! PHANTOM SHIP
—OR—
j The Flying Dutchman.
| -BY CAPTAIN MARPYAT.
CHAPTER VI.
The neit day Philip told Amine that
he was bound on a mission which
would take him to the Indian sea, and
that while he was gone she and her
father should dwell In his house and
take care of hls money. These mat
ters being arranged. Philip left Ter
neuBe.
In two days he arrived at Amster
dam, and having made the necessary
Inquiries, found that there was
no chance of vessels Bailing for the
Eust Indies for somo months. The
Dutch East India Company had long
been formed, and all private trading
w'as at an end. The company's vessels
left only at what was supposed to be
the most favorable season for round
ing the cape of Storms, as the cape of
Good Hope was designated by the
early adventurers. One of the ships
which were to sail with the next fleet
was the “Ter Schilling,’’ a three-mast
ed vessel, now laid up and unriggid.
Philip found out the captain, and
stated hls wishes to sail with him, to
learn hls profession as a seaman. The
captain was pleased with his appear
ance, and as Philip not only agreed to
receive no wages during the voyage,
but to pay a premium as an apprentice
learning hls duty, he was promised a
berth on board as the second mate,
•to mess In the cabin; and he was told
that he should be Informed whenever
the ship was to sail. Philip having
now done all that he could In obedi
ence to his vow, determined to return
to the cottage; and once more he was
in the company of Amine.
We must now pass over two months,
during which Mynheer Poots contin
ued to labor at hls vocation, and was
seldom within doors, and our two
young friends were left for hours to
gether. Philip's love for Amine was
fully equal to hers for him. It was
more than love—It was a devotion on
boC »ldes, each day Increasing. Two
ir is had thus passed away, when
r Seysen, the local priest, who
called, and had paid much at
n to Amine’s religious Instruc
one day came in as Amine was
'led in Philip's arms.
r children," said he, “I have
watched you for some time; this is not
wen. l ump, if you Intend marriage,
as I presume you do, still It is danger
ous. I must Join your hands.”
Philip started up.
Surely I am not deceived in thee,
my son," continued the priest, in a
severe tone.
No, no, good father; but I pray you
leave me now; tomorrow you may
come, and all will be decided. But I
must talk with Amine.”
The priest quitted the room, and
Amine and Philip were again alone.
The color In Amine's cheek varied and
her heart beat, for she felt how much
her happiness was at stake.
"The priest is right. Amine,” said
Philip, sitting down by her. "This
cannot last; would that I could ever
stay with you; how hard a fate is
nano! Von know 1 love the very
ground you tread upon, yet I dare not
ask thee to wed misery.”
"To wed with thee would not be
wedding misery, Philip,” replied Am
ine, with downcast eyes.
“ 'Twere not kindness on my part.
Amine, I should indeed be selfish.”
"I will speak plainly, Philip,” re
plied Amine. "You say you love me—
I know not how men love—but this I
know, how I can love. I feel that to
leave me now were Indeed unkind and
selfish on your part; for, Philip, I—I
should die. You say that you must go
away—that fate demands it—and your
fatal secret. Be it so; but cannot 1
go with you?”
“Yes. death; for what Is death but a
release! I fear not death, Philip; I fear
but losing thee. Nay, more. Is not
your life In the hands of him who
made all? Then why so sure to die?
You have hinted to me that you are
chosen—selected for a task; If chosen,
there Is less chance of death; for until
the end be fulfilled, If chosen, you must
live. I would I knew your secret,
Philip; a woman's wit might serve
you well; and if It did uot serve
you, is there no comfort, no pleasure
in sharing sorrow as well as Joy with
one you say you dote upon?"
"Amine, dearest! Amine, It Is my
love, my ardent love alone, which
makee me pause; for. oh. Amine, what
pleasure should I feel If we were this
hour united? I hardly know what to
aay, or what to do. I could not with
hold my secret from you If you were
my wife, nor will I wed you till you
know It. Well. Amine, I will cast my
all upon the die You shall know this
secret, learn what a doomed wretch
I am. though from no fault of mine,
and then you yourself shall decide
llut remember my oath U registered In
heaven, and I must not be dissuaded
from It; keep that In mliid. and hear
my tale then If you choose to wed
with one whose prospects are so hit
ter, he it so a short-lived happiness
will then be mine, hut fur you. Am
lie-"
"At ogee the secret. Philip," cried
Amine. Impatiently
Philip then entered Into the detnll
of what our renders are acquainted
With AlUllie listened in Silence Sol
n change of feature was tw he ohnerved
In her countenance during the narrs
llvn Philip wound up with stating the
--------- - - m ww W
r
oath which he had taken. "I have
done,” said Philip, mournfully.
