St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 17, Number 15, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 31 October 1891 — Page 6

DOBBLB DICHND JOE; Th© Poorhouse Waifs. BY DAVID LOWRY. CHAPTER XVII. LADY MORFORD. Jeremiah Jenks directed the driver of the cab to take him speedily to a fashionable quarter of the city. In less than half an hour he was set down in front of a ffce-looking mansion. A mode! of a servant admitted the lawyer. and after seating him in the draw-ing-room tocfk his card to his mistress. A very handsome lady entered presently—a lady whose manner and dress indicated high social position. She looked at Jeremiah inquiringly. The lawyer fumbled, roioTstammcred and managed to say: “This Is an unexpected visit, but I h^S no other alternative The lady looked at him, but did not speak. She was giving duo attention to him. “Madame—Lady Morford, I mean—l am the victim of mispiai ed confidence. ” Still she did not speak. Except a Blight elevation of her finely arched eye-brows, the lady gave no sign. “I relied upon my' nephew. Lady Morford, and he has deceived me, grossly deceived me. ” “In what manner does it concern mo, Mr. Jenks?” “It does —yes, very much. Ho has possessed himself of my private correspondence—indeed he has acted shamefully. ” “Ah! I sympathize with you, sir; bus unless it affects me Immediately I do not see that I should be informed of a matter that affects you in a business and domestic way. ” This was said in an icy manner that made Jeremiah Jenks’ task all the more difficult, but he returned to the self-im-posed charge. “My nephew has, I regret to state, made use of the knowledge he discovered in your letters, to decieve me—us both—in regard to the whereabouts of your granddaughter.” Lady Morford looked at him sharply, then she said in measured tones: “How lomg, Mr. Jenks, has this deception been jJracticed?” “Three months, at least. “When did you discover tho truth?” “Within this hour.” Lady Morford was silent. Sh? evidently awaited further revelations. Jerem’ah Jenks rose, paced the floor, and said in humble fashion, very humble, indeed: “I have discovered from ray nephew that your granddaughter—or the person I have reasons to believe to be your granddaughter —is not far from here ” “In New York!” Lady Morford advanced quickly toward the attorney and said, in a tone revealing deep emotion, “Unless, sir, you are prepared now —instantly—to take me to her, I will not listen to any communication you may have to make to me. Once for all, Mr. Jenks, 1 have done with suppositions and theories. I want something tangible. I have been a prey to misapprehensions, have been induced to think many things that I find not a seadow of reason for now. ” “I am prepared to go with you—to go now, Lady Morford But " “Then keep what you have to say for me on the way. ” She hastened from the room, and In a surprisingly short time stood^before him with her bonnet on. “My carriage will be at the door in two minutes. Now, proceed. Tell rao where we are going. ” “To Monsieur Dufaur's academy. ” “I know it very well. I called there with an acquaintance only yesterday.” “Well, that is where we will find the girl I have been'seeking. ” ^“And how long has she been there?” “Several months, it seems. ” “Months! Months in New York! We may have passed each other —I might have sat here while she w»s dying near me! This is unpardonable!” “It is, my lady, it is. ” “Here is the carriage—quick, I must not lose another minute. Every moment Is precious to me. ” She was like a girl in her eagerness. When they were seated face to fa *e — Jenks had sent his cab away—the lawyer related, with much humility, the manner in which his nephew, his bad nephew, had misled him and robbed him of an immense amount of money. But he could not take steps against his own flesh and blood .e revolted from even the contemplation of action against his nephew. Os course Lady Morford applauded his spirit, and now that she was on the eve of embracing a grandchild, she felt as if she ought to exercise charity to all the world. She heard all Mr. Jenks had to say, and pitied him, poor man. Was he quite sure this young person was the fdenGcal child ho had been searching for so long, and were the facts

such as would satisfy the curious world 1 that she was truly Lady Morford's grandchild? “Because,” said Lady Morford, “un'ess the proof is convincing my nephew, who is deeply interested, will contest the claim now and after lam dead. He will leave nothing undone that ingenuity can suggest or money accomplish.” “1 am convinced. Lady Morfcrd, f that the girl’s birth—all the evidence required—will be supplied.” “Are we not there yet?” said the grandmother. “We will soon ba there now. One more block, Lady Morford. ” When the carriage' stopped and the footman opened the door,»Lady Morford, whose hand trembled, said as she laid it on Mr. Jenks' arm: “Pray be quick—let me get it over speedily, this meeting ” “We desire to see Madame Dufaur,” said the lawyer to the servant who answered the bell. “Madame Dufaur is not at home. ” “Monsieur Dufaur, then; please inform him a lady wats.” “Monsieur Dufaur is absent, too. ” “When will Madame Dufaur return?” inquired Lady Morford, anxiously. “In an hour. ” “And monsieur?” “I don’t know; he may be later. ” “Can I see ” The lady turned to Mr. Jenks. “Her name?” “I do not know; they call her Joe, I believe.” “Then can we see the young lady who is with Madame Dufaur—Miss Joe?”

