Decatur Democrat, Volume 38, Number 41, Decatur, Adams County, 28 December 1894 — Page 10

dra| Irar MS|m? fe» X TrtßKh iwt” \S3SEs!TC*rfirk CHAPTER IX.-Continued. And all the time, and underlying all there has been a stimulus others little dreamed of. a sour, a secret incentive, tne bare thought of which had been sufficient to incite anew had energy for a moment flagged, or ardor abated. That spell had been the thought of Bellenden. I He it was who had persuaded her to enter those new regions. It had been Ito please him that she had agreed to tread them, and to display to him her conquests and her triumphs was the .prize she had coveted. i She had pictured his questioning her as to this and that. In her mind's eye she had beheld him scanning her books, her maps, her records of one sort and another. For his ear she had 'treasured up little histories of difficulties encountered and victories obtained, and she had fancied, poor little thing, in her innocent heart, that when the happy day of meeting should come at last, she should find him as eager to hear as she to tell, and as appreciative and attentive «*s she could be discursive and dramatic.

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He had not teen expected before the autumn following bis departure. He had written—a hastv line,but sufficient under the circumstances—during those ' first over-crowded days of mourning at his old home, and he had hinted at writing again, and had hopett-fo meet 1 again some day, and had assured one and all that he could never feel grateful enough for all the kindness shown him at Inchmarew. For some time after the note had been received another had teen expected; but on young Raymond's departure, Mrs. Campbell had felt that she had probably for the present heard the last of his pleasant friend and guest, and that, considering all that had happened, it was hardly to be wondered at it it were so. “I shall ask him here for the twelfth next year, if you approve.” Cecil had observed-, und the suggestion having the following Umji been a vision standing Brightly out to view; ana dsily at last had the blue eyes scanned the contents of the postbag. and marked every envelope which might be Cecil’s, and might contain some words, something definite, some allusion or-reference even to that great meeting—but in vain. Cecil had come himself, and had neither written nor spoken once about Bellenden, Perhaps Geraldine’s grandmother had a quicker vision than the littie maid gave her credit for; it could hardly have been sheer forgetfulness which caused her to let the whole first evening of her grandson’s arrival pass without a question, considering what had once been agreed upon; she almost must have had some reason for waiting till after Jerry nad gone to bed to make her inquiries; but she had done all this, and Cecil having been equally reticent, the little girl had thought Bellenden forgotten by everyone but herself. He had not been so. Young Raymond had been somewhat sore on the subject, to tell the truth, and had not cared to touch upon it. He, as well as his grandmother, had seen more than either chose to take, notice of; and although at first Geraldine’s open manifest,devotion had merely amused the one and nettled the other, they had alike felt that it was as well it should quietly pass off, more especially as it had not to any appearance been reciprocated. 'Bellenaen had made a iuss about the little heiress when there had been nothing else tor him to do, and then he had gone off, and never given either her or her guardian another thought! No wonder each of the two elders had silently understood the other’s suppression of his name. The next . orning, however, Cecil had casually let fall a piece of information. “By the way, grandmamma,” he had said, ■‘you told me I might invite Bellendemto shoot here (Jerry’s heart thumped up at the words! if he should be our way,” continued the speaker, hunting for something in his pocket. “I did drop him a line, and 1 have his answer somewhere about me,” pulling out two or three crumpled envelopes. “Ay, here it is,’’and then he had read it alpud, and had afterwards, unconsciously, as it were, tossed the scrap over the table, and Jerry had read it for herself.

It had indeed been a disillusion. A few bold sentences—a reference to “his pleasant remembrance of Inchmarew and his charming visit there” —“his best regards to Mrs. Campbell and bis little friend Geraldine.” And that was all. His “little friend Geraldine!” How her heart had swelled at the words! She had then only been his “little friend Geraldine,” while he — oh! the moonlight night® on which she had lain awake, sleepless and dreamless, thinking about him! Oh, the days wherein she had watched and waited, harkening, as it were, for the faintest echoes of his approaching footfall, tho furthest away whisper ot his coming! Scarcely, if ever, had a single sun risen and set without there having been in the interim some association with him in her thoughts, her efforts, or her wishes. And he had not even come this once! And he had not even cared to pretend that he bad meant to come! For Bellenden had written hastily, and had let the simple truth appear. Inchmarew had never been in his program, and ho had made other arrangements. There had been no temptation to reconsider these, no inducement sufficiently .strong, no prospect sufficiently seduc-

