St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 21, Number 23, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 28 December 1895 — Page 7

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CHAPTER NIX (Continued.) Paul’s first movement was toward Aube ■with extended hands, but she shrank from him as if mistrust in g her own powers, and giving her a reproachful look, Paul turned to Nonsie. “Madame Dulan.” he said, quietly, “1 owe you an apology for my behavior yesterday. Believe me 1 was so over<-ome by surprise that 1 hardly knew what I said. You forgive me?" “1 have nothing to forgive.” replied Nousie. “Your surprise was natural.” “Then let me be brief and speak out as a man should under these eiremnatanees. Madame Dulan, your daughter has been my sister's friend and companion for years.” “1 know.” “And almost from a boy. though I rarely saw her. I grew up to love your child. Os the proof of that love for her, which she knows well, 1 need say nothing more than that 1 have followed her across the sea to ask your consent to our marriage. Givi' it to me; it is for her happiness ami ; mine." Nousie looked at him pityingly, ami then at her child, who was deadly pale. “Aube, dearest," sho said, softly, "you art* your own mistress; what shall 1 say ?” Aube fixed her eyes on Nousie. “Tell him, mother, that it is impossible; that he must think of me no more, and that I pray him for my happiness and yours to bid mo, as dear Lucie’s friend and sister, good-by forever now, at once, and go." She kept her eyes fixed upon her moth er. and there was not a tremor in her voice as she spoke. Nousie did not apeak, but turned to Paul, whose face was set and hard. “There is no need to repeat the words. ■ madame.” he said, "for 1 will not tak ■ them as being the true rdteram es of my I sister's friend. Sho could not be so cruel ; to one who loves her as I do. Wi ii, if it > is to bo like this, I shall stay s awwliere ; near to watch over her and wait.” “No." cried Nousie excitedly, "y m must ‘ not stay. Go back! Leave this pD. e Your life is not safe!" “I can protect myself." said Paul, scornfully. "I am not afraid, and 1 can and will protect your child. An unfair influence has been brought to bear upon her. 1 cannot. I wiii not believe those I words are from her heart.” “Tell him, mother.” said Aube, faintly, *‘it is true, and that 1 implore him to leave us in peace." “Never." cried Paul. “You do not know mo. Aube. I will stay in spite of <oi r> thing, and win you yet. I m foolish girl." he continued, "you think because 1 find you in a home like this you ought to resign me. It is the greater reason why we should be one." Aube shook her Imad. ' “I know you better." he said half iauc’: ingly. "Then, Madame Dulan. we will ■ not take this seriously. I am refu-. d. but if it is a hundred times I shall • om ■ again—always till I know th t Aube loves another better than 1 hope ami be Heve she loves me." “No. no,” cried Nousie, "for Aub" sake, for mine, you must go back. 1 to" you." she whispered, mr life ant sale if you stay." "I am not to be frighten, d away." said. Paul, coldly. "It would take tar mere than a threat of injury to send, me bm k alone.” he added with a meaning b»ok a! Aube: and then he flush, d and bit his lip. for there were horse s paees outside, i and Bart laid his hand upon his friend's •arm. •‘Steady." he whispered; "be cool. Rec- ; -olleet where we are." “Cool, man: who is to be cool?" whis pered back Paul, as Saintone entered, -carelessly glanced at him. and then passed । them, going over to Aube, smiling at her as if hey were the most intimate friends, and then to Nouise. • "You had my mother’s note?" ho said. “LJtaow you wiii make no excuses this time. Mademoiselle Dulan, the carriage e is coming along the road, and lamto be your escort back." “If I say no," thought N ', wilh ar. •excited look from one to the other. I Coushould not have time, ami it woubl kill on saur. too. If I say yes. T m:H have time, office or looping me in suspense." said Sain ball game. C f . rr ;i v “Well, how long will nament or 13 be ?" her> ” said Xonsie ’ skiving i " be calm; and Paul saw, to his ( ^^and agony, that a meaning