The Diamond Bracelet
By MRS. HENRY WOOD,
Author of East Lynne, Etc.
CHAPTER V— (Continued.)
"I trust not, but I am very unhap
py. Who could have done it? How
could it have gone? I left the room
when you did, but I only lingered on
the stairs watching—if I may tell the
truth—whether you go out safely,
and then I returned to it. Vet, when
Lady Sarah came up from dinner it
was gone.”
“And did no one else go into the
room?” he repeated. “I met a lady at
the door who asked for you; I sent
her upstairs.”
"She went in for a minute. It was
my sister, Gerard.”
“Oh, indeed, was that your sister?
Then she counts as we do for nobody
in this. It is strange. The bracelet
was in the room when I left it——”
"You are sure of it?” interrupted
Alice drawing a long breath of sus
pense.
"I am. When I reached the door I
turned round to take a last look at
you, and the diamonds of that partic
ular bracelet gleamed at me from its
place on the table.”
"Oh, Gerard! is this the truth?”
"It is the truth, on my sacred word
of honor,” he replied, looking at her
agitated face and wondering at her
words. "Why else should I say it?
Good-by, Alice, I can t stay another
moment, for here's somebody coming
I don't care to meet.”
He was off like a shot, but his
words and manner, like her sister's,
had conveyed their conviction of inno
cence to the mind of Alice. She stood
still, looking after him in her dreamy
wonderment, and was jostled by the
passers-by. Which of the two was the
real delinquent? One of them must
have been.
CHAPTER VI.
A little man was striding about his
library with impatient steps. He
wore a faded dressing gown, hand
some once, but remarkably shabby
now, and he wrapped it closely around
him though the heat of the weather
was intense. But Colonel Hope, large
as were his coffprs, never spent upon
himself a superfluous farthing, espe
cially in the way of personal adorn
ment; and Colonel Hope would not
have felt too warm, cased in sheep
skins, for he had spent the best part
of his life in India, and was of a
chilly nature.
The Colonel had that afternoon been
made acquainted with an unpleasant
transaction which had occurred in his
house. The household termed it a
mystery; he, a scandalous robbery;
and he had written forthwith to the
nearest chief police station, demand
ing that an officer might be dispatched
back with the messenger to investi
gate it. So there he was. waiting for
his return in impatient expectation,
and occasionally halting before the
window to look out on the busy Lon
don world.
The officer at length came and was
introduced. The Colonel's wife, Lady
Sarah, joined him then, and they pro
ceeded to give him the outlines of the
case. A valuable diamond hracelet,
recently presented to Lady Sarah by
her husband, had disappeared in a
singular manner. Miss Seaton, the
companion to Lady Sarah, had tem
porary charge of the jewrel box, and
had brought it down the previous
evening, Thursday, this being Friday,
to the back of the drawing room, and
laid several pairs of bracelets out on
the table ready for Lady Sarah, who
was going to the opera, to choose
which she would wear when she came
up from dinner. Lady Sarah chose a
pair, and put, herself, the rest back
into the box, which Miss Seaton then
locked and carried to its place up
stairs. In the few minutes that the
bracelets lay on the table the most
valuable one, a diamond, disappeared
from it.
I did not want inis to up umcmuji
investigated; at least, not so quickly,”
observed Lady Sarah to the officer.
“The Colonel wrote for you quite
against my wish.”
“And so have let the thief get clear
ofT, and put up with the loss!” cried
the Colonel. “Very fine, my lady."
“You see," added her ladyship, ex
plaining to the officer "Miss Seaton is
a young lady of good family, not a
common companion; a friend of mine,
I may say. She is of feeble constitu
tion, and this affair has so completely
upset her that 1 fear she will be laid
on a sick bed.”
"It won’t be my fault if she is," re
torted the Colonel. "The loss of a
diamond bracelet, worth two or three
hundred guineas, is not to be hushed
up. They are not to be bought every
day. Lady Sarah!"
The officer was taken to the room
whence the bracelet disappeared. It
was a back drawing room, the folding
doors between it and the front stand
ing open, and the back window, a
large one looking out upon some flat
leads—as did all the row of houses.