tive: and, accordingly, he had let them stand, and had not when writing taken the pains to put another face upon the matter. All had been clearly cawveyed, and the vimh Yinterness of the conviction that it had been so, had kept the childwoman from betraying herself. No note in hervdce, no tear in her eye, nothing but a deep flush upon her cheek had been visible to others. She had endured her wound in silence, and had felt it throb and sting without a moan. But for a time all the sunlight had died out of her day-dreams, and what had before been full of ever deepening interest, these pursuits and occupations which had been growing ever more engrossing as the hour haa seemed to draw near when the harvest was to be reaped, all <?t these had become straightway almost iShthsome. She had not been ill. t»he had beep too hardy and too healthy for that. But she had drooped flagged, and at length fond eyes had seen, and there had been change of air and scene, and the young girl had been spirited about from place to place, untv the resultsof such delightful medicine had been all that might have been expected. Miss COrunna had been a princess of traveling companions, and the kindest and most judicious of nurses. Jerry had not only been shown this and that, and allowed to follow the bent of her , own ardent spirit in seeing the things i she really cardtt for, and doing what she really wished, but another sort of machinery had also been set a-going. She bad tasted something of the pleasures of being rich, had been set on to by numbers of nice new things, new adornments for her own modest little chamber, a new carpet and writingtable for the school-room, books, drawing materials, music. Miss Corunna had superintended the purchase of a ' vast piece of gorgeous silk embroidery, wherewith to beguile the winter evenings; and altogether there had , been a complete restoration to cheerfulness; ana if the studies Bad not been resumed presently with quite so much vivacity at the very first, it had been, perhaps, still more satisfactory to the preceptress to feel that now it had not been the mere novelty of the thing which had actuated the youthful disciple, but that there bad sprung up a steady resolution to progress, not'unmixed with a genuine taste for some branches of knowledge. But Bellenden had never been quite forgotten—nor forgiven. “True, he had been from that time regarded in a different light, namely, as one who had slighted and deceived. < It had been no longer to please him > i... num > < - ; -i-S -ifynnst. erately pronisdd that which he hla never intended to perform. In this, we may observe, Bellenden had been done injustice to; but Jerry coujd hardly be expected to understand as much. With all her brightness and gaiety she was, as may have been seen, of a very tenacious, downright,-and steadfast nature, and with her, as with others of her kind, to say, however lightly, “I will” do this or that, implied a promise, and a promise to be sacredly kept. This is, perhaps, a little hard upon the facile. Bellenaen, when he had sgid “I will come again to Inchmarew,” had cer-i tainly dreamed of nothing less than of imposing upon himself a solemn vow to do so. He had equally certainly meant to come, all winds being favorable: but to have known thaj the words as spoken were sinking deepdown into the breast of the listener at his side, to be registered there at the end of time, would, ■ -Indeed, have taken his breath away. He had now, in the eyes of his worshiper, disgraced himself and her who had believed in him.

He had broken his pledge,and broken it in the easy fashion of one to whom a pledge Her idol had fallen with a into a thousand pieces. She would think, of him no more. She would never breathe his name to human ear. The little casket of treasures, each of which spoke Os him and conjured his presence up? She would fling them to the winds. Even the most precious of all, the sketch of Inchmarew from the Kincraig bights—the pretty, dainty marvel of skill and beauty, set such infinite store by hithorto—it should go with the rest; and with ruthless, passionate fingers it had first been torn in many pieces. And thus had ended the day-dream, with an awakening sharp and bitter enough. But even that period had now gone by, and the peaceful routine of her improved and altered life with all its new occupations and aspirations, had completed the cure which her own dawning womanly pride and resolution had began. The next summer she had only occasionally wondered at times whether anything would be heard of the recreant or not? She had scarcely known whether or no she had even wished him to come. If she had wished it, it had been with a new object in view, namelv, to make it clearthat Sir 1< rederick Bellenden, changed as he might have himself proved to be, should find an equal, if not a still greater change ,in the “little friend” irom whom he had parted two years before. His “little friend!” She ha-dfelt she could never forgive him that. Had he come after these two years, he would have been met by a tall and graceful girl, whose stately greeting would have repelled all tardy advances towards renewed intimacy, and ignored all reminiscences. He should have been held,at arms' length, treated with dignified courtesy, and his presence, except in that of others, quietly avoided. All thrown away. He had never come, and apparently i Cecil had never asked him. By the next spring, ho had ceased to be i thought about at all. | For Geraldine was now, as we had said,on the brink of entering tbe great world, and although it would be doing her trusty guardian and grandmother injustice to let it be supposed that she contemplated launching a lovely girl upon a vortex pf fashion and folly, or even upon an absorbing giboy round of society pleasures, it must be borne in m|nd that the old lady i>ad h§y own