“ ’Tis a strange story,Philip,” replied
Amine; "and now hear me-—but give
me first that relic—I wish to look upon
It. And can there be such virtue—1
had nigh said, such mischief—In this
little thing? Strange; forgive me,
Philip—but I've still my doubts upon
this tale of Kbits. I do not say that
It cannot be true; but still, one so un
settled as I am may be allowed to
waver. Hut, Philip, I’ll assume that all
Is true. Then, if It be true
without the oath you would
but be doing your duty, and think not
so meanly of Amine as to suppoBo she
would restrain you from what Is right.
No, Philip, seek your father, and. if
you can, and he requires your aid, then
save him. But, Philip, do you imag
ine that a task like this, so high, Is
to be accomplished at one trial? Oh!
no; if you have been so chosen to fulfill
it, you will be preserved through dif
ficulty and danger until you have
worked out your end. You will be
preserved, and you will again and
again return—be comforted—consoled
—be cherished—and be loved by Am
ine as your wife. And when It pleases
him to call you from this world, your
memory, If she survive you, Philip,
will equally be cherished in her bosom
Philip, you have given me to decide
—dearest Philip. I am thine.”
Amine extended her arms, and Phil
ip pressed her to his bosom. That
evening Philip demanded his daughter
of her father, and Mynheer Poots, as
soon as Philip opened the Iron safe
and displayed the guilders, gave his
immediate consent.
Father Seysen called the next day,
and received his answer; and three
days afterward the bells of the little
church of Terneuse were ringing a
merry peal for the union of Amine
Poots and Philip Vanderdecken.
CHAPTER VII.
It was not until late in the autumn
that Philip was roused from his dream
of love (for what, alas! Is every en
joyment of this life but a dream?) by
a summons from the captain of the
vessel with whom he had engaged to
sail.
One morning in the month of Oc
tober there was a tapping with the
knuckles at the cottage door. As this
precaution implied a stranger, Amine
ooeyeu me summons.
“I would speak with Master Philip
Vanderdecken,” said the stranger, iu a
half whispering sort of voice.
The party who thus addressed Am
ine was a little meager personage,
dressed in the garb of the Dutch sea
men of the time, with a cap made of
bodger-skln hanging over his brow.
His features were sharp and diminu
tive, his face of a deadly white, his
lips pale, and his hair of a mixture
between red and white. He had very
little show of beard—indeed, It was
almost difficult to say what his age
might be. He might have been a
sickly youth early sinking into de
creptitude, or an old man. hale in con
stitution, yet carrying no flesh. But
the most important feature, and that
which immediately riveted the atten
tion of Amine, was the eye of this
peculiar personage—for he had but
one; the right eyelid was closed, and
the ball within had evidently wastsd
away; but his left eye wras, for the
size of his face and head, of unusual
dimensions, very protuberant, clear
and watery, and the most unpleasant
to look upon, being relieved by no
fringe of eyelash either above or be
low It.
Philip was greatly surprised at the
appearunce of the stranger, who, as
soon as he entered the room, without
saying a word, sat down on the sofa
by Philip in the place which Amine
had just left.
"Philip \ underdecken—he! he! —
Philip Vanderdecken, yon don't know
me?" he began.
"I do not.” replied Philip In a half
angry tone.
The voice of the little man was moat
peculiar—It waa a sort of subdued
scream, the notes of which Bounded In
your ear long after he hud ceased to
speak.
"I am Schrlften. one of the pilots of
the Ter Schilling." continued the man,
"and I’m come—he! he!"—and he
looked hard at Amine—“to take you
away from love"- and looktug at the
buffets "he! he' from comfort, and
from this also." cried he. stamping his
hmt on the floor as he roae from the
sofa -"from terra flrma he* he!—to a
watery grave perhaps Pleasant!" con
tinued Schrlften. with a giggle; and
with a countenance full of meaning
he lived hla one eye on Phtltp'e face.
