_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
II f INTERNATIONAL PfESS ASSOCIATION. |
I I B CHATTER VII.--Cosiikded. ( )
% I "But why Bhould he have done this- "
m
I js I asked. "To prevent your marriage ?
I I' Tou are young lie must have foreseen
IfTl * C at you wouW"marrJ' some day. "
Iri Q * Carriston leaned toward me. and
I M flopped bis voice to a whisper.
1 1 $ "This is his reason , " he said "this
K \ is why I come to you. You are not the
_ _ _ fv 'onJ.v o c who has entirely misread my
B m\ nature , and seen a strong tendency
I # tn insanity in it. Of course , I know you
B mj are all wrong , hut I know that Kalph
Carrirston has stolen my love stolen
B M hpr because he thinks and hopes that
ller lofaB drlve me mad perhaps
m
W drive mc to kill myBelf. I went straight
_ _ _ _
m W to him I have just jome from him
W \ Brand , I tell you that when I taxed
B \ "hin with the crime when I raved at
WrglS Ijim when I threatened to tear the life
out of b5m nIs cold wicked eyes leapt
m. m X
m Vm * witJl Joy * * neard nlm nmtter between
! # ' Ilis teetn 'Men nave been put in Btrait"
I 1 waistcoats for less than this. ' Then 1
_
* > *
K Ijf knew why he had done this. I curbed
[ ! lA myself and left him. Most likely he
* try to shut me up as a lunatic ;
\ < but I count on your protection count
BBi S That any man could be guilty of such
V a subtle refinement of crime as that of
• which he accused his cousin seemed to
B _ fT N me , if not impossible , at least jmprob-
H _ J& ble. But as at present there was no
H doubt about my friend's sanity , I prom •
WKi ifaed my aid readily.
Il | "And now , " I said , "my dear boy ,
KBV I won 't hear another word tonight.
BB \ Nothing can be done until tomorrow ;
_ iA then wewill consult as to what steps
pE | should be taken. Drink this and go
r * _ \ to bed yes , tou are as sane as I am ,
mty but , remember , insomnia soon drives
FS the strongest man out of his senses. "
UR I pouredNout an opiate. He drank
BBC it obediently. Before I left him for the
Bgf night I saw him in bed and sleeping
HBL J' heavy sleep.
V VIII.
r-s st HE advantage to
B fti , /SS \"m\ one who writes , not
_ P JN § * l taie o 5masjna-
_ B M5r $ ? Ivi nation ' , but of sim-
Hf v f SS lOtUx ple record of
M Hf -1\ events , is this : He
/ < > - \ \
Wk fijlU ieed not be bound
mm ' ( 7/a tne recognized
\
lXOu ) canons o the story-
KL | v vSn y telling art need
sg gBg y not exercise his in-
_ P * genuity to mislead
Bl _ his reader need not suppress some
HSS things and lay undue stress on
PPjfcr v others to create mysteries to be
ft cleared up at the end of the tale.
El Therefore , using the privilege of a
If plain narrator , I shall here give some
Bl1account of what became of Miss Rowan -
| § ' an as , so far as I can remember , I heard
Bfi _ it some time afterward from her own
PPLt The old Scotchwoman's funeral over ,
B # dnd those friends who had been present
II s-O'Jaarted , Madeline was left in the lit-
Bf ' T "arm-house alone , save for the pres-
H % > i iof the two servants. Several kind
Hiflp f . .Is had offered to come and stay
Ut xh her , but she had declined the
HF offers. She was in n6 mood for com-
Hl - pany and , perhaps , being of such a dif-
Hfyt ferent race and breed , would not have
Hg. found much comfort in the rough
BP homely sympathy which was offered to
Hr her. She preferred being alone with her
H | grief grief which after'all was bound
ML to be much lightened by the thought
Jl of her own approaching happiness , for
KF the day was drawing near when her
Hl lover would cross the Border and bear
Kei his bonnie bride away. Siffe felt sure
Blthat she would not be long alone
UTi-ViP lbat the moment Carriston heard
mtiPF of her aunt's death he would
_ > J come to her assistance. In sucli
HR a peaceful God-fearing neighbor-
HlO hood she had no fear of being left
HJn without protection. Moreover , her po-
HKi sition in the house was well-defined.