views about the matter, and was quite equal to carrying these out She had. no intention that her mountain heiress should go without the experience she deemed suitable and necessary, as well as the pleasures and pastimes enjoyable at her age. Happily, Geraldine was not by nature one whom the glitter and fume of fashionable life was lively to impress. Not only was shj. of too sincere and sißujbva vreposlflon, butiptaei “co granny’s early example, she had had of later years the inestimable advantage of beholding in the person of hor beloved instructress, humble unobtrusive piety acting upon the daily life, a lesson all involuntarily learnt, and now her chieftest safeguard. Miss Carunna was now, as was not surprising, friend, counselor, and indispensable companion—and accordingly on the May-aay with which this chapter opeds, who so busy as Miss Corunna about the all-important affair, and the decking of the fair debutauter Every one, high and low, indeed, wanted' to have a finger in the pie. The nurse who had cherished her nestling through every stage of childhood and girlhood—granny’s maid, who, intent on instructing and remembering, yet blundered sadly among new fashions and new follies—tne old butler who ran off like a boy to the nurseryman's, in terror lest the bouquets, (the scarlet and crekm one for the old lady, and the pure white for Geraldine) should not arrive before the hour appointed—the footman who flung opdn the hall-door for monsieur, the hairdresser, to enter, erts that veby fine personage could deadend from his hansom, bag in hand—down to every housemaid and scullery-maid in the establishment, who, abandoning their work for the nonce, giggled oyer the top of the stairs as eleven o’clock approached. . And then at the very last moment, what should have been the fyst moment, came the terrible discovery that Geraldine had no fan. The fan of white plumes which should have matched those in her hair had been forgotten, and if B(i§s porunna, all as she was, did not up a hat, ana spin round the corner like a whirlwind, returning in less than no time, triumphant Then came such a displaying and spreading of trains, and showing of accoutrements to the delighted household, whocSuld never look nor wonder, nor admire enough! Gt’anny said they really should be late, and was almost inclined to be a little put out, when it was proved that she was so completely wrong that thdy were among the very earliest on the line of carriages. Granny was surd that in her day people had been wont to set off earlier, and hoped that there was no falling off in the attendance on Her Majesty’s drawing-rooms; she would have been sorry, very sorry, to have witnessed any diminution of their ancient splendor, and so on. The dear old lady was soon consoled. That there was no falling off, .add qp curtailment, was obvious in a very Granny was looking beautiful nerself. Her train of black satin, lined with some old, old brocade, rich and rustling, such as the little Court dressmaker had seldom seen or handled before, and which made her little eyes twinkle now, was such as suited her stately, queen-like presence; and although our gracious Queen doeS forbid high necks and long sleeves on those occasions, granny had contrivgdfsotbbefrill and beruffle the poor dear old wrinkles were quite invisible beneath the soft/ folds, and were, indeed, ascomplete/youtofeight as though they had ne/tr been. > All her ancient djpmonds-and some of Geraldine's too, for Jerry wOulil wear none of them —looked brave in granny's silvery hair. Jerry had contented herself with a single row of milky pearls round her white throat, than which, indeed, nothing could have looked more soft and tender, so that even granny had not had the heart nor conscience to press the diamonds ba?k upon her, even while she had hardly felt it fair to shine herself in borrowed splendor. But to be sure, Geraldine shon.e unaided- She looked such a fresh, bright, raareht young thing in her simple white, with no adornments save the string of pearls, that, in the partial eyes so proudly bent upon her, it seemed there w.ould not, could not be a fairer rosebud blown that day. [TO BE CONTINUED.] Woods of the Northwest. At the iuter-sfyte exhibition of the northwest, now closed, which was Jield at Tacoma, Wash, the finest wpdd shown is of the Douglas pine, otherwise known as red fly—rather Course in grain, but exceedingly tough, and capable of bearing almost any strain. Both English and French experts have pronounced it superior to any wood for ship-building, bridges, and other strong work. It will bend oy twist like Iron, but no pressure can break it sparely as other woods break. When it parts it is in lohg, jagged rents. Other Valu--able woods are the red cedar, yellow, black, and bull pine, hemlock, spruefe, oak. maple, and ash. The yellow pine is generally utility lumber,-red cedar furnishes the best shingles in tho world, and western spruce is almost as good as oak for finishing purpose. A curly maple which grows in the Pacific coast states is exceptionally suited to cabinet work. There were several pieces of furniture at the fair made of this wood, three handsome boats and a piano. Then anti Now. A Father was complaining recently of the way in which his children destroyed their clothing. He said: “Why, when I was a boy I only had one suit of clothes, and I had to take care of it. I was only allowed one pair of shoes a' year in those days.” There was a pause, and then the youngest boy spoke up said: “My, dad, you have a much better time of it now you are living with ua."

