Decatur Democrat, Volume 39, Number 23, Decatur, Adams County, 23 August 1895 — Page 8

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CHAPTER Xlll.~(Contlnued.) “I am no sensitive young girl, Lady lorrington,” she said at length, with a ind of slow bitterness, “to shrink from my feelings, and I think you •ill admit that your brother has deceived le, basely, treacherously. He had no oubt found it convenient to lead his cred:ors to believe that he was on the point f marriage with a rich' widow, and so ain time for the settlement of his affairs, for this he did not hesitate to make me •n object of remark to all the company ay,” cried Lady Dorrington, greatly dis-1 ressed and even alarmed at the suptressed, concentrated fury which she perceived under Mrs. Ruthven’s carefully •reserved self-control. “I am infinitely ishamed of Clifford; but, indeed, he is in •very way incapable of making the use •on suggest of his position with you. He s the merest slave of his whims ajhd fan■y. He was, I know, greatly taken with ou; and then all that horrid business •f the robbery kept you apart, and he fell n with Nora —and —oh! it is all beyond ay comprehension! It makes me perfecty ill when I think of Clifford’s unutterade folly. I had, indeed, hoped to call you ny sister.” “I think you are honest, and alive to the .dvantages that marriage with me offers, shall always consider you my friend. As to your brother, I have made up my nind how to act. He will find lam not o be trifled with; but I must gather a ittle more strength before I can deal vith the matter.” “Surely, my dear Mrs. Ruthven, no egal redress could possibly atone for the yrong done?” said Lady Dorrington, in incertain accents, very different from her isual decided tone, so appalled was she )y the prospect of the commonplace vul- ■ jarity of an action in court. « “Are you afraid of a breach of promise rial?” was her guest’s counter-question, iccompanied by a mocking, contemptuous . augh. “That would be a very weak and I nefficient payment of the debt I owe Mr. j i Marsden —but I will not allow myself to H ipeak more oh the subject. It must be rnost painful to you; it is too much for me. hf can write no more to-day. May I trust :o your kindness to send for Sir Harley J Portman? And will you be so good as to i isk Virginie to bring me my medicine? I nust rest and be quite quiet now.” < Lady Dorrington felt herself dismissed. ; If she had gone to Mrs. Ruthven in an f. mxious, angry frame of mind, she left her I vith a sense of danger and trouble intensi- | ied tenfold. The change in Mrs. Ruthit 'en’s manner from its ordinary caressing I oftness to the abrupt decision of one who s. mew her power and would use it, seemed 0 take the ground of superior position and . ligher breeding from under th? elder voman’s feet. Mrs. Ruthven was, inleed, not to be trifled with. The vagueless of her threats made Lady Dorringg on still more uneasy. Did she know of I iny crooked corners in Clifford’s conduct vhich would brand him with disgrace, I vere they known and blazoned abroad? If so, how merciless she would be. “I i Vish I never had had anything to do with ler,” thought Lady Dorrington, as she sat lown In the refuge of her own morning •oom. “It is useless to try and help Clifford. He is hopeless. Bqt I think 1 must send him a line of warning* I am really afraid of that woman. I shall never care to be with her again. She was naturally angry, and I do not wonder at it; but there was a murderous look in her eyes. I do believe she has a large share of Eastern blood! How unprincipled it was of Mrs. L’Estrange and Nora to attract Clifford! They are quite aware that I am most anxious he should marry Mrs. Ruthven! quite; yet they set themselves against me; and I have been so fond of Nora, and so kind to her too?’ Here her reflections became chaotic. Though of the strong-minded order of • women, Lady Dorrington had both family pride and family affection in abundance. ■ The idea of open scandal or disgrace b attacking her brother was intolerable, and her anxiety to shield him was not one i whit lessened by her indignation and wrath with his inconsiderate folly! • «««*•• Clifford Marsden meantime sped Londonward, well content with the result of his visit. He had put matters in train; a there was no room now for-Lady Dorrington to say that he had kept her in the dark about so important a matter ad his - marriage, and she would no doubt impart the knowledge to Mrs; Ruthven. They would have ample