Marshall County Independent, Volume 5, Number 51, Plymouth, Marshall County, 1 December 1899 — Page 6

it' it' tv J ; I I KITTY'S HUSBAND j ; By Anther of "Hetty," Etc. J 'tV , , . .s. v-VVAw.wvs f 0 Jv.s AT, Z? Aft

iMiMtMiiiiiwiiMMmmtMutmuMtmumtHtiitiui(! CHAITHR VII. it'ontinm-d. J "it was a hole-and-corner, moan, unro- ','' moved away from the window f j mantle, perfectly lull aiul detestable .tain-is.' and wen! downstairs to- I sort of wedding!" thr. j I never agreed with them. Kxeept Vu don't ;nind my lautrhing, j for Aunt Jane's presence, I would not ear?" Mi'? (i: . hncl. still with j;m- ! have had one c ireumstancc of my wej-::;-. "I didn't niva it. In my ! iLns different. I'veti the rimy, out-b.i.-t I like John very much all ex- ; ot-th-way lit ? le London church well, all except the speckled j soeme.l lovely the oniy fit church to

i. If I laugh at bim som-tiuus. you won't raind, will you? It's my v.iyI l.iuh at everyibine, when on? j

doesn't laugh one's spirit get so low! ! In en. We went away for two short .-:.. ill I tell you what mamma i doim; i weeks to a quiet little country place ::i the drawing-room? She is secretly j beside the sea not a fashionable re wtii.-.nrin the good news to every , sort, but a little outlying seafaring fie. Kvery one has come, and every ' hamlet where John and I were the only mit' is duly im;u'-.sed by year good visitors. 'rtuue. Kitty. Now for the longrratu- ! Before September uss over we were iaiion: Oh. poor dar, I pity you for ' a home in London at home for the he next few hours!" 1 fir.st time in my life. The words had a !bt the nt few hours, had as they ; sweet meaning for inc. We had a wr- were over at length. T he piano small house near Hyde Park, near the vas sfient again; the gas in the draw- 1 hirger. much linr house that John ig-rcom was turned frugally low be- ' had taken for Madame Arnaud and his hiad the last of tie depaiting guests. ; sister. It had a homelike look. As we mly John Mortimer remained behind. drove up in the gray, misty September tie drew me close to him where he ' cr.ing there was a bright ray of light food, and looked at m with a que- ! 'Ilng across the pavement from the :.otii;ig. very genlie glance. "Pen door; tiaRtlnht shone through the ' oi do not regret what you prom- ' l'1'awi1 rM curtains of one room downid n,e this evening?" he queried. ' st3'": in another room, where no gas

'"! you re-let whit jm asked me?" .Ve 'her question was answered, lint vo ere hulking eagerly at: one anoiler. and presently c.'.iv eyes smiled. : t Hiat r-emed ait ih Miiswer we ;uu !. ' l oi night. Kitty." .-aid John. od night." I an.-v. e;vi; tit and kissed iw. a r. he .i-mn a; sou-. Aunt Jane v.a look:r(' roj;:d at the ui. -order of in.vrooni. f-.m. .; hing a way the creases : ut nit imata -.-ar that Lai .-uttered :i the revelry "S Ac'if go:?i.; to o-- you. Kitty." .-.ji. 1 t'n le UKh iid. putting Iiis hand.

:jt:w ' a -lit.'. ff--, r. v. . .,; r.-yy: -c -n - s.

'II HTrtU1HT.. 'll' ' llllift' , S ' S'ST. C-. CX .

