B BB riiif BBaMfciii-tiBi-iiiiiii "rx ' "
77 B l C Mm . 'J"Jut""Mii n i i i
; mMM&
f' CHAPTER XXlX.-fCoNTiKUEn. )
P is that to hi
HflL V roughly.- have.many things to dc
| H liL J -which you cannot understand. "
HjV "And there are things which I
Mvl understand , " returned Marjorle quiet-
HB \ 1 , 7. Then she showed him the lettei
P which Bhe , had received , and askee
HjK calmly , this
Bf t Caussidlere took the letter and ica <
| & 1 it with a scowl ; when he had done
M I tore It up and scattered the piece :
| H 1 • the
M J "Leon , " said Marjorle ,
f HIt "Yes , " ho
J ) Mademoiselle Seraphinc , is entertain'
HflB \ ing and mywife is not ; when a mar
H Vf ) as little leisure , he does not
HC ki / the society of the dullest companion ol
fflr acquaintance. , "
| K He Quietly went on eating his break-
j Bin last , as if the subject at an end
HJl I For a while Marjorle watched hiin , hei
Hu\ lace white as death ; then she went tc
HJb > y him and knelt
Hls / "Leon , " she said , in a low , trembling
H HE ' -voice , "lot us forget the past ; maybe
JEI ifc has been m > ' fault ; but , indeed , 'J
HlM ) never meant it , dear. I have been sc
H . M\ lonely and so sad , and I have been
H jjr/ / kept apart from you because I thought
Hja you wished it , and yes because you
m | A sometimes seemed so angry that
H H ( grew
HS DS she trIel to take his hand , but he
j CI \ thrust her aside.
Hfl ) "Do you think this ls the way tC
Hi m' "win mc back ? " ne said : "il is movf
1 m likely to drive me away , for , look you ,
aI rVl * dislike scenes and I have business
i irm which demands that I keep cool. There ,
1 li V dry your eyes and let me finish ray
1 III in
fl At that time nothing more was said ,
fl but once he was free of the house ,
Hl . Caussidlere reflected over what had
HII taken place. He was in sore trouble
jHflf as to what he must do. To abandon
H I Marjorie meant abandoning the yoq.se
H H B which laid him golden eggs , for w tb-
H II M out the supplies which Miss Hethering-
M mMm ton-sent to her daughter , where would
J H Dl Caussidiere be ?
Hb HH One afternoon , as he was "bout to
j H ill return home in no very amiable frame
1 MiH ° * mmi' an incident occurred which
BJII aroused in his mind a feelinu not ex-
H ffIB actly of jealousy , but of lofty moral in-
i Vl B dignation. He saw , from "he window
H > B of a shop where he was mak'ng a pur-
I ri chase , Marjorie and little Leon pass
m
I 111 M % by in company with a young man
| m * whom he recognized at a glance. Her
Clfl crept to the door , and looked after
M r BIB them , scarcely able to believe his eyes.
m\sk Yes , it was real ! There were Mar-
V Wtv > jorie and little Leou walking side by
H W H side with young Sutherland , his old
Y fl rU bete noir froni Scotland.
f tilwn Halt an hour later , when he reached
If W home , he found Marjorie quietly seated
ft
L I * & in the salon.
*
B ; Wvk "Leon ! " cried Marjorie , startled by
Ik * If & his manner , "is anything the matter ? "
1J | ' He did not answer , but glared at her
I Mhmp witu growing fury.
mWP She-repeated her. question. He was
J H IB still silent. Then , as she sat trembling ,
H H ne rose , crossed over , and put his fierce
Bl IB face close to hers.
Hjl W "Let me look at you. Yes , I see !
H BB You are like your mother , the
kIFJ He coucluded with an epithet too
ftw
&J coarse for transcription.
ftWm &
fHH She sPranS UP > Pale as death.
H / < SH "What have I done ? " she cried.
H H "Bo you think I am a fool Wind ?
KB Do you think I do not know who it is
E H you go to meet out there ? Speak !