opportunity to abuse him together, and by the time they all met again the worst would have blown over. He arrived in town late and resolved j not to disturb Nora and Mrs. L’Estrange » at that hour. Next morning would do. He had a deep, though unacknowledged, f conviction that he must be careful and » cautious in his conduct to Nora. Yet, in spite of his love, there were moB ments when a kind of lurid revelation flashed across hirii that, if he could not succeed in warming her coldness into ’ something akin to his own fire, the day might when he would hate her with a deadly hatred, ay, and revenge himself cruelly on her, if she persisted in. her maddening indifference. He could scarce endure the torture it gave him, when she shrunk from the caresses with which he would fain have loaded her, and his longing for the reciprocity of natural, unforced tenderness, was painfully intense. However, absence always made him • ifiore hopeful. He had not seen Nora for three days, and who could tell what change that interval might have wrought . in the incomprehensible heart of a young girl? The post brought him a large number of letters, most of which needed notice, and before Marsden had finished the briefest replies he was informed that a gentleman wished to see him. This proved to be a clerk from the office of .Messrs. Cookson , & Dunn, his solicitors, who was the bearer of a letter announcing that a fresh tenant for Evesleigh had offered better terms, and it was desirable that the question should be uiicussed without loss of time.

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I Finally it was past midday before Marsden could present himself at S Street. Nora was looking, he thought, well, and very handsome. She had more color than usual, and her manner was less tranquilly composed. She seemed disturbed by his presence, and was red and white alternately. But her welcoming smile was as sweet as ever, and Marsden tasted some moments of intoxicating delight fancying that the icy indifference he so much dreaded was at last melting away before the passionate ardor of his advances. “I am glad to see you looking better, Nora,” he said, taking his accustomed place beside her work table. Work was her great resource—.such a blessed occupation for eyes and hands. “Yes,” remarked Mrs. L’Estrange, “I assure you I was quite nervous about her | “And Lady Dorrington?” asked Nora. “How is she? And did you—did you tell her?” coloring crimson. “I did,” said Marsden, smiling. “Murder will out!” “Was she very angry?” persisted Nora, eagerly. “I am sure she is displeased.” “She wishes you had more money; that’s all, I think.” “There is a great deal more, I imagine, Clifford; she is angry with me. I know what her plans were, and it makes me uncomfortable to feel that I have been the cause of their defeat. I am really fond of Lady Dorrington.” “And you naturally object to be converted into an instrument of torture?” said Marsden, lightly. “She is mistaken, however; she would never have succeeded in marrying me to her mind, even if I had not met a certain witch of a kinswoman. Why, Nora, you must not look dismayed. When you have been Isabel’s sister-in-law for a year or two she will think me the luckiest fellow going, especially whep she sees the reformation you will work in me.” “I share Nora’s feeling that your only near relative’s objection to your marriage is peculiarly unfortunate; perhaps it might, be m well to postpone ” “Gr—eat heavens! No!” interrupted Marsden, energetically. “You know I have agreed to put off the wedding till after the 15th of February, and that is an age—nearly two months off.” “Barely enough time to make due preparations,” said Mrs. L’Estrange, laughing* “Preparations! Why, very few are necessary. Nora and I are old friends, and don’t want to astonish each other with finery,” urged Marsden. Nora laughed and tried to rouse herself. “I am very fond of pretty things, I assure you,” she said. “And is there any reason that the power of choice or purchase should leave you when Nora L’Estrange becomes Nora Marsden?” “And Mrs. Ruthven is really getting better?” asked Mrs. L’Estrange. “Really and truly this time—recovering sufficiently to dabble in business, which her soul loves. I was amazed this morning by a summons from my lawyer, which delayed my appearance here, and on reaching the office I found it was an offer from Mrs. Ruthven to rent Evesleigh for five years at a higher rent than any yet proposed. Fortunately I had