Philip* Aret Impulse was to put hie
new visitor out of the door; hut Amine,
who read hla th Mights, folded her
arms as she stood before the little
man. and eyed him with contempt, a*
she observed
"We all must meet out fate, good
fellow, and. whether by land or sea
death will have hla due If death stare
him In the face, t.ve cheeh of Philip
Vanderdetken will never turn as white
: ns yours Is n<>w
"Indeed'" replied Schrlften evi
dently annoyed at this cuul determina
tion on the part of one SO young gad
beautiful, and then Using hla eye upon
the silver shrine of the Virgin on the
mantel-piece: “You are a Catholic,
I percleve—he!"
‘ I am a Catholic,” replied Philip;
“but does that concern you? When
does the vessel sail?”
“In a week—he! he! only a week for
preparation—onlv seven days to leav*
all—short notTcer5 *• .
“More than suff.cient," replied Phil
ip. rising up from the sofa. “You may
tell your captain that I shall not fall.
Come, Amine, we must lose no time.”
“No, Indeed,” replied Amine, “and
our first duty Is hospitality. Mynheer,
may we offer you refreshment after
your walk?”
“This day week," said Schrlften. ad
dressing Philip, and without making
a reply to Amine. Philip nodded his
head, the little man turned on his heel
and left the room, and In short time
was out of sight.
In the week that followed Philip
completed all his arrangements for
leaving; then came the sad parting
from Amine.
As soon as Philip was clear of his
own threshold he hastened away as
though lie were attempting to escape
from his own painful thoughts. In two
days he arrived at Amsterdam, where
his first object was to procure a small,
but strong, steel chain to replace the
ribbon by which the relic bad hitherto
been secured around his neck. Having
done this, he hastened to embark with
his effects on board of the Ter Schill
ing. Philip had not forgotten to bring
with him the money which he had
agreed to pay the captain, In consider
ation of being received on board as an
apprentice rather than a sailor. He
had also furnished himself with a fur
ther sum for his own exigencies. It
was late In the evening when he ar
rived on board of the Ter Schilling,
which lay at single anchor surrounded
by the other vessels composing the In
dian fleet. The captain, whose uame
was Kloota, received him with kind
ness, showed him his berth, and then
went below In the hold to decide a
question relative to tho cargo, leaving
Philip on deck to hla own reflections.
“Had you not better go below?" said
a mild, voice, which made Philip start
from hla reverie.
It was that of the first mate, whose
name was Hlllebrant, a short, well-set
man of about 30 years of age. His hair
was flaxen, and fell in long flakes upon
his shoulders, his complexion fair, and
hla eyes of a soft blue; although there
was little of the sailor In his appear
ance, few knew or did their duty bet
ter.
“I thank you," replied Philip; “I had
indeed forgotten myself, and where I
was; my thoughts were far away.
Good-night, and many thanks.
The crew of the Ter Schilling was
composed of the captain, two mates,
two pilots and forty-five men. The
supercargo had not yet come on board.
The cabin (under the poop) was ap
propriated to the supercargo; but the
main-deck cabin to the captain and
mates, who composed the whole of the
cabin mess.
When Philip awoke the next morn
ing, he found that the topsails were
hoisted, and the anchor short-stay
apeak. Some of the other vessels of
the fleet were under way and standing
out. The weather was fine and the
water smooth, and the bustle and nov
elty of the scene were cheering to his
spirits. The captain, Mynheer Kioots,
was standing on the poop, with a small
telescope made of pasteboard, to his
eye, anxiously looking toward the
town. Mynheer Kioots, as usual, had
his pipe In his mouth, and the smoke
which he pufTed from It for a time ob
scured the lenses of his telescope. Phil
ip went up the poop ladder and saluted
him.
(To be continued.)
PHILOSOPHICAL FRENCHMEN.
(live the Impreulon of Uelng the Hap
piest People In the World.
