St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 17, Number 42, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 7 May 1892 — Page 7

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waiiei RW IS 4? ri? Jr, r CHAPTER I. WHILE VIOLETS. Maple Leaf Farm lay bathed in the golden sunlight of a rare autumnal day. They had named th • place well those Sturdy old Forsythes who, for thn e generations, had drawn from its soil the rich fruits of an inexhaustible fertility, redeeming the broad acres from the wilderness, and building and improving until the square mile of field, timber and brookside resembled some notable English grange. Where the many gabled house steed, the thrifty maples shut it in to a nest floored with golden-hued fallen leaves, and fanned by crimson beauties still pendent to the mother stem, flaunting their gay tintings like vari-colored banners.

It was now, when the glories of the harvest still lingered, when each field looked like some swept lawn, and-the barn groaned with golden store, and nature, man and beast seemed resting for a later battle with winter and storm, that Maple Leaf Farm looked its best, and it was now that stalwart, iron-knit ■John Elliott, gazing across the fencedin paradise of his hopes and ambitions, thrilled proudly. Ten years agone he had brought his motherless child, Ruth, to v the farm, to be welcomed by old Geoffrey Forsythe, his dead wife’s bachelor brother. “I wrote for you,” the sad-faced recluse had said, “because the farm was going to ruin, and you have the vigor and the ambition to redeem it. I am failing daily. I give you the use of the place as virtual owner v bile y< u live. After that”—and he gazed affect i mately at golden-haired little Ruth—“she shall be my heiress, and her husband shall carry on the work you begin.” And then Geoffrey Forsythe had kissed the wonder-eyed child who so resembled his dead sister, had retired to the gloomy atone residence he owned in the village of Ridgeton, a mile distant, and dropped out of their lives as fully as though he , had gone to foreign parts. A recluse, an invalid, once a year he I •caine to the farm, once a month Ruth • visited him in the hermitage, where he seemed to dwell only to brood over a - They told of a love episode In his left him in its wake only heart-wreck and sorrow. She had jilted him, but he could not recognize the ■ -coquette in the fair being who seemed -an angel to his blinded, longing gaze. She had wedded another. They had both died, leaving a son, Ralph, ami when John Elliott came to the farm old Geoffrey had said to him: “I make but one restriction to your ■exclusive control of everything. A sense of duty impels me to keep her boy out ; of the poorhouse. You are to take .Ralph, make a man of him, and si me ■day, may be, he and Ruth ” Grim John Elliott understood, and Ralph had become a member of his family, to all eyes, except the blind ones of Geoffrey Forsythe and John Elliott, developing traits of secrecy, cunning and rudeness that carried out the defective training of a deceitful mother and a reckless, unprineiph d sire. Since then the years had^oneon, each one adding to the beauty and value of Maple Leaf Farm, and John Elliott might well experience a flush of joy as he surveyed his goodly heritage that bright, glowing afternoon. “It 'took time to get the hang of things,” he murmured, with self-gratula-tion, “but I managed it. There isn’t a farm in a day’s journey that equals this. The last year has mended every broken fence, propped up every ercoked barn, and the profits—l shall be rich before I •die, very rich!” Farmer John spoke truly. Thb last year had been a golden one indeed. In his stubborn pride he took all the credit for it, but his was not the hand that had ; wrought the change. He half guessed it, as a tall, manly ' fellow of about twenty-five came from one of the granaries. “Mr. Elliott, the wagons will be here for the wheat to-morrow,” he remarked. “Very well, you can attend to it. And, say, Dalton, we had better cast up accounts to-night.” The young man bowed with a dignity that told of a past career considerably i above the level of farm culture. Farmer i John turned and watched him with a cal- j eulating eye as he strolled toward the | read. "I can’t make him out,” he muttered, i “I never could. I never will. He came j here, quiet and gentlemanly, a year ago, and asked for work —no friends, no references. He thrashed like a bound hand, But I’ll wager he never'saw a flail before. Then I put him in charge of the men. Then he began to help me out with my accounts, and he’s been a jewel, earning double his wages, saving me four times as much, and always the • quiet, gentlemanly, unassuming fellow ■ —Great Goshen! it never struck me be- ■ fore. But suppose it is him him that’s at the bottom of the new mischief I’ve scented!” Farmer John brought his sinewy fist down on the fence till it quivered, under the force of a new and overwhelming ' idea, Black as a thundercloud grew his I broad, bronzed face, so lately wreathed । with smiles of satisfaction. “Some one is at the bottom of it. ' Some one’s robbing me systematically. It can’t b’e him, but—who knows? He’s a stranger; he knows where the keys are, and —I’ll watch!” Muttering, black-browed, the fanner tock his way slowly towards the house. The sun had gone under a hazy cloud, the first forerunner of damp weather. Nature was in sympathy with the dark shadows that the impression of a wilful .

