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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (April 21, 1899)
PHANTOM SHIP —OR— The Flying Dutchman. ■*v»-BY CAPTAIN MARHYAT. CHAPTER XIV.-(Continued.) In a few days Amine and Philip took leave of the priest*, and quitted for Amsterdam—Father Seysen taking c harge of the cottage until Amine’s re turn. On his arrival, Philip called upon the directors of the company, who promised him a ship on his re turn from the voyage he was about to enter upon, malting a condition that he should become part owner of the vessel. To this Philip consented, and went down to visit the Vrow Katerina, the ship to which he had been appoint ed as first mate. She was still un rigged, and the fleet was not expected to sail for two months. Only part of the crew were on board, and the cap tain, who lived at Oort, had not yet arrived. Ho far as Philip could Judge, the Vrow Katerina was a very Inferior ves sel; she was larger than many of the others, but old, and badly constructed; nevertheless, as she had been several voyages to India, and hail returned in safety, it was to be presumed that she could not have been taken up by the company If they had not been satisfied as to her seaworthiness. Having given a few directions to the men who were on board, Philip returned to the hostel ry where he had secured apartments for himself and Amine. The next day, as Philip was super intending the fitting of the rigging, the captain of the Vrow Katerina arrived, and, stepping on board of her by the plank which communicated with the quay, the first thing he did was to run to the mainmast and embrace it with both arms, although there was no small portion of tallow on it to smear the cloth of his coat. "Oh, my dear Vrow. my Katerina!" cried he, as If he were speaking to a female. "How do you do 1 am so glad to see you again; you have been quite well, I hope? You do not like being laid up In this way. Never mind, my dear creature! You shall soon be handsome again.” The name of this personage who thus made love to his vessel was Wil helm Ilareutz. He was a young man. apparently not thirty years of age, of diminutive stature and delicate propor tions. His face was handsome, but womanish. His movements were rapid and restless, and there was that ap pearance In his eye which would have warranted the supposition that he was a little flighty, even If his conduct had not fully proved the fact. No sooner were the ecstasies of the captain over than Philip Introduced himself to him, and Informed him of his appointment. "Oh! you are the fin* mate of the Vrow Katerina. Sir, you are a very fortunate man. Next to being captain of her, first mate Is the most enviable situation in the world." "Certainly not on account of her beauty," observed Philip; "she may have many other good qualities.” “Not on account of her beauty! Why. sir, 1 say (as my father has said before me. auil it was his Vrow before It was mine) that she is the handsom est vessel In the world. At present you cannot judge; and besides being the handsomest vessel, she has every good quality under the sun.” "I am glad to hear It. sir," replied Philip; "It proves that one should never Judge by appearances. Hut Is she not very old?” "Old! not more than twenty-eight years - Just lu her prime. Stop, m.v dear sir, till you see her dancing on the waters, and then you will do noth ing all day hut discourse with me upon her excellence, and I have no doubt that we shall have a very happy time together.” "Provided the subject be not ex hatlsted,” replied Philip "That It never will be on my part; and allow me to observe. Mr. Vander decken, that any officer who finds fault with the Vrow Katerina quarrels with me 1 am her knight, and I have already fought three men in her de fense; l trust ! shall not have to figh* ! a fourth.” Philip smiled; he thought thut she «an nut worth while fighting fur. but j hi* acted upon th** uigg«*aUoit. and from that Hint* foraaro h«* n«*v»r vriluN to f«pr*a« an oplnlou against the b an tiful Vrow Katerina Thi* crew were soon complete the \e»»cl rtgg'd. hrr sail* ben*. ami ahr was anchored in the stream surround ed by the other "hip* composing th* It ret to be dispatched The cargo w,«* then w l»«1 on hoard, atul as mhw a« her hold was foil, there came to phii Ip a great delation an or*t> t to r*(«in utt board nae hundred and fifty sol diers and other pas»<n«eis many of whom sO'iiSltsslei by t*»eir wives and