Decatur Democrat, Volume 38, Number 7, Decatur, Adams County, 4 May 1894 — Page 8

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■ l l'^STeP s W_, wffijy 'ff* n n//\ . any ot^er channel, and which may not i * Ww* j/ \ be altogether unwelcome.” 1 ijJy fl \ “What news can you possibly bring >i 4r> vjg | me?" she asked, with a startled look. *‘wy| \ llWwfe/vjrMSL I “Would it distress you to hear that '’iML \ 'wtr JmV \ Colonel Walsingham is ill—danger* k ' * irS*V % * i ously ill, even?” *vwlF / Her breath came quicker as he tiVg zW /|V _ 1 spoke. nt 1 nli h W* “lam not hypocrite enough to preal ///1 I 1 II LJ tend that,” she answered. “Mv heart j| Xz / I It has long been dead to any feeling but j UksK. anger-4 will not say hatred, though / HmJi' I be has deeervedßks much —where that 6 man is concerned. I have suffered too 1/7 1/ much by my alliance with him." w/ i/n I 1 “TUa»i Ut mo Kxi frha final. tzi nnnorrA.t-

4gJp X CHAPTER IV. “OTrNNt) HBB AND SHB KNOWS NOT HOW TO rOKGIva I Three days after the little dinner in Half-Moon street, Mrs. Walsingham sat at hereditary breakfast-table rather later than usual, dawdling over the morning papers, and wondering drearily what she should do with the summer day before her. She had seen nothing of Gilbert Sinclair since the dinner, and had endured an agony of self-tor-ment in* the interval. His name appeared in one of the morning journals among the guests at a distinguished countess’ ball on the previous evening, and in the list of names above Mr. Sinclair she found those of Lord Clanyarde and his daughter. There had ueen a time when Gilbert set his face against all fashionable entertainments, voting them the abomination of desolation. He had changed of late, and went everywhere, raising fond hopes In the breasts of anxious mothers with large breeds of marriageable daughters waiting for their promotion. Mrs. WaLingham sat for some time looking vacantly at the long list of Kes, and thinking of the man she d. Yes, she loved him. She knew his nature by heart; knew how nearly that obstinate, selfish nature verged upon brutality, and loved him nevertheless. Something in the force of his character exercised a charm over her own imperfect disposition. She had .believed in the strength of his affec(tion for herself, which had been shown in a passionate, undisciplined kind of manner that blinded her to the shallowness of the sentiment. She had been Intensely proud of her power over this rough Hercules, all the more proud of his subjugation, because of that halfhidden brutishness which she had long ago divined in him. She liked him for what he was, and scarcely .wished him to be better than he was. She only wanted him to be true to her. When he had asked her, years ago, to he his wife, she had frankly told him the story of her youth and marriage. Her husoand was five and twenty years her senior, a man with a constitution broken by nearly half a century of hard living, and she looked forward hopefully to a speedy release from a union that had been hateful to her. She had believed that it would be possible to retain Gilbert’s affection until the time when that release should come without sacrifice to her reputation. Had she not believed and hoped this, it is impossible to say what guilty sacrifice she might have been willing to make rather than lose the man she loved. She had hoped to keep him dangling on, governed by her womanly tact, a faithful slave, until the Colonel, who led a stormy kind of existence about the Continent, haunting German gambling tables, should be good enough to depart this life. But the Colonel was a long time exhausting his battered constitution, and the flowery chain in which Mrs Walsingham held her captive had faded considerably with the passage of years. A loud double knock startled the lady from her reverie. Who could such an early visitor be? Gilbert himself, perhaps. He had one of those exceptional constitutions to which fatigue is a stranger, and would be no later astir to-day for last night's ball. Her heart fluttered hopefully, but sunk again with the familiar anguish of disappointment as the door was opened and a low, deferential voice made itself heard in the hall. These courteous tones did not belong to Gilbert Sinclair. A card was brought to her presently, with James Wyatt’s name upon it, and “on special business, with many apologies, ” written in pencil below the name, in the solicitor's neat hand. “Shall I show the gentleman to the drawing-room, ma’am, or will you see 13 'him here?” asked the servant. “Ask him to come in here. What special business can Mr. Wyatt have we me?” she wondered. The solicitor came into the room as she asked herself this question, looking very fresh and bright, in his careful morning costume, with a hot-house flower in the button-hole of his perfectly fitting coat. He was more careful of his toilet than many handsomer men, and knew how far the elegance of his figure and the perfection of his dress went to atone for his plain face. “My dear Mrs. Walsingham,” he began, “I owe you a thousand apologies for this unseasonable intrusion. If I did not think the nature of my business would excuse ” “There is nothing to be excused. You find me guilty of a very late breakfast, that is all. Why should you not call at half-past ten as well as at half-past two? It was very kind of you to come at all. ” ’ “I hold it one of my dearest privileges to be received by you, ” he replied, with a certain grave tenderness. “There are some men who do not know when they are happy, Mrs. Walsingham. 1 am not one of those. ” She looked at him with a surprise 1 that was half scornful. J “Pray snare me the pretty speeches which make you so popular with other I women,” she said, “You spoke of business just now. Did you really mean Asa y ” L .“Nbt in a legal sense. My errand r this morning is of rather abdicate na- : ture. I iyomd not for the world disH tress or offend you by any unwarranted ■allusion to your domestic relations, but H believe I am the bearer of news which Kan scarcely have reached you yet by

