l H INTERNATIONAL PRESS ASSOCIATION.
B CHAPTER XXV.
H HE receipt of Miss
B r SP f ' Hctherlngton's
K • S MfP * ' check seemed to
H ' 'C SP * como llke oil upon
| H < J' ' w' * / the troubled wat-
H- , , $ ! &fm * V ers o tlie llttle
Hi % ? * -i ' household. Caussi-
M l ! ' - i
o ; H'j dicrcwas certainly
H M M' fyXS. ' ' ' ' Phased. Though it
- j • was not so much ,
t \ ho said , as the old
c'
v - - - • ' • • • miser might have
B sent , it was certainly acceptable under
HB the circumstances.
1 After talcing care to pocket the
BI draft , he , tossed up the boy and kissed
Bff nim and told Marjorie he looked as
BB 3f she coddled him too much. Then he
B prepared to
BB "Shall you be back soon , Leon ? "
B -asked Marjorie , timidly. Whenever
H B nhc addressed him now she was alB -
B ways fearful of the reception of her
B K "I shall not return at all , " answered
B "Caussidiere ; "or rather , I shall be late ,
BB -as I dine with a little party of friends.
B : Do n ° t up for me. "
B ' i And with another kiss blown airily
HB to his offspring ho was off.
| I Marjorie did not cry or show any
Hi slsn that this conduct distressed her.
Bl ! She was too used to it for that. She
H ! turned in tender despair to her only
Bl j comfort the child. They sat alone to-
H j gelher , the little one perched on his
BS 1 mother's knee , listening opened mouth-
H ed as she talked to him of her old
BB home. She told him of Miss Hether-
B ington , about the manse , and Mr. Lor-
1 raine , who lay quietly asleep in the
R I little kirkyard. How strange it would
B tt be , she thought , to take the little one
B I there. How Miss Hetherington would
B B love him ; how old Solomon would
BB stare and call it "uncanny" to hear
BBB him prattling so prettily in French !
HBB Ah ! but would the day ever come
Bfl when she could take him there in-
Kv Long after the child had gone to 1
BfB bed , Marjorie sat by the lire thinking ;
H { ( of those happy days ; she wrote to 1
BBI Miss Hetherington , concealing as well
HflBj as she could the dark spots in her life , ,
BB speaking cheerfully and happily of her
BB little boy , and still dwelling upon the ,
B hope of one day bringing him to her
B home.
B Then she sat down to wait for her
| K husband.
B H Caussidiere was late , and when he
| H [ appeared Marjorie saw at a glance that ;
BB ail his good humor had left him. He
I BlB was angry at finding her up ; accused [
BB < her of wishing to time his going and i
ifB coming , and peremptorily ordered her
B' l _ to bed. Without a word # Mai-jorie
K' * I obeyed ; she saw that he was rather
BI ; ! | the worse for liquor , and that any-
W k thing she might say would provoke j
B * [ I him.
BBm& V The next morning she rose early , acT -
T Blk cording to her usual custom. To her
B By ! r amazement , just as she was about to
H mff give the child his breakfast , Caussi-
B W ' diere came down.
H * \ He had dressed with unusual care ; ;
B 1 * J i.e took his breakfast silently , and 1
Bkf \ ( when it was over he went up stairs
H j § j ! again to add a few more touches to
HKg ) ( his already carefully made toilet ; then
RI i he reappeared , nodded to the boy and
H. I 1 to Marjorie he was too well dressed 1
Hv I j to touch either and left the house.