look ■ passed between them. , r 9 “Aube, my child, will yon trust me. f ’ and do what I ask?” whispered Nousie. , Av.be'eyes said "Y. , "G” to Madame Sainmne’s today; for; , my sak* /’ “Go?” said Aubp, with her eyes ddating- ... . „ "I repeat it—for my sake. , “‘Yes. mother,” she said, slowly. "I i -will go." She spoke aloud, and Saintone gave ■ Paul a half-contemptuous look, and turn- : ed away. “Aube." whispered Paul, going to her side, "is this of your own free will?" “Os my own free will, Mr. Lowther," | sho said.'slowly, and as if speaking in her ileep. “Good-by." Paul stopped back, as if ho had been , struck some violent blow, ami before he could recover Nousie and Aube had left the room. CHAPTER NX. Nousie sat in Aube's room watching through the open window. There were three or four people by the buffet where Cherubine was installed, but their voices , only came in a low murmur, and the darkness was intense without, as it was in the mother’s heart. For again and again, as she watched for her child's return, she had been reviewing her position and trying to see

the light the clear bright sunshine beyond the present trouble which should irradiate her child's life. The complication was terrible. She had brought Aube over there, thinking in her ignorance more of her own happiness that her child’s, and yet it had all seemed so simple. She had saved; she was comparatively rich; and she had intended to devote herself to making her child's life glide onward in peace, whereas she was face to face with tli,' tact tb.at. by a terrible accident of fate. Aube had been thrown into intimacy with the family sho most abhorred; and, crowning horror of nil, Etienne Saintone, son of the man who had slain her Ims band, evidently passionately loved her child. Nousie's brow grew wet and cold as she recalled the terrible night when, by the light of her burning house, she saw George Dulan shot down, ami in his dy ing agony turn upon his murderer the would-be destroyer of his wife's honor ami deal his enemy his death bion mon ns he himself pnsueil a wax. The idea of a union between the children ot two such deadly enemies was fearful to her. She felt that titter all these years she could bury her own hatred against Saintone'* son. but to consent to such a tiate f. r her child was too much. And yet by her own ai t she was crushed. For years past for the sake of the gain it brought her she had been comu cted with the Voudmix sect, never sharing tn their terrible ceremonies, but aeknmvl edged as one of them and familiar with their proceedings. 1 heirpow* r was enor mops, and it was under the protection of ' these people that she had lived and pros । pered. In a weak moment and tempted by tie 1 money Numtone had offered money to hoard up for her child she had liMrimd i to the young man’s importunities, and I taken him and his friend t , a meeting. I ami left them after the introduction m ibe initiated in the signs and my-te; ~ >! . । the sect, little dretiming bow s on Naoi | tone would, on tin' strength of hiu broth- ■ i erhood, and grow n powerful bv the claim 1 [ he had mt those to whom he was joim-d. make a demand upon her fur sot ii.oei ‘ anee, and literally force het to listen to I ids suit. Nile had been almos’ dazed by this turn in the affair, s< eing as she did, upon the i opening up of a new complii utiou bv th- >. arrival of Paul, that Aube L-vni this ; young Englishman, but v । . r, ><h to -,t. ritiec herself, ami dew.ted m the mother ; who had sufl.Ted so for her sake "If they would only leave u - to mi- j selves," thought Nousie, as sis- t.-.t!, d her brain for «iy out of the d th< td' .. and pondered on her p sition. A die i loved Paul, but lio evidently w -rm d tic mother who bore her. nnd the s :l rrmmd ings of the girl’s hmm'. To f Aut— t • listen to her lover and 'he dn fates of Ie r I own In art w; • to g vo h r up 1.-n •- r nnd die. ’ »u f h ' "th r h,: nd. t . id s • m me. ns she f.