suspicion was about to cast about the peaceful home. Paul Dalton, the young superintendent, all unconscious of the web with iron warp and woof of steel that fate had just begun to weave for him, walked on till he reached the grove of maples lining the road. Farmer John adjudged him a mystery, and Farmer John was right. One glance at his expressive face, intelligent eyes, expansive brow, daintily shaped hands, told that he had not always been a tiller of the soil. Something in the half-veiled eyes spoke of a hidden past, of ambition thwarted, of a soul bound to iron-like, uncompromising duty for the sake of others. Something, too, just then awoke the sentimental in the heart of the inexplicable mystery of Maple Leaf Farm that would have' made hard, practical Farmer John stare in wonder, had he been there. Whistling softly to himself, Paul Dalton, glancing down, saw some tinv flowers growing at his feet. He leaned over and picked two of them. They were violets, late stayers, sheltered by the protecting hedge and nourished by the rich damp soil around them. “White violets,” he murmured with a bright smile, "the first I have ever seen, though-, from the dairymaids’ talk, they are common enough to the faithful lover. Little of that for me,” he sighed grimly, “but what superstition shall I fit to them. “Cross the stile with violets white,

3 Your love shall pass that way ere night - ' I’ll pave the way for some loyal swain, r I Here goes.” , | He smiled dreamily, the poet’s reverie , jin his fine eyes, as he bound the two t I pretty flowers with a thread of grass - and caught the brittle stems against a , ' splinter in the slanting rail. Then, : more serious, as some duty of labor was 3 j suggested to his mind by observing the > ' workmen idling about a hay-mow, he , । crossed the field. Half way thither, turning he«saw Ruth - I Elliott passing the spot he had just left, ’j a book in her hand, her steps directed f ■ toward the grove. 1 । A faint glow came into his cheeks. ) Perhaps he thought of the violets, and • । the superstition his ready mind had as- ’ ( sociated with them. At all events, he 1 j thought of the pretty, wild-rose face, 1 . and the trim, dainty form, for his eyes I grew somber, and he directed the men 1 at their work in a preoccupied, mechanical way. j Some fascination of destiny came into his*checrless life as, at liberty again, he . wended his way t >ward the grove where i Ruth had disappeared. His heart gave a quicker b >und as ho I caught sight of her pretty blue dress ; through the shrubbery. i Then a frown darkened his brow, blt- < ter and distrustful, us he observed that / elio hml <* ('Ollip/ihion. “That IARt, Ralph Prc^. ott!” ho murmured. "What does Mr. Elliot: ke--p that man about here for?" An unwelcome companion was the favorite of old Geoffrey Forsythe just then to the dainty Ruth, however. Paul Dalton knew that a moment lat< r. lor, as he was about to retrace his shq s, a fluttering, indignant outcry reached his ears. I “How dare you. sir!" Ruth's mellow tones, robbed of their I usual gentleness, spoke. The reply grated harshly. “Dare? That’s good, Ruth! Give me the books, I say! I saw; 1 was watching. You’ve got. them between tkc leave. You won’t take a keej s ike from me. I ain’t handsome enough for that, but some other fellow—l wi.l have them!"

