t DUTY.
She wore her duty as a crown.
And in her passing up and down,
One came who laugh*il to see her wear
Such trifle with so grand an air.
*
She took it off. “One cannot be
A laughing stock for such as he.”
Behold! her feet once swift to go.
Move now reluctantly and slow.
She walks a prisoner, looking down
At that which binds her limbs in pain.
Who wears not duty as a crown.
Must drag it as a chain.
—Good Housekeeping.
MUSCULAR CHRISTIANITY I
——"I Ily JOHN SMITH TASSIN.
______ Copyrighted, 1903, by The Authors Publishing Company I I
“Brethren,” began the preacher,
when all had been assembled, “I feel
like Jacob did after he had wrestled
all night with an angel for a sight of
the Almighty.”
“Amen!” bawled the blacksmith at
the head of the congregation, and liis
eyes roved ceaselessly as if in quest
of someone.
“Only my fight has been with the
powers of darkness; and 1 bear about
me the stains of the soot, and the
scars of the fire and the brimstone of
that terrible place.”
“Amen!” bellowed the lusty fellow
In a louder voice, and his eyes con
| tinued their fruitless search.
K “Brethren, let us pray and thank
t the Lord for the victory He hath
granted over Satan in this benighted
spot.”
And the blacksmith prayed with all
the fervor of a convert on the mourn
ers’ bench. His voice was like the
echo of thunder in the mountains, peal
redoubll* / upon peal, and crash after
crash deflected from the many hills,
until the little building fairly shook
^ with its reverberations. Meanwhile
he craned his neck and almost stood
up in vain endeavor to single out
somebody.
“Guess yo're lookin’ fo’ de docto’,
ain't yo’?” gibed an irreverent youth
behind him.
The man glared at him hut did not
answer.
Doctor Ben was there. He chuckled
despite the sanctity of the place, and
there was a mischievous twinkle in
his eyes and a sly smile about the cor
ners of his mouth. His face was as
a mask, behind which all manner of
droll thought held high carnival. Bill
Jenkins caught sight of him, where
upon the doctor made the sage reflec
tion that It would be best for him to
have his horse shod by another black
smith for some time to come. At this
his face fell, for the prospect was not
Inviting, Bill Jenkins being acknowl
edged the best horseshoer within
miles of the neighborhood.
»■ The doctor’s irresistible longing for
little fun was responsible for the
blacksmith’s discomfiture. This is the
way it came about:
"No preacher-man ain’t agoin’ t’
preach in dis ’ere town; no, siree, not
ef I knows m’self.”
The group about the anvil stood
stock still, and burly Bill Jenkins
straightened himself to his full height.
The “help” paused with the horse’s
g^hoof still in the lap of his leathern
W apron.
If Standing with folded arms and with
his back to the table, on which were
his artisan’s tools, was a figure so
quizzically queer that it was sure to
set you laughipg. It was Doctor Ben;
short and thin, with red hair, red
beard, and red spots on his face which
b some would call freckles. He was
L stoop-shouldered and hollow-chested,
$“No preacher-man ain't agoin’ to
preach in dis 'ere town.’’
| , pnd had a cast of countenance so com
leal that you could think of him only
a king's jester.
KThe .blacksmith was so angry that
fairly bit his words.
'Sf4See 'ere, doc,” he cried, and his
1 fwrearm sawed the air. "we ha’ spliced
OU' young uns. an' buried ou’ dead in
dese 'ere cross-roads fo' nigh on to
tIUrty years withouten inte’fe’ence o’
XKf pa’son-man; au' we ain't agoin’ t’
pay no fees now to’ wat de good Gawd
grants free.”
rCh. I dunno as to that,” said the
little doctor. "1 hearn our pa'son
'low that he intended holdin’ a prey'r
s meet in' here to-night.”
L,*Dar.g yo’ pa'son!” replied the other.
And he bared his arm, on which the
muscles stood out like cords of steel.
The bellows heaved; the fire leaped
up; the iron became a cherry red; then
white scales formed upon it; the anvil
rang, and a shower of sparks fell about
the place.
