Decatur Democrat, Volume 38, Number 22, Decatur, Adams County, 17 August 1894 — Page 8

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liran i J,7 Si I i w /J/ I / I j2m\ Ij CHAPTER XX—Continued. I? “My pet,” said Lord Clanyarde, in a . leading tone, “1 have brought a new fcoctor to see you, a gentleman who . lay be able to understa d your case ven betterjthan our friend Webb.” “No one ever knew her constitution as tell as I do,” commented Dr. Webb, atto voce. Constance raised her heavy eyelids nd looked at her fa herwithalanquid ronderas if the figures standing by iar couch were far away, and she saw hem faintly in the distance, without mowing what they were. The new doctor did not go through he usual formula of pulse and tongue, lor did he ask the old-established luestions, but he seated himself [uietly by Constance Sinclair's sofa and jegan to talh to her in a low voice, vhile Dr. Webb and Lord Clanyarde vithdrew to the other end of the room, vhere Gilbert was standing by a table, ibsently turning over the leaves of a “You have had a great sorrow, my lear lady,"said the German doctor, in .hat low and confidential tone which ometimes finds its way to the clouded brain when louder and clearer accents convey no meaning. “1 ou have had a great sorrow, and have given way to grief as if there were nocomfort either in earth or in heaven.” Constance listened with lowered eyelids, but a look of attention came into lettface presently, which the doctor ion on earth. Why can you not hope >r some sudden, unlooked-for hapiness, some great joy such as God has ometimes given to mourners like you? r our child was drowned, you think. Vhat if you were deceived when you elieved in her death? What if she ,as saved from the river? Ido not ay that it is so, but you can not be ertain. Who can know for a certainty hat the little one was really drowned?” The eyes were wide open now, starng at him wildly. “What’s the old felldw about so ong?” asked Gilbert; impatiently. “He is talaing to her about her shild," replied Lord Clanyarde. “Hd vants to make her cry if he can. He s i great psychologist. ” b “Does that mean a great humbug? isked Gilbert, “It sounds like it.” “Hope and comfort are coming to rou, dear Mrs. Sinclair,” said the Gernan doctor; “be sure of that. ” '■ Again Constance looked at him curl- | >usly; but at the sight of the smokejolored spectacles and the sallow old 'ace, half covered with white hair, ;urned away her eyes with a sigh. If the could have seen eyes that looked lonestly into hers, it might have given 'orce to that promise of comfort, but ;his blind oracle was too mysterious. She gave a long sigh and kept silent. /The Doctor looked at the open piano m the other si e of the fireplace, and emained in thoughtful silence fora ew moments. “Does vour mistress sing sometimes?” le asked Martha Briggs, who sat on juard by the sofa. “No, sir, not since she's bean so ill, mt she plays sometimes, by snatches, jeautiful. It would go to your heart to lear her. ” “Will you sing to me,” asked the Doctor, “if you are strong enough to go to the piano? Please, try to sing." Constance looked at him with the same puzzled gaze, and then tried to rise. Martha supported her on one side, the Doctor on the other, as she feebly tottered to the piano. “I’ll sing if you like,” she said, in a careless tone that told her how far the mind was from consciousness of the present. “Papa likes to hear me sing. ” She seated herself at the piano, and her fingers wandered slowly over the keys, and wandered on in a dreamy prelude that had litt'e meaning. The German doctor listened patiently for a few minutes to this tangle of arpeggios. and then, bending over the piano, played the few notes of a familiar symphony. Constance gave a faint cry of surprise, and struck a chord, the chord that closed the symphony, and began “Strangers Yet.” in apathetic voice that had a strange hysterical power in curious contrast with the feebleness of the singer. She sang on till she came to the words “child and parent.” These touched a sensitive chord, and she rose suddenly from the piano and burst into tears. “That may do her good,” said Dr. Webb, approvingly. “My friend is no fool," replied Lord Clanyarde. < > “Take your mistress to her room,” said Gilbert to Martha, with an angry look. “This is only playing upon her nerves. I wonder you can allow such folly, Lord Clanyarde!” “Your own doctors have agreed that some shock was necessary, something to awaken her from apathy. Poor pet; those tears are a relief, ” answered the father. He went to his daughter and assisted in arranging the pillows as she lay down on the sofa. Martha calmly ig-nored-her master’s order. The German doctor bent over Mrs. Sinclair for a moment, aud whispered the one word, “Hope,” and then retired with the three other gentlemen. “Would you like to prescribe anything?” asked Dr. Webb, taking the stranger into a little room off the hall. “No; it is a case in which drugs are useless. Hope is the only remedy for