The more nations I make the ac
quaintance of, the more deeply con
firmed I get In this conviction, that the
Frenchman, with all his faults and
shortcomings, is the happiest man In
the world, says the North American
Review. Of course, the wealthy classes
have everywhere found the way of en
joying life, more or less; hut to the
observer of national characteristics
these classes are uninteresting. Good
society Is good society everywhere. For
a study, give me the masses of the
people. And It Is among the masses
In France that, after all, I find the
greatest amount of happiness. The
Frenchman Is a cheerful philosopher.
He knows best of all how to live and
enjoy life. Moderate in all his hab
its. he partakes of all the good things
that nature has placed at hla disposal,
without ever making a fool of himself.
He understands temperance In the true
acceptation of the word, which means,
not total abstinence, but moderation.
When you say that a country has a
temperate climate you do not mean
that It has no climate at all; you mean
that It has a climate that Is neither i
too hot nor too cold. We have no 1
teetotalers, becsuse we practically have |
no drunkards. A Frenchman would be j
us astonished to find that the law pre
vented him from enjoying a glass of
! wine, because a few Imbeciles use wins
! to get drunk with, as he would to find
; that the law forbade him to use knlvea I
: In his quiet and peaceful home, be !
' cause there gre a few lunatics who
! use knives to commit suicide with of
kill their felloe creatures
-—
aba lnepnhnffS.
"The Filipino# are rising." he read
, aloud from the newspaper "Yet. ,
charier, dear." y»ung Mrs Torklna
answered "I can understand that per
fectly As soon as they heard Ueaerat
lasius was coming they all prob
ably climbed palm trees,**' Wash lug
( toa Star.
TALMAGE’8 SERMON.
“THE BUNDLE OF LIFE,” SUN
DA Y'S^SUBJ ECT.
From First Book of Samuel, Chap. 28!
29. as Follows: “Tkr Soul of My Lord
Shall l»e Hooad la tbs Bundle of Life
with the l.ord thy God.
Beautiful Abigail, Id her rhythmic
plea for the rescue of her inebriate
husband, who died within ten days,
addresses David, the warrior, in the
words of the text. She suggests that
his life, physically and Intellectually,
and spiritually. Is a valuable package
or bundle, divinely bound up, and to
be divinely protected.
That phrase, "bundle of life,” I
heard many times in my father’s fam
ily prayers. Family prayers, you know,
have frequent repetitions, because day
by day they acknowledge about the
same blessings, and deplore about the
same frailties, and sympathize with
about the same misfortunes, and 1 do
not know why those who lead house
hold devotions should seek variety of
composition. That familiar prayer be
comes the household liturgy. 1 would
not give one of my old father’s pray
ers for fifty elocutionary supplications.
Again and again, in the morning and
evening prayer, I heard the request
that wo might all be bound up In the
bundlo of life, but I did not know
until a few days ugo that the phrase
was a Bible phrase.
Now, the more 1 think of It, the
better I like it. The bundle of life!
It is such a simple and unpretending,
yet expressive comparison. There is
nothing like grandiloquence In the
Scriptures. While there are many
sublime passages in Holy Writ, there
are more passages homely and
drawing illustrations from com
mon observation and every-day
life. In Christ’s great sermons you
hear a hen clucking her chickens to
gether, and see the photographs of
hypocrites with a sad countenance and
hear of the grass of the field, and the
black crows, which our heavenly
Father feeds, and the salt that Is
worthless, and the precious stones
flung under the feet of swine, and the
shifting sand that lets down the house
with a great crash, and hear the com
parison of the text, the most unpoet
ical thing we can think of—a bundle.
Ordinarily It Is something tossed about,
something thrown under the table,
something that suggests garrets, or
something on the shoulder of a poor
wayfarer. But there are bundles of
great value, bundles put up with great
caution, bundles the loss of which
means consternation and despair, and
there have been bundles representing
the worth of a kingdom.
