St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 20, Number 7, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 1 September 1894 — Page 7

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W SK jS 4Swn > WF A f z <Fw <Lf WT A|i jr CHAPTE I XXV. ^^^■*«^_ltUADY FOR THE WORST. .lunerose.-’ were opening in the flowergarden at Davenant, and Gilbert Sinclair had been leading a life of the purest d mesticity for the last three weeks. It hung rather hea .ily upon him. that domestic life, for, though ho loved his wife after his own fashion, he was rot fond of home joys or exclusively feminine s ciety. But what will not a jealous ma t endure when once his suspicions are aroused? Fa- j tient as the spider watching his prey, ' he waits for the unguarded moment j which shall let: ay the horrid secret he fears yet longs to discover. Except to tee Goblin win the Derby I r- a feat which that estimable animal 1 performed with honor to himself and | sa:i faction to every one save the boo -1 men Gilbert had not been away from j Davenant since the Two Thousand. He I had been told to look for treachery at । home, and he was there ready to seize j the traitor. Nomouchard in the secret I service of the Parisian police was ever i a closer spy than the husband who ' doubts vet dotes, suspects yet fondly ; loves. That he had seen nothing in all this i time to confirm his doubts was no ; enough V convince Mr. Sine air that those doubts were baseless. Ho was I willing to imagine profoundest hypoc- j risy in the wife of his bosom, a brazen : front under the semblance of a pure ; and innocent brow. Even the devotion j to her child might be a cover for a guiltier love. Her happiness, her ; tranquility, gave him new ground for j suspicion. Was there not some secret j well-spring of contentment, some hi 1-i den source of delight, masked behind ! this fair show of maternal affection? i The e were the doubts which Gilbert j Sinclair was perpetually revolving in i his mind during this period of domestic bliss, and this was the aspect of as- ; fairs up to June 15. Ascot races were ; to begin on the 16th, and Go bun ■^■? L t||iU|J made the horse. “That there ’oss is to win the Leger.” said the indignant Jackson. “If he : don't I'll eat him, pig-skin and all.” Gilbert felt that to part with such a horse for ever so high a price would be to cut up the goose that laid the golden । eggs. “A horse can't go on winning great races forever, though. There must ! come a turn in the tide,” suggested Gilbert, sagely. “We should get a pot of money for him now. ” “A gentleman couldn’t sell a 'oss ■ that had just won him the blue ribbon of the turf,” replied Jackson, with a burst of chivalrous feeling. “It would be to ) mean. ” Gilbert gave way to the finer feelings of his trainer, and took no step toward cutting short hL career on the turf. Things were Poking livelier in the coal-pit district, he told himself, and a few thousand a year mo e or lets could not hurt him. He would carry out his original idea, take a place somewhere near Newmarket, and establish bis wife and—the child there. Under ordinary circumstances he would have taken a house at Ascot during tho race week for the accommodation of himself and a selection of choice spirits with sporting tastes, where the nights might have been enlivened by blind hookey, or poker, or some equally enlightened icc euti n. But on this occasion Mr. Sinclair male no such comfortable arrangement, and determined to sleep at his hot d in town on the night a:ter the race. He was smoking his after dinner on the evening of the lath, I pac ng slowly up and down the terrace ( l in front of the open drawing-room j " windows, when a servant brought him 1 liis tetters. The first opened was from his train--er, who was in high spirits about Gob- । lin. The next two or three were busi- • ness letters of no importance. The last was in a strange hand, a nigjling, scratchy little hand, which, if theie be any expression in penmanship, was suggestive of a mean and crafty nature in the writer. Gilbert tore open the envelope, exi ecting to find some insinuating “tip” from a gentleman of the genus “tout ” but the letter was not even so honest as a tip: it was that snake in the grass, an anonymous warning: “If Mr. Sinclaire is away to-moro nite he wil mis an oportunitie to learn sumthing he ouht to kno. If he want's to kno a secret let im wattch the balconie of is wif’s room be win tenn and ■leven to-moro nite. A Friend.” Such a letter falling into the hands of a generous-minded man would have aroused only contempt: but coming to a man who had given himself up as a prey to suspicion and jealousy, who had long been on the watch for domestic treachery, even this venomous t crawl became significant as the voice of Fate—an oracle to be obeyed at any cost. “She has taken advantage of my intended absence already, and has made i an appointment with her lover,” i .thought Gilbert Sinclair. “This warn- : ing comes from one of my servants, I । dare say, some scullery-maid, who has ; my wife’s infamy, and pities i