“Then let me be the nrst to congratulate you upon vour release from bondage. Your husoand is dead." Clara Walsingham’s cheek blanched and she was silent for some moments, and then she asked in a steady voice, “How did you come by the news of his death?” “In the simple t and most natural manner. My business requires me to be au oourant as to continental affairs/ and I get several French and German newspapers. In one of the last I found the account of a duel, succeeding upon a quarrelat the gaming-table, in which your husband fell, shot through the lungs. He only survived a few hours. His opponent was a Frenchman and is now under arrest. Shall I read you the paragraph?” “If you please,” answered Mrs. Walsingbam, with perfect calmness of manner. Her heart was beating tumultously, nevertheless. She had a dismal conviction that no advantage—that is to say, not that one advantage for which she longed—wouldjcome to her from her husband’s deatu. HvW eagerly she had desired his death once! To day the news gave her little satisfaction. Mr. Wyatt took a slip of newspaper from his card-case, ana read her the brief account of the Colonel’s exit from this mortal strife. Duels were common enough in Prussia, and the journal made very little of the Sanguinary business. “As many of my friends believe me to have been left a widow long ago, I shall make no fuss about this event: and I shall be very grateful if you will be good enough not to talk of it anywhere," Mrs. Walsingham said, by and by, after a thoughtful pause. “I shall be careful to obey you,” answered the lawyer. “I wonder how you came to guess that I was not a widow, and that Colonel Walsingham was my husband. He took me abroad directly after our marriage, and we were never in England together.” “It is a solicitor’s business to know a great many things, and in this case there was a strong personal interest. You accused me just now of flattering women; and it is quite true that I have now and then amused myself a little with the weaker sex. Until about a year ago I believed myself incapable of any real feeling—of any strong attachment—and had made up my mind to a life of solitude, relieved by the frivolities of society. But at that time a great change came over me, and I found that I too was doomed to suffer life’s great fever. In a word, I fell desperately in love. I think you can guess the rest.” “I am not very good at guessing, but I suppose the lady is some friend of mine, or you would scarcely choose me for a confidante. Is it Sophy Morton? I know you admire her.” “As I admire wax dolls, or the Haidees and Zuleikas of an illustrated Byron,” answered Mr. Wyatt, with a wry face. “Sophy Morton would have about as much power to touch my heart or influence my mind as the wax dolls or the Byronic beauties. There is only one wcman I have ever loved, or ever can'lowe, and her name is Clara Walsingham.” Mrs. Walsingham looked at him with unaffected surprise. “I am s Try that I should have inspired any such sentiment, Mr. Wyatt. I can never return it. ” “Is that your irrevocable reply?” “It is,” she answered, decisively. “You reiect the substance —an honest man's love —and yet you are content to waste the best years of your life upon a shadow. ” “I don’t understand you.” “Oh, yes, I think you do. I think you know as well as Ido how frail a reed you have to lean on when you put your trust in Gilbert Sinclair.” “You have no right to speak about Mr. Sinclair,” answered Clara Walsingham, with an indignant flush. “What do you know of him, or of my feelings in relation to him?” “I know that you love him. Yes, Clara, it is the business of a friend to speak plainly; and even at the hazard of incurring your anger, I will do so. Gibert Sinclair is not worthy of your affection. You will know that I am right before long if you do not know it now. It is not in that man's nature to be constant under difficulties, as I would be constant to you. Your hold upon him has been growing weaker every year.” “If that is true, I shall discover the fact quite soon enough from the gentleman himself,” replied Mfrs. Walsingham, in a hard voice, and with an angry cloud upon her face. “Your friendship, as you call it, is not required to enlighten me upon a subject which scarcely comes within the province of a solicitor. Yes, Mr. Wyatt, since plain speaking is to be the order of the day, I am weak enough and blind enough to care for Gilbert Sinclair better than for anyone else upon this earth, and if I do not marry him I shall never marry at alt He may intend to jilt me. Yes, I have seen the change in him. It would be a vain falsehood if I denied that I have seen the change, and I am waiting for the inevitable day in which the man I once believed in shall declare himself a traitor. “Would it not be wise to take the initiative, and give him his dismissal?” “No. The wrong shall come from him. If he can be base enough to forget all the promises of the past, and to ignore the sacrifices I have made for him, his irifatny shall have no excuse from any folly of mine. ” “And if you find that he is false to you—that he has transferred his affection to another woman—you will banish him from your heart and mind, I trust, and begin life afresh. ” Mr. Walsingham laughed aloud.