B > I Though he had said nothing , Mar-
B f ' jorie was certain from his dress and 1
B I mysterious manner that it was no or-
| L' 1 tiinary work that had called him '
B j away that morning , and as she
Bf ' thought of the strange , cold way he
B j had left her , her eyes filled with
R 1 Suddenly there was a knock at the
| Bf oor. Hastily brushing away hsr
Bi tears , Marjorie cried "Entrez , " and tl.e
BIB door opened , admitting a woman , none
BaB other than Adele of tne Moucne d'0r-
H [ B i Of all the women of Caussidiere's
'
Bh9 acquaintance , this was the one whom
HBB ' Marjorie most wished to avoid. She
V B was half afraid of Adele , since she had
Bl heard her singing
M on one occasion one
HpX I of ijer songs in a cafe crowded with
H19 men # Marjorie's strict Scotch train-
Kflf f Ing made her shrink from commun-
B B Ion with such a woman. When she
B saw Adele's face , therefore , she felt
B troubled , and demanded rather coldly
BlB ' what she sought. r
i * I seek Caussidiere , " returned
Adele. "Is he at home ? "
"No , " returned Marjorie , quietly ,
| 'he has gone out. "
She thought this answer was con-
elusive and expected to see Adele dis-
V | appear , but she was disappointed. She
B B -came in , closing the door behind her ,
B K walked over to little Leon , and patted
B' H b.im on the head.
B H Leon gazed up and smiled ; he had
B B o * ear of lier ; but Marjorie made a
B B movement as if to protect him from
B B hcr touch.
m B _ s Marjorie came forward , Adele
B B | .y. looked up from the boy's curly head I ,
B BBI ' and asked , almost roughly :
B K f " " "Whers is Caussidiere , did you say ? "
BiFnBli "I do not know " returned Marjorie ,
B fBi drawing the boy toward her ; "he did
Bf ' T' not tell me.
k a " * He ppems to tell you very little ,
B * 1 about himself , madame , " said Adele ,
Brl fixing her eyes strangely upon her
s <
B " companion's face ; then she added lr
Br [ ' suddenly. "Why do you draw the boy
BJyfi 1 away from me ? "
m ] Marjorie' did not answer , so , with a
B B B B BB :
Bi
short , hard laugh , the girl con
tinued :
"I suppose you think , madame , that
I am not fit to touch him ? Well , perhaps -
haps you are right. "
"I did not mean that , " returned Marjorie -
jorie , gently.
"If I kissed the little one , would you
be angry ? " cried Adele , with a curious
change of manner. "Ah , madame , I
am bad enough , but not quite so bad
as you think me. I love little chila
dren. I once had a little boy like
this of my own. "
"A little boy ! Then you are married -
ried ; you have a husband "
"When my child was only a baby ,
before I he could walk or speak , " continued -
tinued Adele , not heeding the question -
tion , "I I lost him. I do not even
know if he i3 alive or dead. "
And she lifted little Leon in her
,
arms , and kissed him wildly.
Marjorie's gentle heart was touched.
"You lost your child ? " she cried , full
of sympathy.
"Ho was taken from me , madame. I ;
was too poor to keep him , and one 1
night : one cold winter night his i
father placed him in the basket at the s
Foundling. I have never seen him 1
since never ! "
"How wicked of you. ; how cruel ! To 1
desert your child ! "
"You do not understand. In France
it is the custom when folk are poor. "
Marjorie shrank from the woman in l
horror. ] All her maternal heart was in L
revolt , and with an impulsive gesture
she drew little Leon to her and embraced -
braced him tenderly.
Adele looked at the pair with a
strange i expression of mingled sorrow
and i pity.
"And your husband , madame ? " she
asked ; , suddenly. "Is he good to
you ; ? "
"Yes. Why do you ask ? " says Mar
jorie , in surprise.
"Never mind , " returned Adele , with
her old laugh. "For myself , I think
that all men are canaille. It is we
others ' , we women , who bear the burden -
den while the men amuse themselves.
Why does Caussidiere leave you so
much alone ? Why does he dress so
well , and leave you and the little one
so • shabby ? Ah , he is like all the
rest ! "
"What my husband docs , " cried ,
Marjorie , indignantly , "is no concern
of yours. I will not hear you say a
word against him ! "
Adele laughed again.
"You are only a child. " she said ,
moving to the door. "Will you give
Monsieur Caussidiere a message from
me ? "
"Yes , if you wish. "
"Tell him he is wanted tomorrow at
our place ; he will understand. "
She half opened the door.then turned
and looked back.