not absolutely come to terms with the man who has been nibbling at it for some time, so I determined to give the fair widow the preference.” “It is curious her wishing to live at Evesleigh, when she wanted to fly from it after that dreadful robbery,” said Mrs. L’Estrange. “I suppose these jewels will never be found, nor the robber.” “Not after this lapse of time, I fancy,” returned Marsden, lightly. “I should think the thief is tolerably safe.” “1 forgot to tell you that Mr. Winton ; passed through town while you were ■ away,” said Mrs. L’Estrange. “He seems '■ disposed to return to India before his holiday is half over. He has gone down to • see his uncle, Giles Winton, before he ’ goes.” “Ah! Mark Winton is a capital fellow, • in spite of his solemnity. You did not t make yourself agreeable enough to him, r Mrs. L’Estrange, or he would not be in ■ such a hurry to run away,” and Marden 5 threw an expressive glance at Nora as he , spoke, which sent an icy, painful dart e through her heart. What had not this 1 fatal impression of Aarsden’s cost her? “That is the uncle who brought him up with his own son, is it not?” continued i- Marsden. f “Yes,” said Mrs. L’Estrange. “The >; son is dead,” she sighed. ;- “I did not know that. Then Winton is e the old man’s heir?” s “I believe so.” Mrs. L’Estrange rose t and closed her writing-book. “You will, y lam sure, excuse me, as I promised ” e “Pray do not apologize,” cried Marst den, gleefully. “Is it not very fine to-day?” exclaimed ] Nora. “Do you know, Clifford, I should e enjoy a drive so much.” “Wotlld you? Well, I will go and find I a conveyance, and a tolerable pair of J horses; you shall drive to your heart’s content.” “And you, Helen?” Q “My dear, you know lam engaged,” t and with a smile and nod. of the head 0 Mrs. L’Estrange left them together. y “And you are glad to see me back, h Nora, as glad as the last time I returned?” f said Marsden, taking her hand and kiss- [. ing it repeatedly. “Yes! Oh, yes! only I feel nervous, une easy, not a bit like myself. I am dise tressed about Lady Dorrington. I scarcely can say what I fear. But I feel I want i- air and motion.” “Very well, we shall have a nice drive, a I shall be back in about three-quarters of r an hour. You will be ready?” t “Quite ready!” Still Marsden lingered, t “Look at me, Nora,” he said, softly, g “You have not given me a kiss to-day.” “Do. not ask me,” exclaimed Nora. “I f cannot, not now.” She half turned from d him, but held out her hand. t He kissed it again, murmuring: “As you a will darling!” and went away not disa pleased; he fancied she must be waking n from the unconsciousness that chilled r him. t These were terrible days and nights to I, Nora L’Estrange. Her heart knew no n rest from gnawing regret for the miserable misunderstanding which had wreck-

ed her life, and the torturing doubt as to what was best and right to do. She was the source of sorrow to the man she loved moat truly, she was deceiving the lover whom she sincerely liked, and, Winton out of the way, might have loved. Then, although she had been mistaken as regarded Mark Winton’s feelings, it did not follow that her ideas respecting Mrs. L’Estrange were also wrong; perhaps in his disappointment Winton might turn to her. If so, Nora felt she ought to be pleased, but she was not by any means pleased with the idea; on the contrary, it was very bitter. Then what was the right course to take with Marsden? Poor fellow, he was so fond of her. How could she break with him, and break his heart? And suppose she had the hardihood to tell Marsden the truth, how would it sound to say, “Despairing of Mark Winton, I promised to be your wife; now I find he is willing to take me, I wish to break my word to you." Such was the simple fact. No! She never, never coaid make such an avowal. It were best she should bear the penalty of her own weakness in having too readily yielded to persuasion, to her overeager desire to throw off the pain and shame of caring for a man who preferred another. Besides, what would Winton himself think if, after telling him she was to marry Marsden, she declared herself free? Probably that she her sufferings in her own heart; leave Winton to conquer his fancy for herself, which a strong, sensible man, as he was, no doubt soon would; forget him quickly if possible; marry Marsden and love him, or seem to love him, and do everything for him in the spirit of affection till love came. Oh! would it come? And if it did, would she not