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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 10, 1899)
PHANTOM SHIP -OR The Plying Dutchman. ^-*r CAfTAW MAMYAT. CHAPTER I. About the middle of the seventeenth century, in the outskirts of the small but fortified town of Terneuse, situ ated on the right hank of the Scheldt, and nearly opposite to the Island of Walcheren, there was to be seen In advance of a few other even more humble tenements, a small but neat cottage, built according to the prevail ing taste of the time. The outside front had, some years back, been painted of a deep orange, the windows and shut ters of a vivid green. To about three feet above the surface of the earth, it was faced alternately with blue and white tiles. A small garden, of about two rods of our measure of land, sur rounded the edifice; and this little plot was flanked by a low hedge of privet, and encircled by a moat full of water, too wide to be leaped with ease. Over that part of the moat which was in front of the cottage door was a small and narrow bridge, with ornamented Iron hand-rails, for the security of the passenger. But the colors, originally so bright, with which the cottage had been decorated, had now faded; symp toms of rapid decay wore evident in the wlndow-slllB, the door-jambs and other wooden parts of the tenement, and many of the white and blue tiles had fallen down, and bad not been re placed. That much care had once been bestowed upon this little tenement was as evident as that latterly It had been equally neglected. The Inside of the cottage, both on the basement and the floor above, was divided into two larger rooms In front, and two smaller behind; the rooms In front could only be called large In com parison with the other two, as they were little more than twelve feet square, with but one window to each. The upper floor was as usual, appro priated to the bedrooms; on the lower, the two smaller rooms were now used only as a wash-house and a lumber room; while one of the larger was fit ted up as a kitchen, and furnished with dressers, on which the metal utensils for cookery shone clean and polished as silver. The room itself was scrupu lously neat; but the furniture, as well as the utensils, were scanty. The boards of the floor were of a pure white, and so clean that you might have laid anything down without fear of soiling It. A strong deal table, two wooden-seated chairs, and a small easy couch, which had been removed from one of the bedrooms upstairs, were all the movables which this room con tained. The other front room had been fitted up as a parlor; but what might be the style of its furniture was now unknown, for no eye bad beheld the contents of that room for nearly sev enteen years, during which it bad been hermetically sealed, even to the in mates of the cottage. The kitchen, which we have de scribed, was occupied by two persons. One was a woman, apparently about forty years of age, but worn down by pain and suffering. She had evidently once possessed much beauty; there were still the regular outlines, the noble forehead, and the large, dark eyes; but there was a tenuity in her features, a wasted appearance, such as to render the flesh transparent; her brow, when she mused, would sink into deep wrinkles, premature though they were; and the occasional flashing of her eyes strongly Impressed you with the Idea of Insanity. There appeared to be some deep-seated, Irremovable, hopeless cause of anguish, never for one moment permitted to be absent from her memory; a chronic oppres sion, fixed and graven there, only to be removed by death. She was dressed In the widow’s coif of the time; but although clean and neat, her garments were faded from long wear. She was seated upon the small couch which we have mentioned, evidently brought down as a relief to her, In her declin ing state. On the deal tabic In the center of the room eat the other person, a stout fair-hatred, florid youth of nineteen or twenty years old. His feature# were handsome and bold, and hia frame powerful to excess; hla eye denoted courage and determination, and as he carelessly swung his legs, and whistled an air In an emphatic manner, It waa impossible not to form the Idea that be was a daring, adventurous and reck less character. "Do not go to s«a, Philip; oh, prom ise ms that, my dear child." said the female, elaaplng her hands. "And why not go to aea. mother?" replied Philip, "what’s the uae of my staying here to starve; for, by Heaven! It's little better. I must do something for myself and