The little doctor chuckled knowing
ly. It was a way he had whenever
highly amused, which must have been
most of the time, for his thoughts
were a perennial fountain of fun, bub
bling up within him.
It is not to be concealed that Doc
tor Ben—a recent convert, by the way,
The spectators gathered around.
and one whose motives were not al
ways easy to fathom—had been at the
parsonage that very morning.
He found his friend expatiating on
the glory of such as were called upon
to contend with the heathen in for
eign parts, thereby securing for them
selves the crown of martyrdom; while
he bitterly lamented the fact that his
own ministry lay in a civilized land,
where nothing ever happened, and the
only distinction possible was that of
patience and long suffering.
“Oh, I dunno as to that,” remarked
the little doctor smiling blandly. “Now
there is Rowden cross-roads, for in
stance, which, while not exactly pa
gan, is about as tough a place as one
would wish to run gainst. They ain't
had a pa'son there inside of thirty
years; not since the last one was
stoned out of the settlement. It ought
to be a party good field fo’ the sowing
of the Gospel, seein’ ’a how the land
has lain fallow so long.”
“Enough!” cried the parson, smil
ing, “I shall preach there this very
night.”
The doctor stopped again at the par
sonage on his way home, after his
visit to the blacksmith snop. He found
the preacher, like another Paul, work
ing in his garden, that he might not
be a burden to his charge. He leaned
on his hoe and mopped his perspiring
face with a colored cotton handker
chief as the doctor came up.
"Hello, pa’son! still bent on preach
in’ at Rowden to-night?”
"If the Lord spare me, brother, I
chal! most assuredly try to do His
work in that part of His vineyard.”
“Wa al, it looks as if you might find
opposition.”
“We have to expect to wrestle with
Satan sometimes, brother.”
“Yes, but It looks as if Satan d-> be
powerful strong in this instance.”
“How so? Was it himself you saw
in the flesh?”
“It was himself that I saw in the
flesh of Bill Jenkins, the blacksmith
at Rowden. He’s a heap sight heavier
man 'n you be, pa’son. an’ he says
that you’ll have him to lick before you
preach in Rowden to-night. So long,
pa’son.”
The little doctor chuckled. He knew
his men and that they were game.
“Goin’ to be a little affair down to
nowden to-night; better be there about
sundown,” he shouted to more than
one acquaintance as he drove past.
True to his word, Parson Jones rode
into Rowden about dusk and hitched
his horse at the rack near the smithy,
which at that hour resembled a fiery
pit. The interior was lit up by the
sullen glow of the forge as with an
evil eye, and without was the gather
ing gloom.
The prfeacher was long and lank,
and in his clerical clothes was a sight
to see. They hung about him as loose
ly as the limp rags flap about a scare
crow in the fields.
The blacksmith came out muttering
inaudibly.
"Are you he who would dare inter
fere with the preaching of tile Word
Oi God in this place?” asked the par
son, as he calmly removed his coat.
*No preacher-man ain't agoin' t’
preach in dls 'ere town,” sputtered the
blacksmith, drawing off his leathern
apron and wiping his handB upon it.
“No, siree! not ef I—”
The preacher's hand descended
upon his mouth, cutting short the sen
tence.
Then ensued a lively scuffle, during
which the spectators hastily gathered
around the two combatants. The
blacksmith directed a well-aimed blow
with all his force; but the wiry parson
simply turned sideways, and it went
past him like a blade, which unexpect
ed ruse sent his heavy antagonist
sprawling face foremost, in the dust.
He soon had him covered and was
pounding vigorously.
“I am going to preach in this town
to-night.”
“Not ef I—”
Again the blows hailed thick and
fast.
“Let up, there! Enough! Stop,
stop!”
“I am going to preach and wmnt you
to attend in the front pew and to lead
in all the responses.”
“I will, I will! Oh! Oh! Stop!"
pleaded the blacksmith.
• • * * •
Somebody handed the minister his
coat, and he brushed the dust from
his trousers as well as possible. And
straight from the field of battle all
marched to the little town meetiug'
house, where we find them at the
opening of this story.
THE FIELD OF JOURNALISM.
Puck Treats Grave Subject With an
Attempt at Humor.