HjBi xThe old woman , who was childless , had
Klleft her niece all of which she died
RE/ possessed. So Madeline decided to wait
Rb quietly until she heard from her lover.
J * 1" Still there were business matters to
Brl be attended to , and at the funeral Mr.
) _ _ ft Douglas , of Callendar , the executor un-
WB ' der the will , had suggested that an
L , earls * interview would be desirable He
Bff V _ offered to drive out to the little farm
BjHf the next day , but Miss Rowan , who
VT had to see to some feminine necessaries
H'which could only be supplied by shops ,
_ H decided that she would come to the
| flt town instead of troubling Mr. Douglas
H to drive so far jouL
H rt Madeline , in spite of the supersti-
Mf tioiis element in her character , was a
M brave girl , and , in spite of her refined
Eli style of beauty , strong and healthy.
Kfs Early hours were the rule in that hum-
Ufe bic home , so before seven o'clock in the
BBfw morning she was ready to start on her
E # drive to the little town. At first she
WW thought of taking with her the boy who
If did the rough outdoor work ; but he
BS was busy about something or other ,
_ L , and besides , was a garrulous lad who
Hff would be certain to chatter the whole
*
iX way , and this morning Miss Rowan
B wanted no pompanions , save her own
H mingled thoughts of sadness and joy.
L She knew every inch of the road she
Bp feared no evil she would be home
*
again long before night-fall the pony
D was quiet and sure-footed so away
_ T < ' _ went Madeline in the strong , primitive
B * vehicle on her lonely twelve miles'
K J drive through the fair scenery.
W\ ' She passed few people on the road.
| j Indeed , she remembered meeting no
| f .one except one or two pedestrian tour-
l | ists , who like sensible men were doing
B * a portion of their day's task in the
B .early morning. I have no doubt but
B
_ B
Miss Rowan seemed to them a passing
vision of loveliness.
But when she was a mile or two from
Callendar she saw a boy on a pony.
The boy , who must have known her
by sight , stopped , and handed her a
telegram. She had to pay several shil
lings for the delivery , or intended de
livery , of the message , so far from the
station. The boy galloped away , con
gratulating himself on having been
spared a long ride , and Miss Rowan
tore open the envelope left in her
hands.
The message was brief : "Mr. Carr
is seriously ill. Come at once. You
will be met in London. "
Madeline did not scream or faint.
She gave one low moan of pain , set her
teeth , arid with the face of one in a
dream drove as quickly as she could
to Callendar , straight to the railway
station.
Fortunately , or rather unfortunately ,
she had money with her , so she did not
waste time in going to Mr. Douglas.
In spite of the crushing blow she had
received , the girl had all her wits
about her. A train would start in ten
minutes' time. She took her ticket ,
then found an idler outside the station ,
and paid him to take the pony and
carriage back to the farm , with the
message as repeated to Carriston.
The journey passed like a long
dream. The girl could.think of nothing
but her lover , dying , dying perhaps
dead before she could reach him. The
miles flew by unnoticed ; twilight crept
on ; the carriage grew dark ; at last-
London at last ! Miss Rowaif stepped
out on the broad platform , not knowing
what to do or where to turn. Present
ly a tall , well-dressed man came up to
her , and removing his hat , addressed
her by name. The promise as to her
being met had been kept.
She clasped her hands. "Tell me
oh , tell me , he is not dead , " she cried.
"Mr. Carr is not dead. He is ill
very ill delirious and calling for you. "
"Where is he ? Oh , take me to him ! "
"He is miles and- miles from here
at a friend's house. I have been de
puted to meet you and to accompany
you. if you feel strong enough to con
tinue the journey at once. "
"Come , " said Madeline. "Take mete
to him. "
"Your luggage ? " asked the gentle
man.
"I have none. Come ! "
"You must take some refreshment. "
"I need nothing. Come. "
The gentleman glanced at his watch.
"There is just time , " he said. He
called a cab , told the driver to go at
top speed. They reached Paddington
just in time to catch the mail.
During the drive across London ,
Madeline asked many questions , and
learnt from her companion that Mr.