Mrs. Sinclair’s disease. She must be beguiled with hope, even if it is delusive. ” “What?” cried Dr. Webb, “wouldyou trifle with her feelings, play upon the weakness of her mind, and let her awaken by and by to find herself deluded?" “I would do anything to snatch her from the jaws of death,” answered tho German doctor, unhesitatingly. “If hope is not held out to her, she will die. You see her fading day by day. Do you think there is any charm in vour modi ines that will bring her back to life?’’ “I fear not, sir,” answered Dr. Webb despondently. • , “Then you or those who love Her must find some more potent influence. She Is heart-broken for the loss of her child. She must be taught to think that her child is still living." “But when her mind grows stronger it would be a still heavier blow to discover that she had been deceived.” “She would be better able to bear the blow when health and strength had returned, and she might have formed an attachment in the meantime which would console her in the hour of disillusion. ” “I don’t understand," faltered Dr. Webb. “I’ll make myself clearer. A child must be brought to Mrs. Sinclair, a little girl of about the age of her own baby, and she must be persuaded to believe, now while her brain is clouded, that her own child is given back to her.” “A cruel deception,"cried Dr. Webb. “No; only a desperate remedy. Which are her friends to do—deceive her, or let her die? In her present condition of mind she will ask no questions; she will not speculate upon probabilities. She will take the child to her breast as a gift from heaven. A mind distraught is always ready to believe in the marvelous, to imagine itself the object of supernatural intervention. ” Dr. Webb looked thoughtfully and halt convinced. This German physi- i cian, who spoke good English, seemed j to have studied his subject deeply. Dr. i Webb was no psychologist, but he had seen in the mentally afflicted that very I love of the marvelous which Dr. Hoi- ; lendorf spoke about. And what hope - l r l wfen l a<u6tfuof' , B, , wfa'iilgd, rfdcit~T life and reason could be saved by this means and no other, surely the fraud would be a pious one. “Mr. Sinclair would never consent, ” said Dr. Webb. j “Mr. Sinclair must be made to consent. I have already suggested tnis < step to Loid Clanyarde, and he ap- I proves the idea. He must bring his ■ influence to bear upon Mr. Sinclair, 1 who appears an indifferent husband, i and not warmly interested in his wife’s * fate.” ] “There you wrong him,” cried the ' faithful Webb. “His manner,-does not I do him justice. The poor man has been in a most miserable condition I ever since Mrs. Sinclair's illness as- ; sumed an alarming aspect. Will you make this suggestion to him —propose our introducing a strange child?” “I would rather the proposal should come from Lord Clanyarde,” answered <i i the* strange doctor, looking at his i watch. “I must get back to London j by the next train. I shall tell Lord 'i Clanyarde my opinion as he drives me to the station. I think I have made my ideas sufficiently clear to you, Dr. Webb?” “Quite sp, quite so,” cried the little > man, whose mother was an Aberdeen i woman. “It is a most extraordinary thing. Dr. Hollendorf, that, although I have never had the honor of meel ing i you before, your voice is very familiar ! to me.” “My dear sir, do you suppose that Nature can give a distinctive voice to every unit in an overcrowded, world? ; You might hear my voice in the Fee-; . ’ees to-morrow. There would be noth- , ing extraordinary in that.” i “Os course, of course. An acci- ; dental resemblance," assented Dr. | Webb. j The German would take no fee; he i had come as Lord Clanyat de’s friend, i and he drove away in Lord Clanyarde’s | brougham without any further loss of time. Gilbert Sinclair and his friend de- • voted the rest of the evening to billiards, with frequent refreshment on Gilbert's part in the way of brandy. “You talked the other day about finding a purchaser for this confounded old barrack,” said Mr. Sinclair. “I hate the place more every day, and it is costing me no end of money for ra- ■ pairs—never saw such a rickety old hole, always some wall tumbling down or drain getting choked up—to say nothing of keeping up a large stable here as well as at Newmarket.” “Why not give up Newmarket?” sug--1 ge-ted Mr. Wyatt, with his common--1 sense air. ! “I'm not such a fool. Nemarket gives ! me some pleasure, and this place gives me none. ” “You must keep up a home for Mrs. ' Sinclair, and a London house would 1 hardly be suitable in her present ’ state.” “I can take her to Hastings or Ventnor, or to my box at Newmirket, if it comes to that.” [ “Isn't it better for her to be near her father?” ” “What docs she want with her fath- .. er, an old twaddler like .L'lanyarde, p without a thought beyond the gossip x of his club? Don’t humbug, Wyatt. You told me you could put your finger t on a purchaser. Was that bosh, or did T you mean it?” ’ ' “It was not bosh,’’answered Wyatt; e “but I wanted to be quite sure you were in earnest before I p ished my j proposal any further. You might consider it an impertinence for me to .. think of such a tning.” “What are you driving at?” “Will you sell Davenant to me?” j Gilbert dropped his billiard cue and j stood staring at his friend in blank amazement. Here was a new state of .. things, indeed. The professional man „ treading on the heels of the millionp aire. e “You!” he exclaimed, with oonr temptuous surprise. “J did not think