famtiiw* Philip work- I hard, for the • sprain did aothtaa Not prntae the trewsel. and at last they had em bar bed gverythiag and the H*et was ready lo aall It Waa »*»» MINI l« litil With Vlilb» who had reaaalaed at the he*t«iry end to whom Philip had de.lt.aled ever* •pare moment that he waM obta*n The fleet tsae eapes'ed to sail to two days and It decided that ua the morrow they should part tmluc was cool and colie* ted Phe felt eoitvln* **d • hat she should see her husband again and *»lh •»•*« *■•**•• »»* *m,t * * him as they separated on tlie beach, and he stepped into the boat in which he was to be pulled on board. "Yes," thought Amine, as she watch ed the form of her husband, as she dis tance between them Increased: "yes, I know that we shall meet again. It is not this voyage which is to be fatal to yon or me; but I have a dark forebod ing that the next, in which I shall Join you, will separate us forever in which way I know not- but it is destined The priests talk of free will. Is it free will which takes him away from me? Yes. Yes. But he is not permitted, for he must fulfill his destiny. Free will! Why, if it were not destiny it were tyranny. J feel, and I have felt, as if these priests are my enemies; but why I know not; they are both good men. Hnd the creed they teach is good. Good will and charity, love to all, forgive ness of Injuries, not judging others All this is good; and yet my heart whispers to me that but the boat is alongside, and Philip Is climbing up the vessel. Farewell, farewell, mv dearest husband. I would I were a man! No! no! ’tls better us it Is.*' Amine watched till she could no lon ger perceive Philip, and then walked slowly to the hostelry. The next day. wlien she arose, she found that the fleet had sailed at daybreak, and the channel, which had been so crowded with vessels, was now untenunted. "He Is gone." muttered Amine. "Now for many months of patient, calm en durance I cannot say of living, for I exist but in his presence.” CHAPTER XV. We must leave Amine to her solitude and follow the fortunes of Philip. The fleet had saileu with a flowing sheet, and bore gallantly down the Zuyder Zee, but they had not been under way an hour before the Viow Katerina was left a mile or two astern. Mynheer Parent z found fault with the setting and trimming of the sails, and with the man at the helm, who was repeat edly changed; in short, with every thing but his dear Vrow Katerina; but all would not do; she still dropped as tern, and proved to be the worst sail ing vessel in the fleet. “Mynheer Vanderdecken," said he. at last, "the Vrow, as my father used (o say, is not so very fast before the wind. \ easels that are good on a wind seldom are; but this I will say, that, in every other point of sailing, there is no other vessel in the fleet equal to the Vrow Katerina." ‘•Besides,' observed Philip, who per ceived how anxious the captain was on the subject, "we are heavily laden, and have so many troops on deck." 1 he fleet cleared the sands, ami were then close-hauled, when the Vrow Kat erina proved to sail even more slowly than before. "When we are so very close-hauled,” observed Mynheer Harentz, "the Vrow does not do so well; hut a point free, and then you wilt see how she will show her stern to the whole fleet. She is a fine vessel.Mynheer Vanderdecken. is she not?” “A very fine, roomy vessel," replied Philip, which was all that. In science, he could say. con The fleet sailed on, sometimes on a wind, sometimes free, but let the point 1 of sailing be what It might, the Vrow Katerina was invariably astern, and the fleet had to heave-to at sunset to enable her to keep company; still the captain continued to declare that the point of sailing on which they happen ed to he was the only point in which the Vrow Katerina was deficient, i n fortunately the vessel had other points quite ns bad as her sailing; she was cranky, leaky, and did not answer the helm well, but Mynheer liarentz was not to he convinced lie adored his ship, and, like all men desperately In love, he could see no fault In his mis tress. Hut others were not ao blind, anil the Hdmiral. finding the voyage so much delayed h> the bad sailing of one vessel, determined to leave her to find I her wi> by hersel* v.