The officer seemed to take in ffie
points of the double room at a glance;
the door of communication, its two
doors opening to the corridor outside
and its windows. He 1 oked at the
latches of the two entrance doors, and
he leaned from the front windows, and
he leaned from the one at the back.
He next requested to see Miss Seaton,
and Lady Sarah fetched her—a deli
cate girl with transparent skin and
► looking almost too weak to walk. She
was In a visible tremor, and shook as
she stood before the stranger.
He was a man of pleasant manners
and speech, and he hastened to assure
her: “There's nothing to be afraid of.
young lady,” said he, with a broad
smile. “I'm not an ogre; though I do
believe some timid folks look upon us
as such. Just please to compose your
self and tell me as much as you can
recollect of this.”
“I put the bracelets out here," began
Alice Seaton, laying hold of the table
underneath the window, not more to
indicate it than to steady herself, for
she was almost incapable of standing.
“The diamond bracelet, the one lost,
I placed here," she added, touching
the middle of the table at the back,
“and the rest I laid out round, and
and before it.”
“It was worth more than any of the
others, I believe," interrupted the offi
cial.
“Much more,” growled the Colonel.
The officer nodded to himself, and
Alice resumed:
“I left the bracelets and went and
sat down at one of the front win
dows-”
“With the intervening doors open, I
presume.”
“Wide open, as they are now,” said
Alice, “and the other two doors shut.
I.ady Sarah came up from dinner al
most directly, and then the bracelet
was not there.”
“indeed! You are quite certain of
that.”
“I am quite certain,” interpohed
Lady Sarah. “I looked for that brace
let. and. not seeing it. I supposed Miss
Seaton had not laid it out. 1 put on
the pair I wished to wear and placed
the others in the box and saw Miss
Seaton lock it.”
“Then you did not miss the bracelet
at that time?” questioned the officer.
“I did not miss it in one sense, be
cause I did not know it had been put
out,” returned her ladyship. ‘T saw
it was not there.”
“But did you not miss it?” he asked.
“I only reached the table as Lady
Sarah was closing the lid of the box,”
she answered. “Lady Frances Chene
vix had detained me in the front
room.”
“My sister," explained Lady Sarah.
“She is on a visit to me, and had come
with me up from dinner.”
"You say you went and sat in the
front room,” resumed the officer to
Alice, in a quicker tone than he had
used previously. “Will you show
where?”
Alice did not stir; she only turned
her head towards the front room, and
pointed to a chair a little drawn away
from the window.
“In that chair,” she said. “It stood
as it stands now'.”
The officer looked baffled.
“You must have had the bad. room
full in view from thence; both the
door and the window.”
“Quite so,” replied Alice. "If you
will sit down in it, you will perceive
that I had an uninterrupted view, and
faced the doors of both rooms.”
“I perceive so from here. And you
saw no one enter?”
"No one did enter. It was impossi
ble they could do so without my ob
serving it. Had either of the doors
been only quietly unlatched, I must
have seen.”
“And yet the bracelet vanished!”
interposed Colonel Hope. “They must
have been confounded deep whoever
did it; but thieves are said to possess
slight of hand.”
“They are clever enough for it, some
of them,” observed the officer.
“Rascally villains. I should like to
know how they accomplished this.”
"So should I." significantly returned
the officer. “At present it appears to
me incomprehensible.”
There was a pause. The officer
seemed to muse; and Alice, happen
ing to look up. saw his eyes stealthily
studying her face. It did not tend to
reassure her.
Your servants are trustworthy; they
have lived with you some time?” re
sumed the officer, not apparently at
taching much importance to what the
answer might be.
‘ Were they all escaped convicts, I
don't see that It would throw light on
this,” retorted Colonel Hope. "If they
came into the room to steal the brace
let, Miss Seaton must have seen them.”
“From the time you put out the
bracelets to that of the ladies coming
up from dinner, how long was it?” in
quired the officer of Alice.
“I scarcely know,” panted she, for,
what with his close looks and his close
questions, she was growing less able
to answer. “I did not take particular
notice of the lapse of time; I was not
well yesterday evening.”