be a traitor to her true, first love? Destiny was too potent for her; sha could only conquer by bearing her fate! Meantime, Lady Dorrington made ns sign. The society papers announced that Mrs. Ruthven had sufficiently recovered to remove to Torquay, where she had taken Lord G ’s beautiful villa, and added a hint that “as we asserted some time since, there was no truth in the report that she was about to contract an alliance with a certain squire of high degree in the Midlands, whose brilliant success as a sportsman, yachtman and man of the world, could not insure that other and greater success which, no doubt, was dearest to him Os all.” Mrs. L’Estrange and Nora both watched with uneasiness for some token of amity from'Lady Dorrington, and the seeming estrangement of his only sister greatly increased Nora’s reluctance to become Marsden’s wife. Nothing, however, can put the drag on time’s chariot wheels; the days went by swiftly yet heavily. Nora was surprised how few opportunities she found for being alone with Mrs. L’Estrange. She longed to ascertain what ties had existed between Mark Winton and her stepmother. Yet she never had a chance for leading up to that subject It was one respecting which she could not ask a simple, straight-forward question, and she never was long enough alone with Mrs. L’Estrange to approach the topic with masked batteries. Marsden was constantly with them, always charming, obliging, sympathetic; and it needed all Nora’s tact and ingenuity to avoid the frequent tete-a-tete interviews he was perpetually contriving, to escape his caresses, from which she shrunk with a sort of dread she was herself ashamed of. Sometimes she could not conceal this shrinking from him, and it filled him with an angry despair, that called forth her deepest remorse, and obliged her ts atone so amply, that Marsden was one* more joyous and hopeful. “If you knew all you have cost me!" he would sometimes cry, “all I have risked for you, you would not cut me tc the soul, with this accursed cold prudery I Not that I would hesitate to pay any price that would make you mine; but I sometimes doubt you have any heart to give.” Then Nora would tremble, and assure him how dear his happiness was to her, and take his hand in hers, and stroke H with gentle kindness, and Marsden would become reasonable once more. For Bea, this was a heavenly interval of treats and toys, the circus and the panorama. Indeed, as at the harvest of the sugar-cane, all came in for a share of sunshine and good things, and at times Nora wondered at her own insensibility and ingratitude. (To be continued.) n Terror of the Steam Cars. The traveling female who rushes Into confidence, is no sooner seated by you In the train than she begins to give you a full and detailed account of herself, her family, husband, children, servants, physician, minister, and milliner. She Is also much given to collaring the conductor and asking him a string of questions In a breath. She is a great trial. Her first attack begins something like this: “Please put up this window. No, never mind; I am afraid I will take cold. Yes, I guess you might as well put It up. < Well, I declare, I did not think it was so cold; please put it down. Would you mind changing seats with me? It makes me sick to ride backward. I am going out to Ohio to see my sjster Marla. She Is married and has twins and a trifling husband. One of the twins Is named for me and the other, well, I declare, if I haven’t clean forgot who that other twin Is named for. Let me see, it begins with M. It is not Madge, or Maud, or Miriam, or Marla, or Margaret. Why, It Is Maria, I do believe. Os course, It is Maria. That is the mother’s name, and maybe she is named for her mother. It’s a horrid name, and I hate it. Oh, I recolit Is not Marla at all. It is Susan. How stupid of me not to remember the dear little thing’s name. Well, as I was saying, I am going out to Ohio. Do you know how far Ohio is from here? It is near the Ohio River, I think. Zanesville or some other like that Is the place where I get off. I shall be so glad when I get home. Wonder what they are all doing at home. I am crazy to get back, and I have been worrying all day for fear Joe, he is my husband, will take off his flannels just as soon as my back is turned, and ” Here you make a bolt and get the conductor to give you another seat.— Washington Post Goodness has slowly proved Itself in the world— ls every day provingltoelf—like a light broadening in darkaa*.