« soon as they ! had passed the Tape ||e was. how •*ver spaied the cruelty of deserting her for a heavy gale ram# on which dispersed Hie whole fleet, ami no the j ".ond dav Hie good ship Vrow Kat j •■rlna found herself alone laboring ; heavily iu the trough of the sea leak \ ! *n* so much a» to require hands ran stantlv at Ihe pump, and drifting be ! lore the gale, as fa-t to le. wat,| almost as she usually sailed Kur a week the I gale continued, and each day did het | situation tie* ome more alarming Crowded with troop, im ini lie red with i heavy stores she groau*«l and labored while whole eras wgsned over hat an I the men m ild har liy stand at Hu . pump- CHHtp was active, and everted himself to the utmost rwcoorwgtug ib, i worn out men se*urine where aught j had given wav, and little Interfered * witII nv the . aptam who «•» him.* i | |a Mlbf * Welt ' nh-rrv e«| the captain to Chip Ip ea they held on by the ta'aytig pits vault a* know led** that she ’* . a flee *»a«h 'it< v*« e| la a aahs I* she nut * it**ftlv mi beauty, aoftty continued he speahlug tu the vessel »• she plunged heavily Into the vivas and every tintat •ragged daftly »* .wv, softly1 llv.s tfed* v*f. dart! in Ihe other ships must be knocking about row. Heh! Mynheer Vander decken. we have the start of them this time; they must be a terrible long way down to leeward. Don't you think so?" "I “rally cannot pretend to say,” re plic v Philip, smiling. ‘■'Vi ay, there's not one of them In sight. Yes! by heavens, there is! Look on our lee beam. I see one now. Well, she must be a capital sailor, at ail events; look there, a point abaft the beam. Merry on me. how' stiff she must be to carry such a press of can vas!" Philip had already seen her. It was a large ship on a wind, and on the same tack as they were. In a gale, in which no vessel could carry the top sails, the Vrow Katrina being under close-reefed foresails and staysails, the ship seen to leeward was standing un der a press of sail top-gallant sails, royals, flying-jib, and every stitch of canvas which could be set In a light breeze. The waves were running mountains high, bearing each minute the Vrow Katrina down to the gun wale; and the ship seen appeared not to be affected by the tumultuous wat era, but sailed steadily and smoothly on an even keel. At once Philip knew It must be the Phantom Ship, In which his father's doom was being fulfilled. “Very odd. Is it not?" observed Myn heer Barentz. Philip felt such an oppression on his | chest that he could not reply. As he held on with one hand, he covered up his eyes with the other. But the seamen had now seen the vessel, and the legend was too well known. Many of the troops had ; climbed on deck when tlie report was circulated, and all eyes were now fixed upon the supernatural vessel, when a heavy squall burst upon the Vrow Ka trina. accompanied with peals of thun der and heavy rain, rendering it so thick that nothing could be seen. In : a quarter of an hour it cleared away, and. when they looked to leeward, the stranger was no longer In sight. “Merciful heaven! she must have been upset, and has gone down In the squali!" saitl Mynheer Barentz. “I thought as much, carrying such a press of sail. There never was a ship that could carry more than the Vrow Ka trina. It was madness on the part of the captain of that vessel, but I sup pose he wished to keep up with us. Heh! Mynheer Vanderdeeken?” Philip did not reply to these re marks. which fully proved the madness of his captain. He felt that his ship was doomed, and when he thought of the numtiers on board who might be sacrificed he shuddered. After a pause he said; "Mynheer Harentz, this gale is likely to continue, aiul the best ship that ever was built cannot, in my opinion, stand such weather. I should advise that we bear up and run back to Ta ble Ray to refit. Depend upon it, we shall find the whole fleet there before ua.'* "Never fear for the Rood ship Vrow Katrina." replied the captain; "see what weather she makes of it." "Cursed bad,” observed one of the seamen, for the seamen had gathered ’ near to Philip to hear what his advice | might be. “If I had known that she was auch an old crazy beast I never would have trusted myself on board. ; Mynheer Vanderdeeken fs right; we - must go back to Table Bay ere worse befall us. That ship to leeward has given us warning she is not seen for nothing ask Mr. Vanderdeeken, cap tain; he knows that well, for he is a sailor.” This appeal to Philip made him start; it was, however, made without any knowledge of Philip’s interest in the Phantom Ship. (To ba continued.) ’ i The I'rlnre'i Defenrti Prince Louis Ksterhazy. military at tache of the Austrian