fifteen per cent, and renewals could be made so profitable. ” I "I’m too thick-skinned to resent the Insinuation,” said James Wyatt, cushioning his opponent’s ball. “I can afford to buy Davenant for the price you gave for it I’vo got just enough money disengaged. I sold out of Palermo# the other day when they were up, to provide the purchase money. I brought down a deed of transfer, and if you are in earnest we can settle the business to-morrow morning." “You're buying the place as a speculation,” said Gilbert, suspiciously. “Not exactly. But wnat would it matter to you it I were? You want to get rid of the place. I am ready to take it off your hands." “You have heard of a bid from somebody else?” “No, I have not" “Well, you're a curious fellow. Going to get married, I suppose, and turn country squire.” “Never mind my plans. Do you to sell?” “Yes.” “Then I’m ready to buy." The deed was executed next morn'ing. Gilbert stipulated that he was !not to surrender tne house till the mid- . summer quarter, and that James Wyatt was to take the furniture at a valuation. Mr. Sinclair was much pleased with ’ the idea of getting back five-and-thirty 1 thousand pounds of ready money for • place the purchase of which had been ia whim, and of the occupation whereof he was heartily tired. Those miners .of the north were still holding out, and money had not been flowing into his coffers nearly so as it had been 'flowing out during the last half year. He had made unlucky bargains in horseflesh—squandered his money on second-rate stock, and in winning small ; i aces that were not worth his people’s traveling expenses. In a word, he had ;done all tho. e foolish things which an idle man who thinks himself extremely ’ clever, and yet lends an ear to every new adviser, is apt to do. “Five-and-thirty, thou’ will put me finto smooth water.” he ,said, as he signed the contract with a flourish. Tho one suspicion as to Mr. Wyatt’s 'intentions, which would have prevented Gilbert Sinclair agreeing to the ' bargain, had never presented itself to this mind. James Wyatt went back to London that afternoon, promising to meet his client next day at the Argyle street ‘branch of the Union Bank, and hand | over the purchase money. At eight I o’clock that evening he presented himiself at bit Cyprian Davenant s chambers. He found his friend sitting alone (among his books, smoking an Indian J hookah. “Wyatt, old fellow, this surprise,” i Garrick, I’Ve just coni'e tronwUavenant. “Indeed! How is Mrs. Sinclair?’’ “Pretty much the same, poor souk j How long is it since you heard of her?” “I saw Lord Clanyarde at his club | about a week ago. ” “Well, there’s been no change lately. ♦Something wrong with the mind, you (see, and a gradual ebbing away of •strength. She’s not long for this 1 world, I’m afraid; but she was too good (for it Angels are better off in heaven n,han they are with us. We don’t appreciate them. ” ' * “No more than swine appreciate ♦pearls,” said Sir Cyprian. ' “What would you give to get Davensant back?” asked Mr. Wyatt, without '-preface. ' “What would I give? Anything—[half my fortune.” ’ “What is your fortune worth?” “About a hundred and fifty thouisand.” i “Well, then, I sha’n t want so muchias half of it, though your offer is !, tempting. Davenant is mine.' “Yours!” > “Yes, at the price you got for it, with i another five thousand as a sporting b d i'for the furniture and improvements. I! Give me five-and-twenty per cent, on #my purchase and Davenant is yours.” I “Willingly. But how about Mrs. 1 Sinclair? Will it not grieve her to iilose the place?” |! “Whether or no. the place is sold. I !l tell you, Sir Cyprian, 1 stand before 'i you the owner of Davenant and all its ' i appurtenances. I did not buy it for .myself, but on the speculation that, as ■ I bought it cheap, you would be glad Ito.give me a profit on my purchase. I j knew Sinclair well enough to be very Ssure that he would let the roof rot over his head before he would consent to tell the place to you.“ “You have done a friendly thing, ’’Wyatt, and I thank you. I should hes*itate, perhaps, in agreeing to such a I? bargain were any other man than Mr. ♦binclair in question, but I do not feel imyself bound to stand upon punctilio ♦•with him.