1 KNELT IIKFOrtr: THE FIRE.

kindly upon my :ou'ders as I stood ip to hid him rood nlht. "Kitty is v-ry iucky," sabi Aunt J.:iie. raising her hand to turn the gas .id! lower. "A home of hf.r own at of'V age is more tisan she ;-ould reasontidy have hop-d fir!" T wish you w ro a little oh'er," - i;d Uncle Richard, regretfully. "I've ecu talking to John he must be pai ucle Rifhard, In a hasty but kindly "'ay. i nopA jou it ue nappy, tiear. ! 'Thank you." I said hurriedly, and i )isappard. Meg had left a novel In th? drawing- ' :ootn. and sweetly besought me to re'lira and etch it. I descended, there- ; fore, after a minute, to the drawing- ! corn agais. ! Aunt Jane w as speaking. Sh ? did j iiol me she was too busy arraug- ' ag the !i.'plaed furniture. "Wait itn; is nonsense. Richard, and -fieri. illv in t)i r. Tlurn cb..lt ! j m mm vvT 1)4 t no wailing in tlie matter. If we .it until the winter, Madame Arn.-md vi'l be in London. If we wait Uli then m ty wait forewr." I had stood for a minute in the door- :: now I ',uh Ty retracr! my s-5:, .Meg's iiovt ! ur!f'o;.nl. my errand, iniced. 'f-re w ith lorgofleu. Aunt Jan-' word.-enig:iia'i--;il; b-:! tle-- b ft lie a ! I"';!- li". Til APTKfl VI! ; Aunt .hire- hd .iy. Wmmi. ieU"1, v. .- .' x.: .'.me i vi r known to :''i.oi;;.. e a plan .-In had s-d li.-r heart a? Stn !i.l !! i miie-d tt;at John n:d I k 1 1 -. 1 1 be niarried v.itbotit del iv. . lid the 1 uoTpiag The pi e;;f;e.-.t :-e..s h m! as 'HiÜ.-t a 1 r re.oiute de.-ji"e. -uriini'i- hoiida-.- in ' oru . it: r'.i! il. t ii nbund ii-1; dm s vi-i' to p.iittany v .is given up - -'on oi'- urtb rtook the biMiiie.-s '.' Lii fi c.ii'id Iii;:. th're; and. fe-fore ' Seteinle-r i a fortnight old. John and I v-re rnuih-o Aunt Jane had j ot rid of in" forever -got lid of my j hats and gowns and gloves and shoes i .'torn a!! future bills, got rid of the j price of my apn- tite at breakfasts. : lunches, teas, and dinners henceforth and for evermore. We were marri'd very quietly. I wore a little gray bonnet and gown of Aunt Jane's chnoyiiig, a bonnet and ,;nv n so mature that thy P.cemed to reprove rny 17 years. I had no cake. no cardi. n wedding ureakrast. no j weddinj favors, mi rice, no satin slippors "in every way." said the girU ... . ... 1

Tunt ami wait. .e can t ler you ruu dreamih-, tlrawing a Ion- deep breath R,iarP-yei woman who seemed to take away jut yet." ! Jm1 trnjni; my fw.e toarJ hlm ' a whole lot of interest in her and her 'Let Fie chil l go to bed. Hit hard." j "To think of what dear" t crutches. She scrutinized the young .lerposed Aunt Jane. ; ..()f our living here together for ! woinan'a fae carefully for a couple of -John's a good fellow, Kitty,'" said j years and vears I wo.t,.r .- t,,-. I minutes, then turn?d her attention tc

I)o married in. Our honeymoon was as prosaic, in tlie girls pyes, as our we-ldlne: had ;as lighted, ttrelight dancing -Are yi,:i happy. Kitty?" asked John. a -, a few minutes later, we stood together in the pretty fire-Ik room, my drawing-room, and I twitted by hands about his arm. "So happy," I nnu ere!, "ihat I am r.lrno.-t nfraid." "Afraid of what, my oVar?" he questioned with his slow, grave, tender smile. "I don't know of whatbut afraid. J don't want the days to pass, John; I don't want anything to happen. think I am growing a eoward. I am so afraid of changes!" 'We love om another wtdl enough to tru t the future. Kilty." I knelt before the lire ;o.t hoM r.n my hands to the u,!,-,,,,,. id.." !

drew forward a cosv , hair and seated ! t'" "k ,,,f' a,'c,uIlt hl,'h her. himself ne;,r r,ie. hoking about with 1,as set a little Iim!t' "weverf and an observant glanc- :,t all the dainty I Ä,,e WH,i comIlh'1 to U aertrappings of the room, and looking I nOU laSt wrek' Sho -ot 5nto an V still oi't.ner at m' street car. bound for the hill, and 'It's strange to" think off T i Ioxmil herself in the Fame seat with a

years? "Very many, I hope." "I'ntil we're quite old folk, and you wear spectacles, and I wear caps. John, do you know what I am always v.-ishins now?" "What, dear?" "That the years were longer. Tium goes ho quickly now. and I used to think it dragged, f.sed time to drag j with you, too. John, before before von marib'd me?" John's grav eves were less ?r;iv ' 'ban Mine. 'I hcv twinkled at me -- 1 ".S.iijieJinis." he said. ! 'Only sume ipjes'.' It seems to ni" i h.oUfu: back, that t inie w ays dragged i with me. (o you know. John, that I i can't bear to think of my old self. I'm ! so sorry for her. Poor o!d vef, sb v.ms so mis'-rab'e. so very miserable; led slit- didn't know." "I'on't speak of tliaf old m !T as de ,d and i;n. Kitty. 1 won't, have it. 1 have ;i ery t. nd.-r fading in my luait for that old self that I Ml in loe with." "Ho have I. hccnipc vod fill in love with her l ivf wili I wonder why 3011 f 1 1 in i me - I'm glad von did." I w . sitting on tlie rug now boside bis chair. I loolod up at him with a br.ppy little smile. He smoothed back lav h o'r slowly with a eare.-islnrr touch. "Ar" you thni fell in love with you?" I asked, still smiling softly. "lo you want nie to aasv.i r that question. Kitty?" "No: I a-k silly qmstions, don't I? I'm going to ask one more question. John, a serious question: Were you happy, renMy happy, before you knew n.e?" "When I knw you first. Kitty. I'm afraid you didn't make much difference to my happiness." he replied, banteringly. and a little evasively. "No, I know. You knew me first so many years ago! You knew me in my pi-raiuouiaTor. 1011 e seen me in a ,h hair eating soup. Oh. John, I ran t bear to think hat you knew me when I was such a silly little thing! I