"Do you know , madame , that in a few
days the Germans will be before
Paris ? "
"Ah , yes ! "
"Let them hasten ! I hope they will
come soon. I shall not be sorry for
one , if they burn Paris to the
ground ! "
"Why do you say that ? " cried Marjorie -
jorie , shocked at the speaker's tones
as well as the words ,
"Let them burn Paris , and me with
the rest of the people ; it will be well ! " '
said Adele , in a low voice , very bitter-
ly. "The bonfire is ripe , madame I
Eut , " she added , "I should be sorry if
any harm came to you or to the child.
Some day , perhaps who knows ? I
may be able to serve you. Will you
remember that ? "
"What do you mean ? " exclaimed
Marjorie. "You are a strange woman ;
"
you
"I am what I am ; sometimes I think !
I am a devil , not a woman at all. !
Good-by. "
And without another word she dis- ;
appeared , leaving Marjorie lost in
: wonder at the extraordinary interview
between them.
. CHAPTER XXVI.
yj N leaving Marjo-
/fiLAo Tvh.rJe that day and
Iff M ? ) } ) coming into the
ffiffjISlllis' street , Caussidiere
l Sr walked along rapid-
< &gjpji ly in the direction
§ ® ° * * e boulevards. :
fi Jz&&K ! J He bummed a light
iSrtlr" * air as he went.and
* N $ held up his beacl
with that self-sat ;
isfaction only felt
by the x man who has money in his
pocket. Indeed , the receipt of Miss
Hetherington's draft had taken a
weight off his mind , as he had an ap 1-
pointment that evening with an in-
dividual whose tastes were expensive
like his own.
His business during the day does not
concern us , but when it was evening ,
and the lights were lit , the cafes
thronged , the footpaths full of people
coming and going , he reappeared in
the center of the city. Lighting a cigar [ -
gar , he strolled up and down ; paused
at a kiosk and bought a newspaper ;
then , approaching the front of one of >
the great cafes , found a vacant seat at
a tftble , ordered some coffee , and sat
down in the open air watching the
lrbusy throng.
He was sitting thus when his atten-
tention'was' attracted to a figure stand- [
ing close'by himIt was that of a
/
young man dresced carelessly in a
tweed suit and wearing a wideawako
bat. Ho was standing in the light of
ono of the windows , talking to another -
other man , somewhat his senior , whom
he had just met. Caussidiere caught
a portion of their conversation.
"And hoe lang hae ye been in Par
is ? " asked the elder man.
"All the summer , " replied the oth
er. "I came here to study and paint ,
and I have been doing very well. How
are all in Anuandale ? "
"Brawly , brawly. Where are you
staying ? "
Caussidiere did not catch the reply ,
and the two men moved away with
the crowd ; but he had recognized , at a
glance , in the younger of the interlocutors -
locutors 1 , an old friend John Suther-
land. 1
"Diable ! " he muttered. "What has
brought him to Paris ? I must take
care that he and Marjorie do not
meet. "
He rose , paid for his refreshment ,
and walked away. It was now 8
o'clock. Hailing a fiacre , he jumped
in J , and ordered the coachman to
drive to the theater du Chatelet.
Alighting at the door , Caussidiere
strolled into the vestibule , and paid for
a seat in one of the balcony boxes. He
found the vast place thronged from
floor I to ceiling to witness the performance -
formance of a fairy spectacle , then in
its 5 100th night , the "Sept Filles du Di-
able , " founded on some fanciful east
ern story. It wa3 a tawdry piece.with
innumerable ' ballets , processions , pageants -
geants I , varied with certain scenes of
horse-play 1 , in which a corpulent low
comedian , a great popular favorite.was
conspicuous. Caussidiere was charmed ,
concentrating his admiring eyes par-
ticularly < on one black-eyed , thickly9
painted 1 lady , who personated a fairy
prince 1 and sang "risky" songs , with
topical * allusions and dancing accompaniments -
paniments 1 , in a very high shrill voice ,
to * the great rapture of the assembled
Parisians. At the end of the third
act ' Caussidiere left his seat and
strolled ' round to the back of the thea <
tcr- '
'
" CHAPTER XXVII.
vs = s ASSING the Cerbe-
' llf H9l rus of tlle stagc
jj door by w'hom he
' seemed to be well
known , Caussi-
diere soon found
himself "behind
the scenes , " and
pushed his way
through a confused
throng of supernuc
meraries , figuran-
tes and stage carpenters till he reached
the 1 greenroom.