B JHf Answer ! How often have you met
agKM And he shook his clinched fist in her
B B
B H "Do you meai ray old friend , John-
Bt H . nie-Sutherland ? " she returned , trem-
HB B bling. ' "Oh , Leon , I was so glad to see
B | l B him ; he is so kind I have known him
Ll | St so long. I saw him one day by chance ,
N IB. . - and since then "
H I IB' • . "Yet you said nothing to mc ! "
i BB "lt was o ten on my tonSue , but I
B
B 1 BrA was afraid. Oh , Leon , you are not
B B B angry with me for speaking to an old
T Si friend ? "
V
B K Tne answer caLme > Dut n ° t in words.
K H - Uttering a fierce oath , and repeating
a H BB the savage epithet he had used before ,
B I H he struck her in the face with all his
B - Bfl ' iovce > and sne fel1 ° Iee iug and swoon-
H * l B i ing uPon tlie fl ° or-
D vfl BHF
Hr I H CHAPTER XXX.
B \ J B ( f I'T ' I HE mask of kihd-
B-di B Hhjj ' ' ness having once
B * | B JjfJiL - f a llen' Caussidiere
B 1 B / ( i\03 \ ] 4 : did uot think it
B B B i AW5&i ? . rorth while to re-
Hf E ' ume it ; and from
Wl
V B B • Jim I Wflhat \ day fortn he
H IB ' [ \ l& \ completely neglect-
V Ej B 1 M < ' cd both Marjorie
B fl HW V * v * ' 'iud her child. The
B B BBi " .r ri supplies from Miss
B B flB c tnermSt n nay-
B B B ing temporarily cesised , Marjorie was
B B Bl' no IonSer necessary to him ; indeed , he
B V MM was longing to be free , and wondering
B B Bi what means he should adopt to obtain
B /H m Iljs cnd'
If Marjorie would only leave him and
B
l m m
B 0 B B return to her friend in Scotland the
B B Hi matter would be simple enough , but
B B BB this she did not seem inclined to do.
B B B v. She thought of her child ; for his sake
B > l H - she still clung to the man whom she be-
( <
C H f lieved to be her husband.
B * Bi Thus matters stood for a week , when ,
Wt one : day Caussidiere , when within. a
u. m
k m B B fe v yards of his own door , saw man
B M' K " emerge from Me and walk-quicMyj-down
BB j B tlw street.
Br B
"
" " " ' "
vT * * * / -
W . . -
WWWWM M _ _ . . . I , , , , , ,
1
_ _ . ,
" 'I
' ' ,
"
• • • I 1) ) 1 I I j
"
* :
HWDbi * ! " ' *
Hb / INTERNATIONAL PRESS ASSOCIATION.
Caussidlere caught his breath and ;
very ugly look came into his eyes ; tin
man was none other than the oni
Whom he had strictly forbidden hii
wife to see John Sutherland !
After a momentary hesitation he en
tered the house and walked straight tc
the sitting-room , where he found Mar
jorie.
She had been crying. At sight o !
her husband she dried her eyes , bul
she could , not hide her sorrow.
"What arc you crying for ? " he ask
ed roughly.
"It is nothing , Leon , " she returned
"It's a lie ; you can't deceive me as
well as defy me. "
"Defy you ! "
"Yes , defy me. Didn't I forbid yet
ever again to seek the company of thai
accursed Scotchman ? "
"Yes , " she returned , quietly , "and ]
obeyed you. I saw him once again tc
tell him we must not meet that was
all. "
"I tell you you are a liar ! "
Her face flushed crimson.
"Leon , " she said , "think of the child :
say what you please to me , bat ; let us
be alone. "
She took the frightened child by the
hand , and -was about to lead him from
the room , when Caussidiere interposed ,
"No , " he said ; "I shall say whai
I please to you , and the child shall
remain. I tell you you are a liar
that man was here todajr don't trou
ble yourself to deny it ; I saw him leave
the house. "
"I do not wish to deny it , " sbs re
turned. "Yes , he was here. "
The tears had come into her eyes
again ; she passed her arm around the
shoulders of the boy , who cluug trem
blingly to her.