-lt t it she must. i.,p. by some help from her \oudmix friends sh could set him v defmm was to see h< r child among the higb.c*t sit in the place, beautiful, wealthy and |K>wvtful, and even if they separated, that separat: m I would not be ■ gri n*. It seen . d the Ie- <i-r evil. ai di’was th ■ termination toward which she was In ing ' almost insensibly foi ,d. Siill she v.mj balanced between th- two. when tin scale ; was !orc< I down by Saintone. wh > whi' I pered to In r tlmt if she did ti it eimn nt to Aube's a apta me of M . 1,-tme N , tone's invitation he would call on ertain of the \ -m io;;\ t - hi p hi a. amt the tv. - young Englishmen would not s,-e th. light of amcher day. "Ami it w uid kid her. too." c. night No :-c'. v> ,'L a pai g • m r : hesitated no longer, but surrendend to the position, nnd as’.mmled Aube bv her I demand. And row. closed in .'di by the dark ness which ys t oppressed her. ,\ n- -at watching for her child's return, try mg tn satisfy herself that the Course she had ; chosen was for the best. "t’hi'sen'" she said, bitterly: "into! whit h 1 .am forced. But he loves her. i and she may forget." Shrinking from the union as she did. i there was that intense feeling of love 1 .r j her child that w as so hard to vombat, : . I j she drew herself up with a sigh of reid at last as she said, despairingly: "If they did not kill him he would take her away and 1 could not bear that, even to see her happy it is too much too much to bear." She had hardly come to this conclusion when there was the sound of wheels, and ] she hurried to the door in time to see, in ; the light east from the long room win . dow. Kairtione helping A nbc to alight from his vehiel", ;111 d with a degree of reverence wh'u h strengthened the mother's willingness to let herself be carried away by what seemed inevitable, bend down and kiss Aube’s hand The next moment the girl hail glided by her mother into the house, and after speaking sharply to his impatient horse, Saintone turned to Nousie. and laid his hand upon her shoulder. "Thank yon, sister" he said, half mockingly. "There, you see I have brought her safely back. She is an angel, Nousie." he whispered, "and 1 love tier to distraction.” "You love her?" said Nousie softly, for how. she thought, could she hate the man who loved her child. "Love her! Yes. Who could see her and not love her?” lie whispered, eagerly. “My mother worships her, and you see now that it is for the best.” Nousie was silent. “You don't speak. There, you are angry because 1 threatened. Well, I did; I swear it; I would. Do you thij^ I am going to let this wretched, contemptible foreign dog stand in the way of my happiness? I am one of your people, and I joined for power. I have the power now, and they should remove him from my

path as if ho we*e a Well, why don’t you speak?" i "1 was thinking," sailNousie, simply —“of my child." He grasped her nhouVer, and placed his lips close to her car. \ "No shrinking,” he smil, sternly. “I call upon you for help. Wou shall side with me, and keep those foreign dogs at a distance. It is to save neir lives. Ido not want to go to extretpmes; but nothing shall move me jicw. must help me. M hy, Nousie, yl^on^. rn be proud that I ask you to givy her!' me for my wile. I shall be a leader s®n, and your child will be one of the greayr.t ladies of the land. Do you want to her taken away by this foreigner, mlir to meet her again?" 1 He had struck the choihn which vibrated most strongly in mother’s breast, and, after a pause, Wie drew a long and painful breath. I "Toll me-promise me not t.lmrt him—l",l., s Sl <ke—and I will tr"* Iry : he said, scornfully. * ®®nll upon you to help me. As for him. PPti! Let him keep out of my path. Thtwe ,o her talk about me; make he«tell you how happy we have made hi’. 1,1 ,V' 0 house. She must soon come agW*? IA 1 . 0 horse is getting fidgety. Sto^.’ ~ , ’ brute! Good-night, sister—motiiCvh *' added, laughingly. ‘ Mere^.