wonder when ynu first began to love me. I wonder when I tirst began to care for you. Were you happy before I loved you ever ever, John?" I scarcely knew why I spoke so earnestly. I had been speaking lightly enough a minute ago; but some passing expression on his face, some momentary embarrassment caught my attention and gave my tone a sudden eagerness. "I suppose you were often happy?" I added, after a moment, resignedly, yet regretfully. "But it was different. You were never quite as happy, John, as you are now?" "No; not as happy as now. Kitty." he said; but his air was a little abstracted as he spoke, and somehow his assurance did not satisfy me. ' It was perhaps an hour later. We hail had our first meal in our new home I installed in dignity at the head of my table. John facing me at the other end. We had come back into the dainty, pretty little drawing-room to find curtains drawn, the hearth well swept, and shaded lamps casting a toft-colored light around the room. I ha.l brought John a newspaper, looking at him beseechingly even as I laid it down before him. and hoping that he would not read it. He did not e or did not rightly interpret my beseeching glance, and thanked me with a grateful smile. He was soon absorbed in the leading article, and I sat on the floor again beside him and made little efforts every now aud then to distract his attention. Suddenly, as we were so engaged, there came a smart tap at the drawingroom door and at the same moment the door was opened. (To be continued.)

NOT A FAIRY. !!tM l.lk In Hire Another !) the Honing. "Do you want a job?" said a young fellow to a friend of his, one night not long s-iice on 1Mb I.-de ferry. The friend warned to know what the nature of the employment was to be before making any contract, says the lMmit Free Press. "H." said the tiri-t young man. "my ousin is here visiting from out west. She's been here three weeks and she's very fond of tiie water. In fact, not a night ha gone by sine he came but she has proposed going to the island and goii. boating or canoeing. Now that might be ali right under certain circumi .stance, p.ut you ser- I have to do all the rowing and paddling, and my ousin w.dghs more than :tM pounds. Why. th boat often hits the bottom of Ihe anal and it takes half my time picking out a deep enough channel to get. through. The other night we were turning out of one of the canals and we suddenly cam to a halt. Row as hard es I would I couldn't budge the boat and yet the water seemed deep enough, too. It was some time before I discovered that some oe had stretched a piece of hose across the ntrance of the canal near the bottom. Most of the boats crossed over it all right enough, but ours, with all that weight in the stern, caught ii. The hose became entangled with nur rudder and there we were. 1 utterly spoiled my shirt, as well as my collar, in trying to pull away from hat hose line. If my cousin suggests going to the island again I'm going to say Miit I hav another engagement. A 'ittle of ;t bjK thing goes a long uav." I j Ii ATTLE-SC A R Fl K D HEROINE. Yt;e oiiii ami Pretty, hut tlrr l.e at i;ettyUurK. j Th-:e is a very handsome young woman ja Wn-diingUm. rather we! I j known in ;ij-t circle.-, who had the inUi fortune to fal! don stairs a few years ago, so badly fract '.it ing one of in r ; knees that the iimo had to be ampu- ! tared. The young woman, of cour.-e, i walks with the aid of crutches. She is j not in ;!)' least sensitive about the ; matter, and doesn't mind in form ing I"li"''.v irmudueer: people of the na the workmanship of the crutches, whh?h she toik the liberty to handie curiously. Then she looked the younj: woman over again, and -leaned over to her. "D'ye mind tellln me how you lost your leg?" she. asked, rasplly. "Not in the least," responded th young woman. "I lost It at the ha 'tie of Gettysburg." -Washington I'ost. l.onx't Anphtteil Street lu the World. Philadelphia can boast of the longest a:-phalted street in the world. I) road street has that unlte distinction. Kirt, as already statt', it is the longest asphalted stieet it. Ihe world; secundly. it is the tinly street which Is of evm width for eleven miles, and this width Is the greatest ever attained by 1 ar. v street for a course of eleven miles. t It is also the straightcst street, for from League bland to the county line it docs not vary an Inch, except where the great city building causes the street to turn around it. Sevfn miles of thu I street are asphalted, but the remainder I is provided with a roadbed ot line j macadam, which is continued by the old tork road, which extends for about twenty mils farther on. A carriage can drive on this street and road and make only one turn in thirty-imp miles. Hroad street is lltJ feet wide and measures sixty-nine feet from curb to curb, and t'lirty-tive men can walk ah rear-1 of It. llli-lit lirlut ht'i Sc-:iM. Hicks !h our wife any better slncn she went to Dr. Nihil, the Christian scientist? Wieks No. The fact is. ho is the most consistent .-cientist I ever encountered, lie not only denies that there are such things as pain and disease, but he declares there are no such things as cures. Hoston Transcript. Soitirwhut Iiftereit. lawyer Io I understand that 3011 wish to bequeath a thousand-dollar watch to your son? Dying Man (feebly) No, no! To my friend for for a watch unon my sou! Jewelers' Weekly.