"Why was he here ? " continued Caus
sidiere , furiously.
"He came here to say goedby. He
is going to Scotland his father is dy-
She bowed her head and laid her
lips on the forehead of her child.
"Why did you not go with him ? "
She raised her head and looked at
him with weary , sorrowful eyes.
"Why did I not go ? " she said. "AK ,
Leon , do not ask me that--is it the
duty of a wife to leave her husband
and her child ? "
"Her husband ! " he said , with a
sneer. "Ah , well , since you are ceased
to put it so , your husband gives you
permission , and for the brat , why , you
may take him , too. "
"Leon ! " XSp\ ?
" " • ' :
"Well ? 'I
"What do you mean ? "
"What I say , mou amie , I generally
do ! "
"You wish me to leave you ? "
He shrugged his shoulders.
"I think you would be better in Scot
land , and I should be better free. "
Again she looked at him in wonder.
What did it all mean ? She could not
believe that he was speaking the truth.
He had been dining perhaps , and
drinking too much wine as he had
done so often of late and he did not
know what he said. Perhaps it would
not be well for her to provoke him , she
thought , so she said nothing. She
turned from her husband , took little
Leon in her arms and tried to soothe
him , for the child was trembling with
fear.
fear.But
But Caussidiere was not to be sil
enced.
"Did you hear what I said ? " he ask
ed.
"Yes , Leon , I heard. "
"Then heed ! "
She rose from her seat , still keeping
the child in her arms , and again moved
toward the door.
"Let me.put Leon to bed , " she said ;
"he is very tired ; then I will come
back and talk to you. "
"You will talk to me now , madame.
Put the child down. I tell you it will
be better for you if you do as I say. "
"To do what , Leon ? " she demanded ,
with quivering lips and streaming
eyes.
"To go back to your mother ; to tell
her that we do not agree , or any other
nonsense you please , except the truth.
We are better apart. We have noth
ing in common. We belong to differ
ent nations nations whichfor the rest ,
have always hated each other. So let
us shake hands and part company
the sooner the better. "
The mask had fallen indeed ! Poor
Marjorie read in the man's livid face
not merely weariness and satiety , but
positive dislike , black almost as hate
itself. She clasped her child and utter
ed a despairing cry.
"You can't mean it , Leon ! No , no ,
you don't mean what you say ! " she
moaned , sinking into a chair , and cov
ering her face with her hand.
"Mamma , mamma ! " cried little Leon.
"Do not cry. "
She drew him convulsively to her ,
and gazed again at Caussidiere. He
was standing on the hearth rug , look
ing at her with a nervous scowl.
"It is useless to make a scene , " he
said. "Understand me 'once for all ,
Marj6rie. I want my freedom. I have
great work on hand , and I cannot pur
sue it rightly if encumbered by j'ou. "
"You should have thought of that be
fore , " she sobbed. "You used to love
me God knows what has turned your
heart against me. But I am.your wife ;
nothing can part us now. "
"Do you really deceivc..ypurself ; so
mt-5k ? " hr' dem-nde * co/dly. / "Tata
* "
- a
> WlMPiaM ri l ! . m mn rrrw.v. . . . , < . , . ' ' ' ' * -
l _
j * - r
hear the truth from mc Ycu are n *
wife of mine ! "
"Not your wife ! " she cried.
"Certainly not. My mistress , If you
please , who has been suffered for fi
time to wear my name ; that Is all. '
She sprang up as It shot through he
heart , and faded him , pale an death.
"We are married ! We stood togeth
er before the altar , Lean. I have my
marriage lines. "
"Which arc so much waste paper ,
my dear , here in France ! "
Sick with horror and fear , ? ho totter
ed to him and clutched him by the arm.
"Leon ! once more : what do you
mean ? "
"My meaning is very simple. " ho re
plied ; "the marriage of an English
woman with a French citizen is no
marriage unless the civil ceremony has
also been performed in France. Now ,
do you understand ? "
"I am not your wife ! Not your
wife ! " cried Marjorle , stupefied.
'Not here in France , " answered
Caussidiere.