Carr had been staying for a day or two
at a friend's house in the West of
England. That yesterday he had fal
len from his horse and sustained such
injuries that his life was despaired of.
*
He had been continually calling for
Madeline. They had found her address
on a letter , and had telegraphed as
soon as possible for which act Miss
, Rowan thanked her companion with
tears j.n her eyes.
Her conductor did not say much of
his own accord , but in replying to her
questions he was politely sympathetic.
She thought of little outside the fear
ful picture which filled every corner of
her brain ; but from her conductor's
manner received the impression that
he was a medical adviserwho had seen
the sufferer , and assisted in the treat
ment of the case. She-4id not ask hi : ;
name , nor did he reveal it.
At Paddington he placed her in a
ladies' carriage and left her. He was a
smoker , he said. She wondered some
what at this desertion. Then the train
sped down westf1At the large stations
the gentleman came to her and offered
her refreshments. Hunger seemed to
have left her , but she accepted a cup of
tea once or twice. At last sorrow , fa
tigue , and the weakness produced by
such a prolonged fast had their natural
effect ? With the tears still on her
lashes , the girl fell asleep , and must
have slept for many miles ; a sleep un
broken by stoppages at stations.
Her conductor at last aroused her.
He stood at the door of the carriage.
"We must get out here , " he said. All
the momentarily forgotten anguish
came back to her as she stood beside
him on the almost unoccupied plat
form.
"Are we there at last ? " she asked.
"I am sorry to say we have still a
long ride ; would you like to rest first ? "
"Xo no. Come on , if you please. "
She spoke with feverish eagerness.
The man bowed. "A carriage waits , "
he said.
Outside the station was a carriage of
some sort , drawn by one horse , and
driven by a man muffled up to the
eyes. It was still , night , but Madeline
fancied dawn could not be far off. Her
conductor opened the door of the carriage - [
riage and waited for her to enter.
She paused. "Ask him that man
'
must know if "
{
"I am most remiss , " said the gentle- ]
man. He exchanged a f-ew words with •
the driver , and , coming back , told <
Madeline that Mr. Carr was still alive , j
sensible , and expecting her eagerly. <
"Oh , please , please drive fast , " said ]
the poor girl , springing into the car- "
riage. The gentleman seated himself i
beside her , and for a long time they 1
drove on in silence. At last they
stopped. The dawn was just glimmer
ing. They alighted in front of a house. . 1
_ _ _ _ _ _ . _ _ _ _ _
*
lMllgtittiji- * w r > * * ? ' .sjr ' * - - - ?
twBP iIT" * " " " " ° ' - - "i " ' - " " ' * iw1 | "
im > iii iii. > ii i.ii ii n in , , , , , , | ,
The door was open. Madeline entered
swiftly. "Which , way wnich way ? "
she asked. She was too agitated to
notice any surroundings ; her one wifih
was to reach her loxer.
"Allow me , " said the conductor , pass
ing her. "This way ; please follow me. "
He went up a short flight of stairs , then
paussd , and opened a door quietly. He
stood aside for the girl to enter. The
room was dimly lit , and contained a
bed with drawn curtains. Madeline
flew past her traveling companion , and ,
as she threw herself on her knees be
side the "bed upon which she expected
to see the helpless and shattered form
of the man she loved , heard , or fancied
she heard the door-locked behind her.
IX.
IX.ARRISTON
ARRISTON slept
on late into the
next day. Know
ing that every mo
ment of bodily and
# mental rest was a
precious boon to
him , I left him un
disturbed. He was
still fast asleep
-iry when , about midday -
* day , a gentleman
called upon me. He sent up no card ,
and I supposed he came to consult me
professionally.
The moment he entered my room I
recogniged him. He was the thin-
lipped , gentlemanly person whom I had
met on my journey to Bournemouth
last spring the man who had seemed
so much impressed by my views on in
sanity , and had manifested such inter
est in the description I had given
without mentioning any name of Car-
riston's peculiar mind. -
I should have at once claimed ac
quaintanceship with my visitor ; but
before I could speak he advanced , and
apologized gracefully for his intrusion.