TALMA HE'S SERMON.

CONSCIENCE THE SUBJECT OF SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE. lie Took Witter und Wavlied II1 Hand Itefore the Multitude, Savin; "I Am Innocent of the lOood of This Juit I'eriou" Jlatt. ri?: i4. At about 7 o'clock in the morning, un the marble stairs of a palate and across the floors of richest mosaic, and under ceilings dyed with ail the spirndv5rs of color, and between snow banks of white and glistening sculpture, passes .1 poor. pale, sick voting man of 2-'. already condemned to death, on his v ay to be condemned again. .Rsiio oT Nazareth Is hi name. Coming out to meet him on this tessellated pavement is an unscrupulous, compromising, time-serving, cowardly man. with a few traces of sympathy and fair dealing left in his composition Governor Pontius Pilate. Did ever such opposdtes meet? Luxury and pain, selfishness and generosity, arrogance and humility, sin and holiness, midnight and mi.lnoon. The bloated-lipped governor takes the cushioned seat, but the prisoner stands. his wrists manacled. In a semi-circle around the prisoner ar the Sanhedrists, with flashing i eyes and brandished fists, prose cuting this case in the name of religion, for the bitterest persecutions have been religious persecutions; and when Satan takes hold of a good man he makes up by intensity for brevity of occupation. If you have never seen an ecclesiastical court trying a man. then you have no Idea of the foaming infernalism of those old religious Sanhedrista. Governor Pilate cross-questions the prisoner, and finds right away that he is innocent and wants to let hint go. His caution is also Increased by some one who omes to the governor and whispers iu his ear. The governor puts his hand behind his ear. so as to catch the words almost inaudible. It is a mesage from Claudia Procula, his wife, who has had a dream about the Innocence of this prisoner and about the clanger of executing him, and she awakens from this morning dream In time to send the message to her husband, then on the judicial bench. And what with the protest of his wife, and the voice of h L own conscience, and the entire failure of the Satihedrlsts to make out their case, Governor Pilate resolves to discharge the prisoner from custody. But the intimation of such a thing brings upon the governor an equinoctial storm of indignation. They will report hira to the emperor at Home. They will have him recalled. They will send him up home, and he will be hung for treason, for the emperor has already a suspicion in regard to Pilate, and that suspicion does not cease until Pilate is banished and commits suicide. So Governor Pontius Pilate compromises the matter, and proposes that Christ be whipped Instead of assassinated. So the prisoner is fastened to a low pillar, and on his bent and bared back come the thongs of leather, with pieces of lead and bone Intertwisted, so that every stroke shall be the more awful. Christ lifts himself from the scourging, with Unshed cheek and torn and quivering and mangled flesh, presenting a spectacle of suffering In which Rubens, the palnter.found the theme for his greatest masterpiece. Put the Sanhcdrists are not yet satisfied. They have had some of his nerves lacerated; they want them all lacerated. They have had some of his blood; they waul all of it, down to the last eorpuscL. So Governor Pontius Pilate, after ail this merciful hesitation, surrenders to the demoniacal cry of "Crucify him!" Hut the governor sends for something. He sends a slave out to get something. Although the constables are in haste to take the prisoner to execution and the mob outside are Impatient to glare upon their victim, a pause is necessitated. Yonder It conies, a wash basin. Some pure, bright water Is poured into it, and then Governor Pilate puts his white, delicate hands into the water and rubs them together, and theji lifts them dripping, for the towel fastened at the slave's girdle, while he practically Bays: "I wash my hands of this whole homicidal transaction. I wash my hands of this entire responsibility; you will have to bear it." That Is the meaning of my text when It says: "He took water and washed his hands beToift the multitude, faying, I am Innocent of the blood of this just person; see ye to it." Behold in this, that ceremony amounts to nothing, if there are not in it correspondencies of heart, and life. It Is a good thing to wash the hands. God created three-quarters of the world water, and In that commanded cleanliness; and when the ancients did not take the hint he plunged the whole world under water and kept it there for some time. Hand washing was a religious ceremony among the Jews. The Jewish Mishna gave particular direction now that thu hands must be thrust three times up to the wrist iu water, and the palm of the hand must be riiboed with the closed list of the o.her. All that well enough for a symbol, but here in the text is a 111 .in who proposes to wash away the guilt of a sin which he does not quit and of which he does not. make any repentance. Pilate's wash basin was a dead failure. Ceremonies, however beautiful and appropriate, may b no more than tills hypocritical ablution. In fancy e m:iy be sprinkled from the baptismal font, and in manhood we may wadr into !cep impression, and yet never come to moral purilicatioti. We may kneel without ptayer.and how without reverence, and sing without any acceptance. All 3 our creeds and liturgies, and sacraments, and genuflections, and religious convocations amount to nothing unless your heart-life go into them. When that bronzed slave took from the presence of Pilate that wash basin he carried away noun of Pilate's cruelty, or Pilate's wickedness, or Pilate's guilt. Nothing against creeds; we all have them, either written or Implied. Nothing against ceremonies; they are of Infinite importance. Nothing against sacraments; they are divinely commanded. Nothiug against a rosary. If