“I am sorry to say, madame, she, too, is out ” “Is .she out of the city?” Now, the servant thought the visitor meant In the neighborhood of the city, as if Joe was ourt; of town for an hour or two, and she answered: “Indeed, I am not sure. Maybe she is. ” Lady Morford spoke to Mr. Jenks again. “I will leave a note. ” “Whatever you may deem proper under tho circumstances ” Lady Morford called for paper, pen and ink; then she wrote a few lines in a nervous hand, placed the note in an envelope, handed it to the servant, and turned to her companion. “I can do no more at present ” “No. We have done all that can be done now. ” “If she does not ca'l on me—l will return. She will surely call—or send me word ” “Surely such a note as that will bo attended to promptly.” Tho visitors retired, and the servant looked after them curiously. As sho looked, a handsome young man camo up the street He had waxed mustaches, black eyes, and a- military air. He was the leader of a brass band —and the girl’s lover. He stopped, took off his hat, and talked to her. She smiled, and talked to and at him with her brilliant eyes They were to be married s^oon, so it was not much wonder five, ten minutes passed away. Then the young man looked at his watch, gave a start, and exclaimed: I “Possible! I’m off. ” Tho servant sighed, remembered certain things requiring her instant attention, entered the house with a little cry of dismay—and the note which was lying in her pocket, and which Lady Morford had placed in her hand with a solemn injunction, was as utterly forgotten as if it had never been handed her to give to her mistress “the moment she returned. ” CHAPTER XXVIII. ANOTHER SURPRISE. When Monsieur Dufaur and his wife, accompanied by Job Wonder, Dick, Ben Brown and his wife, returned to the Du* faur mansion, there was much rejoicing, much to be explained, and much more that nobody could account for. ““What in the name of all that's mysterious did that scoundrel mean by pretending he was married?” said the clown. He appeared to think the question an open one, for anyone to answer who could satisfy him. “I k n answer that, I reckon.” Everybody looked at Job. “There’s a long story hings to that there —I’ll cut it right short, an’ say this fellow’s In the office of a cute lawyer hyer, who’s got his eyes on Joo hyer.” “A lawyer? What docs a lawyer want with Josephine?” demanded Monsieur Dufaur. “Well, that's what I hain’t found out yit, but I wl:l. I’ll jistmake it my business to find out. Anyhow, he wanted me to pay him a lot o’ money for keeping a sharp lookout on Joe, hyer, an’ the boy. He was a keepin’ it right close. At least he said so. There was money in it somehow—or that pesky lawyer wouldn’t bothered none—lawyers don’t waste no time 'thout they git paid for’t, ’n blamed well paid, too.” “Well—but,” said Madame Dufaur, “Joe here has nobody—not a friend in the whole wide world! And no money—then why should that villain swear ho was her husband!” exclaimed Madame Dufaur. “There’s some^reason for i , ’ said Ben Brown reflecting. “Perhaps Joe is a real live heiress.” “You wou!d make a beautiful heiress, ” said Mrs. Brown. “She is a beauty any way you take her,” said Job enthus astically. “Come, come,” said Monsieur Dufaur, “you will spoil her! Joe—don't let anything they say spoil you.” “No, she won’t,” said the clown laugh ing, “she'.l spoil herself.” “Talking ’bout that, ” Job began laughing, when a sharp pear .. the bell startled them. A servant went to the door. The drawing room door was opened. All in j it could hear what passed in the hall. “Pray tell Madame Dufaur 1 desire to speak to hc*r ” “O! ma in.” the servant exclamed hastily. Then followed some words in a low, passionate tone. Then the strange voice answered, “No matt r now—say nothing, but bid Madame Dufaur hasten, my girl.” The listeners looked at each other. “At this hour!” said Monsieur Dufaur, shrugging his shoulders—“it is unheard of—amazing!” “Nevertheless, I will see her,’’said his wife, and she suited tho action to the word, passing into the hall. “O! It is you, Mrs. Howson. Pray come in. When Madame Dufaur ushered her visitor into the library, she stood waiting her commands. Mrs. Howson began without preface. “I called to-day, but you were out ” “I was not aware ” “No matter. You have wl h you a young lady—her name is Joe.” “Josephine—yes. ” “Can I see her—is she sleeping?” “No—you can see her, certainly. But may I ask why you desire to specie vrith