-i^l” 22 light for my cigar.” - Nousie went in thromt^ the and brought out n candle, did not even flicker in the hot, stmJ I! Knt, nnd as Saintone Jit his cigar tln^ light was thrown upon Aube’s white fiiW as she gazed out of her window after ^intentionally being a witness ami a beaV r of all that had passed. • "Goodnight,” said Saintone, exultitfgly. "Take care of my treason’. There, 1 am quite satisfied with you now. Goodnight.” K Nousie stood holding the candle iitahe vernuda as Saintone sprang into his ®irringe and drove away, nnd listcniuglto the dv ing away of the wheels in the dutly, ill kept toad. I "It is fate." she said, with a sigh. "My dal ling. \\ ould it not be better if vve ! both eoidd die? Yes,” she muftt after a pause, ns she tiiiitevl toward thVwindow ttom which Aube hud sli!im\ away, and the light east curious shadows upon h<-r stern face, "better if We could die am! go to him. We would be happy then, for we should be nt pence." I'HAPTER XXL "I’ah! ejaculated Saintone, ns he drove slowly along the dark mad, “a snake a . v orm in my path. Kill him? Not it he । keeps out of my way. If he tries to raise | his head and sting mo. I enn crush him I n>w e.mb r my heel. The Voudoux is a r th.m I thought. , "My darling! I low beautiful she is! Safe a ! s.>, n. \ th Vondoux is a force tlmt shall help me in nil my schemes, (let on. brute!'' he Ith d to his Imr’C, who h had duped - < suddenly that Saintune wn « marly thrown out. "W hat’s . the matt r? Halt!" He lashed nt tin horse shnrply, for he . had caught sight of >i great Lin'k figure at it« head, but the animal only plunged i and shivl'rcd, f >r its hit wne held fn«t. " D n't hurry, 1 tienne," s > .; a rotate I and n figure enme from the side of the , rund nnd laid a hand upon his arm. "I I want to ajM’iik to you." "ion.,!' vied San 'i.c, vii -1 <ii*t “Yes. Genie \re you coming humr?” T "I uh g"in>: h. «..:d. f "Tell that fellow Io loose my Imrs.-'s head. ! or s >mefhing mnv happen. I mu srmo) “ I "Bnt you caniml turn against him," t said the wi matt, with a tnngh; "he i* a i broilwr. \ n-. - I km.iv " "Know what?” "Fi-h! ' she s« d . mt.-mpt- s r "d,, y..u think I .L. not know you .ame t> me to ask me u take ymi to n meeting, but I wa* hot g ug Io have ye ; I > .in | ti« I did m.t want you.” ' X s.inl Niti itom-. mcam: ;iv "Bat vou are one of v« i. -a. mM I enn I tiilkfr.fi- \ • Ik:. " ' ) . s,” smd N.chl- if. "ami I klmw. | Ion.” ") ci wish ’ . fpi:>i’< : • . ! Ct" worn ! -i n ■■ jt r; -bo mlfl.fi t„ Y. r.. If i:. n a .id 'Where "Whf ie I picas'.!,” s d S;. ~i, ne. roughly. “T<dJ j, w man t<. Ie -, my hmse, or he nmv mis nt d.” t ■ nighL” said the woman quietly, "try 1., injure hen an;,-4. I at '- a m.-.v try Why. 1 <nm. he Md , rush pm with one hand, and he w mid at n wr.l fi >m mo. I saw her.” she said, with n j sudden clmna • :n her v : c. "I am m-t blind. Do yon think 1 do m-t km w - every thing Vm '.t s. ■ k."w. b- • you can know now. I am n pr.’-s among our jx'ople, nnd do you think 1 am going to let von throw m.‘ ..<> „s v.m hare?” "Bail! I have w. time to talk." sail Saintone. contempt ttou.siy. "1 h iv-icss ? Fish! Genie, you are half mad." "With jealousy yes.” she said, virions ly. "but you do not know me yet. I'll tel] you where you have been Pm k witii that w hite fated gill. It is r,> be that ' creature, is it? 1 am to bo thr.iwn owr for her?” "Yes,” he said as fiercely. "If you will have it. lam not afraid of you and your creed. I command, now that lam one of you. and 1 know, too. Go to him. Take him from my horse's head. 1 saw you together to-day. He is your lover. Do you think I was going to accept a rival in a black? Stand away!" he roared, am! he gave his horse so furious a lash that the g.'eat negro sprang aside tn avoid a blow from the horse's hoofs ."s the fright- , nisi le ast bounflcfl forward, ami Saintone «lifl not check its gallop till he was close home. (To be continued.) Easy < ircuiiistances. A young man inherited ^oii.OOO from tin aunt, and by a course of extravagance ami speculation was pretty soon at the end of his fortune. "However,” said one of his friends, “Bill isn’t without resources. He lias two more aunts.” Like this, but different, was the ease of a eoldred man concerning whom, according to the Yankee Blade, a neighbor of his own race was called to testify in court. "Witness,” said the opposing lawyer, "'Ymt speak of Mr. Smith as ‘well off.' Just what do you mean? Is he worth five thousand dollars?” “No, sah.” “Two thousand?” “No, sa.h; he ain’t worth twenty-five, cents.” “Then how is he well off?” “Got a wife who is a washerwoman, sah, and s’ports de hull fam’ly, sah.”