“Punctilio, man! There's no puncit lio to stand upon. Sinclair sold the C tho estate to me, unconditionally, and * 1 have an indisputable right to sell it ' to you." (TO BE CONTINUED. | Paris’ City of the Dead. Some forty or fifty years ago the catacombs of Paris were the objects of daily visits, and the sight was one which every visitor to Paris felt called upon t j see. Accidents, however, frequently took place, and at present no one enters the catacombs except at certain periods of the year, when the engineers have to make a formal report as to their condition. The venti-. lation is effected by means of numerous holei communicating with the upper air. The names of visitors are called ever before they go down and again when they come up. The general aspect of the place is not so solemn as might be imagined. It suggests rather a vast wine cellar, in which the cases inclose bones instead of bottles. The relics of 4,000,000 persons now repose there. This subterranean city contains streets and passages like the city above. ' Footing the Bills of the Fair. The American custom of paying for your friends in cases or restaurants prevails in though nowhere else on the continent, lays a traveler. Formerly gentlemen who accompanied ladies on their shopping expeditions were in the habit of paying for everything their fair friends bought, so that gallantry became a too expensive luxury, and the custom wisely died out. It used t> be said in Andalusia, where women were more extravagant than in the north, that a long purse was ed for a short walk with a lady. The custom is obsolete now, and she who allows ycu to make purchases for her is supposed to be devoid of high breedLing.

TALMAGE’S SERMON. '-*'■ '"T'' -iiWWWL o'' f AN ABLE DISCOURSE UPON THE EVILS OF SUICIDE. The Great I’reAcher Say» it la the Wont of All Crlm«»—lnHdclMy and Self Destruction—Jt Chriatlan’e Life, Death, aud Immortality. , Do Thyself no Harm. Rev. Dr. Talmage, who is now abroad, has selected as his subject for his sermon through the press this week, the word "Suicide,” the text being Act< xvi, 27. 28: "Ho drew out his sword am! wbuld have killed himself, supposing the prisoners had been fled. But Paid cried with aloud voice, saying, Do thyself no barm.” Hero is awould-bo suicide arrested in his deadly attempt. He was a sheriff, and according to the Roman law a bailiff himself must suffer the punishment lue an escaped prisoner, and if the prisoner breaking iail was sentenced to oeendungeoned for three or four years then the sheriff must be endungeoned forlhree or four years, and if the prisoner breaking jail was to have suffered capital punishment then the sheriff must suffer capital puniahmenjnent. The Sr eriff bad received especial ; charge to keep a sharp lookout for Paul and Silas. The Government hadnot had confidence in bolts and bars to keep safe these two clergymen, about whom there seemed to I>e something strange and supernatural. Sure enough, by miraculous power they are free, and the Sheriff, waking out of a sound sleep, and supposing these ministers have run away, and knowing that they were to die for prepching Christ, and realizing that he must therefore die, rather than go under tho executioner’s ax on the morrow and suffer public disgrace resolved to precipitate his own decease. But before the sharp, keen, glittering dagger of the Sheriff could strike his heart one of the unloosened prisoners arrests the blade by the command, "Do thyself no harm.” In olden time and where Christianity had not interfered with it suicide was considered honorable and a sign of courage. Demosthenes poisoned himself when told that Alexander’s embassador had demanded the surrender of the Athenian orators. Isocrates killed himself rather than surrender to Philip of Macedon. Cato, rather than submit to Julius Caesar, took his own life, and after three times his wounds had been dressed tore them open and perished., Mithridates killed kfuei'ilfirjifa uabodta'oTe. ‘ LyßUfgfls a suicide, Brutus a suicide. After the disaster of Moscow, Napoleon always carried with him a preparation of opium,and one night his servant heard tne ex-emperor arise,put something in a glass and drink it, and soon after the groans aroused all the attendants, and it was only through utmost medical skill he was resuscitated from the stupor of the opiate. A Spreading Evil. Times have changed, and yet the American conscience needs to be toned up to the subject of suicide. Have you seen a paper the last month that did not announce the passage out of life by one’s owta behest? Defaulters, alarmed at the idea of exposure, quit life precipitately. Men losing large fortunes to go out of tho world because they cannot endure earthly existence. Frustrated affection, domestic infelicity, dyspeptic impatience, anger, remorse, envy, jealousy, destitution, misanthropy, are considered sufficient causes for absconding from this life by paris green, by laudanum, by belladonna, by Othello’s dagger, by halter, by leap from the abutment