“Was it half an hour?”
"Yes—I dare say—nearly so.”
‘ Miss Seaton,” he continued, in a
brisk tone, “will you have any objec
tions to take an oath before a magis
trate—in private, you know—that no
person whatever, except yourself, en
tered either of these rooms during that
period?”
CHAPTER VII.
Had she been requested to go before
a nwgistrate and testify that she, her
self, was the guilty person, it confrl
scarcely have affected her more. Her
cheeks grew white, her lips parted, and
her eyes assumed a beseeching look of
terror. I^ady Hope hastily pushed a
chair behind her, and drew her down
upon it.
“Really, Alice, you are very foolish
to allow yourself to be excited about
nothing," she remonstrated; “you
would have fallen on the floor in an
other .minute. What harm is there in
taking an oath—and in a private
room? You are not a Chartist, or a
Mormon—or whatever the people call
themselves, who profess to object to
oaths, on principle.”
The officer’s eyes were still keenly
fixed on Alice Seaton’s, and she cow
ered visibly beneath his gaze.
"Will you assure me, on your sacred
word, that no person did enter the
room?” he repeated, in a low. firm
tone, which somehow carried her to
the terrible belief that lie believed that
she was trifling with him.
She looked at him, gasped, and
looked again; and then she raised hei
handkerchief in her hand and wiped
her damp and ashy face.
"I think some one did come in,"
whispered the officer in her ear; "try
and recollect.’’ And Alice fell back In
hysterics.
Lady Sarah led her from the room,
herself speedily returning to it.
“You see how weak and nervous Miss
Seaton is,” was her remark to the offi
cer, but glancing at her husband. “She
has been an invalid for years, and is
not strong like other people. 1 felt
sure we should have a scene of some
kind; that is why I wished the investi
gation not to be gone into hurriedly.”
“Don’t you think there are good
grounds for an investigation, sir?” tes
tily asked Colonel Hope of the officer.
“1 must confess I do think so," was
the reply.
“Of course, you hear, my lady. The
difficulty Is, how can we obtain the first
clue to the mystery.”
"I do not suppose there will be an
insurmountable difficulty,” observed
the officer. “1 believe 1 have obtained
one.”
“You are a clever fellow, then,”
cried the Colonel, “if you have ob
tained it here. What is it?”
"Will I^ady Sarah allow me to men
tion it—whatever it may be—without
taking offense?” continued the officer,
looking at her ladyship.
She bowed her head, wondering
much.
“What’s the good of standing upon
ceremony?" peevishly put in Colonel
Hope. "Her ladyship will be as glad
as we shall be to get back her brace
let; more glad, one would think. A
clue to the thief! Who can it have
been?”
me detective smiiea. wnen men
are as high in the police force as he,
they have learned to give every word
its due significance. "I did not say a
clue to the thief, Colonel; I said a clue
to the mystery.”
“Where's the difference?”
"Pardon me, it is indisputably per
ceptible. That the bracelet is gone, is
a papable fact; but by whose hands it
went, is as yet a mystery.”
"What do you suspect?”
"I suspect,” returned the officer, low
ering his voice, “that Miss Seaton
knows how it went.”
There was a silence of surprise; on
Lady Sarah’s part, of indignation.
“Is it possible that you suspect
her?” uttered Colonel Hope.
"No,” said the officer, "I do not sus
pect herself; she appears not to be a
suspicious person in any way; but I
believe she knows who the delinquent
is. and that fear, or some other motive,
keeps her silent. Is she on familiar
terms with any of the servants?”
"But you cannot know what you are
saying! ” interrupted Lady Sarah. “Fa
miliar with the servants! Miss Seat
on is a gentlewoman, and has always
moved in high society. Her family is
little inferior to mine, and better
better than the Colonel’s,” concluded
her ladyship, determined to speak out.
(To be continued.)
WOMAN WHO RIDES HORSEBACK.