^&3®WB

THE popular woman need not care whether sh(' is pretty or ugly. She need not query whether she is brilliant or stupid, but simply revel in the fact that everybody likes her whether she likes them or not. And that is the secret of this extraordinary popularity. She does not try for it, for if she did the effort would bo discovered and her object at once shattered into the smallest of small atoms. No, the popular woman Is so because she cannot lielp it. Nature has endowed her with an amount of personal magnetism that attracts people to her without the slightest volition of her own, and once thus attracted they swear by her, come what will, whether she be kind to thorn or inclined to show the cloven foot in the gentle feminine style known to the wilful woman. From observation one would say tlmt the popular woman is the one who smiles as pleasantly upon the elevator boy as upon the owner of the building in which the elevator is run. The smiles are not studied: they come spontaneously. It Is Just as <asy for the popular woman to be kind as to be cross, t hereforc some one will say it is not to her credit to lie popular, ami no more it is. Nature has ti le her so. Her own sweet, sunny temperament garners friends as cer- > tainly as molasses attracts flies, it is iqß! iHonsenso to give a woman advice how to bo popular. Fnleas her own Inner nature is such that it rails all the world triend there is no earthly use in endeavoring to smooth off the rough edges and acquire tin' manners tlmt iHvnn so h to the wor»;an who pns- i Rouses it. Popularity is n jift. a ran* ( one. It is true, and one that once owned cannot, like other treasures, be lost, , for owning it hom'stly it follows the < I'O'-r-sor as por-Istrntiv as a bail cp

IHI WAY SHE MANAGES HER SKIRTS f ■ V •- ' i>V W 9

; and m < nI! knov. that 1 !mt• •c. 1 not be lost, try howmm hard we may. ■ Buallo <»ik c Mor . M'omrn v. ho s’ml.t t:odiit>tis in a far : Higlited way have people smd for mo w I time tlmt tio- day -of the bustio were | almtit io return. T I:* > hii’c said that ’ crgJD pl.llbxl l*n< k“ prrsagtnl the ad rent of the I u^He ami that widely fmr Hug skirts limd ulth Mil? ring v mild l Inevitnbly lead to the read<‘ptiou of that I elunmy art hie of attire w hi h women ; gave up Ho glmlly a few v.ars ago. The i lingerie deparltm »i In the : ho; s would Kern to !m ir out this prophecy. The hUßtlv laS m ule its i < pp. aiam e there. ‘ tentatively s<> fnr. but Mill with tin* air < f billing conic i" H is imt Foe monstrous arth h- v>'mh was bam died । win ti clinging akirt - bccsimi' uudiioim bh«. It is rather small and is made [of haircloth. * black, somcthnes gray and s-m etimes white. It (■ nsists of thr< •• veriiial puffs which look like the abbreviated lining to an organ-phut skirt, ami H is finished by a trill of luii; cloth, its mailt object K to give the rk ;■ a start in the right dit'. lion. A W’-ll itned skirt will tlare at the bottom with the aid of a very sn .>ll bustle. Os t ourse, this slight reappearance of the bt’Mle may be followed by a bnst’m revival on a large seal” whl’ h will i: ake camel-like humps once more tlie style. The Si n- hie XV ife. "Anoiher way of getting om '< seif unpleasantly associated is to introduce painful topk^. like bills and depleted wardrobes, at impr 'per times.” says a woman writer in the W ashingion Ntar, discussing the snbjt et o* “how to man :ige a husband.” "Men are creatures of moods and have, as a result, their annableV‘ n J r.n.imial le | ”riods The unamia*” ‘T''' ll ' '“ nty researeneik • ’ " ull ’ lv> ni,,sl them. ;,. the morning, ami yet tb.at is early n<,, , ", tiie verF^thue that untaetful woman (with Iw l ' hair quite