embassy at Lon dou. was recently traveling alone on an English railway when an elegantly dressed woman entered the carriage. Presently she dropped her handker chief and employed other expedients to start a conversation, but without avail, for the prince tranquilly smoked his cigar and took no notice of her. At last, us the train approached a sta tion, the woman suddenly tore her hat from her head, disheveled her hair, and, as the train came to a standstill, put her head out of the window and shrieked for assistance. The railroad oftli ials hurried to the scene, and to them the woman asserted that she had been terribly I n-tilted by the prince. The prince did not stir from hta seat. I,tit continued tranquilly stuoklug his cigar, and the statlontnaster exclaim ed * What have you got to say to the charge?” Without the slightest up p» at ante of von* ern the prince, who Wus Ktw'rd lit the further 011*1 of m** carriage replied "t»nty lhU,w and with tint lie pointed t«y the cigar which -bowe l a beautiful gray ash consider ably liter an im it in length The sta tion master »i* wise In his M*’ti«rat t**n. ami on pr* citing the ash In th« prince's rtgar, be too* h**d hi- hat said quietly Thai's all right, sir. ' and ar i*-*l*.I th» w.*i»»4iii litairad Vigcnsut %N lanatti ut in* |>la.t*r ti> .u> bll‘t>a|t Ml !*»• Inghl, 4UI I *«M« »®u tu H I.«n<<l<»f4 ■ *^•1 It? tfc* matt • )<<» w i III* fluur a Vita tltwtftl I .« ml ! •»'* Wall, .«Ht« |mnri» IfcldW ita. *<<«* • >; *• If Ml*» ll' ail IN • Vital ttMfca* in MU tlilri f**r lb* i tftiiMIl Hii I, «M *ill itfg . «)*! m? K* iK*4m th* tilr<4 „•* aaatl) bill 4 taalia ••U* It* .It* TALMAUES SERMON. — "MASSACRE OF THE INNO CENTS" SUNDAY’S SUBJECT. “Mj F.lli.r, If Thou Hut Optord Tliy Mouth I nto tils I.mil. Ilu tu Mb Ac* inritln- to Tliut Which Hulk I’rocced •d Hut of Tliy Mouth" .liulgra, 11:30. Jepbthah was a freebooter. Early turned out from a home where he ought to have been eared for, he con sorted with rough men and went forth to earn his living as best he could. In those times it was considered right for a man to go out on independent military expeditions. Jephthah was a good man according to the light of his dark age, but through a wandering and predatory life he became reckless and precipitate. The grace of God changes a man's heart, but never re verses hia natural temperament. The i Israelites wanted the Ammonites l driven out of their country, so tiiey sent a delegation to Jephthah, asking him to become commander-ln-chief of all the forces. He might have said, "You drove me out when you had no use for me, and now you are in trouble you want me back;” biit he did not say that. He takes command of the army, sends messengers to the Am monites to tell them to vacate the country, and, getting no favorable re sponse, marshals his troops for bat tle. Before going to the war Jephthah makes a very solemn vow, that if the , Lord will give him victory, then, on his return home, whatsoever first comes out of his doorway he will of fer in sacrifice as a burnt offering. The battle opens. It was no skir mishing on the edges of danger, no unllmbering of batteries two miles away, but the hurling of men on the point of swords and spears until the ground could no more drink the blood, and the horses reared to leap over the pi!© of bodies of the slain. In those old times opposing forces would fight until their swords were broken; then each one would throt tle his man until they both fell, teeth to teeth, grip to grip, death-stare to death-stare, until the plain was one , tumbled mass of corpses from which tire last trace of manhood had been dashed oat, Jephthah wins the day. Twenty cities lay captured at his feet. Sound the victory all through the mountains of Gilead. Let the trumpeters call up the survivors. Homeward to your wives and children. Homeward with your glittering treasures. Homeward to have the applause of an admiring nation. Build triumphal arches. Swing out flags all over Mizpeh. Open all your doors to receive the captured treasures. Through every hall spread the banquet. Pile up the viands. Fill high the tankards. The nation is re deemed, the invaders are routed, and the national honor is vindicated. Huzza for Jephthah, the conqueror! Jephthah, seated on a prancing steed, advances amid the acclaiming multi tudes, but his eye is not on the excit ed populace. Remembering that he had made a solemn vow that, return ing from victorious battle, whatsoever first