'
"Then the child our child ? "
"Trouble not yourself about him , "
was the reply. "If you are reasonable
he can easily be legitimatized accord
ing to our laws ; but nothing on earth
can make us two man and wife so long
as I remain on French soil. "
He added coldly :
"And I have no intention of again
expatriating myself , I assure you. "
It was enough. . Dazed and mystified
as she was , Marjorie now understood
plainly the utters villainy of the man
with whom she had to deal. She had
neither power nor will for furthei
words. She gave one long despairing ,
horrified look into 'the man's face , and
then , drawing the child with her , stag
gered into the inner room and closed
the door behind her.
Caussidiere remained for some time
in his old position , frowning gloomily.
For the moment he almost hated him
self , as even a scoundrel can do upon
occasion ; but he thought of Seraphine
and recovered his self-possession. He
walked to the door , and listened ; all
was still , save a low murmuring sound ,
as of suppressed sobbing.
He hesitated a moment ; then , set
ting his lips tight , he lifted his hat
and quietly descended the stairs.
* * * * * * *
When the great clock of our Lady
of Paris chimed forth five , Marjorie
still sat in her room staring vacantly
into the grate. The room was bitterly
cold ; the light of the candle was grow
ing dim before the more cheerless light
of dawn ; the last spark of fire had diet }
away ; and the child , wearied with
fatigue and fear , slept soundly in her
arms.
Marjorie , awakening from her trance ,
was astonished to see the dawn break
ing , and to hear the chiming clocks
announce that another day had begun.
She looked for a moment into the
child's face , and as she did so her body
trembled , and her eyes filled with
tears.
"My poor little boy ! " she sobbed ;
"my poor little Leon ! "
She laid him gently on the bed , and
let him sleep on. Then she tried to
collect her thoughts , and to determine
what she must do.
"Go back to Scotland ? " No , she
could not do that. She could not face
her old friends with this shame upon
her , and show them the child who
should never have been born- From
that day forth she must be dead to
them. What she could not undo she
must conceal.
( TO BE CONTINUED. )
Sheridan as un Orator.
After Richard Brisley Sheridan had
made his great speech in Westminster
Hall ; asking for the impeachment ol
Warren Hastings , Edmund Burke said :
He has this day surprised the thou
sands who hung with rapture on Iiih
accent , by such an array of talents
such an exhibition of capacity , such a
display of powers as are unparalleled
in the annals of oratory ; a display thai
reflected the highest honor on himself ,
luster upon letters , renown upon par
liament , glory upon the country. 01
all species of rhetoric , of every kind ol
eloquence that has been witnessed oi
recorded , either in ancient or modern
times , whatever the acuteness of the
bar , the dignity of the senate , the sol
idity of the judgment seat and the sa
cred morality of the pulpit , have hith
erto furnished , nothing has equaled
what we have this day heard. No holy
seer of religion , no statesman , no orator
tor , no man of any literary description
whatever , has come up , in one instance ,
to the pure sentiments of morality ; or ,
in the other , to that variety of knowl
edge , force of imagination , propriety
and vivacity of allusion , beauty and
elegance of diction , strength and co
piousness of style , pathos and sublim
ity of conception , to which we thia
day listened with ardor and admira
tion.
A Sure Sign.
"When a woman , " said the cornfed
philosopher , "says that she really be
lieves she is getting fat , and her hus
band retorts that it is because she
eats too much and doesn't do enough
work , it is safe to presume that the
honeymoon has ceased to be. " Savan
nah Eulletin.
So Sndden.
"Mr. Tillinghast left me $50,000. " re
marked the interesting widow to young
Hilow. "My dear Mrs. Tillinghast , ' -
replied Hilow , "you should husband
pour resources. " "Oh , Frank , dear , this
is too sudden. But are you really sure
fou love me ? " Odds and Ends.
The talent of success is nothing
more than doing what you can do well
ind' doing well whatever you do with-
jut a thought of fame. Longfellow.