A tiny typographical error often
causes more comment than a column
editorial.
Never judge a person by the clothe3
he wears. The frail, wan man with
dilapidated trousers and debilitated
shoes may be a great financier or the
editor of your local paper.
After reading of a certain man who
was buried alive for a week on a
wager, and of another who eats poison
in a dime museum for a modest sti
pend, wo fain would confess that we
might be doing worse than running a
newspaper in this town.
In a certain aquarium Is a large
turtle which has not eaten for more
than a year, and does not seem to
have suffered the slightest inconven
ience from its prolonged fast. What
a phenomenal success a turtle would
bo fn the newspaper business In this
region!
Once upon a time an editor found a
fifty-dollar bill, gave It to its owner
and seemed greatly sururised when a
reward was offered him. His eccen
tric action was generally thought to
have been prompted by the sterling
honesty which we so frequently see
mentioned In stories, but it may have
been that he did not know what It was
he found.
When Benjamin Franklin was about
to establish the Pennsylvania Gazette,
in 1728, his friends warned him that
he might be overcrowding the field,
as there were already three newspa
pers in the country. But, despite the
fact that there are co-day nearly 3,000
dailies and about 2o,000 publications
of all sorts in the United States, there
are still innumerable promising open
ings for talented young optimists wich
money to lose.—Puck.
Serious Quarrel Over Water.
Recently a member of the legisla
tive assembly of South Australia said
in a speech: “I am ready to take up
my rifle, and it may be necessary to
send a South Australian army into
Victoria and New South Wales to de
stroy their irrigation works.” This
direful threat is due to the tapping
of the waters of the Murray—the Aus
tralian Mississippi—by Victoria and
New South Wales, the two states be
tween which it forms the boundary
line for the greater part of its course.
The result is that when the one big
river of the commonwealth enters
South Australia for the final stage of
its career it is not the noble and gen
erous stream that it was before being
robbed for irrigation purposes by the
other two states. And the South Aus
tralians, being prevented by insur
mountable natural conditions from
getting the first pull at the river
themselves, are angry and indignant.
A Quartet.
He—My dear Miss Smith—or may I call
you Kitty?
Moon—(This promises, I fear, to be quite
tame.)
She—You oughtn’t, but you make It
sound so pretty!
Cupid—(They're starting In as usual.
Same old game).
He—The moonlight paints with gold your
fairy tresses.
Moon—(Now wouldn't that Juct make
you faint away!)
She—Only a poet thus his thought ex
presses!
Cupid—(What Idiotic things some peo
ple say!)
He—Dear, If I loved you, would you care
to know It?
Moon—(Now that, I must admit Is
rather good.)
She—O. if I cared—I’d be too shy to show
Cupid—(They’re doing better than I
thought they would!)
He—Ah—If I dared—but you're ao far
above me—
Moon—(Ahem! I think I’ll hide behind
this tree.) 1,nu
She—Lov< levels all ranks—
lie—lie you. can you. love me?
Cupid -(Well, now they have no further
use for me!)
_—Carolyn Wells |n Ltfa.
Hen’s Strange Ride.
From Tivoshall, Norfolk, England,
Mr. C. Lain, a farmer, drove the othei
day to Pulham Oak, a distance of sev
eral miles. On arrival there he put
the cart in a shed and transacted hit
business. Nearing home he was as
tonished to find one of his own hens
perched on the axle of the cart. The
fowl had ridden the whole journej
in this curious position. She was no!
disturbed and occupied her chosei
perch til' next morning.
Lesson VTI., Nov. IS—David’s Tram
n Ood—Pmlm 23
Golilon Text—"The Lord 1* My 8h#p
verd; I Shull Not Want"—Psalm 23:1.
The Lord our Shepherd.—V. 1. “The
jord.” Jehovah, the ever-living, eter
tal God. The Good Shepherd of John
• U: 1-16 is the same Jehovah manifest
ed and made visible iu the person of
lesus Christ.