TALMAGE’S SERMOfc It was not until the prodigal, got ■red of living among the hogs that ho ' ' Banted to go to his father’s house. It Is Tur orfacmfr ifINDS CONs! 10 tojnlstry of trouble to make this world THE PREACHER and heaven worth more. LATION IN QOD S WORD. I Again, it is tho use of trouble to make ‘ Is feel our dependence upon God. Men hjlMnk that they can do anything until A Sermon from the Very AppropHSl| ()f^iB | 10W8 they can no thing at Text, “And God Shall Wipe Avljl, We lay our great plans, and we like AH Tears from Their Eves”—■> execute them. It looks big. God conies Comfort, of Reli B lon. “» d ®™« Prometheus was Bssaulted by his enemy, when the lance ■truck him it opened a great swelling that Uses of Affliction. gad threatened his death, and he got well. Rev. Dr. Talmage could not have | 0 |t j s the arrow of trouble that lets out lected a more appropriate subject Uwreat swellings of pride. We never feel tho one of last Sunday, considering/Jur dependence upon God until wo get bereavement that has come upon hitobble. I was riding with my little child and his household. He had already along the road, and she asked if she might pared his sermon for the day, selectlrive. I said, “Certainly.” I handed as a topic “Comfort” and taking as Iyer the reins to her, and I had to admire text, “And God shall wipe away all teA 0 glee with which she drove.' But after from their eyes.’’—Revelation vii., 1 Mwhile we met a team, and we had to turn Riding across a Western prairie, w|ut. The road was narrow, and it was flowers up to the hub of the carrifteer down on both sides. She handed wheel, and while a long distance over to me and said, “1 think shelter, there came a sudden shower, ytr had better take charge of the horse." while the rain was falling In torrentsßo we are all children, and on this road of sun was shining as brightly as I ever Bfe we like to drive. It gives one such an it shine, and 1 thought, What a beaußpgearance of superiority and power. It spectacle this is! So the tears of tho Woks big. But afyffnwhile we meet some Christ’s teTrs, and the harvest of joy th <fo not hand over the re’ins C sw“ is to spring from the sowing of God mixes them. God rounds them. G Prayer in Trouble. shows them where to fall. God exha After h man has had trouble prayer is them. A census is taken of them, a.-ith him a taking hold of the arm of God there is a record as to the moment Kb nd crying out for help. I have heard they are born and as to the place of Wannest prayers on two or three occasions grave. jmiat I remember. Once, on the CincinTears of bad men are not kept. Ak'ti express train, going at forty miles an ander in his sorrow had the hair clippur, the train jumped the track, and we from his horses and mules and madeere near a chasm eighty feet deep, and great ado about his grief, but in all He men who, a few minutes before, had vases of heaven there is not one of Aleen swearing and blaspheming God beander’s tears. I speak of the tears >n to pull and jerk at the bell rope, and God’s children. Alas, me, they up on the backs of the seats, and cried ing all the time! In summer you son|t,*'‘o God, save us!” There was anothtimes hear the growling thunder and y (time, about 800 miles out at sea, on a see there is a storm miles away, but yshndering steamer, after the last lifeboat know from the drift of the clouds tliil been split finer than kindling wood, it will not come anywhere near you. Sley prayed then. .AWhy is it you so often though it may be all bright around abo r people, in reciting the last experience you, there is a shower of trouble som some friend, say, “He made the most where at the time. Tears! Tears! utifnl prayer I ever lyiard?” What The Uses of Tears. ces beautiful ? It is the earnestness What is the use of them, anyflfiv ,9 h - 1 , tell you ’ a Inau is in earnest Why not substitute laughter? Why nl ! . n **J 8 Btn PPed and naked soul wades make this a world where all the peoid ,n t “ <! s°«ndless, shoreless, bottomless are well and eternal strangers to painMV a ? of eternity. aches? What is the uSn of an Easter 18 trouble, my friends, that makes us storm when we might have a perpetui our dependence upon God. We do not nor’wester? Why, when a family it pi y our own weakness or God’s strength together, not have them all stay, or Y 1 ® “St plank breaks. It is conthey must be transplanted to make oth< u £ , jy ben there is nothing else homes, then have them all live, the far®., *“ a t we catch hold of God record telling a story of marriages an] . , . you n °t know who the births, but of po deaths? Why not hav IR • 18 n °t an autocrat seated far the harvests chase each other withoi n a P a * a ce from which he emerges fatiguing toil? Why the hard pillow, th a y ? a ri Preceded by heralds swinging i hard crust, the hard struggle? It is eas c 8 to clear the way. No. But a ' enough to explain a smile, or a success, < IOT Wl lling at our call to stand by us ’ a congratulation; but, come now, an’ ery crisis and predicament of life. 1 bring all your dictionaries and all yoi y ®u what some of you business men 1 philosophies and all your religions, arf® *“ e th ’ nk °“ A young man goes off < help me explain a tear. A chemist wf ,? me to earn his fortune. He goes i tell you that it is made up of salt an 1 blB toother s consent And benedic- 1 lime and other component parts; but“4.wealth, but heyvants i misses the chief ingredients—the acid 18 .°2 n fortune. He goes far t a soured life, the viperine sting of a bis ’ tallß s * c “> S ets out of money. He < ter memory, the fragments of a broke the hotelkeeper where he is stay- 8 heart. I will tell you what a tear is; . lng „J® r len «™ce, and the answer i is agony in solution. Hear then, while ts is. If you don t pay up Saturday I discourse of the uses of trouble. ’ you be rem oved to the hospital.”