• • •
Bundle of hopes, and ambitions also,
Is almost every man and woman, es
pecially at the starting. What gains
he will harvest, or what reputation he
will achieve, or what bliss he will
reach, or what love he will win. What
makes college commencement day so
entrancing to all of us as we see the
students receive their diplomas and
take up the garlands thrown at their
feet? They will be Faradays in sci
ence; they will be Tennysons in poesy;
they will be Willard Barkers In surg
ery; they will be Alexander Hamlltons
in national finance; they will be Hor
ace Greeleys in editorial chair; they
will be Websters in the senate! Or
she will be a Mary Lyon in educational
realms; or a Frances Willard on re
formatory platform; or a Helen
Gould In military hospitals. Or she
will make home life radiant with help
fulness and self-sacrifice, and magnifi
cent womanhood! Oh, what a bundle
of hopes and ambitions! It is a bun
dle of garlands and sceptres from
which I would not take one sprig of
mignonette nor extinguish one spark
of brilliance. They who start in life
without bright hopes and inspiring
ambitions might as well not start at
all, for every step will be a failure.
Rather would I add to the bundle, and
if I open it now it will not be because
I wish to take anything from it, but
that I may put into it more coronets
and hosannas.
Bundle of faculties In every man and
every woman! Power to think—to
think of the past and through all the
future; to think upward and higher
than the highest pinnacle of heaven,
or to think downward until there la
no lower abysa to fathom. Power to
think right, power to think wrong,
power to think forever; for, once hav
ing begun to think, there shall be no
terminus for that exercise, and eter
nity Itself shall have no power to bid
it halt. Faculties to love— filial love,
conjugal love, paternal love, maternal
love, love of country, love of Ood. Fac
ulty of Judgment, with scales so deli
cate and yet so mighty that they can
weigh arguments, weigh emotions,
weigh worlds, weigh heaven and hell.
Faculty of will, that can climb moun
tains, or tunnel them, wade seas or
btidgs them, accepting eternal en
thronement or rhuoelng everlasting
exile. Oh, what It Is to be a man. Oh.
what It Is to be a woman! Hubllrue and
Infinite bundle of faculties! The
thought of It staggers me. swamps me.
■tuns me, bewilders me, overwhelms
me Oh. what a bundle of life Abigail
of my test saw In Oavtd. and which we
ought to sew In every human, yet liu
mortal being'
Know, also that this bundle of life
was put up with great care. Any
merchant and almost any faithful
householder will tell you how much
depends on the way a bundle la hound
The cord or rope must be strung
enough tu hold, the knot must be
well tied. You know not what rougn
hands may lues that bundle. If not
pruperly pul together, though It mar
leave your hands In goud order and
symmetrical, before it reaches Its
proper dentinal tan It may bn louaeaed
In fragments for the winds to scatter
or the mil train to lose.
Now,I have to tell you that this bun
dle of life Is well put together—the
body, the mind, the soul. Who but
the Omnipotent God could bind such
a bundle? Anatomists, physiologists,
physicists, logicians metaphysicians^
declare that we are fearfully and wott-'
ilerfully made. That we are a bundle
well put together I provp by the
amount of Journeying »ve can endure
without damage, by tie amount of
rough handling we can survive, by the
fact that the vast majoi'ty of us go
through life without the loss of an eye.
or the crippling of a limb, or the de
struction of n single energy of the
body or faculty of mind. I subpoena
for this trial that man in yonder view
seventy or eighty years of age, and ask
him to testify that after all the storms
and accidents and vicissitudes of a
long life he still keeps his five senses;
and though all the lighthouses as old
as he Is have been reconstructed or
new lanterns put In, he has In under
his forehead the same two lanterns
with which God started him; and
though the locomotives of sixty years
ago were long ago sold for old Iron,
he has the original powers of locomo
tion in the limbs with which God start
ed him; and though all the electric
wires that carried messages twenty
five yenrs ngo have been lorn down,
his nerves bring messages from all
parts of his body as well as when God
strung them seventy-five years ago.
Was there ever such a complete bun
dle put together aH the human being?
What a factory! What an engine!
What a mill-race! What a light
house! What a locomotive! What an
electric battery! What a furnace!
What a masterpiece of the Ixird God
Almighty! Or, to employ the anti
climax and use the figure of the text,
wbat a bundle!
• • •
Know, also, that this bundle of life
will be gladly received when It comes
fo the door of the Mansion for which
It was bound and plainly directed.