I. ho Satisfies Every Want. "I
thall not want.” “Every real need
vital 1 be supplied, both temporal and
spiritual. Every wayward desire may
not be gratified. It may not be best
for us that It should be. Our Shep
herd is wise as well as kind. He con
,'ults for our true and lasting welfare,
rather than for our immediate grati
fication; and he knows better what
will promote the former than we can
possibly do.”—Prof. W. 11. Green.
II. The Life of Peace and Plenty.—
V. 2 First. "He maketh me to lie
down.” The most active life needs
periods of rest, as we put hyacinth
inilbs for a time in the dark if we
would have the best blooms, or as
crystals are formed lu the stillness of
the saturated solution. “There are
times when a man needs to lie still,
like the earth under a spring rain, let
ting the lessons of experience and the
memories of the Word of God sink
down to the very roots of his life, ami
Ini thi' deep reservoirs of his soul.* *
They are not always lost days when
his hands are not busy; they are grow
ing days. And tor this side of a man’s
life the Great Shepherd provides in
his green pastures. * * * Now
and then God makes such an one lie
down. * * * Many a man has
had to thank God for some such en
forced season of rest, in which he first
learned the sweetness of meditation
on the Word, and of lying still In God’s
hands and waiting God’s pleasure."—
M R. Vincent.
Second. “In green pastures." The
good shepherd always feeds his
sheep. Note that the lying down Is
amid green pastures, where there is
abundant food for the soul. This ex
perience becomes an oasis amid the
desert sands of life. The soul needs
food as really as the body. Whatever
enlarges the soul, builds up the char
acter, increases faith, hope, love,
knowledge, and all the virtues, makes
the conscience more tender and true,
cultures the will, perfects the judg
ment, and enables the soul to work
out a pure and holy life and fits It for
heaven—whatever does these things
constitutes the green pastures. The
Good Shepherd leads 11s into the ex
periences and discipline which thus
feed the soul. Ho sends the Holy
Spirit, who Imparts new life and vigor.
By his example and personal presence
he nourishes the soul. He brings tho
power of heaven into our dally life.
Third. “He leadeth me." "The shep
herd goes before them, anil they fol
low him, come to his call and crowd
round him for safety if danger threat
ens. There, there Is perpetual dan
ger from sudden torrents, from wolves
and robbers; there are but rare and
scanty streams, and the flocks often
suffer from parching thirst. The shep
herd never leaves them. When night
approaches, they follow him to some
safe fold—a cave in the hillside. Sur
rounded by his watchful dogs, the
guardian, ‘keeping watnh over his
flock by night.’ makes his bed In front
of the cave, on a pile of twigs and
brushwood, collected • ltfcin a circle
of stones, to prote-t him from the
damp, and rushes heaped upon them
to give warmth. When morning comes,
the sheep are counted as they pass out
of the cave, and then follow the shep
herd to the green pasturage belonging
to the village or tribe."—Canon Tris
tram in S. S. Times. So Christ goes
before his flock. He does not ask
them to go where he does not go him
self. He shows them the way both
by precept and example. All he ask3
is for them to follow him.
III. Restoring rho Soul.— V. 3. “He
restoreth my soul," or life, the same
Hebrew word being used for both. The
soul is the seat of life. The Good
Shepherd restores the soul from wan
derings into sin and error and mis
takes as the Eastern shepherd spends
much of his time in recovering stray
ing slieep. God restores us by the
promise of his forgiveness, by the
gift of his Holy Spirit, by his provi
dence, by thorns and afflictions, by
the teachings of his Word. He re
stores It by puttirg a new life and a
new heart in man.
IV. Divine Guidance.—The restored
soul he not only brings back to tho
green pastures and to the fold, but
“he leadeth me in the paths of right
eousness.” That is, In the right paths
in which one ought to walk, the paths
which lead to the best places, the ■
paths of duty and right living. “For
his name's sake.” Not because of our
uvearts or claims We could not have
the face to ask it for our own Bakes.
But because he loves to guide 11s, be
cause it is his nature to help us, be
cause he W'ould not be true to himself
and his promises, unless he guided us
thus. It Is this thought, that gives us
courage to trust him. It Is for hls
name's sake “that In the ages to come
he might show the exceeding riches
of his grace in his kindness toward us
through Jesus Christ (Eph. 2:7). “It
is to show how his grace can make a
blazing beacon out of a charred brand,
a mitered priest out of a criminal
(Zech. 3:2, 5).”—M. R. Vincent.