for you. And what •Is# can 1 do? My uncle Vanbreunen has offered to take me with him. and will give me good wage#. Then I shall live happily on board, aad my Sara toga will be suAcieai for your support gt boms." '1'blllp Philip, hear me. I shall die If you leave me Whom have I to Ike world but you? Oh. my child, as you love ms. and I know you do love me, Philip, dos t leave ms; but It you will, at all events do not go to sea." PbMIp gava ao immediate reply; be whistled for a few eeeoade. while ble mother wept. "Is M,‘* said he at lest, ' because my father was drowned at sea that you bag ao bard, mother?" "Ob, aw-- n-*!" ea« 1st mod tbs subbing woman. "Would to Ued -* "Would to Ood what, mother?” "Nothing—nothing. Be merciful—be merciful, oh, Ood!” replied the mother, sliding from her seat on the couch, and kneeling by the side of it, In which attitude she remained for some time In fervent prayer. At last she resumed her seat, and her face wore an aspect of more composure. Philip, who, during this, had re mained silent and thoughtful, again addressed his mother. “Look ye, mother. You ask me to stay on shore with you and starve— rather hard conditions; now hear what I have to say. That room opposite has been shut up ever since I can remem ber—why, you will never tell me; but once I heard you say, when we were without bread, and with no prospect of my uncle's return—you were then half frantic, mother, as you know you sometimes are—” "Well, Philip, what did you hear me say?” Inquired his mother, with trem ulous anxiety. "You said, mother, that there was money In that room which would save us; and then you screamed and raved, and said that you preferred death. Now, mother, what Is there In that chamber, and why has it been so long shut up? Either I know that, or I go to sea.” At the commencement of this ad dress of Philip, his mother appeared to be transfixed and motionless as a statue; gradually her lips separated and her eyes glared; she seemed to have lost the power of reply; she put her hand to her right side, as If to compress It, then both her hands, as If to relieve herself from excruciating torture; at last she sank, with her head forward, and the blood poured out of her mouth. Philip sprang rrom tne tame to ner assistance, and prevented her from falling on the floor. He laid her on the couch, watching with alarm the continued effusion. "Oh, mother, mother! what Is this?” cried he, at last, In great distress. For some time his mother could make no reply; she turned further on her side, that she might not be suf focated by the discharge from the rup tured vessel, and the snow-white planks of the floor were soon crimson ed with her blood. "Speak, dearest mother, if you can,” repeated Philip, In agony. "What shall I do?—what shall I give you?—God Al mighty! what is this?” "Death, my child, death!” at length replied the poor woman, sinking iuto a state of unconsciousness. Philip, now much alarmed, flerw out of the cottage and called the neighbors to his mother’s assistance. Two or three hastened to the call; and as soon as Philip saw them occupied in restor ing his mother, he ran as faBt as he could to the house of a medical man who lived about a mile off—one Myn heer Poots, a little, miserable, avar icious wretch, but known to be very skillful in his profession. Philip found Poots at home and insisted upon his immediate attendance. "I will come—yes, most certainly,” replied Poots, who spoke the language but imperfectly; "but, Mynheer Van derdecken, who will pay me?” “Pay you? my uncle will, directly that he comes home.” "Your uncle, de Skipper Vanbren nen? no, he owe me four guilders, and he has owed me for a long time. Be sides, his ship mgy sink.” "He shall pay you the four guilders, and for this attendance also,” replied Philip in a rago; "come directly— while you are disputing my mother may be dead.” "But Mr. Philip, I cannot come, now I recollect; I have to see the child of the burgomaster at Terneuse,” replied Mynheer Poots. "L.ook you, Mynneer roots, ex claimed Philip, red with passion, "you have but to chooae—will you go quiet ly, or must I take you there? You’ll not trine with me.” Here Mynheer Poots was under con siderable alarm, for the character of Philip Vanderdecken was well known *T will come by and by. Mynheer Philip, If I can." "You’ll come now, you wretched old miser!” exclaimed Philip, seising hold of the little man by the collar, and pulling him out of hie door. ‘‘Murder! murder!” cried Poots. as he loet his legs, and was draggsd along by the tnipetuoua young