of a bridge, by firearms. More cases of “felo de so” in the last two years of the world’s existence. The evil is more and more spreading. A pulpit not long ago expressed some doubt as to whether there was really anything wrong about quitting this life when it became disagreeable, and there are found in respectable circles people apologetic for the crime which Daul in the text arrested. T shall show you before I get througn that suicide is the worst of all crimes, and I shall a f t a warning unmistakable. But in the early part of this sermon I wish to admit that some of the best Christians that ever lived have committed selfdestruction, but always in dementia and not responsible. I have no more doubt about their eternal felicity than I have of the Christian who dies in his bed in the delirium of typhoid fever. While the shock of the catastrophe is very great I charge all those who have had Christian friends under cerebral aberration step off the boundaries of this life to have no doubt about their happiness. The dear Lord took them right but of their dazed and frenzied state into perfect safety. How Christ feels toward the insane you may know from the kind way He treated the demoniac of Gadara and the child lunatic and the potency with which He hushed the tempests either of sea or' brain. Scotland, the. land prolific of intellectual giants, had none grander than Hugh Miller, grdat for science and great for God. He came of the best highland blood, and he was a descendant of Donale Roy, a man eminent for his piety and the rare gift -of second sight. His attainments, climbing up as he did from the quarry and the wall of the stonemason, drew forth the astonished admiration of Buckland and Murchison, the scientists, and Dr. Chalmers, the theologian, and held universities spellbound while „he told them the story of what he had seen of God in the old red sandstone.!--Allowance Made. The man did more than any being that ever lived to show that the God of the hills is the God of the Bible, and he struck his tuning fork on the rocks of Cromarty until he wrought geology and theology accoraant in divine worship. His two books, entitled "Footprints of the Creator” and the "Testimony of the Rocks,” proclaimed the banns of an everlasting marriage between genuine science and revelation. On this latter book he toiled da/ and night through love of nature and love of God until he could not sleep, and his brain gave way, and he was found dead with a revolver by his side, the cruel instrument having had two bullets—one for him and the other for the gunsmith who at the coroner’s inquest was examinifig it and fell deao. Have you any doubt of the beautification of Hugh Miller after his hot brain had ceased

throbbing that winter night In his < study at Portedello? Among the I mightiest of earth, among the might- i last of Heaven. i No one ever doubted the piety of I William Cowper, the authQr of those i three great hymns, "Oh, For a Closer i Walk With God!” "What Various • Hindrances Wo Moot!” "There Isa < Fountain Filled With Blood,” William 1 Cowper, who shares with Isaac Watts I and Charles Wesley the chief honors < of Christian hymnology. In hvpochon- i dria he resolves to take his own life i and rode to tho river Thames, but found a man seated on some goods at the very point from which ho expected « to spring, and rode back to his home, ! and that night throw himself upon his own knife, but tho blade broke, and i then he hanged himseif to the ceiling, i but the rope parted. No wonder that i when Goa mercifully delivered him from that awful dementia he sat down and wrote that other hymn just us memorable: God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform. He plants bin foots tope in the sea And rides upon the storm, Blind unbelief is sure to err And seen bis work in vain, God is His own interpreter. And He will make It plain. A Leap to Perdition. While we make this merciful and righteous allowance in regard to those who were plunged into mental incoherence I declare that tho man who in the use of his reason by his own act snaps the bond between his body and ( his soul goes straight into perdition. Shall I prove it? Revelation xxi, 8, . "Murderers shall have their part In ' the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone.” Revelation xxii, 15, “Without are dogs and sorcerers and whoremongersand murderers.” You do not believe the New Testament? Then perhaps you believe the Ten Commandments: "Thou shalt not kill.” Do you say all these passages refer to the taking of the lite of others? Then I ask you if you are not as responsible for your own life as for the life of others? God gave you a special trust in your life. He made you the custodian of vour life as He made you the custodian of no other life. He gave you as weapons with which to defend it two arms to strike back assailants, two eyes to watch for invasion and a natural love of life which ought ever to be on the alert. Assassination of others is amild crime com cared with