there be as many heartfelt prayers as beads counted. Nothing anlinst incense floating up from censer amid Gothic arches, if the prayers be as genuine as the aroma is sweet. Nothing again-t Kpiphany, or Lent, or Ash Wednesday, or Easter, or Good Friday, or Whitsuntide, or Palm Sunday, if thse symbols have behind them genuine repentance and holy reminiscence, and Christian consecration. Hut ceremony is only the sheath to the sword, it is only the shell to the kernel, it is only the lamp to the flame, it is only the body to the spirit. The outward mun be symbolical of the inward. Wa-di the hands by all means, but more than all. wash the heart. Heboid, also, as you see Governor Pontius Pilate thrust his hands into his wash basin, the power of conscience. He had an ;da there was blood on his hand- the blood of an Innocent person, whom he might have acquitted if he only had the courage. Poor Pilate! his cun-u b nee was after him, and he kuew the stain would never be washed from the right hand or the left hand, and until the day of hlj death, though he might wash in all the livers of the Hornau empire, there would be still eight flugers aud two thumbs red at the tips. Oh. the power of conscience when It is fully aroused! With whip of scorpions over a bed of spikes In pitch of midnight it cha.-es guilt. Are there ghosts? Yes, not of the graveyard, but of one's mind not at rest. And thus, Hrutus, amid his slumbering host. Startled with Caesar's stalwart ghost. Macbeth looked at his hand after the midnight assassination, and he says: Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No; tht9 my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine. Making the green one red. From what did Adam and Kve try to hide when they had all the world to themsei ,'? From their own conscience. What made Cain's punishment greater than he could bear? His conscience. What made Ahab cry out to the prophet, "Hast thou found me. 0 mine enemy?" "What made the great Felix tremble before the little missionary? Conscience. What made Helshazzar's leetii chaUtr with a chill when he saw a linger come out of the black sleeve of the midnight and write on the plastering? Conscience, conscience! Why is it that that man Id this audience, with all the marks of worldly prosperity upon him, Is agitated while 1 speak, and L now flushed and Is now pale, and then the breath is uneven, and then beads of perspiration on the forehead, and then the look of unrst comes to a look of horror and despair? I know not. Hut he known, and God knows. It may be that he despoiled a fair young life and turned Innocence into a waif, and the smile of hope into the brazen laughter of despair. Or It may be that he has in his possession the property of others, and by some strategem he keeps it according to law, and yet he knows It is not bis own, and that if his heart should stop beating this moment he would be In hell forever. Or it may be he i3 responsible for a great mystery, the disappearance of some one who was never heard of, and the detectives were baffled, and the tracks were all covered up, and the swift horse or the rail train took him out of reach, and there are only two persons in tin; universe who know of it God and himself. God present at the time of the tragedy and present at the let ro.-pection, and consi ienee con-cbuiee with stings, conscience with pincers, conscience with flails, conscience with furnaces, is upon hlm; and until a man's conscience rouses him h does not repent. What made that farmer converted to God go to his infidel neighbor and ?ny: "Neighbor, 1 have four of your fheep. They came over into my fold six years ago. They had your mark upon them, and I changed it to my mark. I want you to have those sheep, and I want you to have the interest on the money, and I want you to have the Increase of the fold; If you want to send me to prison I shall make, no complaint?" The Infidel heard of the man's conversion, and he said: "Now, now. if you have got them sheep you are welcome tc them. I don't want nothing of thoso things at all. You just go away from me. Something has got hold of you that I don't understand. I heard you were down at those religious meetings." Hut the converted man would