Here he found many of the performt
ers lounging about and standing in the
center of the floor. Dressed in a turban -
ban and sultan's robes , and surrounded -
ed by a group of ladies in all kinds of
scanty costumes , was the obese low
comedian as loud voiced , low-fore-
headed a satyr of a man as could be
found in the theatrical profession , even
in Paris.
As Caussidiere appeared , the actor
greeted him by name with a loud
laugh.
"Welcome , mon enfant , welcome , " he
cried , shaking hands. "The Germans
are approaching , yet behold we sui'
vive ! "
The ladies now turned to Caussidiere ,
who greeted them by their Christian
names Blanche , Rose , Ada , Adele ,
Sarah , and so on. He seemed to know
them well , but , as he talked to them ,
looked round impatiently for some perj
son who was not present.
( TO BE CONTINUED. )
KE WAS JUSTLY DEFEATED.
Came YVitliln Four Inches of Being a
Millionaire.
"I'm not going to give names , but
you all know that I have no imagina1
tion that can invent fairy tales. I lit-
erally came within four inches of be-
ing a millionaire. "
"Go on ! " exclaimed the man at the
club who is the recognized story promoter
meter in the organization , says the De-
troit Free Press.
"I'm telling you right. Some years
ago I secured employment in an im-
mense factory that turns out a certain
chemical basic used the world over , and
as staple as wheat. It was a rule of
the establishment that a good man
could stay as long as he wanted to in
one department , but under no circumstances -
stances could he go from one department -
ment to another. Every possible precaution -
caution was taken against the discovery -
ery of the secret process. By a serie3
of studied disguises I succeeded in find-
ing employment in every department :
but one , and that being where the col-
oring was done I thought this omis-
sion of rery little importance. By
standing in with one of the office men I
succeeded iu. tracing the parts entering
into the principal machines. This was •
no small job , for there would be one 1
piece made in Portland , Me. , andother
in San Francisco , another In Dallas ,
and another would be imported. I went ;
everywhere and mastered the machin-
ery. Then upon a guarantee that I had
1secured the process I interested capi-
ltal. . When we anxiously analyzed re-
suits we found that the stuff was all
right except in color. Then I grew des- [
perate and determined to dig my way
into the coloring department of the ,
parent institution. Just as I began [
work on a four-inch partition I was I
discovered , and incontinently tossed
from a second-story window. We found I
it impossible to master the trick of coloring -
oring , and all we had to show for half
a million invested was a lot of empty
buildings and smokeless stacks. I've
concluded since that I got just what I
deserved. "
Sales of land along' the Northern Pacific -
cific and Great vNorthern railways ara 1
reported larger than in many years.
TAMAGE'S
J SERMON.
.
"GOOD AND BAD CLUB
HOUSES" THE TEXT.
from ibo Text : II. Siminul , II. : 14 , as
Follows : "I.ct the Vounc M011 Now
Arlic antl Fluy lief ore U " Uulgu or
Imperial Uohauchery Is Here.
Washington , January D , 1S98 This
discourse of Dr. Talmage will be helpb
ful to those who want to find place3
with healthful' and improving surfj
roundings , and to avoid places delea
terious. ( His text is ii. Sam. 2 : 14 : Let
the young men now arise and play bed
forp us.