her?” “Why should I conceal it from you. I The girl that 1 am seeking—that I was told is here—is, I am led to believe, my daughter’s child. ” “Your granddaughter?” “Yes, my granddaughter. ” “Wonderful!” Madame lifted her hands in wonder. “I will fetch het this instant. And my husband, too.” To drag her husband and Joe into the library, to the surprise of the others, occupied but a moment. Then the door communicating was closer Mrs Howson, or rather Lady Morford, rose as Joe entered She gazed at the girl a minute, then taking her hand in hers said, in trembling tones: “You are her very self—the picture of my poor Louise ” Joo looked abashed Monsieur and Madama Dufaur turned aside. “Let mo look at you in the light. ” Lady Morford turned Joe's face to the light “The same skin, the same features; above all, you have your mother's eyes and brows —the finest I ever beheld—and her hair. There can be no doubt about it, child; you are my daughter’s child. There are hundreds who will say the same in England ” Then Joe felt herself drawn to the handsome lady’s breast, felt a tear on her cheek as she was kissed, held off, looked at, and kissed more warmly again and again. Madame Dufaur was weeping silently, and Monsieur Dufaur wiped his eyes suspiciously. Then Madame Dufaur said:

, “Let us go into the other room." When Joe walked Into the drawingroom beside Lady Morford, everyone • was struck with the resemblance she bore to the handsome old lady. There • was the same mo.uth, the same hose, the same eyes. grandmother” i said Madame Dufaur. “Her grandmother!” Job Wonder looked amazed. The clown looked at his wife. Dick suddenlv felt his heart sink. He could not explain the feeling. It seemed as if tlie whole world was dropping, dropping away from him. " “This is the most extraordinary circumstance that has ever come under mv notice,” said Monsieur Dufaur “We are, I think, about to ie arn why that scoundrel wanted to marry this lady s granddaughter." Lady Morford looked from one to the other. “I see madame is amazed. I shall tell you all. As these present were witnesses. they can verify my statement ” - Thereupon he recited, briefly the incioonts of the evening. When ho entled, Lady Morford reflected, then asked the name of the young man who was prepared to marry her granddaughte-r “His name is Ike Jenks.” Dick answered modestly. “Yes, and a bigger rascal never lived, ”J said Job Wonder. “I know him and hiaa rascally uncle, Jeremiah Jenks.” Lady Morford turned to him with ad smile. “I would like to speak with you Mr. Wonder, concerning some affairs. ” “Glad to be of use to you, mum, ’speshally if I can keep you out of that lawyer’s clutches, or help put his nephew in tho penitentiary, whore ho is headin' now, an’ nothin’ kin stop him.” “And this young man whose rare courage and presence of mind enabled my granddaughter to avoid the snare set for her—where is he?” said Lady Morford. The clown pushed Dick forward. “Here he is, madam.” Poor Dick blushed scarlet as Lady Morford caught his hand in hers and said: “You are made of the stuff heroes are made of, my boy.” “You’d think so if you saw him bring Black and Firefly to time,” said the clojvn proudly. ” “He understands horses, then?” “Well, I've seen men who thought they knew it all, and Dick there knows more than they know—or at least ho can do more. ” “How strange it all seems,” said Lady Morford, “WeP, I will leave you now. You need rest Now you understand why I could not sleep. I had to come. ” “She looks Ilk" one of the high folks in the pictures we see,” said Job, when they were speaking of her. “High! So sho is,” said Monsieur Dufaur. “She belongs to the nobility. ” “Why, how so? She calls herself Howson,” said his wife. “Exactly; but she is an carl’s daughti r, and immensely wealthy at that Sho is called In England Lady Morford.” “What!” exclaimed Madame Dufaur, kissing Joo “You are a born lady—an carl’s daughter. How glad I am. Yes—listen. Sh •is a real lady, for she called to-day to ask me to bring Joe to her. She left a very important note with Maria, and Maria has forgotten it; and Lady Morford made me promise not to scold the poor girl. Had 1 received the i note she would not have been compelled ; to como In tho dead of the nljrht; but slid ronld not nwnr Innsrcr, Rhe ; “That was very kind; it shows breed-' ing,” said Monsieur Dufaur; “I take on ray hat to Lady Morford.” “But how do wo know you really are her granddaughter,” said Ben Brown, looking at Joo “How—how—why. you can seo; they look so ranch alike,” said Madamo Dufaur. “Ah, but In matters of this kind we don't go by looks. I don’t doubt ft: 1 only want to prove It to all tho wo?ld-” “I have it' 1 have it!” All looked at .lob Wonder. “There’s a woman in Barnesville poorhouse. She said Joo was rich — camo of rich people. Yes; she told mo i that, and that she knew more. I thought ' she was making a ft ol of me, dod-blast : her, an'she wasn't.” “It was old Mother Camp,” said Joe. “Yes. exactly; that’s her name. I'm goin' right back to Mother Camp, and i I'll find out all sho knows for five dol- • lars I'll go to-morrow; you can tell your grandmother Pm off.” “Meantime, madamo hero will show you all where to sleep for the remainder of tho night,” said Monsieur Dufaur. Whereupon they separated, a d soon tho inmates of Madame Dufaur’s domicile were wrapped In sleep. Dick was tho last to close his eyes. And then—ah! there wore tears in them, for was not Joe—his playmate, Joe—a lady, rich, and to become great, while who was he? What was he? “There is a groat difference between us now,” Dick said to himself, as he fell asleep. CHAPTER XXIX. IN WHICH MUCH IS EXPLAINED. When Job Wonder was preparing to return to his farm byway of Barnesville, he found, to his surprise, a note from Lady Morford, which read thus: I trust you will not deem it too much trouble, Mr. Wonder, to accompany mo to Barnesville I’oorbouse. where It Is necessary, for my own satisfaction and the protection of Josephine, to make certain Inquiries, which must be made lu person. The note was handed Job by Monsieur Dufaur. “Trouble! Not a bit of it I'd git up at night to accommodate her. She’s a born lady—sho is. ” So in duo tlmo Job me't Lady Morford | (who was known as Mrs. Howson) at the depot. She hid a servant with her — ; a man servant—so gentlemanly, silent, | and discreet that Job thought him vastly “superior to Congress > an Ruddersmith,” of Barnesville. Ben Brown accompanied tho i arty, and with him was Dick. This was the most amazing thing to i poor Joo. Sho marveled much at it i That Dick should vent iro back into the I jaws of death—that was how she regarded Zeko Caper's control—was beyond her comprehension. But she did not know that Lady Morford had talked apart with Ben Brown and his wife, or that fortune had taken a sudden turn in favor of two or three persons. i When the party reached Barnesville, - Job, Lady Morford, and her servant set ; out together for the Poor House, leaving i the clown and Dick to follow at their ■ leisure. When Zeke Caper encountered Job, his > face changed color swiftly. Job seated his traveling companion with a flourish , of deference that mystified Caper. i “We have come to look over the Poor House, Mr. Caper. This lady, Mrs. , Howson, has heard so much of it that 1 she Is curious like, and so be I, too.” : Then Job whispered aside to Lady

They looked over the building over Umdr gltt^Sho* ni P remem,,e re<l Job's turning to Job said shortly * 8 oS;U” it? You ' want to “We do. This lady will ask you.” tJdriMr w7^ mot her of the girl Mr. Bonder took home with him was called here?” “Yes- Simpson. That's the name they put on the record. ” on’tab“k™ h “ v ' s b ~" ‘ h ’ M ” b ° a i H kn ° W ’ and b ° QUlck,” nnil^w , iai } ding the 01(1 woman a bank note which she concealed hastily. Howson— Louise Howson. ” “How did you learn this?” Mother Camp looked around, then whispered: “She told me before she died. And th© name of th© doctor in New York who attended her three years." “The name!” said Lady Morford. “The doctor's name?” “You can't go wrong—Clifford—John ■Clifford: ” I" what e'se did she tell you”” T She told me her child was, or ought Ito be, nch—rich. That if i would «e* I Some one to write to England, to her mother ” “She said that! Don’t deceive me. I am her mother!” Mother Camp looked at her and her face softened. “She did—it’s true. -Then, before she could tell me her mother’s name, she took a fit of coughing and—died.” “You'll stand ready to swear to it,” said Job. “Any t'me. It's the gospel