St. Louis for some time past has
been greatly exercised regarding a fair
equestrienne who has appeared daily
on the fashionable drives around La
fayette park riding her steed bareback
and astride. Her identity was known
to few and the majority marveled
greatly at her skill in managing her
spirited steed and at her temerity in
setting at defiance the accepted cus
toms of her sex. With her blonde
hair dressed pompadour, and her blue
eyes flashing with exhilaration, clad
in a clinging wrapper, wearing neither
hat nor gloves, she goes forth daily for
an equestrian stunt that astonishes
the avenue. The identity of the fair
horsewoman has finally become known
to the public at large. She is Miss
Jessie Goodpasture and belongs to an
excellent family. She knows a good
horse when she sees one, but she never
refuses a ride on any animal that is
offered, no matter how sorry a plug
he may be. She prefers a horse with
much spirit and plenty of speed, and
she does not object at all to one that
tries to throw her. "I have never been
thrown,” she says, "and I don't fear
being thrown. I guess I can stay on
any horse that comes along. I never
rode a bucking broncho, though. I
have heard of Miss Bessie Mulhall of
Oklahoma and the way she rides horses
and ropes cattle. Well, I suppose she
is a pretty good rider, but I can ride a
little myself. When Buffalo Bill was
here two years ago I rode in his par
ade. I alao rode in his show with the
general turnout of riders, but I Ilk.
riding astride better than on a side
saddle." Miss Jessie went fron
Springfield, 111., to St. Louis eight yean
ago. She has never owned a horse
but depends upon acquaintances foi
her mounts. Whenever a boy ride&
past the alley in the rear of her home
she craves the privilege of riding his
horse. Then the neighbors witness a
daring exhibition. “I don’t know why
I am so fond of riding,” she said. “I
guess I was just born that way. I’d
rather ride than do anything eise on
earth, f just must ride.”—Chicago
Chronicle.
Christian science is said to be popu
lar among art students in the Latin
quarter of Paris.
TAUIAHK’S SERMON.'
j DESPONDENCY THE SUBJECT OF
SUNDAYS DISCOURSE.
—
J From Hebrews, Chapter VI, Verse 19,
as Follows: **\Vfiie!i Hope. We hh an
Anchor or the Soul llotli Sure atitl 1
Stead rust.”
(Copyright, 1001, by Louis Klopseh, N Y.) !
Washington, Nov. 17.— In this ilia- j
coins*1 Dr. Talmage would lift people
out of despondency and bring some- |
thing of future joy into earthly depres- ,
sion. The text is Hebrews vl, ID. i
"Which hope."
There is an Atlantic ocean of depth
and fullness in the verse from which
my text is taken, and I only wade into
the wave at the beach and lake two
words. We all have favorite words
expressive of delight or abhorrence,
words that easily find their way from
brain to lip, words that have in them
mornings and midnights, laughter and
tears, thunderbolts and dewdrops. In
all tlie lexicons and vocabularies there
are few words that have for me the
attractions of the last word of my
text. "Which hope.”
There have in the course of our life
been many angels of tlod that have
looked over our shoulders, or met us
on the road, or chanted the darkness
away, or lifted the curtains of the
great future, or pulled us back from
the precipices, or rolled down upon us
the 1 apt limits music of the heavens,
but there is one of these angels who
has done so much for us that we wish
throughout all time and all eternity to
celebrate it—the angel of Hope. St.
Paul makes it the center of a group of
thiee, saying, "Now abideth faith,
hope, charity." And. though he says
that charity is the greatest of the
three, he doci net take one plume from
the wing, or one ray of luster from the
brow, or one aurora from the cheek,
or one melody front the voice of the
angel of my text, "Which hope."
An Ample Oeponlt.
When we draw a check on a bank
we must have reference to the amount
of money we have deposited, but Hope
makes a draft on a bank in which for
her benefit all heaven has been depos
ited. Hope! May it light up every
dungeon, stand by every sickbed, lend
a helping hand to every orphanage,
loosen every chain, caress every for
lorn soul and turn the unplctured
room of the almshouse into the vesti
bule of heaven! How suggestive that
mythology declares that when all
other deities tied the earth the god
dess Hope remained!