. 1 !! 1 “Yes. I shall begin a new life, for from that hour I shall only live upon one hope.” “Ana that will be " “The hope of revenge." “Revenge Is a hard word," he saM, after a long pause. “Redress is much better. If Mr. Sinclair should marry, as I have some reason to think he will " “What reason?" “Public rumor. Hie attentions to a ’ certain youug lady have been remarked by people I know." “The lady is the beautiful Miss Clanyarde." ’ “How did you discover that?" “From his face the other night." “You are quick at reading his face?" 1 “Yes. I believe he is over head and ears in love with Constance Clanyarde, as a much better man, Cyprian Daven- ' ant, was before him; ana I have no ' doubt Lord Clanyarde will do his utmost to bring the match about. ” •“How long has this been going on?” ’ “Since the beginning of this season. He may have lost his heart to the lady last year, but his attentions last year were not so obvious.” “Do you know if Miss Qlanyarde cares for him?” “I have no means of knowing the lady’s feeling on the subject, but I havp a considerable knowledge of her father in the way of business; and I am convinced she will be made—induced is, I suppose, a more appropriate word—to accept Sinclair as a husband. Lord Clanyarde is as poor as Job and as proud as Lucifer. Yes, I think we may look upon the marriage as a certainty. And now, Mrs. Walsingham, remember that by whatever means you seek redress I am your friend, and shall hold myself ready to aid and abet you in the exaction of your just right You have rejected me as a husband. You shall discover how faithful I can be as an ally." “I have no doubt I ought to be grateful to you, Mr. Wyatt,” she said, in a slow, weary way, “but I do not think your friendship can ever be of much service to me in the future happiness of my life, and I trust that you will forget all that has been said this morning. Good-by." She gave him her hand. He held it with a gentle pressure as he answered her. “It is impossible forme to forget anything that you have said, but you shall find me as secret as the grave. Good-by.” He bent his head and touched her hand lightly with his lips before releasing ft. In the next instant he was gone. “How she loves that snob!" he said to himself as he walked away from Half-Moon street. “And how charming she is! Rich, too. I could scarcely mike a better match. It is a case in which inclination and prudence go together. And-how easily I might have won her but for that man! Well, well, I don’t despair of ultimate victory, in spite of Gilbert Sinclair. Everything comes to the man who knows how to wait.” |TO Bl CONTINUED. I THE SUPREME COURT. The Majority of Cases Brought Before It Are Simply for Delay. That august body, the Supreme Court of the United States, has been dubbed “ the great mechanism of procrastination ” and to call it by that title seems to do it no injustice. It is said that nine out of every ten cases submitted to this high tribunal are carried up to it not for the purpose of obtaining the reversal of decisions rendered by lower courts, but purely and simply for the sake of delay—or ordinarily to keep people out of money which they have won by law. How effective this plan is may be judged when it is contidered that after the briefs in a case are filed four years must ordinarily elapse before the latter can come up for consideration. There are 4,000 cases on the docket now. No other legal tribunal that ever existed has possessed such well nigh absolute power as is wielded by the Supreme Court of the United States. It can even overthrow any law passed by Congress and signed by the President, if it chooses to discover a constitutional flaw in the measure, and from its decision there is no appeal. Such awe does it inspire that lawyers of great reputation and experience who plead before it are often seized with fright, turn pale and forget their words in its presence. A distinguished legal luminary from New York confessed the other day that, after arguing a case at the bar of the Supreme Court, he always goes straight to his hotel and changes his underclothing, because it is soaked with perspiration! On the other hand, it sometimes happens that a country attorney who says "drawed” and “ain’t got none" will exhibit the utmost sangfroid in addressing the august row of black gowns. i Unappropriated Syllables. In the early days of the gold excitement in California a young German i from Michigan departed for California, and after prospecting for awhile, set-, tied there. His name was John G. Almondinger, add wishing to Americanize himself as ; much as possible he applied to the > Legislature of California, and had his name changed to John G. Almond. t A few days later a man named John Smith applied to the same Legislature, and after reciting a long catalogue of i the ills to which he was subject, owing to his unfortunately