"You cowardly spy!" gasped pr* tty Ruth. ”oh, I hate y. u! I hate you! Help! Y'ou shall not have the book!” “I will!” In half a dozen sturdy strides, Paul Dalton reached the spot where the altercation was going on. An exciting s. ene greeted his vision. The great rough Ralph had just torn a l ook from Ruth’s hands and she was striving to recover it. “Give it to me!” she cried, her eyes flashing, her face aflame. “Oh, if I were only a man!" “Miss Ruth, here is your book.” Quick as a flash, Paul Dalton had acted. How it was ever d®ne the confused Ruth could not tell, but the next moment his athletic form had sprung through the shrubbery, the book was snatched from the astounded Ralph Prescott’s hands, was tendered to its owner, and Ralph himself lay prostrate, ten feet away, seeing stars. With a growl of rage and muttered threats he limped out of reach of hi^ndignant adversary a moment later. “What was it?” querried Paul, solicitously; “you will pardon me, "but that great rough fellow ” Trembling all over Ruth Elliott confusedly turned over the leaves of the book. “I—l had something; it is lost,” and then she burst into inexplicable womanly tears. “Was it something of value?” ask”^ Paul, gently. “Perhaps I can help vou find it.” “No, I have found it.” Paul Dalton started as from a shock A tell-tale blush on her face, hastily, guiltily, pretty Ruth Elliott had picked up at her feet the object missing from her book, the cause of all the exciting episode of the moment. Two white violets bound with a thread of grass. Comprehendingly, quivering with nameless emotion, Paul Dalton recognized them, and as she, shame-faced, fluttering, dropped the flowers again, he regained them and tendered them to her with earnest, st arching, hopeful glance. Their hands touched as she took them —and she trembled! Their eyes met as he realized that they wore precious to her—and he thrilled! CHAP 1 EK 11. PLOTTING. 111-favoied, sullen-hearted Ralph Prescott nursed his swollen cheek and his impotent rage in silence and solitude the remainder of that eventful day. He did not appear at supper time, and the ensv^w d/nr mounted a S>rse

early and gave Mapje .Leaf firm a wide berth until after dark. j Farmer John met him the next forenoon, and asked him what was up, but he evaded a dir ct reply. Pretty Ruth only laughed slyly when ( interrogated. He was too happy; sho । saw too much of brave, earnest Paul Walton those days to got even the officious Ralph into trouble by betraying his rudeness. Once only she met the surly Ralph face to face. “I’m watching and I’m thinking,” ho told her in tragic accents of mysterious import. “You won’t keep up your flirta- . tion very long." | “Poor Ralph!” she replied banteringly. “Don’t think! The effort might bring on brain fever!” I “Don’t fret!" flashed out Ralph fiercely. | “You’ll see what kind of a man this new I lover of yours is soon. You’re mine, by rights; it was always so understood, and —l’ll have revenge." | Happy Ruth laughed at the dark threats and blushed at the idea of a lover.

Ralph evaded Paul Dalton, anathematized him at a distance, refused to break bread at the same table with him, and the third night after the altercation stole cautiously into the house at dusk, stole guiltily out again, and made for the distant village much with the excitement and haste of a midnight assassin. “I’ve done it,” he chuckled, gleefully. “Old Elliott has been suspicious for a week. He’ll miss it, sure, and the way I’ve fixed it ” Crafty Ralph seemed to feel very sanguine and very joyful over some plot that bid fair to materialize ere the evening had passed away. He reached the village and proceeded straight to its tavern. Arrived, it seemed necessary for him to prop up his courage, for he drained several glasses at the bar, and then, retiring to an inner room, sat at a table lost in reflection. "I’ll give it time to come to a focus,” he soliloquized. “In about an hour I'll go home and witness the explosion. Paul Walton, you crossed a bad man’s track when you crossed mine!” More meditation, the crafty face expressing varied and fleeting emotions, and then Ralph drew two photographs fr >m his pocket. At one he gazed fondly; it was that of Ruth. At the other he glared venomously—hatred and jealousy held in thrall in one concentrated look. “I stole it from her room. He gave it to her,” hissed the self-confessed thief. “How I hate him!" Paul Walton’s placid eyes gazed up from the picture. Their earnest glance maddened his infuriated rival. He spread it out upon the table; ho Struck it; he spat upon it. Then, taking out his pocket-knife, he began to jab at it. “How I hate him!” Ho burrowed out one eye. “I wish it was his real throat.” And the envenomed plotter described a skillful swoop across the cardboard. “There’s his miserable heart!" Jab, jab, jab!—the blade quivered in the innocent picture, until it was p rforated like a bull t-riddled battle flag. “Hello! Queer amusement, Isays." Ralph Prescott started violently. Turning quickly, ho observed a tramp-Ish-looking fellow at his elbow. “Who are you?" he demanded, angrily; what bitatiiieM* “ Tho ntran^or loonnl craftily nt tho picture, unmoved by Ralph's blustering manner. “Queer amu“omont. I says." he rep< atod. insolently. "1 ' any of your business?" denmn << . Ralph, hotly, securing and h ding the photograph. “<>h, no," retorted the oth r, coolly; “only I cm guess the truth—you hate