At this season of the year the clubhouses -
houses of our towns and cltie3 are in
full ' play. I have found out that there
is i : a legitimate and an illegitimate use
of the club-house. In the one case it
may become a healthful recreation ,
like the contest of the twenty-four men
in * i the text when they began their play ;
in i ] the other case it becomes the mas-v
sacre of body , mind and soul , as in the
case of these contestants of the text
when they had gone too far with their
sport. All intelligent ages have had
their gatherings for political , social ,
artistic , literary purposes gatherings
characterized by the blunt old Anglo0
Saxon designation of "club. "
If you have read history you know
that . there was a King's Head Club , a
Ben Johnson Club , a Brothers' Club ,
to which Swift and Bolingbroke belonged -
longed ; a Literary Club , which Burke
and Goldsmith and Johnson and Bos-
well made immortal ; a Jacobin Club ,
a Benjamin Franklin Junto Club. Some
of these to indicate justice , some to
favor tne arts , some .to promote good
manners , some to despoil the habits ,
;
some to destroy the soul. If one will
write an honest history of the clubs of
England , Ireland , Scotland , France
and the United States for the last one
hundred years , he will write the hist
tory of the world. The club was an
.
institution born on English soU but it
has thrived well in American atmos-
phere. Who shall tell how many belong -
[
long to that kind of club where men
put purses together and open house ,
apportioning the expense of caterer
and servants and room , and having a
sort of domestic establishment a style
of club-house which in my opinion is
.
far better than the ordinary Hotel or
boarding-house. But my object now
is to speak of club-houses of a differt
ent sort , such as the Cosmos , or Chevy
Chase , or Lincoln Clubs of this Capital ,
or the "Union Leagues" of many cities ,
the United Service Club of London , the
Lotos of New York , where journalists ,
dramatists , sculptors , painters and artists -
tists , from all branches , gather together -
er to discuss newspapers , theaters and
elaborate art ; like the Americus ,
which camps out in summer time ,
dimpling the pool with its hook and
arousing the forest with its stag hunt ;
like the Century Club , which has its
large j group of venerable lawyers and
poets ; like the Army and Navy Club ,
where those who engaged in war-like
service once on the land or the sea
now come together to talk over the
days of carnage ; like the New York
Yacht Club , with its floating palaces of
beauty upholstered with velvet and
paneled with ebony , having all the advantages -
vantages of electric bell , and of gaslight -
light , and of king's pantry , one pleasure -
ure boat costing three thousand , another -
other fifteen thousand , another thirty
thousand , another sixty-five thousand
dollars , the fleet of pleasure boats belonging -
longing to the club having cost over
two million dollars ; like the American
Jockey Club , to which belong men who
have a passionate fondness for horses ,
fine horses , as had Job when , in the
Scriptures , he gives us a sketch of that
king of beasts , the arch of its neck , the
nervousness of its foot , the majesty of
its gait , the whirlwind of its power ,
crying out : "Hast thou clothed his
neck with thunder ? The glory of his
nostrils is terrible ; he paweth in the
valley and rejoiceth in his strength ;
J
he saith among the trumpets ha ! ha !
and he snielleth the battle afar off , the
thunder of the captains , and the shouting -
ing ; " like the Travelers' Club , the
,
Blossom Club , the Palette Club , the
.
Commercial CIud , the Liberal Club , the
Stable Gang Club , the Amateur Boat
Club , the gambling clubs , the wine
clubs , the clubs of all sizes , the clubs
of all morals , clubs as good as can be ,
and clubs as bad as bad can be , clubs
innumerable. j During the day they are
comparatively lazy places. Here and
there an aged man reading a newspaper -
per , or an employe dusting a sofa , or
a clerk writing up the accounts ; but
when the curtain of the night falls on
the \ natural day , when the curtain of
the club-house hoists for the entertain-
ment. Let us hasten up , now , the marble -
ble 1 stairs. What an imperial .hallway !