"You will forgive it , " he added ,
"when I tell you my name is Ralph
Carriston. "
Remembering our chance conversa
tion , the thought that , after all , Charles
Carriston's wild suspicion was well
founded , flashed through me like light
ning. My great hope was that my
visitor might not remember my face as
I remembered his. I bowed coldly , but
said nothing.
"I believe , Dr. Brand , " he continued ,
"you have a young relative of mine at
present staying with you ? "
"Yes , Mr. Carriston is my guest , " I
answered. "We are old friends. "
"Ah , I did not know that. I do not
remember having heard him mention
your name as a friend. But , as it is
so , no one knows better than jou do
the unfortunate state of his health.
How do you find him to-day violent ? "
I pretended to ignore the man's
meaning , and answered smilingly ,
"Violence is the last thing I should look
for. He is tired out and exhausted by
travel , and is in great distress. That
I believe , is the whole of his com
plaint. " -
"Yes , yes , to be sure , poor boy. His
sweetheart has left him or something.
But as a doctor you must know that
his mental condition is not quite what
it should be. His friends are very anx
ious about him. They fear that a little
restraint temporary , I hope must be
put upon his actions. I called in to
ask your advice and aid. "
"In what , Mr. Carriston ? "
"In this. A young man can't be left
free to go about threatening his
friends' l"'es. I have brought Dr.
Daley with me you know him , of
course. He is below in my carriage. I
will call him up with your permission.
He could then see poor Charles , and the
needful certificate could be signed by
you two doctors. "
"Mr. Carriston , " I said , decidedly ,
"let me tell you in the plainest words
that your cousin is at present as fully
in possession of his wits as you are.
Dr. Daley whoever he may be could
sign no certificate , and in our day no
asylum would dare to keep Mr. Carris
ton within its walls. "
{ TO BE COXTIXCEtJ.J
A WONDERFUL EFFECT.
"Whistler's Daring Scheme of Color In
Jlis Dining Boom.
One of the most daring bits of color
ing on record in the way of household
furnishing is the dining room of the
artist Whistler. It may be said to be
a symphony in yellow , or in blue and
yellow. All of the walls are painted
blue , the blue being of a decidedly
greenish hue. The cornice is painted
in stripes of dark green , blue and yel
low , the ceiling being pale yellow. The
surbase is the color of a ripe lemon , as
are the doors and all the wood about
the windows and the high wooden man
tel. The hearthtstone isalso yellow , and
about the fire-place is a set of lemon-
colored tiles bordered with blue. Two
sets of shelves , one on either side of
the fire-place , .are painted yellow. The
woodwork of the cane-seated chairs is
yellow and the seat blue. The floor is
covered with a blue and yellow Chi
nese matting , cubic pattern. This is all
a very cheap sort of furnishing , but
here the cheapness ends. The curtains
are of rare needlework , of various
shades of yellow upon fine white linen ,
which fall unconfined to the floor. The
shelves mentioned hold bits of rare
blue china ; on the mantel are Japanese
curios , blue , sea green and yellow. A
half-opened fan is in one corner. There
are no mirrors and no pictures. Oppo
site the fireplace hang midway between
the floor and ceiling two Japanese flow
er pots , each holding a yellow prim
rose. The table service is of old blue.
Who but an artist would dare under
take such a scheme of color , and who
but an artist would succeed ?
Sin has many tools , but a lie is the
handle which fits them all. Holmes.
firiiii 'i iiiWiiiiIiimiiiI
. _ _ .
mutiuimmtmmmtmin i i P mm.ihmm hhhimhhiwhW bniihhijhl
T A IMAGE'S SERMON.
"A KING EATING GRASS" SUN
DAY'S SUBJECT.
From the Test "Aud Ho Wai Driven
from Men and Did Eat Grass as Oxen ,
nu ' His Body Was Wet AVltlt Dew
from Ueaien. " Daniel 4:33.