men. Philip stopped, for ba perceived that Poots was black In tha face, "Muat I then choke you to naeke you go quietly? for, hear me, go you shall, alive or dead.” ••Well, thee,” replied Poota. recov ering himself. ”1 will go. but I'll have you In prison tonight; and, as for your mother. I'll not—no, that 1 will not - Mynheer Philip, depend upon It.” * Mark me, Mynheer Pools.” replied Philip, "ne sure as there ie a Uod In heaven, If you do not come with me I'll rhohe you now; and when you nr* rive. If you do not do your beet for my poor mother, I’ll murder you there, tuu know that I always do what I say, so now take my advice, come along quietly, end you shell ccrteinly be paid, and well paid. If I sell my coat.'* I his Inal observation of Philip, per haps. had mure effect than even hie threats Poole was a Miserable little atom, and llhe a child In the powerful grasp of the young man. The doctor'* tenement was Isolated, and he could obtain no assistance until within a hundred yards of Vanderdecken’s cot tage; so Mynheer Poots decided that he would go—first, because Philip had promised to pay him, and secondly be cause he could not help It. This point being settled. Philip and Mynheer Poots made all haste to the cottage; and on their arrival they found his mother still In the arms of two of her female neighbors, who were bathing her temples with vinegar. She was in a state of consciousness, but she could not Bpeak; Poots ordered her to be carried upstairs and put to bed, and pouring eome acids down her throat, hastened away with Philip to procure the necessary remedies. "You wMl give your mother that di rectly, Mynheer Philip," said Poots, putting a vial into his hand; "I will now go to the child of the burgomas ter, and will afterward come back to your cottage." “Don't deceive me,” said Philip, with a threatening look. “No, no. Mynheer Philip, I would not trust to your uncle Vanbrennen for payment, but you have promised, and I know that you always keep your word. In one hour I will be with your mother; but you yourself must now be quick.” Philip hastened home. After the po tion had been administered the bleed ing was wholly stopped; and In ha’f an hour bis mother could express her wishes In a whisper. When the little doctor arrived he carefully examined his patient, and then went downstairs with her son into the kitchen. “Mynheer Philip," earn Foota, "ny Allah! I have done my best, but I must tell you that I have little hopes of your mother rUing from her bed again. She may live one day or two days, but not more. It Is not my fault, Mynheer Philip,” continued Poota, In a deprecat ing tone. “No, no; It Is the will of Heaven,” replied Philip, mournfully. ‘‘And you will pay me, Mynheer Van derdecken?" continued the doctor, af ter a short pause. “Yea!” replied Philip, In a voice of thunder, and starting from a reverie. After a moment’s silence the doctor recommended: ‘‘Shall I come tomorrow. Mynheer Philip? You know that will be a charge of another guilder; It is of no use to throw away money or time either.” “Come tomorrow, come every hour, charge what you please; you shall cer tainly be paid,” replied Philip, curll-.ig his lip with contempt. "Well, it is as you please. As soon aa she is dead the cottage and the fur niture will be yours, and you will sell them, of course. Yea, I will come. You will have plenty of money. Mynheer Philip, I would like the first offer of the cottage, if it is to let.” Philip raised his arm in the air as if to crush Mynheer Poota, who re treated to the corner. “I did not mean until your mother was buried,” said Poota, in a coaxing tone. “Go, wretch, go!” said Philip, cov ering his face with hla hands, aa be sank down upon the blood-stained couch. After a short interval Philip Vander decken returned to the bedside of his mother, whom he found much better; and the neighbors, having their own affairs to attend to, left them nlone. Exhausted with the loss of blood, the poor woman slumbered for many hours, during which she never let go the hand of Philip, who watched her breathing In mournful meditation. It was about one o’clock In the morn ing when the widow awoke. She had in a great degree recovered her voice, and thus she addressed her sou: ‘‘My dear, my impetuous boy, and have I detained you here a prisoner so long?” "My own inclination detained me, mother, I leave you not to others until you are up and well again.” (To be continued.) The Lang wort hys. The suicide of Edward Martin Lang worthy, following on the death of an unfortunate lady who claimed to