See j ! here are parlors on the side , with
the t upholstery of'the Kremlin and the '
Tuilleries ; and here are dining halls '
that t challenge you to mention any luxury -
I
ury that they cannot afford ; and here 1
are galleries with sculpture , and paintings -
ings i , and lithographs , and drawings
from i the best of artists , Cropsey , and
Bierstadt 3 , and Church , and Hart , and
Gifford < pictures for every mood ,
whether you are impassioned or plac [
id j ; shipwreck , or sunlight over the
.
sea ; Sheridan's Ride , or the noonday
.
party 1 of the farmers under the trees ;
!
foaming | deer pursued by the hounds
in j the Adirondacks , or the sheep on L
the \ lawn. On this side there are read
ing ' rooms where you find all newspa-
pers ] and magazines. On that side there :
is a library , where you find all books ,
from hermeneutics to the fairy tale.
Coming ' in and out there are gentlemen -
men , some of whom stay ten minutes ,
others ' stay many hours. Some of C
these are from luxuriant homes , and I
they have excused themselves for a
while from the domestic circle that t
they may enjoy the larger sociability
of the club-house. These are from
dismembered households , and they
have a plain lodging somewhere , but
they come to this club room to have
their ] chief enjoyment. One black ball
amid ten votes will defeat a man's befc
coming a member. For rowdyism , for
Cia
drunkenness , for gambling , for any
kind | of misdemeanor , a member is
dropped out. Brilliant club-house
from top to bottom. The chandeliers ,
. .
the plate , the furniture , the companionship -
ionship , the literature , the social prosfc
tige ] , a complete enchantment.
But the evening is passing on , and
so wo hasten through the hall and
down the steps and into the street , and
from block to block until we come to
another style of club-house. Opening
the door , we find the fumes of strong
drink and tobacco something almost
Intolerable. These young men at this
table , it is easy to understand what
they are at , from the flushed check ,
the intent look , the almost angry way
of tossing the dice , or of moving the
"chips. " They are gambling. At an-
other table are men who are telling
vile stories. They are three-fourths
intoxicated : , and between twelve and
one o'clock they will go staggering ,
hooting , swearing , shouting on their
way home. That is an-only son. On
him all kindness , all care , all culture ,
has been bestowed. Ho Is paying his
parents In this way for their kindness ,
That is a young married man , who ,
only a few months ago , at the altar ,
made promises of kindness and fidels
ity , every one of which he has broken ,
Walk through and see for yourself.
Here are all the implements of dissci !
pation and of quick death. As the
hours of the night go away , the contl
versation becomes imbecile and more
debasing. Now it is time to sHut up.
Those who are able to stand will get
out on the pavement and balance
themselves against the lamp-post , or
against the railings of the fence. The
young man who is not able to stand
will have a bed improvised for hifn in
the club-house , or two not quite so
overcome with liquor will conduct him
to his father's house , and they will
ring the door-bell , and the door will
open , and the two imbecile escorts
will introduce into the hallway the
ghastliest and most hellish spectacle
that ever enters a front door a drunken -
en son. If tue dissipting club-houses
of this country would make a contract
with the Inferno to provide it ten
thousand men a year , and for twenty
years , on the condition that no more
should be asked of them , the clubhouses -
houses could afford to make that contract -
tract , for they would save homesteads ,
save fortunes , save bodies , mind3 and
souls. The ten thousand men who
would , be sacrificed by that contract
would be but a small part of the mul-
titude sacrificed without the contract.
But I make a vast difference between
clubs. I have belonged to four clubs :
A theological club , a ball club and two
literary clubs. I got from them physical -
ical rejuvenation and moral health.
What shall be the principle ? If God
will help me , I will lay down three
principles j by which you may juuge
whether the club where you are a
member , or the club to which you have
been 1 invited , is a legitimate or an ills-
gitimate club house.