thndeluded husband. Rather hard to swallow pity from that quarter.” jl hen came the natural reaction. Is it a hoax, I wonder a trick played up n mo by some di missed unaerl ig? Yet how should any ore know how to put his ting r on the spot Y 1 i " 1 n,ess were that ^coun--5A,, ' .V a lt> who hates me like po'son. Mi l. at least, I < an take the hint, and >e on the .watch. Ged help Cyprian Davenant if he cro ses my threshold with evil intent. He may have deceived me once. Ho shall not deceive me again.” Air. Sinclair went to Ascot next day as ho had intended. Any change in his plans w< uld have put his w fc upon her guard. He went to the race-, looking uncommonly glum, as his friends informed him; so gloomy, indeed were his looks that some ol his intimates made haste to hedge their bets about Goblin, making very sure that the Derby winner had been seized by seme sudden indisposition. The event rewarded their caution, for’Gub'in, although brought, up to the starting post m magnificent con lition. faile I to get a place. Gilbert bore his disappointment with supreme stoicism. Goblin's v ctory would not have made him smile: his failure hardly touched him. It was provoking, of cou se, but De - tiny and Air. Sinclair had long been at joins; it was only another item a del | to an ol 1 account. j He drove to the station directly Gobi tin’s race was over, and as there was i another raco to c me, he got a place in i th> t ain easily. It started immedi- : ately, and he was in London before i 7 o'clock, and on his wav to Davenant iat 8. He had not stop; ed to dine. A i biscuit and a glass of brandy and soda | was all he cared to take in his present । frame of mind. j It was striking nine as ho left the ■ quiet litt’e Kentish station, not quite : clear as to what his next step ought to ' be. He had been told to watch his j wife's room between 10 and 11. To do : this with any effect, he must get into i the house unobserved or find a safe : post of observation in the garden. To announce his return home would be, of I course, to destroy his chance of makj ing any discovery; and by th's time he j had made up his mind that there was j domestic treachery to be discovered, jAs to the means, he cared little or nothing. To meet treachery with : treachery could bo no dishonor. It was dusk, the swo t summer dusk, i when he entered the park through a i gate seldom used by any one but the i gamekeepers or servants. The nighti ingales were breaking out int > sudden । gushes of melody, calling and answeri ing one ano’her from distant clumps of : chestnut or beach, but Mr. Sinclair took no heed of the nightingales. In his happiest frame of mind that melowt’idd. have ma m no : his room without meeting any of the servants was the question. A moments reflection showed him that this ought t > 1 e easy enough. Half-past nine o'clock was the servants’ supper hour at Davenant. and ; me ds in the servants' hall are an in- | stitution which even domestic convulsions leave un-haken. A funeral makes I no difference in the divine right of servants to dine and sup at a certain hour: a wedding may cause some sunererogaj tory feasting, but can hardly overthrow the regular order of tlie dai'y ' meals. Mr. Sinclair had no fear, ther-k ; fore, of any alteration in the routine of the household, and he knew by ex- ‘ perience that his servants liked ta'take their t me at the social evening meal. It wa- twenty minute-i to ten when he stopped for a minute or so in the shrubbery t) consider his plans. Between ten and eleven, sai I the । anonymous letter. He bad no time to : lose. , He skirted the lawn in front of the drawing room windows, k -e ing in the : shadow of the trees. The window- were । all open, and he could tee the whole of the room. Lamps were burning on the , table, c indies on the piano, but his ! wife was not there. He went in at one 'of the window-. The child s toys were I lying on the floor by Constance’s favor- | ire chair, and an open work basket a i little pile of books on a gypsy table. ; showed that the