be his wife, recalls to mind one of the most curious cases in the history of the English courts. Mr. I^ngworthy had Inherited something like £160, 000 from his father and uncle, and aft er a career at Eton and Oxford was called to the bar. He met Mildred Sa bine Palltser Long on the continent, and went through a form of marriage with her at a Homan Catholic church In Normandy, and to confirm the sem blance of legality performed a similar ceremony In a Presbyterian church at Autwerp. He then took the lady on his palatial yacht Meteor to South America, and at Iluenos Ayres inform ed her that their marriage was not valid. Mrs. langworthy became a mother and for the child's sake took proceedings against her deceiver. For four years the wealth of Mr. I^ng worthy bought the quibbling of un scrupulous lawyers to uphold his case, and the divorce court eventually de creed the marriage Invalid, but grant ed the lady alimony at the rate of 11,200 a year. The ungentlemauty Mr. lamgworthy. however, evaded payment by fleeing the country; Mrs. lAng woithy might have been driven through despair to eulclde hail not the I'all Mall tleaette, edited at that time by Mr. Stead, taken up her case She brought a new caee against Mr. latag wonky for 126,000 damages for breech of promise, and everyone rejoiced when ake won It. The general belief was that Mr. I^ngwortby had been egged on to suck road act ky relatives. • ho thought the marriage g uses III ence; so) bow. ike quarrel teems to fceve been made up to some eateat he foie the ead. sad Mr. l-aagwarthy's suicide is ascribed to grief at the das Ik of ike lady he had so misused. TALMAGE’S SERMON. “BURDEN BEARING" EAST SUN DAY’S SUBJECT. From OmL VI, Vara* S, a* Follow*: “Boar V* Om Another'* Uordnoi, ■ad So Falllt Iht Law of Christ'*— Bat Faopl* Forgot It. Every man for himself! If there be room for only one more passenger In the lifeboat, get In yourself. If there be a burden to lift, you supervise while others shoulder It. You be the digit while others are the cyphers on the right band side—nothing In themsolves but augmenting you. In opposition to that theory of selfishness Paul ad vances In my text the Gospel theory: "Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.” Everybody has burdens. Sometimes they come down upon the shoulders, sometimes they comr down upon tho head, sometimes they come down upon the heart. Looking over any assembly, they all seem bright and easy; but each one has a burden to lift, and some of them bava more than they can lift. Paul proposes to spilt up these burdens Into fragments. You take part of mine and I must take part of yours, and each one will take part of the others, and so we will fulfil the law of Christ. Mrs. Appleton, of Boston, the (laugh ter of Daniel Webster, was dying after long Illness. The great lawyer, after pleading an Important case In the court room, on his way home stopped at the house of his daughter and went Into her sick-room. She said to him: "Father, why are you out to-day In this cold weather without an over coat?" The great lawyer went Into the next room and was In a flood of tears, saying: "Dying herself, yet thinking only of me." Oh. how much more beautiful Is care for others than this everlasting taking care of our selves. High up In the wall of the Temple of Baalbec there are three stones, each weighing eleven hundred tons. They were lifted up by a style of machinery that Is now among the lost arts. But in my text Is the Gos pel maohlnery, by which the vaster and the heavier tonnage of the world’s burden Is to be lifted from the crushed heart of the human race. What you and I most need to learn is the spirit of helpfulness. Encourage the merchant. If he have a superior style of goods, tell him so. If he have with his clerks adorned the show windows and the shelves, com pliment bis taste. If he have a good business locality, if he have had great success, If he have brilliant prospects for the future, recognise all this. Be not afraid that he will become arro gant and puffed up by your approval. Before night some shop-going person will come in and tell him that bis prices are exorbitant, and that his goods are of an Inferior quality, and that his show window gave promise of far better things than he found inside. Before the night of the day In which you say encouraging words to that merchant there will be some crank, male or female, who will come into the store and depreciate everything, and haul down enough goods from the shelves to flt out a family for a whole winter without buying