UIBLvUIOU V 4. lllv UOVO V/Jk. 14VUM»V« X First, it is the design of trouble to kee . The Last Resort. this world from being too attractiv ting there, he is frenzied with grief, Something must be done to make us wil e borrows a sheet of paper and a ing to quit this existence. If it were n< ' e stamp, and he sits down and he for trouble this world would be a goo home, saying: “Dear mother, T enough heaven for me. You and I wap: ek unto death. Come/’ It is ten be willing to take a lease of this life for * s of 10 o’clock when she gets the hundred million years if there were n At 10 o’clock the train starts. She trouble. The earth cushioned and upho minutes from the depot. She gets stered and pillared and chandeliered wit ’ n t’ mc to have five minutes to such expense, no story of other work She wonders why a train that can could enchant us. ,rt y railes «“ hour cannot go sixty We would say: “Let well enough «Un She rushes into the hosIf you want to die and have your bod . ' , ys ’"J. 8 8,1® 11 ’ what does disintegrated in the dust and your soul g £ ’ , y *”* >°U -send for out on a celestial adventure, then ca \ ~„ n ® 1 U go, but this world as good enough f< * ®°" n a ? 7? be p . S° U ’ 18 me!” You might as Well ge'to a man wl . h * ~ mykindness , To has just entered the Louvre sff-Paris, ar "’ y , bundles him up, takes tell him to hasten off to the picture ga ® . % 8 im well, very soon, leries of Venice or Florence. “Why,” I s °™ of yo “ tr . eat G ° d J™*™ that would say, “what is the use of fay goin I®, *®J,f 18 mo , th When yo !J there? There are Rembrandts and R b AjXTLu £ yon call benses and Raphaels here that I haven ba “ k ® r ’' JX® ’ n° r ’ y ° U looked at vet ” ' your credltors > you call on your „ y ‘ . ... ~ r for legal counsel, you call upon I\o man wants to go out of this world v J) Ody> and w hen you cannot t out of any house until he has a bef.tt hen you g 0 t 0 God You say “O house. To cure this wish to stay he; j come to thee! He]p me now out God must somehow create a disgust f< perplexity. ” And the Lord comes our surroundings. How shall he do n ait is the eleventh hour. He saysHe cannot afford to deface his honzo; dJd you not gend for me before? or to tear off a fiery panel from the su; e whom his mother comforteth, so set, on to substract an anther from the w comfort you.” It is to throw us .ter lily, or to banish the pungent aroir ipon G od that we have this minisfrom the mignonette, or to drag the rob< tears. of the morning in mire. You cannot x, . , , pect a Christopher Wren to mar his ow. .° ca RS c " St. Paul’s cathedral, or a Miclteel Ang 8 t h ®Td Th ® lo to dash out his own “Last Judgment, Were „ . H.»M t. WB ••1.r.el "InT'kXi, Egypt,” and ydu cannot expect God 1 ( . ’. . , ’ y spoil the architecture and music of h J the office of When we own worm. How then, are we to . we like y made willing to leale? Here » whe; people around ug> an s we trouble comes in. vhen they laugh and we romp when * V man h X uT a good ? leal * >mp, and we sing when the> sing, trouble he says: “Well, lam ready to g [en we have trouble we , ike len ’; If there is a house somewhere whose ro. folks around . wh ? Th know doesnt leak, I would like to live tner If there is an atmosphere somewhere th.. an a d mother 70 years of does not distress the lungs, I would hl e . g almost omn ipotent in comfort, to breathe it. If there m a society She has been through it all. At 7 where where there is no tittle tattle, .i n the’morning she goes over to would like to live there. If there a young mother wljo has just lost home circle somewhere where I can fit 3e . Grandmother knows all about my lost friends, I would like to go there oub , e Fifty years ago she felt it. From Genesis to Revelation. /clock of that day she goes over to He used to read the first part of tl t a widowed soul. She knows all Bible chiefly,'now he reads the last pa hat. She has been walking in that of the Bible chiefly. Why has he chan iiley twenty years. At 4 o’clock in ed Genesis for Revelation? Ah! he us< ternoon some one knocks at the tb be anxious chiefly to know how th wanting