J. Coleman Drayton assures a New York paper that he “wants no publicity in his divorce case.” He should have thought <?? thcit two years ago least,

TALMAGE’S SERMON. — * ™ E Say TW ° WEEKS AT BOMBAY. ® Hi® Talk®jUHtWretlTl?c Wor.hiper® r —U»ve®ttaut ion of Parse® Catochtam —A Visit to a Tower of Silence— Heathen Matrimonial Rite®. Among the Parsee®. Rev. Dr. Talmage, continuing his series of.round the world sermons through the press, has chosen this week for his subject “The Fire Worshipers,” the text selected being Matthew ii., 1, “There camo wise men from the east to Jerusalem.” These wise men were tbe Parsees, or the so-called fire worshipers, and I found their descendants in India last October. Their heathenism i* more tolerable than any of the other false religions and has more alleviations, aud while in this round the world series I have already shown you the worst forms of heathenism to-day I show you the least offensive. The prophet of the Parsees was Zoroaster of Persia*. He was; poet and philosopher and reformer as well as religionist. His disciples thrived nt first in Persin, but under Mohammedan persecution they retreated to India, where I met them, and in addition to what I saw of them at their headquarters in Bombay, India, I had two weeks of association with one of the most learned and genial of their people on shipboard from Bombay to Brindisi.