not allow things to tdatid In that way. and so the Infidel said: "Weil, now, you can pay me the value of the sheep, and six per cent interest from that time to this, and I shan't say anything more about il. Just go away from me." What was the matter with tlie two farmers' In the one case a convicted conscience leading him to honesty, and in the other case a eondieted conscience warning against infi del U.V. Conversion amounts to nothing null ss the hear' is converted, and the pocket hook is con', erted. an! the cash drawer Is converted, and the ledger H converted.and the fireproof saf Is converted, and the pigeon-hole containing tlie correspondence is converted, and his Improvement is noticed even by the cui.ny bird that sings in the parlor, and the cat that licks the platter after I lie nial. Mini Ihe do.j; that omes hounding ftotn the kennel to greet him. A man half conxeiled. or quarter coiivcilcd, or a thousandth pi"t converted, it not converted at all. What will ! the gnat book In the day of judgment? Conscience. Conscience recalling mis'mproved opportunities. Conscience recalling unTorgiven siti-s. Conscience bringing up all the p.-isu. AUs. for thU Governor Pontius Pilate! That night after the court hail adjourned and the Sanhcdrlsts had gone home, and nothing was heard outside the room hut the step of the sentinel, I see Pontius Pilate arise from his tapestried and sleepless couch and go to the laver and begin to wash his hands, crying: "Out, out, crimson spot! Teilest thou to me, and to Gou, and to the ulght, my crime? Is there no alkali to remove these dreadful stains? Is there no chemistry to dissolve this carnage? Must I to the day of my death carry the blood of this Innocent man on my heart and hand? Out, thou crimson spot!" The worst thing a man can have I an evil con

science, and the best thing a man cm have is what Paul calls a good conscience. Hut is there no stich thing as mora! purification? If a man Is a sinner once must he always bo a sinner, and an unforgivon sinner? We have all had conscience after us. Or do you tell me that all the words of your life have been just right, and all the thoughts of your heart have be 11 just right, and all the actions of your life just right? Then you do not know yourself, and I take the responsibility of saying you are a pharlsee, you are a hypocrite, you are a Pontius Pilate, and do not know ir. You commit the very sama sit: that Pilate committed. You have crucified the Lord of Glory. Hut If nine-tenths of this audience are made up of thoughtful and earnest people, then iilne-tcuhs of thU audience are