a cent’s worth. If the merchant be a grocer, there will be some one before night who will come Into his establishment, and tasto of this and taste of that and taste of everything else, in that way stealing all the profits of anything that he may purchase—buying three apples while he is eating one orange. Before the night of the day when you approve that merchant he will have a bad debt which he will have to erase, a bad debt made by some one who has moved away from tne neignDornooa witnoui giving him any bint of the place of destination. Before the night of the day when you have uttered encour aging words to the merchant, there will be some woman who will return to his store and say she has lost her purse, she left it there in the store, she brought it there, she did not take it away, she knows It Is there, leav ing you to make any delicate and com plimentary inference that you wish to make. Before night that merchant will hear thut some style of goods of which he has a large supply Is going out of fashion, and there will be some oue who will come into the store and pay a bill under proteat, saying he has paid It before, but the receipt has been loat Now, encourago that merchant, not fearing that be will become arro gant or putted up, for there will be before night enough unpleasant things aald to keep him from becoming apo plectic with plethora of praiae. Encourage newspaper men. If you knew how many annoyancea they have, if you understood that their moet elab orate article la sometimes flung out becauae there is aucb great preaeure on the columns, and that an accurate report of a speech U eipected. al though the utterance be so Indistinct the dlecouree la one long stenographic guesa, and that the midnight which And* you asleep demand* that they be awake, and (bay are sometimes ground between the wheels of our great brain manufactories; alckcned at Ih* often approach of men who want compll mentary newspaper notices, or who want newspaper retractloa; on* day seal to report a burial, the seat day lo report a pugilistic encounter; shift- i ad from place to place by euddea revoiutloa which in li able to take place say day la aur great Journalistic establish meats; precarious life becomiag more aad store precarious if you under eta ad It. you would be more eympa tbettc. He slab)* wbea you have not aa aaa lo be ebarpeaed «w lheir triad stows Discern la ystw mlad what the nineteenth century would be without the newspaper, and give encouraging words to all who are engaged In this Interest, from the chief of editorial de partment down to the boy that throws the morning or evening newspaper in to your basement window. Encourage mechanics. They will plumb the pipes, or they will kalso mlne the ceilings, or they will put down the carpets, or they will grain the doora, or they will fashion the wardrobe. Be not among those who never say anything to a mechanic ex cept to find fault. If he has done a Job well, tell him It Is splendidly done. The book Is well bound, the door Is well grained, the chandelier Is well swung, the work is grandly accom plished. Be not among those employ ers who never say anything to their employes except to swear at them. Do not be afraid you will make that mechanic so puffed up and arrogant he will never again want to be seen with working apron or in shirt sleeves, for before the night comes of that day when you praise him there will be a lawsuit brought against him because he did not finish Ills work as soon as he promised It, forgetful of the fact that his wife has been sick and two of his children have died of scarlet fever and he has had a felon on a finger of tho right hand. Denounced perhaps because tho paint is so very faint In color, not recognizing the fact that the mechanic himself has been cheated out of the right ingredients and that he did not And out the trouble In time; or scolded at because ho srema to have lamed a horse by unskilful shoeing, when the horse has for months hud spavin or ringbone or stringhalt. You feel you have the right to And fault with a mechanic when he does 111, Do you ever praise a mechanic when he does well? Encourage tho farmer*. I hey come Into your stores, you meet them In the city markets, you often associate with them In the summer months. Office seekers go through the land and they stand on political platforms, and they tell the farmers the story about the In dependent life of a farmer, giving flat tery where they ought to give sym pathy. Independent of what? I was brought up on a farm, I worked on a farm, I know all about