truth.” “Do you know anythin’ 'bout who that boy Dick belongs to?” Mother Camp coughed. “Dicky Dick! O, well, why do you want to know?” “’Cos I'm his friend, and this lady 13, too. ” “Why—whisper. His father died of the tremens—right here. And they do say Dicky's uncle is living, and is worth hundreds of thousands. But it don't belong to the uncle. That's why Zeke Caper tried to kill him; he beat him and starved him, but the boy ran away. He ran away.” ‘ And this uncle—where does he live?” Job asked. “In Now York. But his name ain’t Dick. O, no; it's Israel Heber!” “Great Scott!” exclaimed Job. At that instant Ben Brown and Dick entered the grounds, and Job beckoned them to approach. “Who is this, Mother Camp?” Tho old woman gazed at him intently “It’s Dick —it’s Dick. ” “It’s me, Mother Campi And this gentleman is my friend—Mr. Brown.” The farmer took Brown and Dick aside and their amazement was \ory groat when he informed them of tho facts learned from Mother Camp. “You'll como to New .York wh"H we want you,” said Brown, after tho matter bad been talked over and they understood clearly what must be di no Zeke Caper did not encounter them again until they were leaving. Then he : bowed politely, until his eye fell on Dick, when lie irrew very nalo. i “Here— you: I want you now—at oner. i Uow dare J ou como In this company?” ■qje did not como—l brought him,” Mid Bon Brown. “But I will como back. Mr. Caper, and when I do, you'll make up your mind to quit Barnesville.” Then the party withdrew. Upon fcieir return to New York stops wore taken immediately to verify Mother Camp’s statements. Dr. Clifford's recollection was so clear he narrated all the circumstances attending tho illness and poverty of Mrs Simpson. Israel Heber’s source of wealth also was easily discovered. His brother, who was addicted to intemperance, died childless —or his son died—and Israel came into I half a million or more “The way’s all clear for us,” said ' Brown to Wonder, ns they talked tlra matterover with Diek. “How would it do to let mo write a : little letter to my Uncle Israel,” said j Dick. “Good! Do!” said Ben Dick wrote just two lines, to tho effect that he was about to proceed against his uncle and Zeko Caper. When Israel Heber received tho little letter, he selected a stout rope, and the next day the papers published an ac count of the “rich merchant's mysterious suicide. ” A day later Zeko Caper stolo away from Barnesville in disguise, westward bound, but Providence had marked a different course for him. A collision tool^plaee a short distance from Barnesville, and Zeke Caper was the only passenger killed. The same papers that contained the announcement of Caper's sudden taking off devoted upwards of a column to tho startling details of a conspiracy to wed an English heiress. The names alone were suppressed: but Isaac Jenks, Jeremiah Jenks, and Blinker’s name figured prominently. Jeremiah fled the city. Ills brilliant nephew, Blinker, and two of Blinker's confederates wcr ■ duly tried aiMl-feont to the btate s prison for various ' ’“Tv. nri.z.jr duomctl heavy. Monsieur and Madame Dufaur still conduct their admirable academy, and are more popular, if possible, than eve/. If there is one man more jolly and jovial than Job Wonder in Acorn County, the inhabitants have not found him The fact that he was instrumental in proving Josephine Howson's claims has made him, if possible, kindlier than ever. And Samanthy will never, never accuse anybody of anything until her dying day. Job's wife talks of the time when young Lady Morford and Double Dick are “coming out to the farm.” Lady Morford speedily carried her granddaughter to England. It was said she had two objects in view—to silence her nepLew forever, and to give her granddaughter the requisite degree of polish. At her instance, Double Dick accompanied them abroad, and Dick would not be separated from Ben Brown; consequently Ben, his wife, and Dick formed as happy a trio as ever set sal! for the old world. The fact that Dick was where he could see and speak to Joe—he persisted in calling her "Joe’ and she called him Dick—had much to do with the glow on his Ijonest face. Ben Brown’s letters to his old fiends, especially to Job Wonder, to whom he took a great liking, indicate closer relations at some future day between Double Dick and Jx>e. [the end.]