I saying within themselves, "Is there no I such thing as moral purification? Is there no liver in which the soul may wash and be clean?" Yes, yes, yes. . Tell jt i:i song, tell it In sermon, tell it In prayer, tri! it to the hemispheres. That what David cried out for when he sail. "Wash me thoroughly from my sin, and cleanse me from mine Inhuhies." And that is what in another place, he cried out for when he aid. "Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow." Heboid the laver of the Gospel, filled wifb. living fountains. Did you ever f e the picture of the laver In the ändert tabernacle or in the ancient temple? The laver in the ancient tabe.nacle, was made out of the women's metallic looking glasses. It was a great basin standing on a beautiful pedestal; but when the tempi was built, then the laver was aa immmse affair called the brazen sea; and oh. how deep were the floods there gathered! And there were ten laver beside five at the right and five at the left and each laver had three hundred gallons of water. And the outside of these iavers was carved and chased with palm trees so delicately cut you could almost see the leaves tremble, and iions so true to life that you could imagine you could see the nostril throb, and the cherubim with j o.itspre.ad wings. That magnificent j laver of the old dispensation is a feI ble type of the more glorious laver of j cur dispensation cur sunlit dispensa- ; lion. I Here the laver holding rivers of j salvation, having for its pedestal the j Kock of Age, carved with the figure 1 of the V""i of Judah's tribe, and hav ing palm branches for victory, and wings suggestive of the soul's flight toward God iu pra-r, and the soul's flight heavenward when we die. Come ye auditory and ash away all your sins however aggravated, and all your sorrows, however agonizing. Come to this fountain, open for all s!n and uncleauness, the furthest, the worst. You need not carry your sins half a second. Come and wash In this glorious gospel laver. Why, that is an opportunity enough to swallow up all nations. That is an opportunity that will yet stand on the Alps and beckon to Italy, and yet stand on the Pyrenees and beckon to Spain, and !' will yet stand on the Ural and beckon to Russia, and it will stand at the gate of heaven and beckon to all nations. Pardon for all sin, and pardon right away, through the blood of the Son of God. A little child that had been blind, but through skilled surgery brought to sight, said. "Why, mother, why didn't you ten me the earth and the skv are J so beautiful? Why didn't you tell ; me?" -Oh," replied the mother, "my ! child, I did tell you often: I often told ! you how beautiful they are; but you I a ere blind, and you couldn't see!" i Oh. if we could have our eye opened i to see the glories in .Icv;: chriat we j would fee! that th half h:hi never be n I loid u, and you 0:1 hi go to some j Chilian man aud" say, "Why didn't j you tell me before of the gioiles of th Lord Jesu.s Christ?" and that friend would say. "I did tU you, hut you were blind and could not see, and jou were deaf and could not hear." j History says that a gteat army camo ; to capture ancient Jerusalem.and when ! .. .- . . .1... . : 1 1 . . 1 . -1 . 1111.1 diiiii .01 on me inns mi iuai Uiey .-aw the turrets an! towers of Jerusalem, they Save a .-bout that made the earth tremble; and tradition, whether true or faLe. says that so great was the hbout. eagles flying in the air dropped under the atmospheric! percussion. Oh, if we could only catch a glimpse of this Gospel temple into which we are all Invited to come aud wash, there would be a song Jubilant and wide sounding, at New Jerusalem seen, at New Jerusalem taken, the 1 hosauiia.-N of other worlds flying mid- ! air would fold their wings and drop in- ; to our closing doxology! Against the I disappointing and insufficient laver of Pilate's vice, and Pilate's cowardice, and Pilate's sin, I place the brazen sea of a Savior's pardoning mercy! IMmulfM Mt Sern. In Know b ilge for September Mr. Macon points out that nun' than one recent disaster at sei, still unexplained. lios the ne-fs.-ity of levisiii our notions of the transmission of sound vaes. Otlici.il reports again and a.iia insist on the fact that tin hearing of the siren and the foghorn is apt to proe 11m -ertain. and that n some occasions there are found anas or ones of silence where their warning w ill ana. counla!d fade. Mr. l'acou was granted a sojourn in a lisjitbeu-- 1) th Triniix house, and bis observations thcte showed thai whib" a condition of s'.ill and s-tt!cd fo; may aid the travel sound, compacted loud-lu aps. or wn.iths. ;u;d inasM's of rolling iui:st are capable of refracting and diverting sound wacs in a. mantic r thai will dn ie the m.-t prac t ice d ears. Sil- W 10 1 Ulis. Uu-b.md umcUlyj I his Is t Ii 0 fourth tinu' this w- k we've had tinned beef and cabbage, Maria, and, I'm a little tired of it. His Wife I'm sure, Thomas, you're very unreasonable. You know I've had to correct the proof sheets of my new book, "Due Hundred Dainty Dinners." Ifriilln lilt l'ropcrty, Lecturer The acoustics of your hall are very bad, sir. Proprietor No, sir. They're all right. It was the soap factory you smellcd. Brooklyn Life. Praise from even the humblest Is stimulus to greater exertion.

"The Nw raclficOne of the mo?t remarkable hook' of the year, "The New Paciüe." by Hubert Howe IlaruToft, has just bcn issued by the eminent author of the :-erk's of west American histories, which so Ions Mied the mind of thliterary world is one of the most erudit? and thorough of historical efforts. The closing scenes of the nineteenth century seem to impress thrnselves upon the author'.- mind a- of more than passing interest. In the war with Spain he sees something more than a transient diagr"-m-nt between two gnat political powers, to be fought out and di-nissd from the mind with the usual trophies to the winn-r. In ih deliveranc of Cuba, he sees something more tiun the rescue from the hand of th oppressor of a weak and down-trodd.'n people. The gravest issue.-; wen- here at stake, issues as important as any which ever affected human progress or human destiny. Heartily iu symr- thy with the idr.n and purposes of t"a American peop.e, of whom he is pro'.d to be one, the is-sip-s of the day are squarely mH. not in a dogmatic or self-assertive spirit. but rather in a plain, practical v,ay. the opinions of others being at all Tirie -i resp' t e.j.