It was hope that revived John Knox
when on shipboard near the coast of
Scotland he was fearfully 111, and he :
was requested to look shorewurd and
askeil If he knew the village near the
coast, and he answered. "I know it
well, for I see the steeple of that place
where God first opened my mouth in
public to his glory, and I am fully per
suaded how weak that ever 1 now
appear I shall not depart this life
till my tongue shall glorify his holy
name in the same place." His hope
was rewarded, and for twenty-five
more years he preached. That is the
hope which sustained Mr. Morrell of
Norwich when departing this life at
twenty-four years of age he declared,
"I should like to understand the
secrets of eternity before tomorrow
morning." That was the kind of hope
that the corporal had In the battle
when, after several standard bearers
had fallen, he seized the flag and
turned to a lieutenant, colonel and
said, “If I fail, tell my dear wife that
I die with a good hope in Christ and
that I am glad to give my life for my
country." That was the good hope
that Dr. Goodwin had in his last
hour when he said: “Ah, is this
death? How have I dreaded as an
enemy this smiling friend!”
A^suranrfii or riraven.
Many have full assurance that all Is
right with the soul. They are as sure
of heaven as if they had passed the
pearly panels of the gate, as though
they were already seated in the temple
of God unrolling the libretto of the
heavenly chorister. I congratulate all
such. I wish I had it, too—full assur
ance—but with me it is hope. “Which
hope." Sinful, it expects forgiveness;
troubled, it expects relief; bereft, it
expects reunion; clear down. It expects
wings to lift; shipwrecked, it expects
lifeboat; bankrupt, it expects eternal
riches; a prodigal, it expects the wide
open door of the father’s farmhouse.
It does not wear itself out by looking
backward; It always looks forward.
What is the use of giving so much
time to the rehearsal of the past? Your
mistakes are not corrected by a re
view, your losses cannot, by brooding
over them, be turned into gains. It is
the future that has the most for us.
and hope cheers us on. We have all
committed blunders, but does the call
ing of the roll of them make them the
less blunders? Look ahead in
all matters of usefulness. However
much you may have accomplished for
God and the world's betterment, your
greatest usefulness is to come. “No,”
says some one, “my health is gone."
’No,” says someone, “my money is
gone.” “No,” says someone, “the most
of my years are gone and therefore
■ny usefulness." Why, you talk like
in infidel. Do you suppose that all
vour capacity to do good is fenced in
>y this life? Are you going to be a
otinger and do nothing after you have
piit this world? It is my business to
ell you that your faculties are to be
nlarged and intensified and your
lualiflcations for usefulness multiplied
'enfold, a hundredfold, a thousandfold.
Freed From 1.1 ml tut ion*.
Am I not right in saying that eter
brightening landscape*, Other trails
figurations of color, new glories rolling
over the scene, new celebrations of
victories in other worlds, heaven ris
ing into grander h°avens, seas of glass
mingled with lire, becoming a more
brilliant glass mingling with a more
flaming (Ire. “Which hope.’'’
Kf'turn of Lost Sheep.
On the following evening he came.
He said that he was the black sheep of
the family flock. He had wandered
the world over and been in all kinds
of wickedness, but a few nights before
after reading a letter from his mother
in Scotland, he hud retired for sleep,
but in the adjoining room he heard
some young men In such horrible con
versation he could not sleep. He was
shocked as he had never before been
by the talk of bud men. He arose,
struck a light, took out the letter from
his mother and knelt down by the bed
side and said, "O Lord. God of my
mother, have mercy on me!" He said
that since that prayer he was entirely
changed and loved what he before
hated and hated what ho before loved
and asked what 1 thought it all meant.
1 replied. “You have become a Christ
ian," He said he might be called at
any time to leave the city. 1 never
saw him again, but it seemed to me
that he had turned his back upon his
wicked past and had started in the
right direction. And it may be so with
your boy. Write him often. Tell him
how you arc thinking of him at home,
anti, it may be. your letter In hand,
he may call upon his mother's God to
help and save him. Hope, you of the
gray hairs and wrinkles! Heaven has
its thousands of souls who were once
as thoroughly wrong as your boy is.