The Bible of the Parsces, or fire worshipers, as they nre inaccurately called, is the Zend Avesta, a collection of the strangest books that ever came into my hands. There were twenty-on® volumes, but Alexander the Great in a drunken fit set fire to a palace which contained some of them, and they went into ashes and forgetfulness. But there are more of their sacred volumes left than most people would have patience to read. There are many things in the religion of the Parsees that suggests Christianity, and some of its doctrines are in accord with our own religion. Zoroaster, who lived about 1,400 years before Christ, was a good man, suffered persecution for his faith and was assass'nated while worshiping at an altar. He announced the theory, “He is best who is pure of heart!” and that there arc two great spirits in the world—Ormuzd, the good spirit, nnd Ahriman, the bad spirit—and that all who do right are under the influence of Ormuzd, and r'. who do wrong are under Ahriman; that the Parsee must be born on the ground floor of the house and must be buried from the ground floor; that the dying man must have prayers said over him and a sacred* juice given him to drink; that the good at their decease go into eternal light and the bad into eternal darkness; that having passed out of this life the soul lingers near the corpse three days in a paradisaic state, enjoying more than ail the nations of earth put together could enjoy, or in a pandemoniac state, suffering more than all the nations put They pay great sW&'i health, and it is a rare thing to see a sick Parsee. They do not smoke tobacco, for they consider that a misuse of fire. At the close of mortal life the soul appears at the Bridge Chinvat, where an angel presides, and questions the soul about the thoughts and word's and deeds of its earthly state. Nothing, howpver, is more in-' tense in the Parsee faith than the theory ihattaf? dead body is impure. A devil is 'sqgifWed to fyke possession of the dead fy.il fyfy touch it are unclean, and henkrthe stfynge style ; Os obsequies. \ , Will, on which Tse wealthy classes hfyyetheirembowered homes aud the Parsees"their strange temples of the dead. We passed on up through gates into the garden that surrounds the’blace where the Parsees dispose of their dead. This garden was given by Jamshidji Jijibhai and is beautiful with flowers es all hues and foliage of all styles of vein and notch and stature. There is on all sides great opulence of fern and cypress. The garden is 100 feet above the level of the sea. Not far from the entrance is a building, where the mourners of the funeral procession go in to pray. A light is here kept burning year in and year out. We ascend the garden by some eight stone steps. The body of a deceased aged woman was being carried in toward the chief “tower of silence.” There are five of these towers. Several of them have not been used for a long while. Four persons, whose business is to do this, carry In the corpse. They are followed by two men with long beards. The tower of silence to which they come cost $150,000 and is 25 feet high and 276 feet around and without a roof. The four carriers of the dead and the two bearded men come to the door of the tower, enter and leave the dead. There are throe rows of places for the dead—the outer row for the men, the middle row for the women, the inside row for the children. The lifeless bodies are exposed as far down as the waist. As soon as the employes retire from the tower of silence the vultures, now one, now two, now many, swoop upon the lifeless form. These vultures fill the air with their discordant voices. We saw them in long rows on top of the whitewashed wall of the tower of silence. In a few minutes they have taken the last particle of flesh from the bones. There had evidently been other opportunities for them that day, and some flew away as though surfeited. They sometimes carry away with them parts of a body, and it is no unusual thing for the gentlemen in their country seats to have dropped into their dooryards a bone from the tower of silence. In the center of this tower Is a well, into which the bones are thrown after they are blenched. The hot sun and the rainy season nnd charcoal do their work of disintegration aud disinfection, and then there are sluices that carry into the sea what remains of the dead. The wealthy people of Malabar hill have made strenuous efforts to have these strange towers removed as a nuisance, but they remain and will no doubt for ages remain. Reverence for the Element® of Nature* I have talked with a learned Parsee about these mortuary customs. He said: “I suppose yon consider them very peculiar, but the fact Is wo Parsees reverence the elements of nature and cannot consent to defile them. We reverence the Are, and therefore will not ask it to burn our dead. Wo reverence the water and do not ask it to submerge our dead. We reverence the earth niifi will not ask it to bury our dead. ’ we let the vul-