An Old-I tmer. Prom the Memphis Scimitar: A crowd of men were seated in one of thsteamboat offices in the city the other afternoon while an old steamboat veteran regaled them with storie about old times on the Mii-ipp; and reminiscencesof old-time citizens. -Jid T-on know old Pill Jon-.?" asked on' of th m-n. afier she captain bad h"-i-hed relating bow he run a tauntb-t of Indians with his boat, 'way bavk fa the forties. -'Member Piil .Ion--? W ' I I guess 1 diil." ivplied t iv captain "Let's see, he died jiist afrr the v.,,r H was a good old fellow, o.. 1 knew his father before he was married to Hill's mother." On the boy thought the old man was "doping," and. by way ot tripping him up on dates, askd: "Cap. how long hove you been running 011 river'." "Who. tu? Why. I stan-.i on th MisMSippi when it was umhin' b'i t ..reek." JRIOO Kewanl. Hloo. The readers ? this paper will tie ; I,-,t lea rrv that thvie is :it i'-at (v..' 'lrv.ii! ti.that scienrc has been able to cure in ai; :r st.i;i and thut i Catarrh. Jia'.l -i '-.itirrb t ' ire is the only Titive cure i;o'-v kiiowu to i'; muical fraternity. I'a'urrli biutf a cer.st :t-i-tional disease, requires a ceri-4itu!i'U.jl trc-y L'icnt. Hall c atarrh I lire i-. t-ken int- riuli. acting directly uixn the bl.J an i mu.-o'.H vjrfuces of the "system. tb.-rcry destroying tci foundation of the disease, and tivir.tr the patient fctrenpth by building tip the constitution ar. 1 assisting nature In vioing Its work. The proprietor have so much ra!th in its curative powers thrt thev offer One Hundred Iol!ar. f r jny case that il fails to cure. en.t fyr :ijt cf Testimonials. Address P. J. CIIENKV L CO.. TV.eJo, a Sold bv Cruirgists ".V. UaUs Fumliv i'ills ure tb? bestShot t the l.antrr. Some years ago the present lor.J chancellor of England was cross-examining a bhrewd hue-Vie witness "They sometimes call you a Devonshire dumpling, don't they?" asked th. genial advocate. "I believe they do," replied the witness. "JJut you are not a Devonshire dumpling?" The witness waited till the laughter occasioned by this inquiry subsided, theu h" sloIy drawled out: "Hey. hut if I hod b-en a doompling, jou lawyers "u I a' gobbled 1 up afore now!" N:w V"rK Tribune. Klectrio llealtight. Om-e more electricity h:is taken th place uf other illuminants. The Chicago. Ilurlingion and Quiney Uiilroii has just commenced to equip Io'-oreo fives with el'ctric headlights. 'I h 1 famous Past Mail of lh" Denver I.ita ited travel at .-uch a hih r ite of ; -. that a stronger licht than the old s has 1'ccr: found necessary to st:'-:. A 1 a it It fill Kmplojp. Conductor -How old is tl-tt ni! J. madam? Mother ---You have no licht M a.sk such an impertinent uefion Conductor-- Excuse me. lc.;t it is fare (jipstion. Naiuele Village on I.Hkr Huron. A village without a name, consisting of Ö0 fislM-rmc n's huts, occupies i j siiion eveiv winter on Lake Huron. "Jimmy aud our preacher collided on their wheels." "Is Jimmy hurt?" "Yea. he heard what th? t? reach er said." Vo It and Stick to It." If you Are sick unJ discouraged vith in pure blood, CJtUrrh or rhcurruiism, Uke Hood s SsrsjpjtruIjL fjtithfuUy Jind persistently, did you unit soo-i Hai a cure. This medicine hj.s cured thsusJtnds of others jind it 'will do the jjho for yct. Faithfully taken. THE Pleasantest. most powerful, effective and never failing REMfc OY for Rheumatism S;, l.A i.KIIM'i: n. 1A1 AKIUIl If all knew what thousand Know of the cflicacv of " -rack mr.K IHOIS" as :t Curative a.s well '.s a Pre ventive of any Ache or Pa'r.t known to the human lnly. there would not bo a fainilv in all .America without :i bottle of "A DUMPS!'' Svnd for trial lotth ".". or la rre lmttlo. entailiiog ;'o doNs. f 1 .00. ii bottles for bUANMlS Kill 1 TIP ( l Iii. ( O., HlO-Ili 1.. IjiL St.. 4. Iiicugt. Iii 1 CHEAP FARM LAUDS! I on the 4Soo" Rv. in Tisconsin. V 2 Fin" er.lool f tmiuij: 1" ': Vi ri V .il. yp rly viX ' ncr :tti.'U!i , 14 W t'i fi : "H TT $ A nVurl STOCK nd DAIRY Cetmtrvf I'or Clrr mn 1 -- ti-is ieO 11 ! ; n-t -- i I ftTywhrr. An t'liii.i.n.'t- ..f fit, .:t n V i ml hritiifnl rl:nut. 1 fr.' to 1 mjw -Vris. i l-'or frre itcs rit1ive traps wrrti t i 1 Land Commissioner "Soo" Rilar. w 1 MINNEAPOLIS. MINN. ITER'S Dim fias a ;'itU il.-ep color and tWs net stndn t'leere. ti 1 rnmiTrn . ir. ro; f-wfci,;,.1t..:vic. r Ä I H N ' tiVKlllll'lla.' !t(r".. V!trt.-ti 1 XI X Hill A U 11 r ' I 1 'it u Mi... .1. I ir u'ar II A CUÜtS WHtkc AIL flU k AILS. Best Cough Syrup. Tsutol. intim. Held iy irojririt. 0 lX7zmZWrfiiZ

50