til. t*t|t 11
|f-« *• >| Uiuttflk til# *>«*•.» {NHif M
• In Ik u*4 I# *olUi« *tk*rv uf y* *
H**j ’• t#« Ik 4*4 * * fur ti * ♦, * .* *4uftu«
•m4 ** •*»*« ut y» *• 1* ,3* *iu ill#*i
’li 11 I* ii ill ri«.M
| ( »f I »%» • inn l*4*» * 4M tfc« 1
444 riiiiMta M**t »IM ilk* i 4lUtlHg 4M |
• *l% ft•* **f|* fa*4f4 § **« w h
r. it yin m.iy 1,1 •’ ' ^ "n
It. that a- far morality w '
you might a.; v/cli ho' ' "'l'n ’v f
crack „f the bllilard hall or tfcr turn
tlic dlro-hox. Ho you wtmdci thjj
churches built. Ily.k:*-*1. or upl.»l*tci
hv Siieh prone a- I hat co.lie » f
lln.ire al a,el spiritual -leereplU de?
The .UHI Hays: "I helped to buihl that
horse of w.. hip. an.I 1 have it’ tnucU
right thrr‘.» aa you havo;*’ and for on
the devil Is right. We do not read that
they had a lottery for building the
1 church at Corinth, or at Antioch, or
for Retting up an embroidered surplice
for St. Haul. All tli 1h I style ecclesiasti
cal gambling. More than one man who
In destroyed can say that tils Hint step
on the wrong road was when he won
something at a church fair.
The gambling spirit has not stopped
for any Indecency. There transpired In
Maryland a lottery In which P<*op>p
drew for lots in a burylng-ground The
modern habit of betting about every
thing is productive of immense mis
chief. The most healthful and Inno
cent amusements of yachting and base
ball playing have been the on e aon of
putting up excited and extravagant
wagers. That which to many has been
advantageous to body and mind, lias
been to others the means of financial
and moral loss. The custom h> Pern'"
cloua lit the extreme, where scores of
men In respectable life give themselves
up to betting, now on this boat, now
on that; now on this ball club, now on
that. Betting that once was chiefly the
accompaniment of the racecourse, is
fast becoming a national habit, and in
some circles any opinion advanced on
finance or polities is accosted with the
interrogation: “How much will you bet
on that, sir."'
This custom may make no appeal to
slow, lethargic temperaments, but there
are in the country ten ; of thousands of
quid;, nervous, sanguine, excitable 4
li.mtioi r. . • 11» f - • til 111* IJlJOIlr
| and their feet will soon take hold on
death. For some month*, and perhaps
for years, they will linger lu the moio
polite ant! elegant circle of gamesters.
; but, after awhile their pathway will
; tome to the fatal plunge.
'lake warning! You are no stronger
: than ten* of thousands who have by
tills practice been overthrown. No
young man in our cities can escape be
ing tempted. Beware of the first begin
nings! This read Is a down grade, and
every instant increases the momentum.
Launch not upon this treacherous sea.
Splint hulks strew the beach. Ever
lasting storms howl up and down, toss
ing unwary craft into the Hell-gate. I
speak of what I have seen with my own
eyes. To a gambler’s deathbed there
comes no hope, lie will probably die
alone. His former associates come not
nigh ills dwelling. When the hour
comes. Ills miserable soul will go out
of a miserable life into a miserable eter
nity. As ilia poor remain:! pass the
house where lie was ruined, old eom
panions may look out for a momrtil and
say ’’There goes the old carcase dead
at last;” but they will not get up from
the table. Let film down now into hia
grave. Plant no tree to cant its shade
there, for the long, deco, eternal gloom
that settles there is shadow enough.
Plant no "forget-me-nots” or eglan
tines around the spot, for (lowers w< re
not made to grow on such a blasted
heath. Visit it not in the sunshine,
for that would be mockery, but in the
dismal night, when no stars are out,
and the spirit of darkness comes down,
horsed on the wind, then viiit Um
grave of the gambler.
NASAL CATARRH.
There is no mori prevalent disease
than catarrh of the nose passage*.
The reason of this is not far to seek.
It is mainly because the lining mem
brane is subjected to cold air, hot air,
iL’ii rm air il nut on,l *111 t i>
cnres the atmosphere ran i xe.rt; aa«l
no after a time brumes chronically In
flamed and tbi. I.< lied. Uui is ail thin
a serious malt r? To a certain extent
yes. The ■ liicf office, iio ii rimed, of
the Ir'erlor of :hc nose is to si rain and
warm the air before puttying it into the
lungs. To do lliis work effectually
there are situate within e:i !i nostril
three sets of bones (covered with mu
cous membranes), which are railed up
on tlteundves like scrolls. Thlough
these scrolls It Is really that the air
lias to pass. Hy far more ajr is mu*
mined and strained than would oth
erwise be possible. These I any s ■ ills
Ule u -sochlled with the sense of , ujsdl,
and lu some uuioi.Js, »m ii. Ojr exum
ple, as in* dog, they are m i, h luoim
elaborately developed than in nun; and
thus w«* Und the sense of smell much
ke.-nwr lu the former. What is ( atari i '
An Ilham mat loti of a ruinous m.ai
btana. aaotnpanlad with iuo;y or i.
discharge Is perhaps a tood popular
■h bullion ftiui.ini., up d. tellurs#
is muvou , und whitish «r u.eri} ol
orl»*»; and. ujratn. It Is tiurulrnt «#|
>• lliwhth. und sun-limes , i.sard with
blips! The 'londliloa known us ca
tarrh Is one *j» which the ii-.o» t„.
! -mute pertm ultd with oxltanruun ce b4
»Ud lu which the ilssie eieiutiils lh- nv
selves »*e« to have Wit ivue |miIiui|,|
piop.it>. v-a . that o| dr hi# ('avurh
ut the nose passages luu extend «| nr<
I the I '»'»»*• until It hit tto.lt,. a
Uffh of th« lh Oil! I'sUoti of in#
the , In. turn. It Is shewed Du, x*
lend do ,n wsrd tut til II ####,• I rfon*
| ehtol «i «»,lfU db-aie sud ev ,-u m
j the • .d ioi . .u.jv .n |h. ^
which rslatrh xisv ficioetitl) Lsiuisd
| lender# it ait I he more ». uiai k .We , i ,i
*• man* sto»<M he trouble,!
ton# fat we have known it i, t,rt
for many year*. If an r'. -ai it,
M t« In • #•%'», l. alt* too ty the no. . u
memhesno lem be «
•"*'* * * *'* *h** km ik
t - * ..
** ** |l W o t>f<i«|,lu wa
" l<
.S e h t#r#« It,blea ts O |si|«l
|| ilia mi lr*MMl ,
■- ., met • the yips# » «» y.