room had been lately j occupied. “She hai gone to the balcony-room to j keep her appointment ” he thought, ■ savagely, for by this time he had acj cepted the anonymous warning as a i truth. | The hall was as empty as the draw-ing-room, the lamps burned dimlv, | being the last invention in lamps that I do not illuminate. Gilbert went softly ! up the shallow old s-tiircase to the ; cor-rider which ran the lenjrth of the jhouse, and ended at the door of his j own snuggery. He reached this door ; without meeting any < ne, went quietlv i into the room, and locked the door. I The oriel-wind >w of this room commanded the balcony room, which was recessed in the southern front, bej tween two projecting wings. There I could be no better post of observation for the man who had been told to : watch the garden approach to his : wife's rooms. ' There were matches and candles on tho mantel-piece, but t > strike a light | would be to make his presence known to any one in the ba cony room, so Gilbert waited quiet y in the half darkness of a summer night, and found ’ what he wanted easily enough by the ; sense of touch. There was no mo. n ■ yet, but a few stars were ; hining faintly in tho < alm gray sky. The windows of the balcony room were ' ; dark, and one stood open—the cne n are st the iron stair. Gilbert ob-! . served this. j “She is sitting there in the dark,” he ' . thought, “waiting for him. That dark I । room, that open window, look like j , guilt. Why has she not her lamp ; I lighted, ar.d her music or her books? i ; Ao: she has something else to think ' ‘ of.” j His guns were arranged in artistic . order above the chimney-piece -a costly J collection, with all the latest improvej ments in sporting guns. His hands

aUd thtre among on, ’ c - arna . to a favorite; tie, the lightest in his col'ection and one of the surest. He had shot many I a royal stag with it beyond the Tweed. ' Ho took down this gun, went to a draw- i er where he kept ammunition, and selected it and loaded his gun in a 1 steady, business like manner. There ' was no faltering of tho hand that dropped the cartridge into its place, though that hand meant murder. “He refused to fight me,” Gilbert Sinclair said to himself. “He lied to me until I was fool on ugh to believe his lies. I gave him fair warning. He has tricked and insulted me in the face of that warning. He has en cred my hon-e once as an impostor and a liar. If he trios to ent-r it a second time as a thief an 1 a seducer, his blood be upon hi; own head.” CH AI TER XXI I. CAUGHT IX THU TOILS Ten ocloc.v struck with sweet and solemn chime from tho old square tower of tho pari-h church, as Gilbert ' Sine air opened the lattice and stood I by the open window of the dressing- j room, waiting, fl’here was not a leaf : stirring in the garden, not a shadow | save the motionless shadows of the trees. No light in the windows of the balcony room. Tho stars brightened in tho clear gray, and in the soft twilight of summer all things wore dimly j defined -not dark, b t shadowy. The quarter chimed from the church I topvor b hind tho trees yonder, and i still there was no movement in th^ garden. Gilbert stood motionloss, his ’ watch divided between the old D itch | garden with its geometrical flower- I bee’s tin l stone sun dial, and the win- I dows of the balcony room. As the । sound of iho church clock dwindled slow y into silence, a light appeared in the center window, a candle held in a woman’s haul, and raised above her head. Gilbert could but faintly distinguish the dark figure in the feeb e glimmer of that sing e can lie before figure and light vanished. A signal, e idently, for a minute h.t >r a man's figure appeared from the angle of the hedge, where it had been ' hidden in shadow. A man — tall, strongly bu It — \es, Ju t tho figure I that patient watcher expected—stepped lightly across tho garden, carefully j keeping to tho narrow gravel-paths, I le iving no tell-tale footprint on flower- : bed or box-border. He reached the , iren stair, mounto 1 it swi tly, had his , foot on the balcony, when Gilbert Sin- ' clair tiro I, with the unerring aim of a practiced sportsman and the firm hand ' of a man who has ma le up his mind for the worst. Tho figure reeled, swayed for a mo- j ment < n the topmost stop, and rolled backward down ti.o light iron stair, | shaking it with the force of tho fall, I and sunk in a heap on the gravel-path b^low. Gil 1 erf waited, expecting to be thrilled b. a woman s piercing shriek, i the despairing cry of a guilty soul, but no such cry came, All was darkness in the bale my room. Ho fancied ho saw a figure approach tho window and look out, but whatever that shape was it vanished before ho could verify his d< übts. He wont over to the chimney piec^ dow. There lay the figure, huddled a formless heap as it had fallen hS® eousl. foiv<hor e e I fr< m Gilbert’s! point of sight. The open handfli clutched the 10-o gravel. Nos un 1J no light yet in the bale nv room. “She dos n t know what has ha;>/ rened.” .