probably in curl papers' fakes to prefer her monettry claims, thereby getting herself eondused in his mind with house rent, gas bills, shabby cloaks and other distasteful things; whereas, had sho possessed her soul in patience till that night after dinner, and then stated her wants with a rose in her hair, she would quite as fully have achieved her purpose, and at the same time have maintained her reputation with him as a wingless angel. I think it is Ncripuire. isn’t it. which says there is a time and a place for all things? At all events, the saying is true as Scripture.” Divorce in Olden Times. There has been a very general misconception that during pagan times the position of women was practically that of .slaves. It will, perhaps, surprise many to learn that the legislation regarding marriage and divorce was in Iceland and Norway far more mindful of the wife’s interest than it has ever been during the Christian ora. The old Icelandic law stipulated, for instance,

that if a man were divorced from his wife (even though she were the offending party! he had to return her dowry intact. The Winter Girl. Away with the girl who’s so fond of thu wheel; Who boasts of a century run. Her bloomers and jackets no longer appeal — Who cares for the races she’s won? The weather’s suggestive of ice and of snow— It’s been rather chilly of late — And homage we pay just at present, yor know, _ To the maiden who Away with the girl who would imitate mail — The season's not suited to her— And now we want girls of a different film;; , For wh.v would make bloomers of fur? i’lu' bicycle girl was all right for a while, But now she is quite out of date; I lie bicycle face is eclipsed by the smile Os the maiden who knows how to skate; Oh, here’s to the girl whom in winter we pri:.e; AVhosfc checks arc as red as the rose. ho cap.ivates all with her bright, sparklinsr eyes As gracefully gliding she goes. Oh, lu ii s io tlie girl who in winter holds swny, M ho havoc in hearts will create. M ho dresses to day in a womanly way—'Die nmiden who knows how to skate. Ghicagi Evening Lost. For 7 bin Women, Thin v omen should dress to conceal their angles and to keep their bones in the background. Plain bodices which permit tiie collar bom s to reveal their prosem o tigiit sieeves which announce t Im existence of sharp elbows and backs calling attention to conspicuous .shoulder bind's are all to be avoided. In order to give herself the appearance of gracious roundness of figure the thin woman 'tmuld hay,, skirts that Hare as

mueli no fashion will permit. Ncant ’•kiits ni ike her look like an rxdhtinatimi point. Nile should wear bodices shitrcd^;.t ihe neck and at the waist, allowing fullness over the bust. The sleeves should be fall to a point below iho elbow in order to avoid a display of shaipnes, at th ;l t crucial point. If wiist h ims are premim r.t. long cuffs or I rills of lace should help to conceal the painful fact. ( ollars should not I ■ plain, but they sln>uld be gathered । r laid l:i folds. Th Art of laitinvt. M'e must in-At mi tlm necessity of te.iclfng children dalntiticss in tabi l manm i s The y mug person is to be s u' erely pitied who has no careful mother, nurse or governess to attend to ;!iis f i chii ihood that golden time u ti leaning is so easy. Men and wom.'ii are judg'd by trifles. After a ring"! bael; w oodsman has hewn his v ay to a high place in tiie councils of tlb cmmtry.or. perlmps. .saves it in hour | • f pc one may well forgive him if ho forgets the right way io shake hands or d ti his ha: or enter a drawing-room. But । ven he will be unforgiven if his table nntmers are untidy and offensive. Just here tlie uno: amiable of men— Tii i k.