came out of the doorway of his home, that should be sacrificed as a burnt offering, he has his anxious look upon the door. 1 wonder what spot less lamb, what brace of doves will be thrown upon the fires of the burnt offering. Oh, horrors! Paleness of death blanches his cheek. Despair seizes his heart. His daughter, his only child, rushes out to throw herself In her father's arms and shower upon him more kisses than there were wounds on his breast or dents in his shield. All the triumphal splendors vanish. Holding back this child from his heav ing breast, and pushing the locks back from the fair. brow, and looking into the eyes of inextinguishable affection, with choked utterance he says, “Would God 1 lay stark cn the bloody plain! 1 My daughter, my only child, joy of my home, life of my life, thou art the sacrifice!” The whole matter was explained to her. This was no whining, hollow- I hearted giri Into whose eyes the father looked. All the glory of sword and shield vanished in the presence of the valor of thut girl. There may have been a tremor on the Up, as a rose leaf trembles iu the sough of the south | wind; there may have been the start ing of a tear like a drop of rain shaken from the anther of a water lily; but with a self-sa* rillc# that mau may not reach, and only woman's heart can compasA, she surrenders herself to tire aud to death. She cries out in the words of my text; “My father, if thou hast opened thy mouth unto the laird, do unto me whatsoever hath proceeded (rout thy mouth.” She bows to the knife, and the bl »id, which so often at the father's voice had ru»lt»*d to the crimson cheek, awoke* in the drew of the burnt of fering No one ran tell o. her nani ■ There i» no need that we know her name The garlands that M *p-h twist. *d for Jephthah the warrior have gon* Into the dn«t hot all ages are twisting thig girt s chaplet It |* well that her name rime not to us. fur no one ran wear It They mar lake the name of Deborah or \ blast) or Miriam hut no one In all the «gv« shall hits the title of this daughter of sacrifice of r<tur*« thD offering was am pleasing to the Dk4, especially as a provision was made la the law for iw*h a cualiagcaty, aud Jephthah might have red*. n».d his daughter by , the payaieni of thirty shekels of all. ver ttui before you hurt your de none tat tone at Jephthah a cruelly, re member that in olden time*, when vows sere made u*«tt thought they moat mmsts then perform them whether they were wit bed 04 good There wet* two wrung things a * »ui Jeplithah's vow. First, ho ought never to have made it. Next, having made it. It were better broken than kept. But do not lake on pretentious airs and say. "I could not have done as Jephthah did.” If in former days you had been standing on the banks of thp Oanges, and you had been born In India, you might have thrown your children to the crocodiles. It la not because we are naturally any better, but because we have more gospel j light. Now, I make very practical use of this question when I tell you that the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter was a type of the physical, mental, and spiritual sacrifice of ten thousand children in this day. There are par ents all unwittingly bringing to bear upon their children a class of influ ences which will as certainly ruin them ns knife and torch destroyed Jeplithah's daughter. While I speak, the whole nation, without emotion and without shame, looks upon the stu pendous sacrifice. In the first place 1 remark that much Is a system of sacrifice. When chil dren spend six or seven hours In school, and then must spend two or three hours In preparation for school the next day, will you tell me how much time they will have for sunshine and fresh air, and the obtaining of that ^exuberance which Is necessary for the duties of coming life? No one can feel more thankful than I do for the advancement of common school ed ucation. The printing of books ap propriate for schools, the multiplica tion of philosophical apparatus, the establishment of normal schools, which provide for our children teach ers of largest calibre, are themes on which every philanthropist ought to be congratulated. But this herding of great multitudes of children In Ill ventilated schoolrooms, and poorly equipped halls of Instruction, Is mak ing many of the places of knowledge In this country a huge holocaust. Pol itics in many of the cities get into ed ucational affairs, and while the two political parties