turn® tak® them away." Rs confirmed me in the theory that the Parsee* act on the principle that the dead are unclean. the bones are to be remove! from the sidofcof the tower and put in the well nt the center, they are touched carefully by tongs. Then those people besides have very decided theories about the democracy of the tomb. No such thing ns caste among the dead. Philosopher and boor, the affluent and the destitute must go through the same “tower of silence,” lie down side by side with other oecupnnts, have their bodies dropped into the same abyss and be carried out through the same canal and float away on the same sen. No splendor of Necropolis, no sculpturing of mausoleum, no pomp of dome or obelisk. Zoroaster's teachings resulted in these “towers of silence.” He wrote, "Naked you camo into the world and naked you must go out." As I stood at the close of day in this garden on Malabar hili and heard the flap of the vultures' wings coming from their repast, the funeral custom of the Parsee seemed horrible beyond compare, and yet the dissolution of the human body by any mode is awful, and the beaks of these fowl are probably no mqre Repulsive tbnu the worms of the body devouring the sacred human form in cemeteries. Nothing but their resurrection day can undo the awful work of death, whether it now be put out of sight by cutting spade or flying wing./'' 4 At a Wedding. Starting homeward, we soon were in ' the heart of the city and saw a building nil a-flash with lights and resounding with merry voices. It was a Parsee wedding, in a building erected especially for the marriage ceremony. We came to the door and proposed to go in, but at first were not permitted. They saw we were not Parsecs, and that we were hot even natives. So very politely they halted us on the doorsteps. This temple of nuptials was chiefly occupied by women, their ears and necks and hands a-flatffb with jewels or imitations of jewels. By pantomime and gestures, as we had no use of their vocabulary, we told them we were strangers and were curious to see by what process Parsees were married. Gradually we worked our way inside the door. The building and the surroundings were illuminated by hundreds of candles in glasses and lanterns, in unique and grotesque holdings. Conversation ran high, and laughter bubbled over, and all was gay. Then there was a sound of an advancing band of music, but the instruments for the most part were strange to our ears and dyes. Louder and louder were the outside voices, and the wind and stringed instruments, until the procession halted at the door of the temple and the bridegroom mounted the steps. Then the music ceased, and all the voices were still. The {mother of the bridegroom, with a w &o ar d m “ tiCß and ar ’ I Tioncl ft srarlftnci of fin cl threw it over his neck and a bouquet.of flowers and put it in his hand.' Her part of the ceremony completed, the band re sumed its music, and through anothef . door the bridegroom was conducted intc the center of the building. The bride was in the room, but there was nothing to designate her. “Where is the bride?*' I said, “Where is the bride?” After a while she was made evident. The bride and groom were seated on chairs opposite each other. - A white curtain was dropped between them so that they could not see each other. Then the attendants put their arms under this curtain, took a long rope of linen and wound it around the neck of the bride and the groom in token that they were to be bound together for life. Then some silk strings were wound around the couple, now around this one and now around that. Then the groom threw a handful of rice across the curtain on the head"of the bride, and the bride responded by throwing a handful of rice across the curtain on the head of the groom. Thereupon the curtain dropped, and the bride’s chair was removed and put beside that of the groom. Then a priest of the Parsee religion arose and faced the couple. Before the priest was placed a platter of rice. He began to address the young man and woman. W 4 could not hear a word, but understood jut as well as if we had heard. Ever and anon he punctuated his ceremony by a handful of rice, which he picked up from the platter and flung now toward the groom and now toward the bride.

The ceremony went on interminably. We wanted to hear the conclusion, but were told that the ceremony would go on for a long while—indeed that it would not conclude until 2 o’clock in the morning, and this was only between 7 and 8 o’clock in the evening. There would be a recess after awhile in the ceremony, but it would be taken up again in earnest at half past 12. We enjoyed what we had seen, but felt incapacitated for six more hours of wedding ceremony, Silently wishing the couple a happy life in each other’s companionship, we pressed our way through the throng of congratulatory Parsees. All of them seemed bright and appreciative of the occasion. The streets outside joyously sympathized with the transactions inside. Women in India. We rode on toward our hotel wishing that marriage in all India might be a« much honored as in the ceremony we had that evening witnessed at the Parsee wedding. The Hindoo women are not so married. They are simply cursed into the conjugal relation. Many of the girls are married at 7 and 10 years of age, nnd some of them are grandmothers at 30' They can never go forth into the sunlighl with their faces uncovered. They artist stay at home. AU styles of maltreatment are theirs. If they become Christians they become outcasts. A missionary told me in India of a Hindoo woman who became a Christian. She had nine children. Her husband was over 70 years of age, and yet at her Christian baptism he told her to go, and she went out homeless. As long ns woman is down India will be down. No nation was ever elevated except through the elevation of woman. Parsee marriage is an improvement on Hindoo marriage, but Christian marriage is an improvement on Parsee marriage. A fellow traveler in India told me ire had been writing to his home in England trying to get a law passed that no white woman could be legally married in Indi* until she had been there six month*. Admirable Hw would that be! If a. White '■'<<<■. ■ t . ■ i. i • • ’

taAnswun.—— —i jii ■ Hindoo is, gne would novor unaenax# nh rr AhlU kospel of Jesus Christ will ever make life in India what It ought to be. But what an afternoon of contrast In Bombay we experienced! From the temple of silence to the temple of hilarity I From the vultures to the doves! From mourning to laughter! From gathering shadows to gleaming lights! From obsequies to weddings! But how much of all our lives is made up of such opposites! I have carried in the same pocket add read from them in the same hour the liturgy of the dead and the ceremony of espousals. And so the tear meets the sjnfle, and the dove meets the vulture. The Gloriou® Gospel of Christ. Thus I hove set before you the beet of all the religions of the heathen world, and I have done so in order that you might come to higher appreciaton of the glorious religion which has put its benediction over us and over Christendom.