V. Protection in Times of Danger.—
V. A. “Yea. though (or when) I walk
(go forward steadily in the path of
duty) through the valley of the sha
dow of death.” Cheyne says that this
may mean "the gloom like that of
Hades,” or "the very gloom of Hades.”
It refers to times of darkness, depres
sion, and almost despair, as when Je
sus on the cross felt that his Father
had forsaken him; times when there
ai» such thick clouds of sorrow and
pain that God’s sun and stars are blot
ted from the sight, as when Elijah
wished to die under the juniper tree,
and John the Baptist In the Machae
rus dungeon. Compare Bunyan's pic
ture of Christian in the Valley of the
Shadow of Death, the pathway close
by the side of hell whence came flame
and smoke and hideous noises, and
fiends approaching; and the way as
dark as pitch, so that "when he lifted
up his foot to set forward he knew
not where or upon what he should set
it next." This experience is well rep
resent'd by the Hock which often
David must have seen In the gloomy
ravines which penetrate the cliffs over
hanging the Dead Sea, where he was
caught by the setting of the sun, by
sudden storms and torrents, exposed
in the darkness to robbers and wild
beasts. "1 will fear no evil.” “He
does not say that no evil will ever
come to him. For he knows well
enough that there are many grievous
things In life and hard to hear. But
do we not know that infinitely more
suffering is caused by needless fear
than by actual disasters? . . . We
may be hurt, but never harmed.”—
Rev. Henry Van Dyke, D. D. God did
not take up the three Hebrews out of
the furnace of fire, but he came down
and walked with them in it. He did
not remove Daniel from the den of
lions; he sent his angel to close the
mouths of the beasts. He did not an
swer the prayer of Paul to remove the
thorn in the flesh, but he gave him a
‘juflficiency of grace to sustain him.
"Fou thou art with me.” Thou who
are stronger than all the powers of evil,
thou vho controllest all forces, all In
fluences. all powers art ever near. I
cannot see thee; but 1 hear thy voice,
I feel thy presence, I recognize thy
urotectlng love.
rny rod and tny stair tney comiort
me.” How did the rod comfort the
sheep? The rod, the shepherd's
crook, was used for helping any sheep
which had been caught in the rocks
( r torrent, or had been injured. The
crook was placed around its neck or
leg and the shepherd drew it out of
its difficulty. The sight of the rod in
the shepherd's hands showed that he
was able and willing to help in every
time of need. How did the stafT com
fort the sheep? The staff was the
weapon of defense against robbers
and w*ld beasts. The sheep saw the
shepherd with the staff over his shoul
der. aud knew that their defender was
nt hand.
‘‘They comfort me.” Comfort means
much more than to console. It means
tlso to strengthen, to invigorate, to
encourage. From con, "together," and
fortls, "strong.”
VI. Quests of God.—V. 5. “Thou
preparest (or spreadest) a table be
tore me in the presence of mine ene
mies.” He can sit down and eat In
perfect security, though surrounded
by enemies. The servant of God is
more than a sheep to he fed—he Is an
honored guest. His enemies see that
God is his frieml and protector, dnd
they cannot harm him without first
overcoming God himself. The cove
nant of bread, of eating together as
host and guest, was one of the most
sacred in the East. “The master of
the table is bound, so far as his juris
diction extends, to protect every one
who oats with him. If there be foes at
hand, it is easy to see what a comfort
it must be to a defenseless mail thus
lo pledge for his si.tccor one powerful
to help.” Compare the fate of the
Templar in Scott’s “Ivanhoe.” “Thou
: no in test my head with oil.” An at
tention shown to guestH. “The an
cient Hebrews, like the Greeks and
Homans, and most Oriental peoples,
made constant use of unguents. The
great perspiration and frequent bath
ing, drying the skin, made some such
application necessary to comfort."—
William Ewing.
VII. The Overflowing Cup of Life.
"My cup runneth over." The cup that
holds God's blessings and mercies Is
overflowing with them. There are
more than he know s how to use. God’s
love and mercy are free and abundant.