-ray dre-.v j sharp line. “Oh.” he sighs, "if only the dear American girls would not strip iho corn with their white tectli!" An 1. again: "How could I brenkfast with five women eating with their knives! 1 could have stood one but five, all at once!” Braided Hats. Braided chenille and braided feit are used extensively tills season in the making of hats. Sometimes a velvet crown has a braided brim, sometimes a brim of shirred velvet is used with a braldi-d crown ami sometimes tlie entire hat is of tlie braided goods. A pretty affair in black chenille braid had a . crown of sailor shape and a brim turni ing up all around in points. It was ; trimmed with golden brown velvet in I folds and rosettes. A black owl's head . with glittering golden brown eyes I looked out over the face, a little to the j left of the center and a bunch of black ; quills wa.s fastened on the same side. Green the Season’s Colcr. This appears to be the green season, ■ all shades of that color being in vogue. I Green gloves are a novelty, asci are i seen in three different tints; the new : chameleon silks invariably show a . touch of green in their changing colors; many of tlie new wool fabrics have green as the predominating shade; the boucle cloths show threads of green, and the most fashionable erepons are in green and black; varying green tints are seen everywhere in the new jeweled trimmings; and green wings adorn many of the new hats. Rights of Married Women in Georgia. The Legislature of Georgia has passed a bill which makes the earnings of a married woman her personal property and not liable for the debts or in any way belonging to her husband.

THE SUNDAY SCHOOL THOUGHTS WORTHY OF CALM • REFLECTION. A Pleasant, Interesting, and Instructive Lesson, and Where It May Ba Found—A Learned and Concise Re* view of the Same. Lesson for Dec. 20. Golden Text.—“l have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I hava kept the faith.”—2 Tim. 4: 7. This is a review’ lesson, Panl’s last ' charge being the subject: 2 Tim., 4: IS. I’aul is nearing the end of his course. How cheerfully and hopefully he looks forward. Death to him has no terrors. It is only the long waiting that tests and tries his soul. “I charge thee.” Paul’s f own “charge to the church” ami to the pastor, too. The word means to solemnly admonish or entreat. Tlm£jf"- — 1 ms depnrt□JU^^'Venmy well give serious hoed. ’ “I have finished my course.” ilanp/ iho man who sees God’s providence in a I hi 3 1 life and works at it as a prescribed course. How this dignifies and ennobles all service in the Master’s name! *<om& pastor once thoughtlessly and perhaps impatiently exclaimed, “I’m throw ng uy hfo away in this shoe-town.” Saul bis fiknd more wisely, considering the po-slhiii-ties for soul-service all about: “You couldn’t make a better throw.’ Fight the good fight; it is good fighting nd ’.l ing the line. And after the eross--,i crown. Quarterly Review. M’e may glance back over th' 1 lessons of the past three months, so rap ! .’ly Hown, with tlm Thought in mind of tin: vicissitudes of life and the trials and triumphs which come to ns. in the pro. ah nee of God, through days of earth. Am! all tin so events, be it noted, are for man s betterment. 1. The time of the Judges.—Judges 2:1-12, IG. This was one of the “downs’ of Israel's career, a time of departure, I’lsobedience and declension. Ami yet the ' cry smbn ss of the times was a voice call ng th? people back to God. and a voice that kept on speaking. Horatio Seymour, was !u not? who said lie had learned aad profited more in his life from his failures than from his so-called successes. 2. The triumph of Gidimn.