arc scrabbling for the honors, Jephthah's daughter perishes. It Is so much so that there are many schools in the country today which are preparing tens of thousands of in valid men and women for the future, so that, in many places, by th« time the child's education Is finished the child Is finished! In many large places, in many cities of the country, there are large appropriations for every thing else, and cheerful appropria tions; but as soon as the appropriation Is to be made for the educational or moral interests of the city, we are struck through with an economy that is well nigh the death of us. In connection with this I mention what I might call the cramming sys tem of the common schools and many of the academies; children of delicate brain compelled to tasks that might appal a mature Intellect; children go ing down to school with a strap of books half as high as themselves. The fact is, in some of the cities parents do not allow their children to gradu ate, for the simple reason, they say, "We cannot afford to allow our chil dren's health to be destroyed In order that they may gather the honors of an institution.” Tens of thousands of children educated into Imbecility; so that connected with many such lit erary establishments there ought to be asylums for the wrecked. It Is push, and crowd, and cram, and stuff, and Jam, until the child’s intellect is be wildered, and the memory is ruined, and the health Is gone. There are children who once were full of romp ing and laughter, and had cheeks crim son with health, who are turned out in the afternoon pale-faced, Irritat ed, asthmatic, old before their time. It Is one of the saddest sights on earth to see an old-mannish boy or an old womanish woman! Girls of ten years of age studying algebra. Boys of twelve years of age racking their brain over tt igonometry! Children! unacquainted with their mother | longue crying over their Latin, French and German lessons! All the vivacity of their nature beaten out of them by j the heavy beetle of a Greek lexicon! And you doctor them for this, and you give them a little medicine for that, ami you wonder what Is the mat- ! ter with them. I will tell you what is the matter with them. They are finishing their education! • • • Id our day most hoys start out with no Idea higher than th« ull-<n»urn- , puaslng dollar. They start In an age which boasts It can a< rntch the Laird* I*rayer on a tett-cetH piece, and the [ Ten Commandment* on a ten-rent pie*-# Children are taught to reduce ! morula ami religion, time and eternity, j to vulgar fraction*. It seem* to he their »h(ef a talnment that ten cent* make a dime, and ten dime* make a dollar llow to get money la only i • qualid I jr the other art, how to keep , It. Tell me, y* who know, what han-e there l* for those who atart out n life with aueh yeryerted aentintenta! 1 he money market resounds again and again with the downfall of »u> h people If I had a drop of tdood on the tip <>f a ton I would mil you by what awful tragedy many of the youth of tht* country am ruined km tin, on thou-nude anti ten* of thoumnd* nf the daughter* of A met lea are ag-rlflred to world Hum. They are taught to be in sympathy with all the art it* UHiee of society They are In ducted Into all the hoi low new* of what I* tailed fashionable life they are taught to beC**e that history i« dry but that nit»«eat iiuoy* of eitentur me# lore are delicious With capacity t at might have rltaled « I lore a re Might innate in hegyealy rwiuutrt*# «r mad* th* father * house glad with Ullsl had ststarly demeanor their llfa a a waste th*-i :«» it» « t> • tet nl'y a <1* n*-di* ton la the rt»|e uf t hsites*og I rlag our civil war, a lieutenant of the army stood on the floor beside the daughter of the ex-governor of the state of South Carolina. They were taking the vows of marriage. A bombshell struck the roof, dropped Into the group, and nine were wounded and slain; among the wounded to death the bride. While the bridegroom knelt on the carpet trying to stanch the wounds, the bride demanded that the ceremony be com pleted, that she might take the vows before her departure; and when the minister said, “Will thou be faithful unto death?” with her dying lips she said, “I will,” and In two hours she had departed. That was the slaughter and the sacrifice of the body; but at thousands of marriage-altars there are daughters slain for time and slain for eternity. It is not a marriage: it is a massacre. Affianced