that mail.’’ Ralph gritte 1 his teeth vongefully. ' Ami you haven't got pluck enough to deal with the teal fellow as you do with his picture. ” ' See here " began Ralph. furiously. "No. you >-<■<• h-tc. I’m a keen one, I am, Mebbo I can help you. That man is a rival, eh?” "Suppose he is?” ' Ami >u want to get even with him’" "What, if I do?” “Well, I know something. It’s curious how 1 know it, but I happen to, all the same. You want revenge. Tell mo your story, all about that man, and I'll tell you something in return that will make your eyes snap. I'll show you a way of revenge that will make you jusi get up and howl with delight." "Do you mean it?” muttered Ralph, dubiously. “Treat me right, promise me enough to pay a night's lodging and keep, and see if I’m boasting.” Over their glasses Ralph Prescott reluctantly awarded the confidence demanded. “Now, then?" he cried expectantly, glaring in eagerness at bis companion. “Now then it is. When I saw that picture I was sort of startled.” “Why?" “I know that man.” “You know him?” “Yes.” “What of it?” “His name begins with a W, first name P—Paul. Is that a clever guess? and how’s Dalton for the rest of it?” “I don’t see anything wonderful in that. Everybody about here knows that." “Yes, but I don’t live about here. Never was here before, and didn’t know that Paul Dalt m was within a thousand miles of here.” “Well, knowing now that he is, what of it?” “What of it!” repeated the other excitedly. "This of it. If I can tell you something about that man that will sweep him from your path like a hurricane, if I can prove certain facts that once known will drive him from Maple Leaf Farm like a flash, what then?” Ralph Prescott’s face was white with eagerness and hope. “Can you do it?” he panted. “lean. Is it SSO if Ido?” “Yes, a hundred. Out with it. What do you know of this man, Paul Dalton?” The tramp leaned over. His blowsy lips touched the ear of the eager Ralph. He whispered seven words — words freighted with an intelligence that meant ruin and disaster to the innocent Paul Dalton —heart-break and misery for the girl with the trusting heart and the wild-rose face. Palpitating, his eyes glowing luridly with mingled joy and hate, Ralph Prescott sprang to his feet. “Prove that!” he gasp d, hoarsely. “Prove it, and I’ll give you, not fifty, not a hundred, but five hundred dollars. Oh, the luck of it! Oh, the joy of it. Paul Dalton, I have you in my power at last!” Ito be continued. [

RAVACHOL IN FOR LIFE THE PARIS BOMB-THROWER IS SENTENCED. Notwithstanding the Threats of tho Anarchists a Jury Convicts the Captured Loader—Ravachol Boasts of Uis Crime. His Life Spared. The trial of Ravachol, alias a halfdozen other names; Charles Achille Simon, alias “Biscuit;” Jao Beala, alias Joseph Marius; Charles Ferdinand Chaumartin; and the girl Rosalie Sougere was held at the Seii, e Assizes Court in Paris. The judges had been warned not to convict Ravachol, and no one was anxious to occupy the bench during the trial. So many threats had been made that friends of the prisoners would attempt some desperate act to either free the accused or prevent the trial, that admission to the court-room was severely restricted. Only those personally known to the court officials and the twenty-two witnesses were admitted. The prisoners were charged with causing the explosions at tho residence of Judge, Bendit, 136 Boulevard St. Germain, and at the residence of the public prosecutor, Bulot, at tho corner of the Rue Clichy and the Rue de Berlin. They were also charged.with attempting to blow up the police commissariat at Clichy. The most elaborate preparations wore taken by the authorities to guard against any attempt to interfere with the course of justice. The guards about the Palais do Justice were redoubled, and every part of the approaches to the building was watched closely. Only detectives and policeman could be seen in tho corridors and elsewhere in the interior of the building. The attendance in ths court-room was confined to the - witnesses, officials, detectives, and journalists.