ETTER shade your
eyes lest they be
put out with the
splendor of Baby
lon , as some morn
ing you walk out
with Nebuchadnez
zar on the suspen
sion bridges which
hang from the
housetops , and he
<
shows you the vastness -
ness of his realm. As the sun kindles
the domes with glisterings almost in
sufferable , and the great streets thun
der up their pomp into the ear of
the monarch , and armed towers stand
around , adorned with the spoils of
conquered empires , Nebuchadnezzar
waves his hand above the stupendous
scene and exclaims : "Is not this great
Babylon , that I have built for the
house of the kingdom by the might of
my power , and for the honor of my
majesty ? " But in an instant all that
splendor is gone from his vision , for a
voice falls from the heaven , saying , " 0
King Nebuchadnezzar , to thee it is
spoken : The kingdom is departed
from thee ; and they shall drive thee
from men. and thy dwelling shall be
with the beasts of the field ; they shall
make thee to eat grass as oxen , and
seven years shall pass over thee , until
thou know that the Most High ruleth
in the kingdom of men , and giveth it
to whomsoever he will. " One hour
from the time that he , made the boast
he is on the way to the fields , a maniac ,
and rushing into the forests he becomes
one of the boasts , covered with eagles'
feathers for protection from the cold ,
and his nails growing to birds' claws in
order that he might dtg the earth for
roots and climb the trees for nuts.
You see there Is a great variety in
the Scriptural landscape. In several
discourses we have looked at moun
tains of excellence , but now we look
down into a great , dark chasm of wick
edness as we come to speak of Nebuch
adnezzar. God in His Word sets before
us the beauty of self-denial , of sobriety ,
of devotion , of courage , and then , lest
we should not thoroughly understand
him , he introduced Daniel and Paul ,
and Deborah , as illustrations of those
virtues. God also speaks to us in His
Word as to the hatefulness of pride ,
of folly , of impiety , and lest we should
not thoroughly understand him , intro
duces Nebuchadnezzar as the imper
sonation of these forms of depravity.
The former style of character is a
lighthouse , showing us a way into a
safe harbor , and the. latter style of
character is a black buoy , swinging on
, hz recks , to show where vessels wreck
.hemselves. Thanks unto God for both
the buoy and the lighthouse ! The host
of Nebuchadnezzar is thundering at the
gates of Jerusalem. The crown of that
sacred city is struck into the dust by
the hand of Babylonish insolence. The
vessels of the temple , which had never
been desecrated by profane touch , were
ruthlessly seized for sacrilege and
transportation. Oh , what a sad hour
when those Jews , at the command of
the invading army , are obliged to leave
Uie hone of their nativity ! How their
Jhearls must 'have ' been wrung with
anguish , when , on the day they depart
ed , they heard the trumpets from the
top of the Temple announcing the hour
'or morning sacrifice and " saw the
! -JS "I t I aiders ascending around
5 he holy hill of Zion , for well they
• tnew that in a far distant land they
Tould never hear that trumpet call ,
or behold the majestic ascent of the
acrifice. Behold those captives on the
oad from Jerusalem to Babylon ! Worn
nd weary , they did not dare halt , for
oundabout are armed men , urging
hem on with hoot , and shout , and blas-
• hemj' . Aged men tottered along on
} heir staves , weeping thgl they CG'iW
' ot lay tfielr boffeS in The sleeplug-
I lace of their fathers , and children
• ohdered at the length of the way and
.obbed themselves to sleep when the
ight had fallen. It seemed as if at
• very step a heart broke. But at a turn
; f the road Babylon suddenly springs
• ipon the view of the captives , with
'
. s gardens and palaces. A shoult goes
1 p from the army as they behold their
; ative city , but not one huzza is heard
j rom the captives. These exiles saw no
; plendor there , for it was not home.
. The Euphrates did not have the water-
.Seam of the brook Kedron or the pool
of Siloam. The willows of Babylon , on
which they hung their untuned harps ,
were not as graceful as the trees which
at the foot of Mount Moriah seemed to
weep at the departed glory of Judah ,
and all the fragrance that descended
from the hanging-gardens upon that
great city was not so sweet as one
breath of the acacia and frankincense
that the high priest kindled in the
sanctuary at Jerusalem.