Overtaxed, Crippled Italy. 11 A dispatch from London sets forth the weak and well-nigh impotent condition of Italy in her relations to the areibund, and more particularly in her relations to England, since the latter leans upon her as the natural ally in securing and retaining control of the Mediterranean Sea. The secret of her desperate straits is not ar to find. The tremendous burden of expense necessary to sustain her position in the dreibund, and thereby antagonize France, her natural ally, has involved a ruinous degree of taxation and rendered the people discontented and restless. Excited popular meetings have been held in V enice, Naples, Ancona, and other cities, and strong resolutions have been adopted protesting aganist the course of the ministry. The Government, in the face of the popular emonstrations of dissatisfaction, is confronted with the necessity of announcing that tlie imposts must be increased still further, and that the cost of defense by sea and land must be raised in order that Italy may maintain her position in the dreibund. She is confident that the Italians consent to be taxed still further > tne empty honor of keeping their country as an equal ally wTth Germany and Austria, and that they will look on uncomplainingly while the army and navy are still further increased. But in this the ministry may be mistaken and Rudini may find himself swept out of power by the same causes which overwhelmed that much greater statesman, Sig. Crisni. By the en«mous expenditures I which Italy has laid out upon her ' navy, the proportionate expenditures ■ incurred by the enlargement of her I army, and the huge sums wasted in j sinecures, and her uselessly large ! civil list. Italy is now on the high I road to bankruptcy, and yet is far ; from possessing a war power which I can compare with her allies. In time i of war she would have to raise a still • larger army, and bring her navy, ■ which now consists of great, useless ' hulks, into an active condition for I encountering the swift fleets of other ! powers. But when that time comes i she will be without the money to buy | provisions and equipments for her army and war material for her navy, and she has not the credit to borrow. She is paying a frightful cost for the glory of being regarded as a strong member of the dreibund. The best thing Italy can do is to disband at least half of her army and reduce her navy. She can be more useful as an ally with half her present force and ability to support it than with the present force and bankruptcy. In ease of war Italy has not the resources to keep in the Held half her army or at sea half her navy. She must husband her resources if she wishes to have any influence in European affairs or weight in time of war. As she stands at present she can do little t.. l„ Ip 1 M. 'lit.-rran.-an and little to help Ger-nia-iiy as against France, and mean- i while she iseontihually exasperating! and antagonizing the latter power by i her demonstrations of force. It' the Government continues its present tax- I at ion policy, which is driving its peo- \ pie away by thousands, it may yet ■ hive to encounter the uprising of i those who are left at home and who j have little sympathy with dreibunds. to remain in which is consuming ; their substance and impoverishing them and yet not adding to Italy's : power of defense in war. — I’hotographing a Bubble. After running horses, jumping athletes, flying cannon-balls, flashes of i lightning, and the shifting spectral i lines of revolving double-stars have I been successfully photographed, the; airy soap-bubble has furnished a stumbling block that the photographer | has had great difficulty in surmount- | ing. Lord Rayleigh, in a recent lee- ' tore before the Royal Institution of London, said that for some time it ; had been his ambition to photograph . a >oap-bubble in the act of Iweaking. i He anticipated great difficulty because he knew the time occupied in I the disappearance of a breaking bub- ' ble must be but a small fraction of a ! secohd. Whoever has watched a brilliant soap-bubble burst knows how instan- j taneously it vanishes. Lord Rayleigh ; thought it might take one-twentieth of a second, but by repeated experi- ; ments he found that Hie time occupied in the disappearance of the iridescent Him was not more than one . bLuee-iHiuttretHh of a second! to catch and picture a vanishing film between the instant of its break- i ing and that of its complete extinc- | tiou proved a most difficult undertak i ing, but it was accomplished. Some persons would think that it i would be equally difficult to photo ! graph a lightning-flash, but it must be recollected that lightning makes . an intensely vivid impression, while I the soft reflection of a soap-bubble is , evanescent, even in the bright glare of an electric spark. From printing the image of the flying edge of a broken bubble in til three-hundredth of a second to dis- ; closing the existence of a great nebuke in the heavens by the cumulative effect of several hours of continuous exposure, the modern photographic plate is performing many wonders in beiialf of science, and proving itself one of the most powerful means at man's disposal to unlock the secrets ' of nature. Fotr-year-ow Charlotte had been having some trouble with her English, but she has entirely passed her difli- > culties in one point. “I see how it is now, mamma,” she said the other 1 day. •-Ileas set and lay." “Yes.'' ■ “And people sit and iie, don't they, laamma'?” i

FIGS AND THISTLES. Weekly Winnowing from the Epigrammatlo Ram’s Horn. T T a s * n ' s d) 11 trying to steal love.