When Judge Gues entered he at once summoned the jury, who, it must be said, presented a greatly disturbed appearance. After the jurors had taken ® > w RAVAI HOU their places, the prison* rs, h> aded by Ravachol, were brought in. They were guarded by a large squad of polic*’. When th*» reading of th*' indictment was conclude I Judge Gues examined Ravachol concerning the murders which if .-hnrx«' < i ho committed, ami also Colx’ernlnK the . - |>b-e otin. Ravachol ill a nonchalant 'manner admitted his guilt ami took u|>on himself the entire resj onslbllity for tho Boulovanl St. Germain and the Rue < I.ehy explosions. Wh« n questioned a- t » his motives for onus ng the explosions linvaehol replied: I felt a fe ling of unfeigned anger at tho conviction of Le Valloir and Perret. I <:• not think that Benoit and Bqlot should have demanded the death of th*' fu h -rs of fam lies. Then, aga.n, th*' brutality of the police when they arrested my comrad*'s revolted my i onscieuee, and I determin* 1 upon re venge. In regard to the St. Germdn explosion, I lomlod a I omb that *'<>ntained sixty 'artridges. I dressed myself in broadcloth,' and went to Benoit’s house without attracting any attention. After d*-positing the machine and lighting the fuse 1 ran down stairs and n iudusl the pavement just as the explosi-n oe*mrrc<l. The operation in the Rue Clichy was much the same, only I carried tho bomb in a bag. A portion of th ■ powder beyamo displace 1, and thus rendered it extremely dungeroui to light the bomb, as it might explode in an instant But I did not hesitate to take the risk.” Ravachol concluded his remarks with an exposition of his theories. He said: “I wish to see anarchy established ami the whole people as one great family, each member ready to siiare what he has with his brethren. I committed those outrages in order to draw the attention of th.' public to the needs of the anarchists. ” Sim >n was next examined, but no new revelations were obtained from him. He a imitted his complicity in the outrages. Chau martin said when questioned that Ravachol stole from Solssy the cartridges which he,intended to use in blowing up the palace of justice. Th’e oth.T two prisoners tried to exeulpaL' th Tnselvee. The witnesses were then called, and their testimony corroborated all the details of the crime as set forth in the indictment.

M. Beaup lire, the publi* prosecutor, in his address to the jury declared that the prisoners were disciples of the famous bandit Claude Duval, and equaled if not < x-eile 1 him in the daring manner in which their acts of outlawry were performed and in their utter disregard of all established laws. He said that they had not sought to convert the people to their opinions, Lut to terrorize them and to subject them to their will by placing them in a state of abject fear. The prosecutor caused a sensation when he read a letter from a Belgian magistrate informing him that anarchists wore sendi cartridges to Paris. He concluded 1 ailing upon the jury to return a verdict against Ravacholand Simon without any recommendation of mercy and to return a severe verdict against Beala. In regard to Chaumartin he left the jury to bring in a verdict in accordance with the evidence. “Regarding Rosalie Sougere,” he said,“consult your hearts and consciences.” Ravacholand Simon were found guilty and sent* need to penal servitude for life. The other prisoners were acquitted. The dastardly anarchist outrage in Paris, by which at least two persons have been maimed for life and the safety of many others.was placed in imminent peYil, reveals the existence of an alarming condition of affairs in the French capital. It emphasizes the fact that the police authorities there are unafble to cope with the organized gang of murderers who, for a year past, have been per-