common name, he , said in conclusion: “And whereas I have nbticed that ; you have curtailed the name of J. G. . Almondinger to J. G. Almond, and ; have not disposed of the “inger,” which seems to be lying around loose, I respectfuUy.req.uest that the same . may be added to my name.” The result of this appeal is not stated. K» How Canada Got Its Name. i The orgln of the word “Canada” is i curious enough. The Spaniards visited that country previous to the French, and made particular search for gold i and silver, and, finding none, they often said among themselves. “Aca Nada” (there is nothing here'. The Indians—who watched closely—learned this sentence and its meaning. The French arrived, and the Indians, who wanted none of their company i and supposed they also were Spaniards come on the same errand, were anxious to inform them in the Spanish sentence, “Aca Nada.” i The French, who knew as little of Spanish as the Indians, supposed this incessantly recurring sound was the name of the country, and gave it the name Canada, whion it has borne ever since.

; TALMAGE’S SERMON. WRESTLING WITH THE SUPERNATURAL IS DISCUSSED. 1 A Sermon of Banutlfnl Imagery oa the Spiritual Coniliota of Life— The Famoua Preacher Bas Somethin* to Say on the Nonesaentlals of Religion. Dr. Talmage last Sunday preached on the spiritual conflicts of Hie. taking for his text Genesis xxxli, 24-2«: “And Jacob was left alone, ana there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day. And when he saw that he prevailed not against him he touched the hollow of his thigh, and the hollow of Jacob’s thigh was out of joint as he wrestled with him. And he said, Let me go, for the day breaketh. And he said, I will not let thee go except thou bless me.” The dust arose from a traveling herd of cattle and sheep and goats ana camels. They are the present that Jacob sends to gain the good will of his offended brother. That night Jacob halts by the brook Jabbok. But there is no rest for the weary man. No shining ladder to let the angels down into his dream, but a fierce combat that lasts until the morning with an unknown visitor. They each try to throw the other. The unknown visitor, to reveal his superior power, by a touch wrenches Jacob's thigh bone from its socket, perhaps maiming him for life. As on the morning sky the clusters of purple cloud begin to ripen Jacob sees it is an angel with whom he has been contending and not one of his brother’s coadjutors. “Let me go,” cries the angel, lifting himself up into increasing light. “The day breaketh.” You see in the first place that -God allows good people sometimes to get into a terrible struggle. Jacob was a good man, but here he is left alone in the midnight to wrestle with tremendous influence by the brook Jabbok. For Joseph, nit; for Daniel, a wild beast den; for David, dethronement and exile; for John the Baptist, a wilderness diet and the executioner’s ax; for Peter, a prison; for Paul, shipwreck; for John, desolate Patmos; for Vashti, most insulting cruelty; for Josephine, banishment; for Mrs. Sigourney, the agony of a drunkard’s wife; for John Weslev, stones hurled by an infuriated mob; for Catherine, the Scotch girl, the drowning surges of the sea; for Mr. Burns, the buffeting of the Montreal populace; for John Brown of Edinburgh, the pistol shot of Lord Claverhouse: for Hugh McKail, the scaffold; for Latimer, the stake; for Christ, the cross. For whom the rooks, the gibbets, the guillotines, the thumbscrews? For the sons and daughters of the Lord God Almighty. Some one said to a Christian reformer, “The world is against you.” “Then,” he replied, “I am against the world.” Redhot Disaster. I will go further and say that every Christian has his struggle. This man had his combat in Wall Street; this one on Broad Street; this one on Fulton Street; this one on Chestnut Street; this one on State Street; this one on Lombard Street; this one on the Bourse. With financial misfortune you have had the midnight wrestle. Redhot disasters have dropped into your store from loft to cellar. , What you bought you could not sell. Whom you trusted fled. The help you expected would not come. Some giant panic with long arms and grip like death, took hold of you in an awful wrestle, from which you have not yet escaped, and it is uncertain whether it will throw you or you will throw it. is another soul in struggle with some bad appetite. He knew not how steathily it was growing on him. One hour he woke up. He said, MFor the sake of my soul, of my family and of my children and of my God, I must stop this!” And, behold, he found himself alone by the brook Jabbok, and it was midnight. That evil appetite, seized upon him, and he seized upon it, and, oh, the horror of the conflict! When once a bad habit has aroused itself up to destroy a man, and the man has sworn that, by the help of the eternal God, he