1 God never has to call for reinforcements. When ever the pig eats it helps the butcher. Never look down wnen you want to see

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God. A mule never finds out that his ears are long. Unbelief is only another name for self-conceit. God’s children are never killed by the devil’s lion. Dressing conspicuously is a confession of inferiority. Our real trasures tPie prince of evil can never touch. “If the Son shall make, you free, you shall be free indeed.” Chuist does not want our adiui atlon. lie wants our love. The place for everyone of us is tho one God wants us to fill. It is not often that a long sermon does the Lord much good. The devil is always glad when a hypocrite joins tlfb church. Anybody who is willing to work : for Christ can be always busy. A kind word will go farther and strike harder than a cannon ball. I The lower a Christian bends for j Christ the higher he can reach. I “The Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.” The devil shoots hard at the man who makes an honest tax return. People who look down are always I trying to pull somebody else down. It is safe to distrust the religion of people who have no use for soap. If you want to make sure that God I loves you, become a cheerful giver. There is no lifting power for Christ in shaking hands with two Ungers. The devil is always kept busy in the neighborhood of where a good man lives, Men who get the Bible wide open are not afraid to trust God with their money. One way of getting close to the devil is by being meanly close with your money. While the peacock has his plumage spread, ne forgets that he has black feet. Keep your light burning, and Qod will see that it is put where it can be seen. ••Blessed are they whose iniquities rirn Covert von. and whose sins are covered. The Christian doesn't need wings. His way of traveling is by a look. If the Christian life were not a warfare there could be no test of I k>ya!ty. We are made rich by what we givt to Christ, n >t by what we keep from { him. No man will ever find God until he is willing to stand still- and let God | And him. Some of us would talk less about our neighbors- if we would talk more ! about the Lord. Heaven never seems far away ex•ept when we stand on the devil’s ground to look. God never has to look at a man’s ■ bank account to find out whether he I is fit for Heaven. If the devil had to do all his work in the daytime, he would never get another follower. The Christian who is ashamed of the cross of Christ will find the way to Heaven all up hill. Make it impossible for God to suffer, and you make it impossible foi i Him to reveal his love. All the devil can do against the I man who bears the shield of faith is to waste his ammunition. The man is most needed who will cheerfully do things that somebody else is willing to do. ••The wages of sin is death: but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” There is not a place on earth sc low that from it we may not step to a bi-her place qu. ' Tok Awii woMiii rather get one boy ’ to go wrong than to sell a barrel of : ,vhisky to drunkards. It is possible to fail a thousand times in the eyes of men, and yet j succeed iu the sight of God. If God could have His way. not one of His little ones would ever have a single anxious thought. The worst the devil can do against the Christian will only make him cling to God a little closer. Circumventing; the Fiy. Put a fly on the window, and up he goes toward the top: he cannot be made to walk downward. A St. Louis inventor hit upon an idea. Why not use that habit against them? Forthwith he made a window screen divided in halves. The upper half lapped over the lower, with an inch of space between. As soon as a fly would light on the screen he would proceed to travel upward, and would thus walk straight out-of-doors. On reaching the topor the lower side he would be outside. Not being able to walk down he had no way to return to the room. By this means a rooir can bs quickly cleared of flies, which always seek the light. ••Do you know Mrs. Gossip is a very reliable woman?” “Indeed!” “Yes; | whatever she says goes.”