A ba& epigram.-like a T7orn-outpoa <
ciY'haVna point'U ST" ' "
i
TALHAGE'S SERMON
"MEN AND WOMEN NEEDED , "
LAST SUNDAY'S SUBJECT.
"Who Knoureth Whether Thou Ar
Come to the Kingdom Tor Such i
Tlmo a Thin" Esther , Chapter IV
Verse 14.
y < fr. " ? } STHEIt the beautl-
\3& $ ' " ' = * i ful was the wife o :
teifi (0 ( Ahasuerus th (
ISIsNn abominable. The
] 1 § T 2 > tIme na ( * come * 01
fiilifliS uer t0 Present l
'
llPllftJ ' p etition to her in-
\ilp famous husband in
\ * BiA
' | 5JI\\ behalf of the Jew-
SpSSX ish nation.to whicl
yi' , she had once be-
' longed. She was
afraid to undertake the work
lest she should lose lier owe
life ; but her cousin , Mordecai , whe
had brought her up , encouraged hei
with the suggestion that probably shi
had been raised up of God for that pe
culiar mission. "Who knoweth wheth
er thou art come to the kingdom foi
such a time as this ? "
Esther had her God-appointed work.
You and I have ours. It is my busi
ness to tell you what style of men and
women you ought to be in order thai
you meet the demand of the age in
which God has cast your lot. So this
discourse will not deal with the tech
nicalities , but only with the practica
bilities. When two armies have rusher ;
into battle , the officers of either army
do not want a philosophical discussion
about the chemical properties of hu
man blood or the nature of gunpowder ;
they want some one to man the bat
teries and take out the guns. And
now , when all the forces of light and
darkness , of heaven and hell , have
plunged into the fight , it is no time
to give ourselves to the definitions and
formulas and technicalities and con
ventionalities of religion. What we
want is practical , earnest , concentrat
ed , enthusiastic and triumphant help ,
In the first place , in order to meet
the special demand of this age , you
need to be an unmistakable , aggressive
Christian. Of half-and-half Christians
we do not wantany more. The church
of Jesus Christ will be better without
them. They are . the chief obstacle ic
the church's advancement. I am
speaking of another kind of Christian.
All the appliances for your becoming
an earnest Christian are at your hand ,
and there is a straight path for you
into the broad daylight of God's for
giveness. You may this moment' be
the bondmen of the world , and the
next moment you may be princes oi
the Lord God Almighty. You remem
ber what excitement there was in this
country , years ago , when the Prince oi
Waies came here how the people
rushed out by hundreds of thousands
to see him. Why ? Because they ex
pected that some day he would sit up
on the throne of England. But what
was all that honor compared with the
honor to which God calls you to be
sons and daughters of the Lord Al
mighty ; yea , to be queens and kings
unto God. "They shall reign with him
forever and forever. "
I was once amid the wonderful , be
witching cactus growths of North Car
olina. I never was more bewildered
with the beauty of flowers , and yet
when I would take up one of these
cactuses and pull the leaves apart the
beauty was all gone. You could hard
ly tell that it had ever been a flower.
And there are a great many Christian
people in this day just pulling apart
their Christian experiences to see what
there is in them , and there is nothing
left in them.
This style of self-examination is a
damage instead of an advantage to
their Christian character. I remember
when I was a boy I used to have a
small piece in the garden that I called
my own , and I planted corn there , and
every few days I would pull it up to
see how fast it was growing. Now ,
there are a great many Christian people
ple in this day whose self-examination
merely amounts to the pulling up of
that which they only yesterday or the
day before planted. Oh , my friends ,
if you want to have a stalwart Chris
tian character , plant it right out of
doors in the great field of Christian
usefulness , and though storms may
come upon it , and though the hot sun
of trial may try to consume it , it will
thrive until it becomes a great tree ,
in which the fowls of heaven may have
their habitation. I have no patience
with these flower-pot Christians. They
keep themselves under shelter , and
ill their Christian experience in a
small , exclusive circle , when they
ought to plant it in the great garden
of the Lord , so that the whole atmos
phere could be aromatic with their
Christian usefulness. What we want
In the church of God is more strength
af piety. The century plant is won-
lerfully suggestive and wonderfully
beautiful , but I never look at it with-
DUt thinking of its parsimony. It lets
tvhole generations go by before it puts
Eorth one blossom ; so I have really
more admiration when I see the dewy
: ears in the -blue eyes of the violets ,
" or they come every spring. My Chris-
: ian friends , time is going by so rap-
dly that we can not afford to.be idle.