petrating these crimes with an ever-in-creasing boldness and recklessness It shows that tho conspiracy against law and order is more widespread than was supposed and that the assass ns are re<solved to have revenge on any who incur their displeasure or interfere with the carrying out of their sanguinary programme. The only offense of M. Very, the proprietor of the case in which the bomb was exploded, was that Ravachol, the instigator or perpetrator of the outrage committed in the Rue de Clichy March 30, was arrested in his place, and he yras suspected of having informed the police of the terrorist’s presence there. —Chicago Post. SECOND CALL ISSUED. Another Free Sliver Convention to Bo Hehl May 96 and 27, 1892. The National Silver Committee has issued the following call: The National Silver Committee, appointed by the first National Silver Convention, held at St. Louis in November, 1889, believing that the exigency has arisen which calls for earnest deliberation and •united action on the partpf the friends of bimetallism throughout' tho United States, hereby calls a convention to be known as the Second National Si.ver Convention, to bo held at Washington, 1). C., May 26 and 27, 1892, one of the objects being to organize i a National Bimetallic Association or league i for the better promotion of the cause of free bimetallic coinage in the United States. This action is impelled by the manifest determination on the part of the gold combination to suppress the silver issue for at least another decade, and. If possible, bi- transmuting existing debts into gold obligations and otherwise to fasten forever the single gold standard upon the people of the United States, and thus to perpetuate the subtle system of robbery that has been carried on for the last twenty years by means of a money stand- ; ard that is constantly increasing in ya ue. I His understanding must be defective wh> does not know that the demonetization of silver increased the in >ney standard of the United States and of the world, and his C mscience must lie seared who would attempt to justify it. But this increase still goes on and will go on. as gold grows scarce and dear, until the bimetallic standard, ! established IDl) years ago by Washington, Hamilton and JeiTerso i, is restored, anl gold relieved of the strain of being the only ni >ney of final redemption for other f-rms of nv noy and credit. As the money stani’^ d is ra sed, prices fal. and debts are increased. 'llie one is the counterpart of tho oilier, and the whole Is t ie work of legislation. The wit of man could not devisi a scheme better calculate 1 to enrich one class at the ex ense of another than by the device of an increasing money standard, and under the operation of this devk’e since 1873 hundreds of millions of dollars imnuully of the wo dth created by one ci a s have been -teadily appro] r.ated by another. For twenty years this has been going on,, and yet a Congress pledged to the j eoide to remedy the wrong hesitates and pauses as if hypnotized 'by the wand * f gold. The i> op’.e want n > “70cent dollars, •’ neither will they forever tolerate, under the hypocritical pret n~e of “honest money.” a dollar that has grown to Im' a 100-cent dollar and is still growing at an augment.xl rate. There may be those who are t red of tho silver question. Int the consequences of gold monometali tn ar • too thr 'atenin j to p Tmit the cause of siiv r to I e smothered, and to ab andon it is :o .ive over to ultlmat > slaver.• the toilers of tie land. No, th*' silver questl m will not d >wn. It Is an Issue | aramount t> nil other;. Altin uth It is no- o Snr.ly a p dltical question, in the sense th st tho renntly must lie by political action, the qu — tion of free bimetallic I Coinage is not a purti-an qne-tlon. nn I the • convention is not called for any partisan piirnoso. but to urge on all par? os the Justt O ail I nc es.ltv . t o tton on a que-tlon no v tai t > the pu. He welfare. j . The gold monometali ts are untied, active, an l watchful, as recent evenlshavo 1 shown. ’1 h'y have unlimlt*'d moans at their command, t her control th • moi ro|>olI Itan press, they Intimid ite political loadi ers, dominate conventions and dictate ■ platforms and ■ andl lates But the pe -plo ■ will not bo I' Kare l n >r will they submit forever to the robbery of an increasing gold s imdard. llv Silver Committee In this crisis call upon the people everywhere to come forw .r I and send delegate* to thi-* convention. 1 he call is extended to ail who earnestly favor the immediate restoration of free btmejaill : coioag * in tho United States, afid each Congressional district-is requested to send two deb ntes, and each State ami Territory to send two additional dolej gate—at-large. Farmers* Alliance ergani izations, State Granges. Patrons of Hus- ; baudry, Knights < f Labor, and all other , industrial organizations favorable to the i free coinage of silver are al o invited to ’ send oni? delegate for each local organiza- ! tion.