the assassination of yourself, because in the latter case it is treachery to an especial trust; it is the surrender of a castle you were especially appointed to keep; it is treason to a natural law, and it is treason to God added to ordinary murder. To show how God in the Bible looked ynon this srime 1 uoint vou to thel crime. Here is the headless trunk of Saul on the walls of Bathshan. Here is the man who cnased little Davidten feet in stature chasing four. Here is tho man who consulted a clairvoyant, witch of Endor. Here is a man who, whipped in battle, instead of surrendering his sword with dignity, as many a man has done, asks his servant to slay him, and when the servant declines then the giant plants the hilt of the sword in the earth, the sharp point sticking upward, and he throws his body on it and expires, the coward, the suicide! Here is Ahithophel, the Machiavilli of olden times, betraying his best friend David in order that he may become prime minister of Absalom and joining that fellow in his attempt to parricide. Not getting what he wanted by change ot politics, he takes a short cut out of a disgraced life into the suicide's eternity. There he is, the ignored! Worse Than Judas. Here is Abimelech, practically a suicide. He is with an army bombarding a tower, when a woman in the tower takes a grindstone from itsplace and drops it upon his head, and with what life he has left in a cracked skull he commands his armor bearer, "Draw thy sword and slay me, lest men say a woman slew me. ” There is his post mortem photograph in the book of Samuel. But the hero of this group is Judas Iscariot. Dr. Donne says he was a martyr, and we have in our day apologists for him. And what wonder, in this day when we have a book revealing Aaron Burr as a pattern of virtue, and in this day when we uncover a statue to George Sand as the benefactress of literature, and in this day when there are betrayals of Christ on the part of some of nis pretended apostles —a betrayal so black it makes tne infamy of Judas Iscariot white! Yet this man by his own hand hung up for the execration of all the ages, Judas Iscarot. All the good men and women of tho Bible left to God the decision of their earthly terminus, and they could have said with Job, who had a right to commit suicide it any man ever had, what with his destroyed property and his bodv all aflame with insufferable carbuncles and everything gone from his home except the chief curse of it—a pestiferous wife—and four garrulous people pelting him with comfortless talk he sits on a heap of ashes, scratching his scabs with a piece or broken pottery, yet crying out in triumph, "All the days of my appointed time will I wait till my change come.” The Prime Catue. Notwithstanding the Bible is against ' this evil and the aversion which it creates bv the loathsome and ghastly spectacle of those who have hurled themselves out of life,. and notwith- ' standing Christianity is against it and the arguments and the useful lives and the illustrious deaths of its deciplesj it is a fact alarmingly patent that suicide is on the increase. What is the cause? I charge upon infidelity and agnos- ; ticism this whole thing. If there be no hereafter, or if that hereafter be blissful without reference tri how we live and how we die, why not move ■ back the folding doors between this ' world and the next? And when our existence here becomes troublesome i why hot pass right over into Elysium? Put this down among your most solemn reliections and consider It after you go to your homes; There has never been a case of suicide where the operator was not either defnented and therefore irresponsible or an infidel. I challenge the whole universe. There never has been a case of self destruction while in full appreciation of his i immortality and of the lact that im- . mortality would be glorious or ; wyetched, according as he accepted - JeSus Christ or rejected Him You say it is business trouble, or you i say it is electrical currents, or it is i this, or it is that, or it is ' the other i thing. Why not go clear back, my I friend, and acknowledge ttyat In every

case it is the abdication of reaaon or the teaching of infidelity, which practically says, "If youdon’t like this life, got out of It.” And you will land either In annihilation, where there are no notes to pay, no persecution! to suffer, no gout to torment, or you will land where there will l»e everything glorious and nothing to pay for 4*. Infidelity always has been apologetic for selfimmolation. After Tom ralne's "Age of Reason” was published and widely read there was a marked increase of self slaughter. ApoloKlata for Suicide. A man in London hoard Mr. Owaa deliver his Infidel lecture on "Socialism” and went home and sat down and wrote these words: "Jesus Christ Is one of the weakest characters in history, and the Bible is the greatest possible deception,” and then shot himself. David Hume wrote these words: "It would be no crime forme to divert the Nile or the Danube from