First of all , I want you to test the
club by its influences on home , if you
have \ a home. I have been told by a
prominent gentleman in club life that
three-fourths \ of the members of the
great clubs of these cities are married
men. That wife soon loses her influa
ence over her husband who nervously
and foolishly looks upon all evening
absence as an assault on domesticity ,
How are the great enterprises of art
and literature and beneficence and
public weal to be carried on if every
man is to have his world bounded on
one side by his front door-step , and on
the t other side by his back window ,
knowing nothing higher than his Own
attic , or nothing lower than his own
cellar ? That wife who becomes jealous -
ous of her husband's attention to art ,
or literature , or religion , or charity , is
breaking her own sceptre of conjugal
power. I know an instance where a
wife thought that her husband was
giving too many nights to Christian
service , to charitable service , to prayer -
er meetings , and to religious convoca- -
tion. She systematically decoyed him
, until now he attends
away no church ,
and is on a rapid way to destruction ,
his morals gone , his money gone , and ,
I fear , his soul gone. Let any Christian
wife , rejoice when her husband consecrates -
crates evenings to the service of God ,
or to charity , or to art , or to anything
elevated ; but let not men sacrifice
home j life to club life. I can point out
to \ you a great many names of
men who are guilty of this saca
rilege. They are as genial as
angels at the club house , and
as ugly as sin at home. They are genc
erous on all subjects of wine suppers ,
.
3Tachts , and fast horses , but they are
stingy about the wife's dress and the
children's J shoes. That man has made
that { which might be a healthful recreaj
tion i an usurper of his affections , and
he has married it , and he is guilty of
moral bigamy. Under this process the
wife , whatever her features , becomes
uninteresting and homely. He becomes
critical of her , does not like the dress ,
does ! not like the way she arranges her
hair , is amazed that he ever was so unromantic -
romantic : as to offer her hand and
heart. She is always wanting money ,
money ] , when she ought to be discuss-
ing ' eclipses , and Dexter , and Derby
day ' , and English drags with six horses
I tell you , there are thousands of
houses ] in the cities being clubbed to 1
death 1 ! There are club houses where
membership i always involves domestic
shipwreck. ' Tell me that a man has ;
joined a certain club , tell me nothing ;
more about him for ten years , and I
will write his history if he be still
alive. The man is a wine guzzler , his : ]
wife broken-hearted or prematurely
old 1 , his fortune gone or reduced , and
his home a mere name in a directory. <
Here : are six secular nights in the week.
"What shall I do with them ? " says
B
< tH B
fi B
/-fB
the father nnd the husband. "I will. # B
give four of those nights to the 1m- | B
provement and entertainment of my l B
family , cither at home or in good ' ' - ' B
neighborhood ; I will devote ono to / | B
chnrltablo institutions ; I will devote ' ' M
ono to the club. " I congratulate you. < , M
Hero Is a man who suyB , "I will make
a different division of the six nlghtu. '
I will take thrco for the club nnd three H
for other purposes. " I tremble. Hero M
la a man who says , "Out of the nix secular - M
ular nighta of the week , I will devote
five to the club house and one to the M
home , which night I will spend in H
scowling like a March squall , wishing M
I was out spending It as I had spent the 1
other five. " That man' s obituary is H
written. Not ono out of ten thousand 1
that over gets so far on the wrong M
road < over stops. Gradually his health M
will fail , through late hours and 1
through too much stimulus. He will M
bo first-rate prey for erysipelas and fl
rheumatism of the heart. The doctor M
coming < in will at a glance sco it Is not H
only : present dlseaso ho must fight , but H
years < of fast living. The clergyman.for M
the sake of the feelings of the family. M
on ; the funeral day , will only talk In M
religious generalities. The men who H
got < his yacht In the eternal rapids will j B
not bo at the obsequies. They will m
have pressing engagements that day. * 9 B
They will send flowers to the coflln lid. l B
and : send their wives to utter words of f B
sympathy : , but they will have engage- 9 |
ments elsewhere. Thny never come. f B
Bring me mallet and chisel , and I will f H
cut on the tombstone that man's epl- t | |
taph , 'Blessed are the dead who die in 1 1
the Lord. " "No , " you say , "that would a M