On a certain night , a little while af
ter these captives had been brought to
his city , Nebuchadnezzar is scared with
a night visio ; A had man's pillow il
apt to be stuffed with deeds and fore
bodings which keep talking in the
night. He will find that the eagles'
down in his pillow will stick him like
porcupine quills. The ghosts of old
transgressions are sure to wander
about in the darkness and beckon and
hiss. Yet when the morning came he
found that the vision had entirely fled
from him. Dreams dr.op no anchors ,
and therefore are apt to sail away be
fore we can fasten them. Nebuchad
nezzar calls all the wise men of the
land into his presence , demanding that
by their necromancy they explain his
dream. They , of course , fail. Then
4
" " m ' " " "iBhilii W . 'WiiTT.
, < iT ' . . I M
. .
* * * * w > ii.i mffimiiiuniii ummmMf mi.fmwii * mmimmimi mm a-mrim m inn
Lbe'r wrathful king issues an edict J
with as little sense as mercy , ordering
the slaying of all the learned men of
the country. But Daniel the prophet
comes In with the Interpretation Just
in time to save the wlso men and the
Jewish captives.
My friends , do you not see that pride
and ruin ride in the same saddle ?
See Nebuchadnezzar on the proudest
throne of all the earth , and then see
him graze with the sheep and the cat
tle ! Pride is commander , well plumed
and caparisoned , but it leads forth a
dark and frowning host. The arrows
from the Almighty's quiver are apt to
strike a man when on the wing. Go
liath shakes his great spear in defi
ance , but the smooth stones from the
brook make him stagger and fall like
an ox under the butcher's bludgeon. He
who is down cannot fall. Vessels
scudding under the bare poles do not
feel the force of the storm , while those
with all sails set capsize at the sudden
descent of the tempest.
Do you not also learn from the mis
fortune of the king of Babylon what a
terrible thing is the loss of reason.
There is no calamity that can possibly
befall us In this ; world so great as de
rangement of intellect ; to have the
body of man , and yet to fall even below
the instinct of a brute. In this world
of horrible eights , the most horrible is
the idiot's stare. In this world of horrible
rible sounds , the most horrible is the
maniac's laugh. A vessel driven on
the rock3 , when hundreds go down
never to rise , and other hundreds drag
their mangled and shivering bodies
upon the winter's beach , is nothing
compared to the foundering of intel
lects full of vast hopes and attain
ments and capacities. Christ's heart
went out toward those who were epi
leptic , falling into the fire , or maniacs
cutting themselves among the tombs.
We are accustomed to be more grate *
ful for physical health than for the
proper working of our mind. We are
apt to take it for granted that the In
tellect which has served us so well
will always be faithful. We forget
that an engine of such tremendous
power , where the wheels have such
vastness of circle and such swiftness
of motion , and the least impediment
might put it out of gear , can only be
kept in proper balance by a Divine
hand. No human hand could engineer
the train of immortal faculties. How-
strange it is that our memory , on
whose shoulders all the misfortunes
and successes and occurrences of a life
time are placed , should not oftener
break down , and that the scales of
judgment , which have been weighing
so much and so long , should not lose
their adjustment , and tx.at fancy ,
for the attainment of its objects , should
not sometimes maliciously wave it ,
bringing into the heart forebodings and
hallucinations the most appalling ! Is
it not strange that this mind , which
hopes so much in its mighty leaps
for the attainment of its objects , should
not be dashed to pieces on its- disap
pointments ? Though so delicately
tuned , this instrument of untold ha
mony plays on though fear shakes it
and vexations rack it and sorro.w and
joy and loss and gain in quick suc
cession beat out of it. their dirge or
toss from it their aiichem. At morning
and at night , when in your prayer you
rehearse the causes of your thanksgiv
ing , next to the salvation b3r Jesus
Christ , praise the Lord for the preser
vation of your reason.
See also in thib siory ol jCebuchad-
nezzar the use God ma&es of bad men.