Compare the absurdities and mummeries of heathen marriage with the plain "I will!” of Christian marriage, the hands joined in pledge “till death do you part.’’ Compare the doctrine that the dead may not be touched with as sacred and tendei and loving a kiss as is ever given, the last kiss of lips that will never again speak to us. Compare the narrow bridge Chinvat. over which the departing Parsee sou) must tremblingly cross, to the wide open gate of heaven, through which the departing Christian soul may triumphantly enter. Compare the 21 books of the Zend Avesta of the Parsee, which even the scholars of the earth despair of understanding, with our Bible, so much of it-as is necessary for our salvation in language so plain that “a wayfaring man, though a fool, need not err therein.” Compare the “tower of silence," with its vultures, at Bombay with the Greenwood of Brooklyn, with its sculptured angels of resurrection, and bow yourselves in thanksgiving and prayer as you realise that if at the battles of Marathon and Salamis Persia had triumphed over Greece instead of Greece triumphing over Persia, Parseeism, which was the national religion of Persia, might have covered the earth, and you and I instead of silting in the noonday light of our glorious Christianity might have been groping in the depressing shadows of Parseeism, a religion as inferior to that which is our inspiration in life and our hope in death as Zoroaster of Persia was inferior to our radiant and superhuman Christ, to • whom be honor and glory and dominion and victory and song, world without end. Amen! Affection. A certain young .French noblemap, who arrived in Washington a day or two ago, left in a hurry for his own shores, giving as a reason to the clerk of the uptown hotel where he stopped, that he could not enjoy himself in a country whose language he did not understand. He came, expecting Jo resmoothly* and there was every prospect « » union. It was to Claim the hand of the young lady that brought the gentleman to Washington, and on the day he landed <he sent back a cablegram to his mother, saying: “All is well; am very happy.” Tho very next day he cabled: “Everything broken off. Return at once.” .'.. What sudden clouds obscured his visions of bliss none except the parties to the episode know. Whether fate, in the shape of a stern father, interposed to break off the match is only for conjecture. Or it may be that the young aristocrat found at the last moment that satisfactory marriage settlements could not be made. At any rate he vanished, and some American girl will be all the happier for getting an American husband.— Washington Post

An Oddity. Joubert, the French moralist, whose “Thoughts” had great success, was so odd and original that a witty woman declared he gave her the Idea of a soul which had met by chance with a body that It had to put up with and do with as well as It could. His friend and editor, Chateaubriand, described him as an egotist who was always thinking of others. His ambition was to be perfectly calm, yet no one betrayed so much agitation as he. , . In eating and In taking exercise he was as Inconstant as a coquette? -®er several days he would live on milk; then for a week he would eat nothing but hash. On one day he would be jolted in a carriageat full trot over the roughest roads; on the next he would be drawn slowly through the smoothest alleys. . He had a library of mutilated books; for when he read he used to tear put of a book the pages that displeased him. Oyster Force Meat. To prepare oyster force meat use one generous pint of stale bread crumbs, one dozen large oysters, three tablespoonfuls of butter, one tablespoonful ■ of salt, one-eighth of a tedSpoonful of cayenne, one teaspoonfui" of minced parsley, a slight grating of nutmeg, one tablespoonful of lemon juice, three tabTbsooonfuls of oyster juice, and the yolks.of two uncooked eggs, says New York World. Chop the oysters very fine, add the other ingredients, pound to a smooth paste, and rub through a puree sieve. Taste to see If the preparation Is salt enough; If not, add more salt This force meat may be, used for timbales or for stuffing any* kind of fish or poultry. It may also be. shaped into balls, which may be covered with the yolks of eggs and bread crumbs and then fried, or the balls may be made very small, then rolled In egg yolks and browned In a hpt oven. When treated In this manner they are a nice garnish for soup. ~ Will Try It Again. South Africa will again essay cotton