They repented, and they are with the
old folks in the healthy air of the
eternal hills, where they may become
young again. Hope on. and, though
you may never hear of your son's
reformation and others may think he
has left this life hopeless, who knows
but in the last moment, after lie has
ceased to speak, anil before his soul
launches away, your prayer may have
been answered and he be one of the
Hist to meet >on at the shining gate.
The prodigal in the parable got home
and sat down at the feast, while the
elder brother, who never left the old
place, stood pouting at the back door
and did not go in at all.
Tnkn tlin Ilium or Hope.
But If you will not take the hand
of Hope for earthly convalescence let
me point you to the perfect body you
are yet to have if you love and serve
the Lord. Death will put a prolonged
anaesthetic upon your present body,
and you will never again feel an ache
or pain, and then In his good time you
will have a resurrection body about
which we know nothing except that
it will be painless and glorious beyond
all present appreciation. What must
be the health of that land which never
feels cut of cold or blast of heat and
where there is no east wind sowing
pneumonia on the air, your fleetness
greater than the foot of deer, your
eyesight clearer than eagle in sky—
perfect health in a country where all
the Inhabitants are everlastingly
well! You who have in your body an
encysted bullet ever since the civil
war. you who have kept alive only by
precautions and self-denials and per
petual watching of pulse and lung, you
nity can do more for us than can
time? What will we not be able to
do when the powers of locomotion
shall be quickened into the immortal
spirit's speed? Why should a bird
have a swiftness of wing when it is of
no importance how long it shall take
to make its aerial way from forest to
forest and wc, who have so much
more important errand in the world,
get on so slowly? The roebuck out
runs us. the hounds are quicker In the
chase, but wait until God lets us loose
from all limitations and hlnderments.
Then we will fairly begin. The start
ing post will be the tombstone. Leav
mg wuriu win in* Kiiiutiiuiuu nay
before the chief work of our mental
and spiritual career. Hope sees the
doors opening, the victor’s fciot in the
stirrup for the mounting. The day
breaks—first flush of the horizon. The
mission of hope will be an everlasting
mission, as much of it in the heavenly
hereafter as in the earthly now. Shall
we have gained ail as soon as we
enter realms celestial—nothing more
to learn, no other heights to climb, no
new anthems to raise, a monotony of
existence, the same thing over and
over again for endless years? No!
More progress in that world than we
ever made in this. Hope will stand on
the hills of heaven and look for ever
of the deafened ear and dim vision
and the severe backache, you who
have not been free from pain for ten
years, how do you like this story of
physical construction, with all weak
ness and suffering subtracted and
everything jocund and bounding
added?
Do not have anything to do with the
gloom that Harriet Martineau ex
pressed in her dying words: “I have
no reason to believe in another world.
I have bad enough of life in one and
can see no good reason why Harriet
Martineau should be perpetuated.”
Would you not rather have the Christ
ian enthusiasm of Robert Annan, who,
when some one said, "I will be sat
isfied If I manage somehow to get into
heaven,’' replied, pointing to a sunken
vessel that was being dragged up the
river Tay: “Would you like to be
pulled into heaven with two tugs like
that vessel yonder? 1 tell you I would
like to go in with all my sails set and
colors flying.”
God’* Instrument*.
Those pessimists do not realize that
two inventions of our times are going
to make it possible under God to bring
this whole world into saleable and
millennial condition within a few
weeks after thoa* two inventions shall
-.._ . J
be turned into the service of God and
righteousness, as they will be. I refer
to the telegraph and the telephone. If
you think that God allowed those two
inventions to be made merely to get
rapid information concerning the price
of railroad stocks or to call up a friend
and make with him a business engage
ment, you have a very abbreviated
idea of what can be done and will be
done with those two instruments. The
intelligence of the world is to be ex
panded, and civilization will overcome
barbarism, and Illiteracy will be extir
pated, and the promise will be literally
fulfilled, “A nation born in a day.”
I jet Hope say to the foreboding: Do
all you can with tlible and spelling
book and philosophic apparatus, but
toil with the sunlight in your faces or
your efforts will be a failure. The pal
lor in the sky is not another phase of
the night, but the first sign of ap
proaching day. which is as sure to
come as tonight will be followed by
tomorrow. Things are not going to
ruin. The Lord's hosts arc not going
to be drowned In the Red Sea of trou
ble. Miriam's timbrel will play on the
high banks "Israel Delivered.” High
hope for the home! High hope for
the ehureh! High hope for the world!