He gi''es "good measure, pressed down
and running over.”
VIII Gpd’s Blessings Are for Ever
lasting—V. 6. "Surely goodness and
mercy shall follow me.” "The Hebrew
word translated surely’ more often
means only; i. e., goodness and mercy
only—nothing else—will follow me."—
Cowles. The goodness and mercy will
follow him; he need not seek anxious
ly for them as an illusive blessing, ss
the child seeks in vain for the raf’i
bow; but they will pursue him an
overtake him, If only he is a tru
sheep of the Good Shepherd. God
iovts to give good things to his people.
He is overflowing with blessings he
desires to confer. And every blessing
we receive is a new proof of his good
ness and hears the image and super
scription of hie love. And we need
not be troubled about the future, for
the goodness and mercy shall follow
“all the days of my life. And I will
dwell in the house of the Lord foi
ever.” The dwelling in God’s hous6
here, the abiding in his worship, ir
the heavenly atmosphere of his lov^'
under ail the divine influences of God’s
house, prepares us to dwell In hi?
heavenly home w-here we can “sprve
him day and night in his temple."
SOME OLI) DOORWAYS
ALL CHARACTERISTICS OF TIME
AND CUSTOMS.
Is^ New England Town* and Villages
These Relies of the Past Abound—
Antique Treasures Found Behind
the Closed Portals.
Stroll through some of our New Eng
land villages and make a study of their
doorways. Possibly you may be disap
pointed at first, and, unless you have
already studied the subject somewhat
and are, therefore, prejudiced in Its
favor, you may sec doorways only as
doorways—as necessary parts of a
whole. But plod along, and keep your
eyes open, and you will soon be lost
Jus WV/*'AN"TAVtRMi
KfctNt N H.
■fcuu.1 1750
la contemplation of the erstwhile com
monplace.
The I>mgfellow house must, of
;ourse, be cited for Its very Interesting
doorway, being modeled much after
the manner of that of the Wyman Tav
ern; the Storey house In Salem (which
belonged to Julian 8torey's grand
father); that of the beautiful old Bel
lows estate in Walpole, N. H., built
during the war of 1812, and of the
famous Jumel mansion in One Hun
dred and Sixtieth street. New York,
which has recently come Into promi
nence through Its purchase by tht
Colonial Dames.
In the Wyman Tavern, In Keene
N. H., we have an examplo of the Nor
man's use of polished columns. The
earliest use—for later on clusters o>
columns came Into evidence, and latei
still their adornment with sculptureo
figures.
In one of those narrow serpentina
streets of Marblehead is found one par
ticularly splendid example of an old
doorway. See how ponderous and Ill
proportioned it looks at first glance
But a careful survey and the symmetry
and purpose becomes apparent.
Portsmouth, N. H„ Is full of quaint
and infesting old houses, whose door
ways alone somehow suggest the fact
that the people refuse to open to curl
ous strangers and relic seekers.
Most of these old mansions are still
occupied by direct descendants of the
original owners, and lucky, Indeed. Is
he to whom these picturesque doors
aro hospitably opened, for behind them
are stocked priceless treasures of colo
nial times, which would cause the
heart of a lover of antiques to beat fast
with envy.
The Warner house, for Instance, on
Daniels street. Is entirely furnished
with rare old things brought from Eng
land in bygone days, and—Isn't
OLD DOORWAY ’
PORTinOUTtt m (
I
that a doorway to be proud of, even
barring the old brass knocker!
The Ladd house, which was built in
1760, shows an Imposing entrance of
the Georgian style of architecture, and
'.ts then necessary adjunct, the slave
pen. is also adorned with an Interest
ing door, interesting principally on ac
count of its inappropriateness.
In the old doorway on Court street,
Portsmouth, nnd that of the Hazen
house on Congress street, we have an
Illustration of tht, progress made
:oward elaboration. And so one might
go on indefinitely, finding in the rudest
and most crude of our old houses
lomething of interest, and something
'epresentative of the times in its door
ways. Often in the most out-of-the
way places one happens upon lines and
ingles and curves which show history;