The actions of the wicked are used as
instruments for the punishment of
wickedness in others or as the illus
tration of some principle in the Divine
government. Nebuchadnezzar sub
served both purposes. Even so I will
go back with you to the history of
every leprobats that the world has ever
seen , and I will show you how to a
great extent his wickedness was limjted
in its destructive power , and how God
glorified himself in the overflow and
disgrace of his enemy. Babylon is full
of abomination , and wicked Cyrus de
stroys it. Persia fills the cup of its
iniquity , and vile Alexander puts an
end to it. Macedon must be chastised ,
BSd ploodv Rr _ iii,5 dops U , The Bas-
tife is to ! > e deliroye 'd and corrupt
Napoleon acconiplishes it. Even so
selfish and wicked men are ofu = 3 made
to accomplish great and glorious pur *
poses. Joseph's brethren were guilty
of superlative perfidy and meanness
when they sold him into slavery for
about sever dollars , yet how they must
have been overwhelmed with the truth
that God never forsakes the righteous
when they saw that he had become the
prime minister of Egypt ! Pharaoh op
presses the Israelites with the most
diabolical tyranny ; vet stand still and
fn0 thp xpi'-i 'on of Go'1. ' • 'Me plagues
descend , the locusts , the hail and She
destroying angel , showing that there
is a God who will defend the cause of
his people , and finally , after the Israel
ites have passed through the parted
sea , behold , in the wreck of the
drowned army , that God's enemies are
chaff in a whirlwind ! In some finan
cial panic the righteous suffered with
the wicked. Houses and stores and
shops in a night foundered on the
rock of bankruptcy , and healthy credit
without warning dropped dead in the
street , and money ran up the long lad
der of twenty-five per cent to laugh
down upon those who could not climb
after it. Dealers with pockets full of
securities stood shouting in the deaf
ears of banks. Men rushed down the
streets with protested notes after them.
Those who before found it hard to
spend their money were left without
money to spend. Laborers went home
for want of work , to see hunger In their
chair at the table and uron the hearth.
Winter blew his breath of frost through
fingers of icicles , and sheriffs with
attachments dug among the cinders of
fallen storehouses , and whole cities
joined in the long funeral procession ,
inarching to the grave of dead fortunes
and a fallen commerce. Verily , the
4
V . *
* * - *
i ( ' ' ' * * &mmia - ' * * * c' ' ' " flBH | |
_ _ _ _ _
i S
aaH aBi aaMHa-a-- Mil
righteous suffered with the wicked , but Jj [ I
generally the wicked had the woyirt t J f B
of It. Splendid estates that had cone M | fl
together through echemes of wicked- f | ffl
ness were dash.cd to pieces like a pot- I | H
ter's vessel , and God wrote with lettera j . B
of fire , amldvtho ruin and destruction of l jMM
reputations and systems that were | ; B
thought Impregnable , the old-fashioned j WM
truth , which centuries ago ho wrote in J !
His Bible , "Tho way of the wicked ho !
turnoth upside down. " As the stars ot j §
heaven are reflected from the waterB ot | H
the earth , even so God's great and mag-
nlflcent purposes are reflected back ?
from the boiling sea of human passion j
and turmoil. As the voice of a sweet
song uttered among the mountains may ' * B
be uttered back from the cavernous B
home of wild beast and rocks split and 1
thunder-scarred , so the gTeat hanntfnlea M
of God's providence are rung back from. M
the darkest caverns of this sin-struck M
earth. Sennacherib , and Ablmelech. B
and Herod , and Judas , and Nero , and • B
Nebuchadnezzar , though they struggled M
like beasts unbroken to the load , wars B
put into a yoke , where they were compel - B
pel led to help draw ahead God's great B
projects of mercy. H
Again , let us learn the lesson that B
men can be guilty of polluting the B
sacred vessels of the temple and carry- B
lng them away to Babylon. The sacred j B
vessels In the temple at Jerusalem. H
were the cups and plates of gold and H
silver with which the rites and ceremonies - B
monies were celebrated. The laying ot H
heathen hands upon them and the carrying - H
rying them off as spoils was an unbounded - > m
bounded offense to the Lord of theV m
temple. Yet Nebuchadnezzar committedi W
this very sacrilege. Though that wlck- | H
ed king is gone , the sins he inaugurat-l H
ed walk up and down the earth , curs-j MM
ing it from century to century. Thoj H
sin of desecrating sacred things is com-v Mm
mitted by those who on sacramental ) _ H
day take the communion cup , whilei B
their conversation and actions all show , H
that they live down in Babylon. Howl > H
solemn is the sacrament ! It is a time H
for vows , a time for repentance , a time B
for faith. Sinai stands near , with its B
fire split clouds , and Calvary , with its H
Victim. The Holy Spirit broods over H
the scene , and the glory of heaven H
seems to gather in the sanctuary. Vile H
indeed must that man be who comes in |
from his idols and unrepented folliea |
'
to take hold of the sacred vessels of- |
(
the temple. O , thou Nebuchadnezzar ! , |
! * * * H
Back with you to Babylon
Rev. William Jay met a countryman |
who said to him , "I was extremely ' !