bread. She knows all world was made and all about its geolog that. Two or three times in her cal construction. Now he is chiefly an e came to her last loaf. At 10 ious to know how the next world wi that night she goes over to sit up made, and how it looks, and who liv< )me one severely sick. She knows there, and how they dress. He rea< u t it. She knows all about fevers Revelation ten times'nttw where he res urisies and broken bones. She has Genesis once. The old story, “In tl >ctoring all her life, spreading plasfeeginning God created the heavens ar ld pouring out bitter drops and the earth,” does not thrill him half i g up hot pillows and contriving much as the other story, “I saw ane to tempt a poor appetite. Drs. heaveh and a new earth.” The old mittJjhy and Rush and Hosack and hand trembles as he turns over this apo< y were great doctors, but the greatlyptic leaf, and he has to take out h ; tor the world ever saw is an old handkerchief to wipe his spectacles. Thi an woman. Dear me! Do we not book of Revelation is a prospectus no her her about the room when we of the country into Which he .is soon ; e k in our boyhood? Was there any immigrate, the country in which he hi' lo eoujd ever so todch a sore withlots already laid out and avenues-opeiui. tjng )t ? and mansions built. [ Written in Tears. Yet there are people here to whom thl did p ttU i ge t the ink with which world is brighter than heaven. Well, aer comforting epistle? Where did souls, Ido not blame you- It is natura t the ink to write his comforting But aftqr awhile you will be ready to gl ? Where did John get t h c ink to It was not until Job had been Wbrn ot jg com f or ti n g Revelation? They With bereavements that be wanted ver t their own tears. When a man

t has gone through the curriculum and has > taken a course of dungeons and Imprisoni ments and shipwrecks, he is qualified for I the work of sympathy. When I began to preach, my sermons on • tho subject of trouble were all poetic and i in semiblank verse, but God knocked the l blank verse out of me long ago, and I have found out that I cannot comfort people except as I myself have been troubled. God make me the son of consolation to the people! I would rather be the means of soothing one perturbed spirit to-day than to play a tune that would set all the sons of mirth reeling in the dance. I am an herb doctor. I put into the caldron the Rdot out of dry ground, without form or comeliness. Then I put in the Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Valley. Then I put into the caldron some of the leaves from the tree of life, and the Branch that was thrown into the wilderness Marah. Then I pour in the tears of Bethany and Golgotha. Then I stir them up. Then I kindle under the caldron a fire made out of the wood of the cross, and one drop of that potion will cure the worst sickness that ever afflicted a human soul. Mary and Martha shall receive their Lazarus from the tomb. The damsel shall rise. And on the darkness shall break the morning, and God will wipe all tears from their eyes. I Jesus had trial to make Him hand, the scar on the arch of either foot, the row of scars along the line of the hair, will keep all heaven thinking. Oh, that great weeper is just the one to silence all earthly trouble, wipe out all the stains of earthly grief. Gentle! Why, his step is softer than the step of the dew. It will not be a tyrant bidding you to hush up your crying. It will be a Father who will take you on his left arm, his face beaming into yours, while with the soft tips of the fingers of the right hand He shall wipe away all tears from your eyes. I’ riends, if we could get any appreciation of what God has in reserve for us, it would make us so homesick we would be unfit for our everyday work. Professor Leonard, formerly of lowa University, put in my hands a meteoric stone, a stone thrown off from some other world to this. How suggestive it was to me! And I have to tell you the best representations we have of heaven are only aerolites flung sff from that world which rolls on, bearing the multitudes of the redeemed. We analyze these