-aid Gilbert, grimly. “I had! better go a d tell her.” lie unlock his door and went out! in the e rridor. His wife's be ftaomi opened out o. the ba e uiy room. Th(J child slept in a sm (Her room ad.ointnd that. He went int > tho bale ny rooin and found it empty, then oren'ed thq b 'dr. om dco.' and paused on th4 threshold lo >king in I ,q ossible to imagine a more peaceful picture than that which met the husband s eyes. A night-lamp shed a faint light oxer the white-curtained b (1. an o; on boo ;an an ext inguished candle en a little table by the bedside, sh me that G >ns an eha I re.id herself t > sleep The door of tho inner ro( m st o l half < pen, and Gilbert could. see the lit! e xvhi’ecrib. and the sleeping child. The mother's lace was har.tlv less pia -id in its repose than the chil l's. jTO BE CONTINUED. | Cream Bip^ning by Bacteria. The chief object of the ripening of cream is to produce the butt r aroma, and this ar. ma, though very e anes- । cent, controls the price of the butter, j : This flavor the butter-maker owes to : the bacteria for by their growth the I materials in the cream are decomj posed and the compounds formed ■ , which produce the flavors and odors of : high quality butter. Different species I j of bacteria vary much as to the flavor’s ■ which they produce, some giving rie to g< od. some to extra fine, and oth‘>s to a very poor quality of butter. -A majo itv of our common dairy <pec]te prodiu e good but r.ot the high&t qu i ity of Imtter. I p to the presalt time the butter-make • has had 4io , means of c< ntrolling the species in his ! ■ cream, but has i ad to use these fur- i nished by the farmer. The bacteriol-ogi-t can isolate and obtain in pure culture the species of bacteria wnich produce the best-flavo:e 1 butter. He can then furnish them to the cream- ' . cries to use as starters in cream ripen- ■ ; ing. The artificial ripening of or am p omi-es much for the near future, alf imugL it has been applied only on a small scale at the present time. The use of a pure culture of a species from : L ruguay impro ed the fla.or of the butter of a Connecticut creamery over ~ per cent., according to expert estimates. Most specie of bacteria in bad b itter are probnbly associated with filthiness. Hence a proper inspection . of tlie Ia ms and dairies to insure proper conditions, especially cleanli- . ness, will be a means of avoiding much , of the trouble in cream ripening, and i will in many cases result in an im- | provement of the butter.—Mark I ano j Express. — . The government experimental sta- । tion in lowa has lately proven that ; ground grain, when fed to colts makes them grow much more rapidly than ; unground, and the same amount fed them during April gave better results than in February.

' EfoME A.ND THE FAKAL ' A DEPARTMENT MADE UP FOR OUR RURAL FRIENDS. I The Farmer’s I’lace in Progress a Very Important One—A Day's Work-Dried Fruit Should De Bleached—General and Household Farm Notes. The Farmers' Place. The farmer’s place, in progress is a very important one, and it Is interesting to notice what a change has come about in the place he occupies since the beginning of the Christian era. Always the man upon whom the world must depend largely for food supplies, he at first occupied the lowest place in society, was in fact a bondsman and a fixture upon the । estate where he was born. His life, , even, was in the hands of his masi ter, and he had no rights that any class was bound to respect. I Toiling early and late with the rudest tools and bj’ the most primitive methods, he was tlie victim of everyJne, and had need to be thankful if, At the: end of the year, his hai vests we r ° n °t appropriated by the lord of Aie estate, and he left to get along best he could. i A Gradually, and after many years ■ clime belter things for the tiller of |wie soil. Civilization spread its light i'l greater volume and gentler meth- ' ods prevailed among nations and ini dividuals. War, instead of being looked upon as the greatest proses- ; sion among men, and the only one which led lo honor gave place to I scholarship, and