Again , if you want to be qualified to
neet the duties which this age de-
nands of you , you must , on one hand ,
ivoid reckless iconoclasm , and , on the
) ther hand , not stick too much to
hings because they are old. The air
s full of new plans , new projects , new
heories of government , new theologies ,
md I am amazed to see how so many
] hristians want only noTelty in order
o recommend a thing to their confi-
lence ; and so they vacillate and swing
o and fro , and they are useless ant !
hey are unhappy. New plans secu-
ar , ethical , philosophical , religious ,
: is-Atlantlc , trans-Atlantic long
mough to make a line rtUching from
he German universities to Great Salt
' " " " " " ' " ' " " " > "II
I 111 I I II III
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmom
Lake City. Ah , my brother , do not
take hold of a thing merely because 1 !
Is new ! Try it by the realities of the
Judgment Day. But , on the other
hand , do not adhere to anything mere
ly because It is old. There is not a
single enterprise of the church or the
world but has sometime been scoffed
at. There was a time when men de
rided even Bible societies , and when a
few young men met in Massachusetts !
and organized the first missionary so
ciety ever organized In this country ,
there went laughter and ridicule all
around the Christian church. They
said the undertaking was preposterous.
And so also the work of Jesus Christ
was assailed. People cried out , "Who
ever heard of such theories of ethiC3
and government ? Who ever noticed
such a style of preaching as Jesus
has ? " Ezeklel had talked of myste
rious wings and wheels. Here came a
man from Capernaum and Gennessaret
and He drew His illustrations from the
lakes , from the sand , from the moun
tain , from the lilies , from the corn
stalks. How the Pharisees scoffed !
How Herod derided ! And this Jesus
they plucked by the beard and they
spat In His face , and they called Him
"this fellow ! " All the great enter
prises in and out of the church have
at times been scoffed at , and there have
been a great multitude who have
thought that the chariot of God's
truth would fall to pieces if it once got
out of the old rut. And so there are
those who have no patience with any
thing like improvement in church
architecture , or with anything like
good , hearty , earnest church singing ,
and they deride any form of religious
discussion which goes down walking
among everyday men , rather than that
which makes an excursion of rhetor
ical stilts. Oh , that the church of God
would wake up to an adaptability of
work ! We must admit the simple fact
that the churches of Jesus Christ in
this day do not reach the great masses.
There are fifty thousand people in Ed
inburgh who never hear the Gospel.
There are one million people in Lon
don who never hear the Gospel. The
great majority of the inhabitants of
this capital come not under the im
mediate ministrations of Christ's truth ,
and the Church of God in this day , in
stead of being a place full of living
epistles , known and read of all men ,
is more like a dead-letter postoffice.
"But , " say the people , "the world is
going to be converted ; you must be pa
tient ; the kingdoms of this world are
to become the kingdoms of Christ. "
Never , unless the church of Jesus
Christ puts on more speed and energy.
Instead of the church converting the
world , the world is converting the
church. Here is a great fortress.