to some one who Is only waiting until his father dies, gte he can get the property; then a little while they swing around In the circles, brilliant circles; then the property is gone, und having no power to earn a livelihood, the twain sink into some corner of society, the husband an Idler and a sot, the wife a drudge, a slavp, and a sacrifice. Ah! spare your de nunciations from Jephthah's head, and expend them all on this wholesale modarn martyrdom. I lift up my voice against the sacri fice of children, 1 look out of my win dow on a Sabbath and 1 see a group of children, unwashed, uncombed, un christian Ized. Who cares for them? Who prays for them? Who utters to them one kind word? When the city missionary, passing along the park In New York, saw a ragged lad and heard him swearing, he said to him, ‘ My son, stop swearing f You ought to go to the house of God today. You ought to be good; you ought to be a Chris tian." The lad looked In his face and said, "Ah? It la easy for you to talk, well clothed as you are, and well fed; but we chaps haln’t got no chance.” Who lifts them to the altar for bap tism? Who goes forth to snatch them up from crime and death and woe? Who today will go fopth and bring them Into schools and churches? No. Heap them up. great piles of rags and wretchedness and filth. Put under neath them the fires of sacrifice, stir up the blaze, put on more faggots, and while we stt In the churches with folded arms and indifference, crime and disease and death will go on with the agonizing sacrifice. I congratulate all those who are lolling for the outcast and the wander ing. Your work will soon be over, but the influence you are setting In mo tion will never stop. Long after you have been garnered for the skies, your prayers, your teachings, and your Christian Influence will go on, and help to people heaven with bright in habitants. Which would you rather see?—which scene would you rather mingle in, in the last great day—being able to say, “I added house to house, and land to land, and manufactory to manufactory; I owned half the city; whatever my eye saw I had, whatever I wanted 1 got;” or on that day to have Christ look you full in the face and say, “I was hungry, and ye fed me; I was naked, and ye clothed me; I was sick In prison, and ye visited me; in asmuch as ye did It to the least of these my brethren, ye did It to me?” THE REAL THACKERAY. Thackery Ih misunderstood by many readers. They place him among the satirists or the cynics, who delight to ridicule the foibles and weaknesses of human nature. It is true that he was a satirist. His love of sincerity made him hate shams. These he keenly pic tured, but gpntleness was exhibited even in his satire. Glimpses of the real Thac keray are given us in the introduc tion whic h his daughter, Mrs. Ritchie, has written for the biographical edition of his writ ings. Here we see him as he was: playful, affectionate, benevolent, the kindest of critics, the most tender hearted of editors, sending checks to writers less fortunate than he, and feeling it “a thorn in his pillow" when, as editor of the Cornhlll Magazine, he had to return a manuscript. After >ii.s death, this entry was found In his diary, written Just after he had move ! into a. new house: “I pray Almighty God that rhe words I write tn this house nuiy be pure and honest; that they nt.it be dictated by no personal spite, unworthy moilve, or unjust greed for gain, that thpy may teR the truth, as far as I know I*, and tend to promote love and peace among men, for the i:ike of t'hrlu our laird. * When these words were written, Thackeray-* work, though he could nett know It, was yery nearly clone, The .•eitrv is dated Me*, i s IMS, and In flecembar of the negt year he died Itut the words •■pressed, n it a new aspiration, but the purpose which he had kept steadily tn view through hit whole literal > < steer This sense of moral responsibility deepens respect for the great novelist A general <cdop lion of hi* Ideal would sweeten anl aievate Mellon Msflaa Min•>Has*. A Mre uecurrvd two weeks ago tn tha rllUgs of t'uhrau. on the Hungarian frontier, and among other houses 4e stroked St. Ike modest thatched build lag In wht h Joseph llaydn was turn The book In wbh*h visitors Inaeribed «. CM!.-, t '■ n •■com. lit n c» It lahleta wera saved t man may !• ttt footprints on '.h •c ads of time with tmpnnily but hs •h old few earetui how »e loaves th< m •round on § r nth > hckWd ktuh*n door