_ _ _
alarmed this morning , sir. It was very , B
foggy and I was going down to a lonely H
place and I thought I saw a strange B
monster. It seemed in motion , but I B
could not discern its form. I did not H
like to turn back , but my heart beat ; , ' H
and the more I looked the more I was B B
afraid. But as I approached , it was H
a man and who do you think it was ? " |
"I know not. " "Oh , it was my brother - . H
er John. " Then Mr. Jay remarked , "It j H
was early in the morning and very fog- j H
gy , and how often do we thus mistake . B
our Christian brethren. " ji H
Just in proportion as men are wrong M B
will they be boisterous in their relig'i _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
contentions. The lamb of religion !
ions i _ _ _ _
is always gentle , while there is no lion ( j B
so fierce as the roaring lion that goes , . J
about seeking whom he may devour. B
Let Gibraltars belch their war flame on B
the sea , and the Dardanelles darken the B
Hellespont with the smoke of their bat- fl
teries , but forever and ever let there be B
good will among those who profess to < H
be the subjects of the Gospel of gen- B
* > i. _ - tv w - - > . - . . - m m m
arid on earth peace , good will to meli. " B
What an embarrassing thing to meet H
in heaven if we have not settled out |
controversies on earth. So I give out m M
for all people of all religions to sing , H
John Fawcett's hymn , in short metre , H
cumposed in 1772 , but just as appro * |
priate for 1897 : _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ !
Blest be the tie that binds fl
Our hearts in Christian love. B
The fellowship of kindred minds B
Is like to that above. |
From sorrow , toil and pain , j B
And sin we shall be free , B |
And perfect love and friendship reign |
Through all eternity. B
NOT A NOODLE. H |
The Farmer DM ffot " i to Stop tbft B
Tfeddinc. B
I was standing on the corner of |
rlalfk and High streets when a frisky H
looking old farmer came to me , says B
a writer in the New York World , and B
said excitedly : _ _ _ _ _
"Stranger , does a minister of the B
gospel live in yonder brick house B
with the green blinds ? " B
"The Rev. Mr. Sawyer lives there , " H
"Thank goodness , " he said , with a H B
"Sickness in your family ? " I asked. B
"No sickness there , stranger. " he B
replied , "but daughter Libbie run B
away from hum with a feller thi3 B
mcrnin' . Soon's I heard of itl started B
after 'em an' got sight of 'em jes' out- H H
cide the city an' kep' sight of 'em till H
they went into yonder house. " _ _ _ H
"Why den't you go into the housa _ _ _ B
and stop the wedding ? " I asked. B B
"Stop the weddin' ? Me ? Say , stran- HH
_ _
ger , do I look like a noodle ? Do I look _ HB
like a gawk that would kick at bavin' _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
thirty-eight years of care an' worry |
lifted off his shoulders in a minute ? " B
he asked sarcastically. K m
"Not exactly , " I replied. _ _ HB
"Guess not. stranger. I jes' run after _ _ _ _ B
the guilty pair to keep 'em from chang-
_ _ _ _
in' their minds. I'll jes' wait here as B B
happy as an angel with a new pair of ] H |
wings 'till the cappy pair come out , |
then I'll give 'em my blessin' an' hurry - H
ry hum an' kill the fatted calf. Stop B
_ _ _ _
the weddin' ? Nixey. " HB
I Bi
Dudely What lovely little fingers _ _ _ H
you have got , Miss Fanny. They are fl
_ _ _ _ _ _ _
hardly larger than a baby's fingers. _ _ _ B
Fanny Yes , ma always said that it !
_ _ _ _
would hardly coBt anything at all to get H B
an engagement ring to fit my finger. _ _ _ _ _
; _ _ g2 * - _ _ _ _ _ _ _