not be appropriate. " "Let me die the m |
death of the righteous , and let my last 3 |
end : be like his. " "No , " you say , "that | H
would not be appropriate. " Then give f |
mo the mallet and chisel , and I will I |
cut an honest epitaph : "Hero lies the f |
victim of a dissipating club house ! " I rf l
think ] that damage Is often done by the |
scions ( of some aristocratic family , who ' BB
belong to one of these dissipating club H
houses. People coming up from hum- | H
bier classes feci it an honor to belong H
to | the same club , forgetting the fact H
that many of the sons and grandsons H
of the large commercial establishments H
of the last generation are now , as to H
mind , imbecile ; a3 to body , diseased ; as H
to morals , rotten. They would have got H
through their property long ago if they M
had full possession of it : but the wily M
ancestors , who earned the money by H
hard knocks , foresaw how it was to be. H
and they tied up everything in the will. H
Now , there is nothing of that unworthy M
descendant : but his grandfather's name , > M
and roast beef rotundity. And yet how i M
many steamers there are which feel J H
honored to lash fast that worm-eaten M
tug . , though it drags them straight into ft H
the breakers. \ H
Oh , my heart aches ! I see men struggling - M
gling against evil habits , and they want H
help. ' I have knelt beside them , and r H
have heard them cry for help , and j H
then we have risen , and he has put one M
hand on my right shoulder , and the ' B
V/ /
other hand on my left shoulder , and M
w
looked ' into my face with an infinity of * B
earnestness which the judgment day / H
will have no power to make me forget , .s fl
as he cried out with his lips scorched in M
ruin , "God help me ! " For such there is H
no help except in the Lord God Al- M
mighty. I am going to make a very M
stout rope. You know that sometimes H
a rope maker will take very small H
threads and wind them together until j fl
after a while they become ship cable. ' ' " B
And ! I am going to take some very * - H
small , delicate threads , and wind them H
together until they make a very stout H
rope. I will take all the memories of H
the marriage day , a thread of laughter , j H
a thread of light , a thread of music , a H
thread of banqueting , a thread of congratulation - H
gratulation , and I twist them together. H
and I have one strand. Then I take a H
thread of the hour of the first advent in M
your house , a thread of the darkness J M
that preceded , and a thread of the light H
that followed , and a thread of the beautiful - H
tiful scarf that little child used to wear H
when she bounded out at eventide to H
greet you , and then a thread of the H
beautiful dress in which you laid her H
away for the resurrection. And then I H
twist all these threads together , and I B
have another strand. Then I take a t : ? 2 H
thread of the scarlet robe of a suffering - H
ing : Christ , and a thread of the white H
raiment of your loved ones before the H
throne , and a string of the harp cherubic - M
bic , and a string of the harp seraphic , M
and I twist them all together , and I M
have a third strand. "Oh ! " you say. M
"either strand is strong enough to hold M
fast a world. " No. I will take these M
strands , and I will twist them together. M
I will fasten. M
and one end of that rope
not to the communion table , for it shall M
be removed not to the pillar of the B
organ , for that will crumble in the M
ages , but I wind it 'round and 'round H
the cross of a sympathizing Christ , and B
having fastened one end of the rope to
the cross , I throw the other end to you. H
Lay hold of it ! Pull for your life ! Pull H
for heaven ! H
The Laplanders. M
The Laplanders inhabit the north- j H
ernmost coasts of the Scandinavian H
peninsula. "They are ignorant , uncultivated - M
tivated , and torpid , rather savage , " H
says a recent English traveler. "In M
spite j of their frequent contact with the H
j Russians and the Swedes , they have no H
industrial j resources , no art , no other M
j
commerce than that which is afforded Jj B
by j the products of the chase , or their H
fisheries j , or their heads of reindeer. B
0
Christianity ( , to which they were con- 'IjB I
verted about two centuries ago , has ' I B
not j aroused them as yet from their B B
moral ] and intellectual lethargy. All H
religion ] being reduced , so far as they H
are ; concerned , to oral tradition , the H
devotion < of each is in proportion to H
his memory. Education among them H
has ] attained to this standard that a H
Laplander who knows his alphabet H
corresponds to a young man among us H
who has graduated at Oxford or Cam- H
bridge. " H
HM