A cordial invitation :s also extended to all citizens who, by pen or otherwise, have been advocates of bimetalH-nr. Members of Conzress and of the Legislatures of the several States who favor the restoration of th ■ bimetallic standard and the coinace of silver on the same terms as gold are especially invited t> attend and participate in the pro-codings of the convention. By order of the National Silver Committee. A. J. M ahneh, Chairman, Lee Ckandael, Secretary. Washington, D. C., April 23. DEATH AND A PANIC. Fatal Crash of the Ferryboat Cincinnati at New York. Every timber of the double-decked ferryboat Cincinnati groaned and shivered as the boat crashed into its slip at full speed the other afternoon in New York. Men were violently thrown to the deck and against the rails, and horses were struggling to keep their feet and trampling upon women. The accident was probably due to the ^carelessness of Engineer Gray and his assistant, George A. Bowman. Gray allowed Bowman, who is a licensed engineer, but who ranked as an oil ron the Cincinnati, to run the engine for him, and it was while Bowman was handling it that the accident happened. As the boat neared the slip Pilot Tuttle gave two bells to reverse the engines, which was answered in the engine-room. The boat, however, seemed to be running at as high a rate of speed as ever. The Cincinnati rm straight into the bridge, striking with such a blow that it tore off some of the solid iron facing. While the excitement was most intense, Fireman Holt rushed up from the engine-room and said: “Engineer Gray has been crushed to death.” The boat had swung out into the stream and was drifting with the tide. As soon as the plunging of the horses had abated several of the men made their way in between the jumbled trucks and got to the do >r leading to the engine-room. They scrambled down the steep iron stairs and found Fireman Holt and Oiler Bowman peering down into the crank pit. At the bottom lay the mangled remains of Engineer Gray. They were wedged in between the crank and the sides of the pit, and it was half an hoar bes re they could be extricated. Mrs. Cleveland is fearful her little daughter, Ruth, will be kidnaped. There is more danger of her becoming the wife of some creature who will mistreat her after the tender care < f a lovely mother has reared her to womanhood.— Springfield Monitor.

THE SUNDAY SCHOOL AN INTERESTING AND INSTRUCTIVE LESSON. BeSectlons of an Elevating Character— Wholesome Food for Thought — Study* ing the Scriptural Lesson Intelligently and Profitably. Delight in God’s House. The lessons for Sunday, May 8, may be found In Psalms 84: 1-12. INrRObVCTORY. A psalm of God’s house. What Letter time than this to sing it? Tl.e sanctuary is not esteemed by the world as It deserves to be. There are all t-jo many empty pews; there is not the reverence for the sacred place that ought to be observed. Whose fault is i:? N< t wholly the world’s. Are Christians caring for God’s house as they should — frequ. nting it. loving it, reverencing it? Is it pleasant and amiable to the peop e of God? Only those who can say by their actions, “I was glad whe i they said unt> me, •Let us go Into the house of the Loid’ ” can effectively give the in - itati m, “Come thou with us. and we will do thee good, for the Lord hath spoken good concerning Israel.” WHAT THE LESSOX SAYS. .Amiable or pleasant. Douay: lovely, j Used of human affection at Isa. 5:1 and ; Ps. 45. in the inscripti n: “a song of loves.” . Tateruacle. Literally, habitation. ! where God lives. Lord of h: sts. Probably referring to the assembly of the anze’.s । on high. The word hosts signifies assembly. Longeth. A strong word, meaning in its first signification to turn pal '. Fainteth. Still stronger, to fail or expire. Crieth out. Tho climax < f -he verse, to shout, as of a note of despair, a death cry. 'kite living God. Hebrew: God. the living. Swa low. Suggestively, from the verb to whirl For heiself. Emphatic, as if in contrast w:t'i his own hunted souL Thine altars'. An exclamation, seemingly, in the original. So rendered in the Douay. It is, as it were, the agonize 1 cry spoken of in v. 2