aerolites and find them crystallizations of tears. No wonder, flung off from’heaven! “God shall wipe away all tears from their eyee.” Funeral on Earth, Jubilee in Heaven* Have you any appreciation of the good and glorious times your friends are having in heaven? How different it is when they get news there of a Christian’s death from what it is here! It is the difference between embarkation and coming into port. Everything depends upon which side of the river you stand when you hear of a Christian’s death. If you stand on this side of the river, you mourn that they go. If you stand on the other side of the river, you rejoice that they come. Oh, the difference between a funeral on earth and a jubilee in heaven—between requiem here and triumph here and reunion there! Together! Have you thought of it? They are together. Not one of your departed friends in one land and another in another land, but together in different rooms of the same house— the house of many mansions. Together! I never more appreciated that thought

than when we laid away in her last slumber my sister Sarah. Standing there in the village cemetery, I looked around and said, “There is father, there is mother, there is grandfather, there is grandmother, then# are whole circles of kindred,” and I thought to myself, “Together in the grave—together in glory.” I am so impressed with the thought that I do not think it is any fanaticism when,some one is going from this world to the next if you make them the bearer of dispatches to your friends who ore gone, saying, “Give my love to my parents, give my love to my children, give my love to my old comrades who are in glory, and tell them I am trying to fight the good fight of faith, and I will join them after awhile.” I believe the message will be delivered, and I believe it will increase the gladness of those who are before the throne. Together are they, all their tears gone. My friends, take this good cheer home with you. These tears of bereavement that course your cheek, and of persecution, and of trial, are not always to be there. The motherly hand of God will wipe them all away. What is the use, on the way to such a consummation—what is the use of fretting about anything? Oh, what an exhilaration it ought to be in Christian work! See you the pinnacles against the sky? It is the city of our God. and we are approaching it. Oh, let us be busy in the days that remain for us! I put this balsam on the wounds of your heart. Rejoice at the thought of what your departed friends have got rid of and that you have a prospect of so soon making your own escape. Bear cheerfully the ministry of tears and exult at the thought that soon it is to be ended. “There we shall march up the heavenly street And ground our arms at Jesus’ feet." Pine as Heavy as Lignum Vitee. Probably nothing In the world can be said to exceed in structural wonder of its kind the labyrlnthlan system of subsurface timbering peculiar to the Comstock mines, the sum of $55,000,000 being considered a moderate estimate of the cost of the same from' the opening of the mines to the present time. The size of the timbers varies from the huge pieces 16 inches square and 24 feet long to the smaller pieces 8 inches square useil In cribbing. The species employed are chiefly yellow pine, fir and cedar, fully two-thirds of the whole amount being the first named- a favorite timber, in fact, with mine carpenters on account of its exactitude in Joining. Cedar, of course, is inferior to no known timber, not even excepting redwood, for its lasting qualities underground; but it said that yellow pine has been taken from the lower levels of these mines so compacted by the enormous pressure it . has withstood as to have a density and weight exceeding those of lignum vitae. None of the timbers in the Comstock mines have yet badly decayed, and their life there cannot be Accurately determined, but the heat and vapors of the mines surcharged with mineral atoms appear to have a decidedly preservative effect upon the timbers.—New York Sun. If there is a virtue In the world w« sbpuki aim at it is cheerfulness.