With what alacrity and glee we await
some package that has been foretold
by letter; some holiday presentation;
something that will enrich und orna
ment our home; some testimony of ad
miration and affection! With what
glow of expectation we untie the knot
and take off the cord that holds it to
gether In safety, and with what glad
exclamation we unroll the covering,
and see (he gift or purchase In all Its
beauty of color and proportion. Well,
what a day It will be when your pre
cious bundle of life shall be opened In
the "House of Many Mansions," amid
saintly and angelic and divine inspec
tion! The bundle may be spotted
with the marks of much exposure; It
may bear inscription after Inscription
to tell through what ordeal it has
passed; perhaps splashed of wave and
scorched of flame, but all It has with
In undamaged of the journey. And
with what shouts of joy the bundle of
life will be greeted by all the voices of
the heavenly home circle!
In our anxiety at last to reach heav
en we are apt to lose sight of the glee
0* welcome that awaits us If we get
In at all. We all have friends up there.
They will somehow hear that we are
coming. Such close and swift and
constant communication U there be
tween those up-lands and these low
lands that we will not surprise them
by sudden arrival. If loved ones on
earth expect our coming visit and are
at the depot with carriage to meet us,
surely we will be met at the shining
gate by old friends now sainted and
kindred now glorlfled. If there were
no angel of God to meet us and show
us the palaceB and guide us to our
everlasting residence, these kindred
would show us the way and point out
the splendors and guide us to our
celestial home, bowered, and foun
tained, and arched, and Illumined by
a sun that never sets. Will it not be
glorious, the going In and the settling
down after all the moving about and
upsettings of earthly experience. We
will soon know all our neighbors,
kingly, queenly, prophetic, apostolic,
seraphic, arcliangelic. The precious
bundle of life opened amid palaces,
and grand marches, and acclamations.
They will all be so glad we have got
safely through. They saw us down
here lu the struggle. They saw ub
when we lost our way. They knew
when we got off the right course.
None of the thirty-two Bhlps that were
overdue at New York harbor in the
storm of week before last were greeted
so heartily by friends, on the dock, or
the steam tugs that went out to meet
them at Sandy Hook, as we will be
greeted In the heavenly world. If by
the pardoning and protecting grace of
God we come to celestial wharfage.
We shall have to tell them of the
many wrecks that we have passed on
the way across wild seas, and amid
Caribbean cyclones. It will be like
our arrival some year* ago from New
Zealand at Sydney, Australia; people
surprised that we got lu at all, because
we were two days late and some of
the ships e spec ted had gone to the
bottom aud we had passed derelict*
and abandoned crafts all up and down
that awful channel, our arrival In
heaven all the more rapturously wel
comed, because of the doubt as to
whether we would ever get there at all
Once there It will be found that the
safety of that precious bundle of life
was assured because It was bound 11,1
with the life of God In Jeeits Christ
Heaven could nut afford to hate hr.
bundle lost, because it had been ui l
In regard to Its transportation and
safe arrleal. "Kept by the power of
God through faith unto complete aai
vatlon" The veracity of the heaven*
• I'iituhe.l lit ns art lui If U I
should fail to keep Hie promts# to
just one ransomed twill the ptilare of ,
Jehovah's throne mould fall, and th<* |
inundation* of the eternal city would |
crumble, and laftalle povertlee wool l
dash down all the chalUree and clue* |
all I he banqueting halls, and the river
of life would change Its course sweep- |
Ing everything with desolation, and
frost would blast all the gardens, and
Immeasurable sickness slay the Im
mortals, and the new Jerusalem be
come an abandoned city, with no
(harlot wheels gn the streets and qo
worshipers In the temple—ft dead
Pompeii of the skies, a burled Hercula
neum of the heavens. Lest any on*
should doubt, the God who cannot tt*
smites His omnipotent hand on th*
side of His throne, and takes affidavit,
declaring, "As I live, salth the Lord
Ood, I have no pleasure In the death
of him that dieth.” Oh! I cannot tell
you how I feel about It, the thought Is
so glorious. Bound up with God.
Bound up with Infinite mercy. Bound
up with Infinite Joy. Bound up with
Infinite purity. Bound up with infinite
might. That thought U more beautiful
and glorious than was the heroic Abi
gail, who at the foot of the crags ut
tered It—"Bound In the bundle of Ilf*
with the Ixird thy God!"