will destroy it, all Heaven draws itself out in a long line of light to look from above, and hell stretches itself in myrmidons of spite to look up from beneath. I have seen men rally themselves for such a struggle, and they have bitten their lips and clinched their fists and cried with a blood red earnestness and a rain of scalding tears, “God help me!” From a wrestle with habit I have seen men fall back defeated. Calling for no help, but relying on their own resolutions, they have come into the struggle, and for a time it seemed as if they were getting the upper hand of their habit, but that habit rallied again its infernal power and lifted a soul from its standing and with a force borrowed from the pit hurled it into utter darkness. First I saw the auctioneer’s mallet fall on the pictures, and musical instruments, and the rich upholstery of his family parlor. After awhile I saw him fall into the ditch. Then, in the midnight, when the children were., dreaming their sweetest dreams and Christian households are silent with slumber angel watched I heard him give the sharp shriek that followed the stab of his own poniard. He fell from an honored social position; he fell from a family circle of which once he was the grandest attraction; he fell from house of God, at whose altars he had been consecrated; he fell—forever! But thank God I have often seen a better termination than that. * * I have seen men prepare themselves for such a wrestling. They laid hold of God’s help as they went into combat. The giant habit, regaled by the cup of many temptations, came out strong and defiant. They clinched. There were the writhlngs and distortions of a fearful struggle. But the old giant began to waver, and at last, in the midnight alone, with none but God to witness, by the brook Jabbok, the giant fell, and the triumphant wrestler broke the darkness with the cry, “Thanks be unto God, who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ.” A Glorious Promise. .There is a widow’s heart, that first was desolated by bereavement, and since by the anxieties and trials that came in the support of a family. It Is a sad thing to see a man contending for a livelihood under disadvantages, but to see a delicate woman, with helpless little ones at her back, fighting the giam® of poverty and sorrow, is more affecting. It was a humble home, and passersby knew not that ifithin those

—> < 1 , four walls were displays of courage more admirable than that of Hannibal crossing the Anns, or the pass of Thermopylae, or Balaklava, where, “into the mws of death rode the six hundred.” These heroes had the whole world to cheer them on, but there were none to applaud the struggle in the humble home. She fought for bread, for clothing, for Are, for shelter, with aching head and weak side and exhausted strength through the long night by the brook Jabbok. Could It be that none would give her help? Had God forgotten to be gracious? No, contending soul! . The midnight air is full of wings coming to the rescue. She hears it now, in the sough of the night wind, in the ripple ot the brook Jabbok, the premise made so long ago ringing down the sky, “Thy fatherless cnilaren I will preserve them alive, and let thy widows trust in me!" Some one said to a very poor woman, “How is it that in such distress you .keep cheerful?” She said: “1 do it by what 1 call cross prayers. When I had my rent to pay, and nothing to pay it with, I used to sit down and cry. But now Ido not get discouraged. If I go along the street, when I come to a corner of the street I say, ‘The Lord help me. ’ I then go on until I come to another crossing ot the street, and again I say, ‘The Lord help me.’ And so I utter a prayer at every crossing, and since I have got into the habit of saying these ‘cross prayers’ I have been able to keep up my courage.” Grand Trials. Learn again from this subject that people sometimes are surprised to find out that what they have been struggling with in the darkness is really an “angel of blessing.” Jacob found in the morning that this strange personage was not an enemy, but a God dispatched messenger to promise prosperity for him and for his children. And so many a man gt the close of his trial has found out that he has been trying to throw down his own blessing. If you are a Christian man, I will go back in your history and find that the grandest things that have ever happened to you nave been your trials. Nothing short of scourging, imprisonment and shipwreck could have made Paul what he was. When David was fleeing through the wilderness, pursued by his own son, be was being prepared to become the sweet singer of Israel. The pit and the dungeon were the best schools at which Joseph ever graduated. The hurricane that upset the tent and killed Job’s children prepared the man of Uz to write the magnificent poem that has astounded the ages. There