Ansel or nope wear.
Oprn that closed instrument of
music in your parlor that has not been
played on since the hand of the de
parted player forgot its cunning. Put
up before you on the music board the
notes of the hymn of Isaac Watts and
sing “There is a l>and of Pure Delight”
or James Montgomery's hymn, “Who
Are These in Bright Array?" or Fil
more Bennett's "Sweet Bye and Bye”
or "Jerusalem the Golden." Take
some tune in the major key—“Ariel"
or "Mount Pisgah." While you play
and sing the angel of Hope will stand
by you and turn the leaves and join
in the rapturous rendering. Reunion
with the loved and lost! Everlasting
reunion! No farewell at the door of
any mansion! No goodby at any of the
twelve gates! No more dark apparel
of mourning, but white robe of exalta
tion! Hope now is on its knees, with
face uplifted, but Hope there will be
on tiptoe or beckoning you to follow,
saying: "Come and hear the choirs
sing! Come and see the procession
march! Come and see the river of life
roll! Come with me over the hills
that rise into everlasting heights.”
Celestial Alps and Himalayas hoisted
into other Alps and Himalayas!
From this hour cultivate hope. Do
so by reading all the Scriptural prom
ises of the world's coming Edenlzation
and doubt if you dare the veracity of
the Almighty when he says he will
make the desert roseate, and the leo
pard and the kid will lie down in the
same pasture field, and the lion, ceas
ing to be carnivorous, will become
graminivorous, eating “straw like an
ox," and reptilian venom shall change
into harmlessness, so that the "wean
ed child shall put his hand on the
cockatrice's den, and there shall be
nothing to hurt or destroy in all God's
holy mountain, for the earth shall be
full of the knowledge of the Lord, as
the waters cover the sea.” So much
for the world at large.
The Time of a Wink
A German scientist has given an
other proof of the painstaking nature
of his race in obtaining perfect accur
acy and the most minute detail of all
things. This savant has measured the
time that is occupied by a wink. He
used a special photographic apparatus
and fixed a piece of white paper on the
edge of the eyelid for a mark. Ho
found that ♦he lid descends quickly
and rests a little at the bottom move
ment. Then it rises more slowly than
it fell. The mean duration of the
downward movement was from .075
to .091 of a second. The time from the
Instant the eye rested till it closed
varied from .15 to .17 of a second. In
rising the lid took .17 of a second. The
wink was completed in .4 of a second.
A Uefrigeratluc Egg.
One of the oddest of recent inven
tions is a refrigerating egg, as it might
be called. It is an ovoid capsule of
nickel-plated copper, about the size
and shape of a hen’s egg, hollow and
nearly filled with water. For use it is
frozen, so that its contents become ice.
If you have a glass of milk that is not
cold enough, you do not like to put ice
into it, because dilution with water
spoils the beverage. But, if you have
one of these eggs handy you may drop
it into the glass and in a few moments
the liquid is reduced to the desired
temperature.
Too One-8ld«d.
Sam Jones, in one of his sermons,
took women to task for spending more
time in prinking than in praying. “If
there's a woman here," he finally
screamed, “who prays more than she
prinks, let her stand up.” One poor
old faded specimen of humanity, in
the sorriest, shabbiest of clothes, arose.
“You spend more time praying than
prinking?” asked the preacher, taking
her all in. The poor old creature said
she did—prayed all the time, prinked
not at all. “You go straight home,"
admonished Jones, “and put a little
time on your prinking.”
Fears Not Realized.
He—“Clarice, you know I have al
ways thought a great deal of you, and
I have flattered myself you think not
unfavorably of me. May I—will you be
my wife?” She—“What a start you
gave me, Harry! Do you know, I
thought you were going to ask me to
lend you some money."—Boston Tran
script.
Last Saturday was a busy day for
Squire Baxter. Clayt Honeysuckle and
| Uncle John Phillips both got drunk.