its natural bed. Where, then, can be the crime In my diverting a few drops of blood from their ordinary channel?” And having written the essay he loaned it to a friend. The friend read it, wrote a letter of thanksand admiration and then shot himself. Appendix to the same book. Rousseau, Voltaire, Gibbon. Montaigne, under certain circumstances, were apologetic for self immolation. Infidelity puts up no bar to people’s rushing out from this world to the next. They teach us it does not make any difference how you live here or go out of this world, you will land either in an oblivious nowhere or a glorious somewhere. And infidelity holds the upper end of the rope for the suicide, and aims the pistol with which a man blows his brains out, and mixes the strychnine for the last swallow. If Infidelity could carry the day and persuade the majority of people that it does not make any difference how you go out of the world you will land safely, the rivers would be so full of corpses the ferry boats would be impeded in their progress, and the crack of a suicide's pistol would be no more alarming than the rumble of a street car. Ah! infidelity, stand up and take thy sentence! In the presence of Gdd and angels and men, stand up, thou monster, thy lip blasted with blasphemy, thy cheek scarred with lust, thy breath foul with corruption of the ages! Stand up. satyr, filthy goat, buzzard of the nations, leper of the centuries! Stand up. thou monster Infidelity! Part man, part panther, part reptile, part dragon, stand up, and take thy sentence! Thy hands red with the blood in which thou hast washed, thy feet crimson with the human gore through which thou hast waded, stand up andtake thy sentence! 'knives Whifih tnou Hast ror - others, and let thy music be the everlasting miserere of those whom thou hast damned! I brand the forehead of Infidelity with all the crimes of self immolation for the last century on the part of those who had their reason. Make the Beet of Things. My friends, if ever your life through its abrasions and its molestations should seem to be unbearable, and you are tempted to quit it by your own behest, do not consider yourselves as worse than other. Christ himself was tempted to cast himself from the roof ot the temple, but as He resisted so resist ye. Christ came to medicine all our wounds. Tn your trouble I prescribe life instead of death. People who have had it worse than you will ever have it have gone songful on their way. Remember that Goa keeps the chronology of your life with as much precision as he keeps the chronology of nations, your death as well as vour birth, your grave as well as your cradle. Why was it that at midnight, just at midnight, the destroying angel struck the blow that set the Israelites tree from bondage? The 430 years were not up at 11, and 1 o’clock would have been tardy and too late. The 430 years were up at 12 o’clock, and the destroying angel struck the blow, and Israel was free. And God knows just the hour when It is time to lead you up from earthly bondage. By his grace make not the worst of things, but the best of them If you must take the pills, do not chew them. Your everlasting rewards will accord with your earthly perturbations, just as Cains gave to Agrinpa a chain of gold as heavy as had been his chain of iron. For your asking you may. have the same grace that was given to the Italian martyr, Algerius, who, down in the darkest of dungeons, dated his letter from "the delectable orchard of the Leonine prison.” Divinely Arranged. And remember that this brief life of ours is surrounded by a rim, a very thin but very important rim, and close up to that rim is a great eternity, and you had better keep out of it until God breaks that rim and separates this from that. To get rid of the sorrows of earth, do not rush into greatest sorrows. To get rid of a swarm of summer insects, leap not into a jungle of Bengal tieers. An Old, Old Story. Here is an extract from the diary ot a man who lived 109 years ago: Women grow more frivolous every day. Young ladies scorn housework and learn to embroider, to play the piano, and to flirt, while their mothers are engaged in all the drudgery of the household. They eschew all useful reading, and prefer French novels to English c'assics. In selecting husbands they choose dandies with social graces, rather than men with solid attainments. They are full of strange, whimsical notions peculiar to the age. This is very much like the growl of the pessimists of our own day. He Only Wanted to Know. - "Papa,” said an inquisitive boy, "don’t fishes have legs?” "They do not,” answered papa. "Why don’t they, papa?” "Because fishes swim and don’t re* quire legs." The small boy was silent for a few minutes, and papa forgot about his questions. Then he asked, "Papa, ducks have legs, don’t they?" v «‘Why, yes, ducks have legs." “Well, ducks swim, don’t they?" "Yes.” "Then why don’t fishes have legs If ducks do? or why don’t ducks nos have any legs if fishes don't?" Papa gave It up.