It. I hardly saw a city until I was grown, and I tell you that there are no class of peo ple In this country who have It harder and who more need your sympathy than farmers. Independent of what? Of the curcullo that stings the peach trees? of tho rust In the wheat? of the long rain with the rye down. Inde pendent of the grasshopper? of the locust? of the army worm? of the po tato bug? Independent of the drought that burns up tb* harvest? Independ ent of the cow with the hollow horn? or the sheep with the foot rot? or the pet horse with a nail In his hoof? In dependent of the cold that freezes out the winter grain? Independent of the snowbank out of which he must shovel himself? Independent of the cold weather when he stands threshing his numbed Ungers around his body to keep them from being frosted? Inde pendent of the frozen ears and the frozen feet? Independent of what? Fancy farmers who have made their fortunes In the city and go out In the country to build houses with all the modern Improvements, and make farming a luxury, may not need any solace; but the yeomanry who get their living out of the soil, and who that way have to clothe their families and educate their children, and pay their taxes and meet the Interest on mortgaged farms—such m$n Und a ter rific struggle. I demand that office seekers and politicians fold up their gaseous and Imbecile speeches about the independent life of a farmer, and substitute some word of comfort drawn from the fact that they are free from city conventionalities and city epidem ics and city temptations. My most vlv Id renjemurance oi uuyuouu is or iny father coming in on a very hot day from the harvest field, and, seating himself on the doorslll because he was too faint to get into the house, the perspiration streaming from forehead and chin, and my mother trying to re suscitate him with a cup of cold water, which he was too faint to bold to his own lips, while saying to us: "Don't be frightened; there's nothing the matter; a little tired, that's all; a little tired." Ever since that day, when I hear peo ple talking about the Independent life of a farmer I aee through the sham. Farmers want not your flatteries, hut your sympathies. Encourage the doctors. You praise the doctor when he brings you up from an awful criala of disease, but do you pralae the doctor when through skillful treatment of the Incipient atages of disease, he keeps you from sinking down to the awful crlals? There la a great deal of cheap and heartleas wit about doctors, but 1 notice that the people who get off that wit are the first to send fur a doctor when there la anything the matter. There are those who undertake to aay In our day that doctors are really useless. One man has written a book eotltled "Ev ery Man Ills Own Doctor.'* That au thor ought to write one more book eotltled "Evrry Man Hla Own Un<»er taker." "Ok." says some one, "physi cians In constant presence of pain get hard-hearted!" Do they? The most celebrated surgeon of the last genera tion stood la a clinical department of use of the New York raelhal colleges, the students gathered In the amphl theater to gee n very pnlaful operation on n living child. The old surgeon said "(ientlemen. escuee me If I re tire; these surgeons cnn do this as well ns 1 can, nnd as I get older It gives me more sod more distress to see pain.” Kacoti'ri.ge nil starting In lifo by yourself becoming reminiscent Es tablished merchants, by telling tbeoe young merchants when you got your first customer, and how you sat be hind the counter eating your luncheon with one eye on the door. Established lawyers, encourage young lawyers by, telling of the time when you broke down In your first speech. Established ministers of the Gospel, encourage young ministers by merctfnl examina tion of theological candidates, not walking around with a profundity and overwhelmingness of manner as though you were one of the eternal de crees. Doctors established, by telling you yourself once mistook the measles for scarlatina. And If you have noth ing to say that Is encouraging, Oh.man put your teeth tightly together and cover them with the curtain of your lip; compress your lips and put your hand over your mouth and keep still. A gentleman was passing along, crossing a bridge In Germany, and a lad came along with a cage of birds for sale. The stranger said: "How much for those birds and the cage?” The price was announced, and the pur chase was made, and the first thing the stranger did was to open the door of the cage, and the birds flew out Into the