from a state of dens est ignorance society began to educate itself and to understand that the victories of peace were greater i than those of war. The position ol I the farmer improved with this im- i provement, and at the time of the ; discovery of America the tiller of the I soil was looked upon as really a teepectal le sort of a person. Then began a new era for the j farmer. ith the settlement ofthls country, those who tilled the soil be- , came the wealthy ones of the nation, and their prosperity reflected honor on their profession, and to be a farmer was to belong to the highest pro-fe-sion in the land. Ail through the history of this country the farmer has held an honorable position, and in these later day-, despite the wails of the calamitists. there is no class in this country that leads the farmer in I the march of progress To him all men must look tor their daily food ‘supply, and for him inheritors evolve ! ^machines to sow, cultivate and reap. For his advantage and convenience lines of railways are built to the remotest corners of the country. The farmers pf the country compose . about 45 per cent of the population, land if it were not lor their necessities. ; there would be no commerce worth i speaking of. It is all well enough to Isay that Die farmer and the business rtnan are interdependent on each other, I UlCUiai IIUU Ji.tp first I t ons, shows that he is ignorant of ' the true s ate of affairs or unable to ’ comprehend the plainest ami most I self-evidentjf ict. —American Farmer I and Fann >ews. A Day’s Work. The man wi o thinks he can start al dawn and work till dark, with but the noon intermiss on, and keep it up for a series ot years, and accomplish ' more, or as much as the man who works shorter hours, and rests more, ;is sadly mistaken. No man should spend less than eight hours in bed, L he is to accomplish his I est work and rea h a green old age. Then he needs some time for study and social j enjoyn ent. it he aims to keep above the brutes. Ten hours energetic work ol a manual character is enough for any man. I have never seen the time, says, W. F. Mas-ey in 1 radical i Farmer, when on a large farm I could not find work daily for ail my regular : hand-, both in summer and winter. It may be more dihlcult to do this in the North, but there it is not custom- ( ary to hire but for the wo king months. Os cour e no larmer can l al ways t ime his work by the clock. But if you have a force of men worth working, and they see that you are I thinking somewhat after their conj venience and w. Ifare, there is no difficulty in getting them to put their ; shoulders to the wheel in a pressing i time. I once worked an average of • six men by the day, they were paid i strictly by the day for ten hours’ work, and I guaranteed to find th m j constant employment during the working season. Right alongside me : a farmer worked his hands by the mouth, irom sunrise to sunset, and docked them for every rainy day. Whenever his back was turned his ■ men were killing time, chatting in ' the shade at the ends of rows, walking off to the spring after water, and i loafing at tlie spring. Every one of my men did a third more in ten hours than his did in the whole daylight, and I could trust all of them I to keep at it, no matter where I was, ; as they all Knew that a loafer would be paid off and sent on n s way pfcmptly. Time and again these men worked long over hours in an emergency of their own accord. True they were engaged iu gardening lather than farming, but I have had these men of their own motion sit up night after night in severe winter weather to watch greenhouse fires and guard the houses against accii dent from snow and wind, knowing that, though they did not demaud it, ! 1 would never neglect to reward faithfulness. Get good men, treat them fairly, pay them fairly and demand their best work for ten hours and you will get more done on farms, i or anywhere else than the man who