is no way to get the wheat out of the straw but to thrash it. There is no way to purify the gold but to burn it Look at the people who have always had it their own way. They are proud, discontented, useless and unhappy. If you want to find cheerful folks, go among those who have been purified by the fire. After Rossini had rendered “William Tell” the five hundredth time a company ot musicians came under his window in Park and serenaded him. They {>ut upon his brow a golden crown of aurel leaves! But amid all the applause and enthusiasm Rossini turnea to a friend and said, “I would give all this brilliant scene for a few days of youth and love,” Contrast the melancholy feeling of Rossini, who bad everything that this world could give him, tojhe joyful experience of Isaac Watts, whose misfortunes were innumerable, when he says: The hill of Zion yields A thousand sacred sweets Before we reach the heavenly fields Or walk the golden streets. Then let our songs abound And every tear be dry. We are marching through Immanuel's ground To fairer worlds on high. It is prosperity that kills and trouble that saves. While the Israelites were on the march amid great privations and hardships they behaved well. After awhile they prayed for meat, and the sky darkened with great flocks of quails, and these quails wl in large ' multitudes all about them, and the Israelites ate and ate and stuffed themselves until they died. Oh, my friends, it is not hardship or trial or starvation that injures the soul, but abundant supply.' It is not the vulture of trouble that eats up the Christian’s life. It is the quails. It is the quails. You will yet find out that your midnight wrestle by the brook Jabbok is with an angel of God come down tg bless and save. The Mark es Trouble. Learn, again, that while our wrestling with trouble may be triumphant we must expect that it will leave its mark upon us. Jacob prevailed, but the anerel touched him, and his thigh bone sprang from its socket, and the good man went limping on his way. We must carry through this world ttib marks of the combat. What plowed those premature wrinkles in your face? What whitened your hair before it was time for frost? What silenced forever so much of the hilarity of your household? Ah, it is because the angel of trouble hath touched you, that you go limping on your way. You need nqt be surprised that those who have passed through the fire do not feel so gay as once they did. Do not be out of patience with those who come out of their despondency. 1 They may triumph over their loss, ana yet their gate shall telbyou that they nave been trouble touched. Are we stoices that we can, unmoved, see our cradle rifled of the brightTefres and the sweet lips? Can we stand unmoved and see our gardens ot earthly delight 1 uprooted? Will Jesus, who wept himself, be angry with us if we pour our tears into tne graves that open to swallow down what we love best? Was Lazarus more dear to him than our beloved dead to us? No. We have a right to weep. Our tears must come. ' You shall not drive them back to scald the hearts. They fall into God’s bottle. Afi.icted ones have died because i they could not weep. Thank God for the sweet, the mysterious relief i that i comes to us in tears. Under this gentle rain the flowers of corn put forth i their bloom. God pity that dry, withered,parched, all consuming grief that wrings its hands, and grinds its teeth, and bites its nails unto the quick, but cannot weep! We may have found tho comfort of tne cross, and yet ever after i show that in the dark nigJxt and by the brook-Jabbok we were trouble touched. Again we take the idea of the text and announce the approach of the daydawn. No one was ever more glad to seethe morning than was Jacob after that night of struggle. It is appropriate for philanthropists and Christians to cry Put with the angel of the text,

tries of the earth are perishing. The time was When we were told wanted to go to Heaven, we must be immersed or sprinkled, or we must believe in the perseverance ot the saints, or in falling away from grace, or a liturgy, or no liturgy, or they ,must be Calvinists or Arminlans in order to reach Heaven. We have all come to confess now that those are nonesaantials in religion. The Christian Map* During my vacation one summer I was in a Presbyterian audience, and it was sacramental day, and with grateful heart I received the holy communion. On the next Sabbath I was in a Methodist church and sat at alove feast On the following Sabbath I was in an Episcopalian church and knelt at the alter and received the consecrated bread. Ido not know Which service I enjoyed the most. “I believe in tho communion of saints and in the life everlasting.” “The day breaketh.” As I look upon this auflleqce I see many who have passed through waVes of trouble that came up higher than the girdle. In God’s name