—Judges 7: 13-23. A day of conquest when Israel’s star was in the ascendent, ’out conquest by faith, 3<m) against 12i».<mhi. Jr is God il.at gives us power to prevail. Lb > leaess under God is else timn weakm s>. "This is the viet iry That overeometa the weiki, even our faith.” 3. Huth's Choice.—Ruth. 1;1122. A lesson, in this case, of the triumphs of iovc. Love leads Ruth by a somewhat i;ard ami self-denying waj <>nt of le r native land ami ii o the barbo -fields of F.e'l’h hem. bet at last to qm-tuship and bb-ssedness. Love, like faith is ’i iru of God and leads toward God. I. The Child Samuel. —1 Sam.. 3:1 13. The return of the prophetic spi’-it in iho persem of a simple child. The I.ord loves >:niplieity. M'hcn Ip.* wouid Israel to better things he sets a little child in tho midst. Atul the humble prayer of Hannah tlmt called down the gift was in :i_lika. spirit: Truly the meek shall inherit the e.u-th. e. Namm ( the .Tiulgi'. 1 Sam.. ■ : It i- at the Mizpah of t ons ' •!r t:mi ami < -t >tien that tlie people give < pp 'i iunity for the man of G >d t-» judge tip 11 as tbey shonld be judged ami for Jehovah to deliver and honor them as he ever loves to do. It is in the attitude of prayer that man is Highest unto God. (». Saul Chosen King.—l Sam. 10: 17-27. God moves in a mysterious way his womb rs to perform. Saul goes to seek his father's strayed asses, ami finds instead a crown. His humility here, so soon, alas, exchanged for arrogance, is his Imst adornment. Little in his own eyes, he is great in God's eyes. 7. Saul Rejected.—l Sam.. 15: 10-23. Disobedience is again proven man’s worst foe. It costs Saul his crown. Hew ii any times has il lost us ail preferment and progress nt God's hands! To obey is better than sacrifice. s. The M oes of Intemperance.—lsa. 5: 11 -23. A pra ti-al exemplification of the sin of disobi'lienee. The man who puts appetite between himself and God is his own Imtefulest enemy, it pays to keep God’s | laws. It is ruinous to break then.. 'J. David Annointed King.—l Sam., Ill: 1 13. God always has his man in reserve, and true worth, as God views it, will come to its reward. Be faithful in little things and in obscurity. In due time God will brush aside apparently stronger «p---plicants and give the honor to his own. io. David and Goliath.—l Sam., 17: 38-51. There is a loyal. God-fearing, Davidic spirit in every one of the Lord's own. Bid tliat spirit to the fore. Shame the apa■thy (and we all have something of it) that hides in the trenches. Say bravely, trustingly against every embodiment of evil. "I come* to thee in the name of the Lord of hosts'" H. David and Jonathan. —1 Sam., 20: 32-42. The nobility of friendship wl en it is •entertained and exercised for Ged’s sake. Jonathan forgot himself and his own in- - tercsts in serving David and David's God. In this he suggests one far above in selfforgetting love, the "Friend that sticketh closer than a brother.” ■ 12. The Birth of Christ.—Luke 2: 8 29. Here is brought to full and blessed view the one prefigured and promise 1 in aIU that has gone before. “Chiefest among •ten thousand” and “altogether lovely. ,Worship him. Next Lesson—“Tlie Forerunner of Christ.” —Luke 1: 5-17. laterally True. Muggins—A cyclone must be a grand sight. Buggins—lt is. The first one I saw I was quite taken with—that is, about two miles.—Philadelphia Record. Still Worse. Nogliz—Did you see in yesterday’s paper that 400 people died in Boston ; last year without physicians? Mazrig—Yes; but that’s nothing" just i think how many died with them!—Roxbury Gazette. Good Definition of Cynic. “Papa,” asked little M’illie, “isn't a cynic a man Who is tired of the world?" “No, my dear; a cynic is a man ofj whom the world is tired.”—Tit-Bits. ;