sunlight and the forest. Borne one who saw the purchase and the libera tion Bald: "What did you do that for?” "Ah!" said the stranger, "I was a captive once myself, and I know how good It Is to be free." Oh, ye who remember hardships In early life, but have corne beyond those hardships, sympathize with those who are In the struggle! Free yourself, help others to get free. Gov. Alexander Stephens persisted In having business matters brought to his bedside. There was on the table a petition for the pardon of a distinguished criminal, the petition signed by distinguished men. There was also on that tnble a letter from a poor woman in me penitentiary, writ ten and signed by beraelf alone. Dying Alexander Stephens said: “You think that because I have been 111 so many times and got well I shall get well now, but you are mistaken; I shall not recover. Where Is that letter by that woman In the penitentiary? I think she has suffered enough. As near as I can tell, she has no friends. Bring me that paper, that 1 may sign her pardon." A gentleman standing by, thinking this too great a responsibil ity for the sick man, said: "Governor, you are very sick now; perhaps you had better wait till tomorrow; you may feel stronger and you may feel better." The eye of the old governor flashed, and he said: “I know what I am about.” Putting his signature to that pardon, he wrote the last word he ever wrote, for then the pen fell from his pale and rheumatic and dy ing hand forever. Oh, my soul, how beautiful that the closing hours of life should be spent In helping one who had no helper! Encourage the troubled by thoughts of release and reassoclatlon. Encour age the aged by thoughts of eternal juvenescence. Encourage the herds man amid the troughs of sin to go back to the banquet at the father’s homestead. Give us tones In the ma jor key Instead of the minor. Give us “Coronation" instead of “Naomi." You have seen cars so arranged that one car going down the hill rolled another car up the hill. They nearly balanced each other. And every man that finds life up-hill ought to be helped by those who have passed the heights and are descending to the vale. Oh, let us bear one another's burdens! A gentleman In England died, leav ing bis fortune by will to his two sons. The son that stayed at home de stroyed his father's will and pretend ed that the brother who was absent was dead and burled. The absent brother after a while returned and claimed his part of the property Judges and jurors were bribed to say that the returned brother and son was no son at all, but only an impostor. The trial came on. Sir Matthew Hale, the pride of the English courtroom, and for twenty years the pride of ju risprudence, heard that that Injustice was about to be practiced. He put off hls official robe. He put on the garb of a miller. He went to the village where that trial was to take place. He entered the courtroom. He somehow got empaneled as one or the jurors. The briber came around, and the man gave ten pieces of gold to the other jurors, but as this was only a poor miller, the briber gave to him only five pieces of gold. A verdict was brought in rejecting the rights of the re turned brother. He was to have no share in the Inheritance. “Hold, my lord,” said the miller. “Hold! we are no* all agreed on this verdict These other men have received ten pieces of gold In bribery, and I have received only five.’* “Wbo are you? Where do you come front?" said the judge on the bench. The response was: "I sin from Westminster Hsll; my nsme Is Mstthsw Hale. Lord Chief Justice of tbs king’s bench. Off of thst piece, thou villein!" And so the Injustice was balked, end so thst young men got bis Inheritance It was all for an other that Sir Matthew Hals took off hts robs and put on the garb of a miller. And so Christ took olf hts robe of royally aud put on the attire of our humanity, sad In that disguise he won our eternal portion. Now ws are the tons of ftodl Joint hairs! Ws weal off from hums, aura enough, but we got bach In time to receive our eternal Inheritance And If Christ hors our burden, surely ws can afford Is | bear each other’s burdens. yt#M I.eseS Mew SwaUa. la Now Uuiaea tight lac-lug la la vogue among the fashionable young men. who wear a halt about sight i inches wide wads of Miff bark la sumo rasas this Is so tight that tha : upper part of Ihe abdomen hangs ovav la a heavy paid. Amoag the earn* poo pie a girl announces her betrothal by appearing akin tag with an ointment of rad oehre sad at\ whir* covers hag head, shoulder* sad bosom.