How shall it be taken ? An army
comes and sits around about it , cuts
off the supplies , and says : "Now we
will just wait until from exhaustion
and starvation they will have to give
up. " Weeks and months , and perhaps
a year pass along , and finally the fort
ress surrenders through that starva
tion and exhaustion. But , my friends ,
the fortresses of sin aie never to be
taken in that way. If they are taken
for God it will be by storm ; you will
have to bring up the great siege guns
of the Gospel to the very wall and
wheel the flying artillery into line , and
when the armed infantry of heaven
shall confront the battlements you will
have to give the quick command :
"Forward ! Charge ! "
Ah , my friends , there is work for you
to do and for me to do in order to this
grand accomplishment. I have a pul
pit. I preach in it. Your pulpit is the
bank. Your pulpit is the store. Your
pulpit is the editorial chair. Your pul
pit is the anvil. Your pulpit is the
house of scaffolding. You pulpit is the
mechanics' shop. I may stand in my
place and , through cowardice or
through self-seeking , may keep back
the word I ought to utter ; while you ,
with sleeve rolled up and brow be-
sweated v/ith toil , may utter the word
that will jar the foundataions of
heaven with the shout of a great vic
tory. Oh. that we might all feel that
the Lord Almighty is putting upon us
the hands of ordination ! I tell you ,
every one , go forth and preach this
Gospel. You have as much right to
preach as I have or any man living.
Hedley Vicars was a wicked man in
the English army. The grace of God
came to him. He became an earnest
and eminent Christian. They scoffed
at him and said : "You are a hypocrite ,
you are as bad as ever you were. "
Still he kept his faith in Christ , and
after a while , finding that they could
not turn him aside by calling him a
hypocrite , they said to him : "Oh , you
are nothing but a Methodist ! " This
did not disturb him. He went on per
forming his Christian duty until he
had formed all his troops into a.Bible
class , and the whole encampment was
shaken with the presence of God. So
Havelock went into the heathen tem
ple in India while the English army-
was there and put a candle into the
hand of each of the heathen gtbds that
stood around in the heathen temple ,
and by the light of those candles held
up by the idols Gen. Havelock preach
ed righteousness , temperance , and
judgment to come. And who will say
on earth .or in heaven that Havelock
had not the right to preach ? In the
minister's house where I prepared for
college there worked a man by the
name of Peter Croy. He could neither
read nor write , but he was a man of
God. Often theologians would stop in
the house grave theologians and at
family prayer Peter Croy would be
called upon to lead ; and all those wise
men sat around , wonder-struck at his
religious efficiency. When he prayed
he reached up and seemed to take hold
of the very throne of the Almighty ,
and he talked with God until the very-
heavens were bowed down into the
sitting-room. Oh , if I were dying I
would rather have plain Peter Croy
kneeTy my bedside and commend my
Immortal spirit to. God than the great
est archbishop arrayed in costly canon-
tt-X jpufctj r x + f m * 'r. ' > JH * Aa i r i"i. . H ia * JTW T T WII WWMWWBWWMI B
mk imiiiiiiiwiwaHjiiiafcirtwiHji n ; jy T
1
Ical3. Go preach this Gospel. You ?
say you arc not licensed. In the name \
of the Lord Almighty , I llcenso you. *
Go preach this Gospel , preach It In the |
Sabbath schools , In the praycr-mcct- . |
Ings , in the highways , In the hedges. i
Woe bo unto you If you preach it not ! , ,
I prepare this sermon because I : . '
want to encourage all Christian work- %
era in every possible department. ? i
Hosts of the llvlnc God , march on ! J
"
march on ! Ills spirit will bless you. Ij
His shield will defend you. His ;
sword will strike for you. March J j
on ! march on ! The despotisms will \
fall , and paganism will burn Us Idols. i j
and Mahometani8m will give up its j
false prophet , and the great walls of " 4
superstition will come down In thunder - m
der and wreck at the long loud blast W
of the Gospel trumpet. March on ! m
march on ! The beslegement w"l soon Sj
be ended. Only a few more steps on
the long way ; only a few more sturdy d
blows ; only a few more battle cries , ' |
then God will put the laurels upon M
your brow , and from the living foundation - |
tion of heaven will bathe off the sweat
and the heat and the dust of the con- .
fllct. March on ! march on ! For you J
the time for work will soon bo passed , .1
and amid the outflashings of the judgment - a
mont throne and the trumpeting of |
resurrection angels and the upheaving" f
of a world of graves , and the hosanna J
and the groaning of the saved and the * i
lost , wo shall bo rewarded for our M
faithfulness or punished for our stupid- jf
ity. Blessed be the Lord God of Israel
from everlasting to everlasting , and let
the whole earth be filled with his
glory. Amen and amen.