blessed are they. We understani this to refer to that which has just been spoken of in-v. X David longs to be as the little birds that live in God’s house. Still praising, L e., they will l e?p on praising —have opportunity to ] raise Goi all the time. Blessed Is the man. Accent the v.ord man. in contrast with the birds of the air. Strength. The word means firmness, e tablishment of. ‘Sat my feet tn a rock and established my goings” (Ps. 40: 2).— — In whose heart are the ways of them. An obscure passage. The curious rendition of the Douay Is: “In his heart he hath disposed to ascend by steps.” Literally: The highways (i. e.. of God) are in their heart Baca. A tree called the weeping balsam, like our weeping willow, perhaps, suggestive of gloom. A well Suggestive of the opposite, 1. e., joy and refreshing. The word means a place of springs. The rain, e., the spring-rain, from the verb, to pour. Flileth or covereth, veilethcas of floods obliterating the ordinary little landmarks. Ti.e Revision reads it, covereth wh.li blesslhr, as If from barak; but ihe same word means pool, as -s evidently the case at 7: 3, and Nah. 2: 8. We prefer the Kong James here. From strength to strength. Not the same word as in v. 5. H re it means force, power, often applied t-j an army. Douay puts it from virtue to virtue, like grace to -race, or glory to glory. In Zion. Placed last In the verse in the Hebrew and should be in the translation, 1. e., before Ged in Zion. Prayer. The word for intercessory petition. ——Selah. Kirkpatrick in the Cambridge Bible considers this a mere musical annotation, but certainly suggestive also of climax in the sentiment. OG. d, our shield. Wrongly punctuated as w ta.e it. The Hebrew is, our shield beh >ld. o God. An appeal to God to behoid Hie shi..i.i it-.-tr ti.n i“i'j)|-|। v. rb. It 1- the same as what inimedrately follow*: look upon the face of thine anoin to 1. I had rather be a door-keeper. The Douay gives us tbe literal rendition here. I have chostyi to lie an abject. The word *loor-keeper refers to a menial who waits'at the door, ready to spring forward at his mas cr's bidding. the Lord God is a sun and shield. It is probably tills passage that Influenced the King James' rendering at v. 9. If, however, the Scripture here be considered Messianlc, there is no difficulty, Christ also is L. rd and God. (Ps. 2: 7, cf. Acts 13: 33.) Trusted. Other meanings of this interesting w< r 1 are. to be open, to confide, hence, to be secur . WHAT THE LESSON TEACHES. My flesh crieth out Tha ik God we can do this much. The flesh can cry out. It cannot of itself discover God, or reach God; but it can cry out for the living God. Blind B irtimeus did as much in his blindness; and it led him out of darkness into light. Behold the simplicity of the plan of salvation — weakness appealing to strength. First David’s soul is weak with longing, then when stiength is wholly gone, and he fain's in his conscious Impotency the cry goes up. It is the cry of need and that cry is always heard. “When I said, my foot slippeth!—thy mercy, 0 Loi held me up.” So spake Peter, his foot slipping in the waters, “Lord, save or I perish!” So cried the puLlican, “Lord, be merciful to me. a sinner!” Friend, it is your only hope, and it is within his power right now. When the flesh cries out in weakness the Spirit ans»>* rs in strength.

B es-ed are they that dwell in thy house. I aNd seems to us here to have come upon the d re.t d altars in the wilderness. He looks ii unon Die neglected sanctuary and 10. the little birds have made their nests about the holy -/.a -e. -T1 ine altars! Thine altars!” lio cries, -O Lord of hosts, my king and my God!” And then, speaking more calm y, he sa s: •H >w blessed ar - these that dwell ।make their a'x dD in thy house, ^hey shall be a'l the t me praising thee!” No wonder he adds wi b fervency, -How h ipp • the man whose stren rth is in thee!” and then, as if to make it in re plain. -In the heart of such God's highways are.” To dwell with God and have God dwell with us. walk with us, w at blessedness can compare with it? Enoch dwelt there. He walked with God, he still walks with God, Is it not Moody wlio says it? “he took a long walk one day. and he has not come back yet,” We shall find him with his God. Therein also fllleth the poo’s. The picture it a beautiful one. Here is a plain or perchance the beach. The floods have been withheld for so long a time that only here and there can the water's be seen, gathered in little separate profits or pools; perhaps some of these mere depressions where moisure ought to be but is net And now come the showers or the insweeping waters of the ocean. Look you. whe;e are the pools? Filled, covered, obliterated in the great sen of waters. So comes Ged’s spirit at times to his church. There are pools of refreshing here and there, enough so" appeal. Now the floods descend. So, the intervening aridness is wiped out. and with the noise of mayy waters. What was Pentecost but the Spirit filling the pools as w.t 1 an ccoan of b!e<sinz? Next Lesson: “A song of Praise.” Ps. 103: 1-22. Subjects of Thought. A poor man with a single handful of flowers heaped the alms-bowl of Buddha, whit h the rich could not fill with ten thousand bushels. You can indeed carry into the realm of the external your beautiful ideals. All that is necessary is persistence in this idea: My word shall prosper in the thing w’ -'unto I send it. M ork nd wages, the two prime necessities of man! It is a pity they should ever be disjoined; but of the two, if one must be dispensed with, it is realiy wise to say at heart: Be it the wages, then.