pays as little as possible, treats his nanas badly and works them from dawn to dark. A hand, white or black, if he is worth having at all, will be all the more efficient for square, fair treatment. Bleaching Fruit. At the June meeting of the California Horticultural Society, Prof. Hilgard urged that the bleaching of dried fru t should be by the use of soda instead of sulphur fumes, and that the society should educate the public not to demand a light-colored fruit from which the flavor had been extracted by the excessive use of blea hing agents. Several of the members objected to this, claiming that sulphur added to the flavor, and suggested that the sulphuric acid thux taken into the stomach might aid in destroying microbes which sometimes produce disease. Prof. Hilgard answered that taking sulphuric acid in dried fruit to kill microbes might be easily overdone by i killing the consumer. Another argu- I ment in favor of sulphuring fruit was ; that insects wouldn’t attack such fru t. Prof. Hilgard answered that bugs knew better than to attack such truit, as it would be sure death to them. Weeds by the Roadside. The borders along the public highways and country roads are too often the seed beds of noxious weeds. This is often the case a so along the railroads. Along the latter the pas ing j freight cars are constantly jolting off | and distributing in urious weedseeds i from remote places. This evil is inI creasing every year, and the adjacent ■ fields show the bad effects. The winds and birds are among the ageni cies that distribute weedseeds over I the country, and year by year they ' are ga ning a strong foothold at tne i expense of the crops. In some btates there are county laws which require the roadsides and fence-corners to be kept clear of weeds Such laws are of great benefit and materially assist the farmer to keep his fields free from weeds —Baltimore Suu. Odds and Ends. Light a match and while it is burning ruu it swiftly around the neck of a bottle if the stopper is refractory about coming out. A TABLKSFOONFVL of ammonia to a quart of water makes an admirable mixture for cleaning windows, lamp chimneys, and any kind of glassware. Powdered charcoal, if laid thick on a burn, causes the immediate ! abatement of the pain. A superficial i burn can thus be healed in about an : hour. Molasses rubbed on grass stains on white dres es or undergarments will take out the stains when the clothing is washed. Soaking in sweet i milk will also remove grass stains. When you are ironing don’t pile j the freshly ironed garments on the I clothes horse to dry by slow degrees. Spread them out s > that they will dry .AyM'by, and they will not be I them. • jay's are 1 T ) clean silver, first wash or remove all the grease from the silver, then rub with a woolen cloth wet I with ammonia and whit ing, and polish on the chased and “filigree” p rts j with a toothbrush. This whiting is wet with ammonia and made into i cakes or boxes, and agents are around ' । selling it for 50 cents a box that, the probability is, cost them 20 cents. It : is good to clean glass windows and all I kinds of glassware with. The unsightly recession of the gums, so sure in time to destroy the । prettiest set of teeth, may be helped ’ by the daily use of a mouth bath of myrrh and water. Two or three । drops of ihe myrrh in half a glass ot i clear water and a brush with bristles not too stiff are effective agents in caring for the teeth. Tartar working under the gums causes the dis--1 ease known as periostitis. Myrrh and water, if emi loyed in time, will rescue the gums from this couditi n. In buying shoes it is well to remember that the feet are one-tbird of an inch longer when the body is standing than when seated, and the elongation is further increased when walking, for the weight is then thrown entirely on one foot at each alternate step: so th it, in choosing one’s boots, it is absolutely necessary that an allowance should be made for this. The shortness may not be felt at once, but after a few weeks it be- ! comes very manifest, and, moreover, i by forcing the great toe back it is apt to produce a bunion on the joint. Cruikshank Dances. The only time 1 ever saw Cruikshank justly dubbed “the Hogarth of j his day”) was about two years before ’ his death, when he entered Mr. ; Bentley’s office in Burlington street, | elastic of foot, and looking more like I one of his own caricature than ever, : judging from earlier portraits. He ■ was waiting for an interview, when । an organ struck up a oolka outside, ; and h ■ immediately executed a glis- : sadc and a few rapid steps just to ! show that “there was life in the old ' dog yet,” as he explained. Indeed, dancing has always been a great ’ passion of his, and my aunts used to say that he danced too well to be a pleasant uartner. meaning that by 1 his excessive elasticity and observ- ' ance of all the steps he attracted the attention of the other dancers and 1 became too conspicuous. —Temple I Bar. So long as people continue to get : overheated and drink ice water, the doctors will continue to ride in carj ri ages. Rome was a republic in name when | a despotism in fact.

THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. THOUGHTS WORTHY OF CALM REFLECTION. A Pleasant, Interesting, and Instructive Lesson, and Where It May Be Found— A Learned and Concise Review ot the Same. Lesson for September 2. “Jesus cleansing the Te rplo” is ths subject of this lesson, which is found m John 2: 12-25, and a good subject it is. Much can be said cn it that will go directly home to church societies and church members. Undoubtedly a great many churches are making altogether too little use of their meetinghouses; three or four hours a week is certainly a small nortion of the time that God calls precious, and with thousands of dollars invested in brick and mortar and costly furnishings there is, without doubt, much of waste j when the house of worshiD stands uni occupied so much of the time. That j t'ue church house, standing there, ad- । vertises the faith is manifest, but it is i meant to do m re than that fruit is to I be rendered as well as le xfa e. But on ; the o.her side, while there is much of I neglect, there is also much of perver- , s ion, sins of comm ssi n, over-topping i si* l3 °^UJUSaiQa. With certain modt ion a b It^in^ntv I of to-day in the church is not the misj use rather than the disuse of the house ,of God. May this lesson stir us all up and set us thinking. Goddin Text.—“ Hake not my Father’s house a house of merchandise.”—John 2: ; in Points in the Lessen. “And the Jews’j assover was at hand, ; and Jesus went up”—the world s passj over. He also was “at hand ” He j “found in the temple those that s Id.” | Be sure your sin will find you out when 1 those watching eyes a e upon ,\ou. ! What d es he ind in the temple today? There they were “sitting,” a very decorous crowd But now the j scourge of small cords, and now see the confusion. If the utter truth were spoken, ac’el, would the e ba less confusion to-day? And would not some such holy uprea: - be good for the Lord's house in the end.-' “Take these things hence,” Christ :aid. He did not banish them utterly, only sent them out of the holy place. It was the sin of misplacement. Lord Jesus, speak j one j again! “Zeal of thine house.” We need men devoured bj’ ; uch inward fires, if only f r rem nder. For the disciples seem to ha\ e forgotten the Scripture until : they saw the’scripture embodied. Then i “they remembered.” And the world rem mbers, too. The gieat cutside ; throng f ays little heed to the house of i Jod while it mei^ly competes with the I .vorld in a kind of worldly commerce. | Let the genuine fire burnj other fires I being put out, and the great world i pau es to look and ii ten. It was so in j Wesley’s day, in Luther’s, in John's, in Christ's. “What sign showest thou?" The world still asks it. For it is a bold ! thing to declare war against the world's strength and wi dom, as Christ did here. "What answer did he give? The answer of his resurrection. What answer is sufficient to-day. and alone suffi ient? His resm-recti n an I the power of a risen life. Do we Breach it as wo shou’d? Do we lie it as we ■ opinion. The sunuu^ tne Bible cla^s especial y, is a kind of . people's parliament, a weekly “religious c ngress.” Be kind anl conside ato about it. but give place for once to the whip of small cords. Assuredly we need such discipline. Or a k the still more pertinent question. What if ( h: i-t c ime, in judgment, to your heart to day? “Know ye not that ye are the temple of God?” What j would ihe whip of small cords be laid i upon? Whatev 1 thought q evil habits? What evil courses? what bal associations? What wrong practices? Look : them up. Confront yourself. G » through all the chamber -of the so.:i and cast ou the intruder . Doves are go d, sheep are gcod. ox n are good, money, too; but each in its j p ace, each in its proportion. . The Trouble here wa ■ that the dove anl oxen and sheep had g Aten where tlie contri e heart ought to be, the moneychangers' tables bad taken the place of the altar. Me hods are good, but d • not let them usurp the place of real worship, which is always spiritual. A festival may be a good thing both diI rectly and indirect y. but whe;e shall we bring it? Tne table of the monevchanrer —how can we get along withI out it? And yet, is it safe to b ing it into the olace of the holiest ministrations? Here is a merchant With his j mind full of b sines -, sheep and oxen. : heaps of coin, a i the week long. But now is he going to bring if to the Lord's home—the whole confused mass? Where then is his rest, hiworship, in communion with God' Well for him, if into the chamber of his thoughts the man of action lets locse. at times, for hob 7 P^ 1 ' °ses the whip of small cords. Le will the week day tasks all the readier | thereafter. A pastor -ays, “Ye-, we had a kind t f a y: ung men s club in connection with the church f. r a while. It was not ' distinctively religio s, but was meant to keep the Loys out of mischief. For a -eas >n it went well, hid what was called a boom.’ A little lat r it bagau to weak n, to develop bad influences: presently it b came a ino-t wholly worldly, and it has si c' 1 een ci ;ed up." You think of other similar cases. Os couse they ought to have b en w..tched and guarded more carefully. But again is there time for it all? Ahy nut straight at it —the gospel? : vancelism: nothing else. Next Les-on —“. esus and Nicodemus.” John 3: 1-1-i. This and That. Heaven fin’s a new joy every time a sinner repents. Uncle S\ ”' egg crop is worth MW,O ; o,’ i’ l annually. In Brazil a couple may be married by drinking brand, together. It is estimated that New York has no less than 10.00 J opium smokers. In the Fast Indies there are spiders so large that they feed on small birds. The national banks of New York at present hold nearly $10?,000,000 in gold