.
FEW SHUT DOORS. |
VThy the I'conlo In Canada I.eavo j
Them Open. I
Canadians are known in Britain aa j
the people who never shut doors , says j
the Montreal Witness. Where rooms „ I
are heated , as they are there , by grate 1
fires , the opening of a door sets up au |
immediate draught , and if the person |
who opens it does not close it again ho
quickly realizes his mistake , if not la
his own sensations , then in the re
proachful glances of others. The first , , -
lesson in manners taught to children
rs to shut the door , and that quietly.
The door handle , the child is taught ,
is not only for the purpose of opening -
ing a door , but of shutting it. The
reason why Canadians do not learn to
shut doors is that their doors , for the
most part , stand open. The houses
are heated with a general heat , and
before the days of furnaces , unless the H
doors of the room stood open , the H
rooms would , for the most part , get ,
cold. Thus has gr"own the habit of
leaving doors open. When a Canadian
comes to shut a door , he is prone to 1
think that something very private is j
going on within -which he must not M
disturb , and his first impulse is to retire - M
tire from it. Where we in Canada M
have a door which we want kept shut H
we put a spring on it , and so where M
there are many offices there is usually | H
a general and constant slamming of / H
doors. To one not accustomed to the ffH
jarring thus occasioned the result is ff |
torture. In time kindly nature steps VH
in and mitigates the evil by making H
the auditory nerve less and less susceptible - > ' H
ceptible to an accustomed sound. Ask fl
a person who lives in a cathedral M
close , or under the shadow of one of 1
our great churches , whether the bells B
do not disturb him ; his reply Is : "Bells ? M
I never hear them. " H
COOLNESS IN THE PULPIT. ' ' < H
< < H
Probably Saved a Congregation from H
1'anlc and Disaster. H
Already vastly popular with his congregation - H
gregation , Rev. Arthur Wellwood o H
Brooklyn , raised himself still higher H
in general estimation on a recent H
Sunday- , when his coolness in the presence - H
ence of danger probably averted a H
wild stampede from the Church of the H
Incarnation. Although there were in- j H
dications of impending disaster , the H
people , acting upon his advice , filed H
out of the church in an orderly manner - |
ner to find a fire engine pouring water j H
into the cellar through a front win- | H
dow. Shortly after 11 o'clock smoke |
began to pour up through the regis- H
ters. The assistant pastor. Rev. Arthur - |
thur Wellwood , went down to the eel- j l
lar to see if the furnace was smoking. V H
He was alarmed to find the cellar full |
of smoke , so dense that he could not H
go inside. He ran out and turned in H
an alarm. Then he walked rapidly up H
the aisle , and after whispering to the H
officiating clergyman , said aloud : "The |
furnace seems to be smoking worse H
than usual. I think the congregation H
had better retire to allow us to open H
the windows. " The people , assured by H
his calmness , retired in good order , but H H
became somewhat alarmed when they | H
saw the engines and firemen in the H
It Applied to Both. |
Mr. Justice Maule once went on circuit - H
cuit with Judge Coleridge in a part of H
the country where the high sheriff was H
l shy and modest man and very much H
alarmed at having to entertain his H
: ynical lordship. Coming home in his 1
; oac ' n with the two judges , he thought |
it his duty to make conversation for H
them. He observed that he hoped H
there would be better weather , as the |
moon had changed. "And are you j H
; uch a fool , Mr. Jones , as to imagine H
that the moon has any effect on the H
n-eather ? " said Maule. "Really. Broth- H
= r Maule , " said Coleridge , who was Jj l
politeness itself , "you are very hard i H
jpon our friend. For my part , I J H
hink the moon has a considerable ef- H
a
Tect upon it. " "Then , " said Maule. 1
'you are as great a fool as Jones is. " I
fter which conversation in the sher- " |
ff's carriage languished. Rochester ' 1
Democrat and Recorder. H
It rains on an average 20S days in the 1
rear in Ireland , about 150 in England , 1
it Kezan about ninety days , and in Si- H
jeria only sixty days. |