I proclaim cessation of hostilities. You snail not go always saddened and heartbroken. God will lift your burden. God will bring your dead to life. -God will stanch the heart’s bleeding. I know He will. Like as a father fifties hta v children, so the Lord pities you. The pains of earth will end. The tomb will buret. The dead wilt rise. The morning star trembles on a brightening sky. The gates of the begin to swing open. The day breaketh. Luther and Melancthdn were talking together gloomily about the prespecta of the chureh. They could see no hope of deliverance. After, awhile Luther got up and said to Melancthon: “Come, Philip, let Us sing the fortysixth psalm of David. ‘God. ia our refiigA and strength, * very. ™!e£ept help*in trouble. Therefore vriH not we fear, though the earth be removed and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea, though the waters thereof roar and ,be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. Selah. ’ ” The Tlnal Stnurgte. Death to many— all—is a struggle and a wrestle. We have many friendsthat it will be hard to leave. I care not how bright our future hope is. It is a bitter thing to look upon this fair world and know that we shall never again sea its blossoming spring, its falling fruits, its sparkling streams, and to say farewell to those with whom we played in childhood or counseled In manhood. In that night, like Jacob, we may have to wrestle, but God will not leave us unblessed. It shall not be told in Heaven that a dying soul cried unto God for help, but was not delivered. The lattice may be turned to keep out the sun, or a book set to dim the light of the midnight taper, or the room may be filled with the cries of orphangage and widowhood, or the church of Christ may mourn over our going, but if Jesus calls all is well. The strong wrestling by the brook will cease, the hour of death’s night will pass along, 1 o’clock in the morning, 2 o’clock in the morning, 4 o’clock in the morning—the day breaketh. So I would have it when I die. lam in no haste to be gone. 1 have no grudge against this world. The only fault 1 have to find with the world is that it treats me too well But when the time comes to go I trust to be ready, my worldly affairs all settled. If I have wronged others, I want then to be sure of their forgiveness. In that last wrestling, my arm enfeebled with sickness and my head faint, I want Jesus beside me. If there be hands on this side of the flood stretched out to hold me back, I want the heavenly hands stretched out to draw me forward. Then, O Jesus, help me on and help me up. Unfearing, undoubting, may I step right out into the. light and be able to look back to my kindred and friends who wduld detain me here, exclaiming: “Let me go; let me go! The day breaketh.” : .., Bedmen of Guiana. There are still “red men” in Guiana, according to Mr. Smith .Qelacours’s report—descendants of the in. habitants at the time of its discovery. They are, apparently, of three or more separate origins. > The oldest inhabitants are believed to be the Warrans, who lead a semi- 1 amphibious life., without agriculture, and rather as fishers than hunters. Where these people came from is not known. Os more certain* origin are the second set, the Arawacks, who : were driven southward from the 1 West Indian Islands; jAfter them I came a whole series of Carib tribes, who were also forced southward from ] the West Indies. Just before the I advent of the Europeans, * the last of I the Carib tribes made Ito appearance, I and its (people were known as the 7 “True Caribs,” In life and surroundings there ,is I no great difference between any of 1 the existing tribea They live in ] small family groups, the mutual re- I lations of the members being ad- j mirably regulated by a very decided, L though unwritten code. They pass perfectly simple lives, the happiness 5 t of which seems to be enhanced by P e the inevitable collisions with other I u tribes. A sufficiency of food is pro- fa cured by hunting and fishing and al r primitive kind of agriculture. Their houses, adds Mr. Smith Delacour, are of the simplest, but exactly what ir tc. required, and the furniture is usually a hammock. Clothing is “a ques- i>< tion for the future.”—London Daily News. ■, / ' 11 1 " Vl r ■ l '" ’ l " ir ' ri ‘" ri '" r ■ Making Hairpins. __ Hairpins are made; by automatic| and very complicated machines. Thei coil wire is put upou drums, and be -I comes straightened as it feeds itself on in the machine. It passes along unfed til it reaches two cutters, whicfditj point the ends at the same time tnaf they cut It to the length requiredL This piece of wire then slips alonf the iron plate until it reaches « slov through which it is pressed into tb| OTH regular shape. The hairpins aw then put into a pan and japanned after which they are heated itt d oven with a temperature of from 3d ■ ■ I I