Now, my hearer and reader, appre
ciate the value of that bundle. 8e*
that It Is bound up with nothing mean,
but with the unsullied and the Im
maculate. Not with a pebble of the
shifting beach, but with the kohlnoor
of the palace; not with some fading
regalia of earthly pomp, but with th*
robe washed and made white In th*
blood of the Lamb. Pray a» you never
prayed before, that by divine chlr
ography written all over your nature,
you may be properly addressed for a
glorious destination. Turn not over
a new leaf of the old book, but by th*
grace of God open an entirely aevr
volume of experience, and put Into
practice the advice contained In in'*
peculiar but beautiful rhythm of so>uo
author whose name I know not:
If you’ve any task to do, ’
Let me whisper, friend, to you,
Do It.
If you've anything to say,
True and needed, yea or nay,
8ay It.
If you’ve anything to love,
As a blessing from above.
Love It. v.
If you’ve anything to give,
That another’s Joy may live.
Give It,
If some hollow creed you doubt,
Tbo’ the whole world hoot and shoit.
Doubt It.
If you've any debt to pay.
Rest you neither night nor day,
Pay It.
If you’ve any Joy to hold,
Near your heart, lest It grow old
Hold it.
If you’ve any grief to meet,
At a loving Father's feet,
Meet It.
If you know what torch to light.
Guiding others lu the night,
Light It.
Macaulay'* Appalling Memory.
The later Henry Reeve, for many
years leader writer of the London
Times, was dining one night at a hous*
where the other guests included Ma
caulay and Sydney Smith, Macaulay
was at that time laying society wasto
with his waterspouts of talk. At
length, dinner being over, Sydney
8mlth, Reeve and a few others went
away by themselves and immediately
got on the overpowering subject of Ma
caulay. "He confounds eollloquy and
colloquy,” said Reeve. "He Is a book
In breeches," Smith declared. "The
very worst feature In Macaulay’s char
acter is his appalling memory," said
Reeve. "Aye, Indeed,” said Sydney
Smith; "why. he could repeat tha
whole ‘History of the Virtuous Blue
Coat Boy,' in three volumes, post 8vo.,
without a slip.” After a pause, sb If
of consideration, the witty divine add
ed: ‘‘He should take two tablespoon
fuls of the waters of Lethe every
morning to correct his retentive pow
ers!"
Limit llarbcr*’ Price*.
Though their party went to smash In
the last election, there are still some
populists In the Kansas senate. They
are urging a bill which Axes the maxi
mum prices that barbers shall be al
lowed to charge for shaves and hair
cuts. The bill Is believed to reveal a
purpose among the populists to effect
a change in the personal characteris
tics by which they have long been rec
ognized. It Is hinted that the popu
lists Intend to amputate their whls
keis and now their hair at interv-rla
of not less than a week, whereas they
have heretofore been total strangers
In barber shops. When they begin to
take tonsorlul treatment business in
the Kansas shops will be tremendous
and will likely result In blockades.
In which regular patrons will loss
much valuable time. The natural
thing to do under such circumstance*
would be to raise prices, and, foresee
ing this, the populist senators are vig
orously urging their bill to legally reg
ulate them.
Ilurglarr In »he Patare.
•'Ciinc my lurk!" biased the burglar,
and fled Into the night. Hear In mind.
If you pleaae, that all crime wae now
diet-a nr merely, and all dlaeaaa th#
work of germ*. The burglar percele
rd in the cellar window where ha tried
lo enter one of the lateat electric auto
matic apraylng device*, and endeavor
ed to avoid It. Hut furtune wa* again*!
him \ click In the dark, and almu*l
before he knew H he wa* drenched
with germicide and cured of hla mal
ady. ttoirolt Journal.
UUlMaU 4tl>«*■*—.
quite a buatnee* ha* sprung up of
late in California artlt hub** It la anid
that the California variety baa a pat
ter flavor than that coming from
f ranee, Ueelde* being freeber. Thin la
very natural, aa It take# but a week to
gel the vegetable herd from Californio,
while It lake* at lenat Iwt weebn to
gel the f reach aupply tu the market.