St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 22, Number 24, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 2 January 1897 — Page 6

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v \ T NN RSTR —r 3 - Ly i ) \ \\.’/ l 6.,\' o | tar- -e i l : e R s B e CHAPTER XXIV. ee SR e—— et et vt o 010 RGO den had met Gladys Rane in the park, while the sun was setting in a golden glow of color, Captain Wpynyard had made up his mind to reconnoiter Brantome. Black thoughts accompanied him in his murderous walk. Not wishing to be seen ‘ —for he had that to do, if he conld find an opportunity of doing it, which umst( have no witness—he did not enter Brantome Park by the usual way, but \\'untl round by Brantome IFirs. He was aware | of Angela’s habit of wandering thrnu;zh' the grounds in the soft evening light, and | he thought it not unlikely that he might | discover her alone. He had no settled | plan in his mind by which he heped tnf accomplish the end he had in view; lmti he intended to avail himself of the ﬁrst| opportunity that presented itself. He crossed Brantome Firs, and wvnt‘ through the open gate, little dreaming | who had been there so zhort a ‘*imwe before. Then, as he walked on, he caugit sight of the ornamental lake, with its narrow terrace and steps that led to the water, and, unless his senses deceived him, Angela—yes, Angela herself—sit- S ting, like one weary, on the steps! His‘ heart gave a bound of almost fiendish | delight, then seemed to stand still. ‘ “My enemy is delivered into my hand!” , were the first words that occurred to! him. ‘ Drawing nearer, he recognized tho! wrapper of silver-gray, and then remem- | bered the day on which he had given it to } Angela. He remembered, too, his wife's | delight, and his step-daughter's cool »ro-i ception of his gift—the gift that was to | be a shroud. He trembled violently as | he drew near to her; but he could not see | her face, for it was hidden in a fold of§ the wrapper, no doubt to shield her eyes. | The wind stirred the glistening folds, but it did not rouse the wearied sleeper. “I wonder she wears that,” he said to himself, “considering that I gave it to her;” then, after a few moments—*She | would not sleep so soundly if she knew | that I was near. Everything is ready to my hand,” he thought, with fiendish satisfaction. Yet cold drops had gathered on his brow and his lips had grown white. There was none to interfere with his design, | there was none to rescue her this time! | A stealthy footstep, a moment of in-l tense, almost unendurable suspense, a hand outstretched, then withdrawn, then outstretched again—a sudden push, a despairing cry—and she was gone! ' There was a splash in the water, thpl eddies spreading and spreading until they reached the fountain; then all was quiet. To him, the murderer, with the brand of Cain on his brow, there came one moment of intense stillness that seemed hours long—a moment when horror seized him at the thought of the foul deed that he had done. A thousand burning eyes seemed suddenly to fill the air and fix their gaze upon him: a thousand voices seemed to hiss “Murderer!” in his ecars. Then he saw a movement in the water —a woman's hand was thrown up, and a faint ery for help reached his ears. There was even yet time if he would repent of his act and save her, for he was a good swimmer. The outstretched hand showzad \ for one moment above the darkening eddies—it was like an appeal to heaven; then the waters closed over it, the eddies ' grew deeper, calmer, then died away, and the bosom of the lake was smooth as though it Leld no guilty sceret. Vance Wynyard turned and fled—fled, despite the blood-red mist that swam before his eyes and the horrible shudder that took the strength from his limbs. The sun had set when he reached Culdale Hall. Dinner was always late there on summer evenings; and when the Cap- | tain, still looking white and haggard, entered, the first bell had not rung. “I should be all right,” he said to himgelf, “if I should see Gladys. I must see ber.” With some little difficulty he found 1\6‘1"1 pretty Parisian maid Fanchette, who had . a shrewd idea how matters stood between her beautiful mistress and the handsome Captain. ‘“Ask Miss Rane if I can see her just for two minutes before the dinner-bell rings,” he said, hastily. And IFanchette, noticing how strange and ill the Captain looked, replied: “Miss Rane is out, sir. She has been out all the afternoon, and has not yet returned.” “Out!” he cried, in ainazement. “Are you sure, IFanchette?” “Quite sure, sir,” she replied. “I helped my mistress to dress.” “Where was she going?’ he asked, quickly. “I understood that she intended to walk to Cyldale, sir; I do not know what for. l.ady Culdale wished her to have the carriage, but she declined, preferring to walk.” “At what time did she go?” asked the Captain. 1L am not quite sure, sir; but it wds some time after luncheon. I am expecting her every minute.” No fear or apprehension came over him: but he was surprised that she should remain out so long. He concluded, however, that she had been tempted to linger over her shopping. He lingered about the Hall for some time, in the hope of meeting her, but no Gladys came.

OHAPTHR XXYV. “A woman found drowned in the lake /| at Brantome Park!” § The words seemed to fly from one to another—the very air seemed to cateh them and carry them along. One of the keepers, on going between | four and five in the morning to look after some water-fowl, fancied he saw some- | thing strange in the lake—a light paper parcel, floating as the wind blew. He took a long pole and drew it toward him, and, on opening it, found that it contained 2 skein of fine biue sewing-silk, such as ladies use in embroidery. Further down, near the fountain, something else was stirring in the water. This too he drew out, and found it to be a lady's handkerchief of fine lace, with delicately embroidered monogram, the letters of which were “G. R.” In one moment he understood. He had | heard of the missing lady as he walked from his home to the Park. He had met ’ two of the Culdale men-servants search(ing, and the three had stopped and | talked together for some time. The man stood dazed and bewildered as he heli the handkerchief in his hand. He hastened toward Culdale, and when halfway there, he met Lord Culdale, with two or three gentlemen, and told them his terrible news, His lordship looked at the handkerchief, with its finely embroidered monogram of “G. R.” “Gladys Rane!” he gasped. “But how. in the name of heaven, could she have fallen into the lake at Brantome?" They hastened to the lake, and scon raised the body, and laid it reverently on the stone terrace. The face was Lalm, even smiling. Perhaps—heaven was good!—her last thoughts had been pieasi:\nt ones. The exquisite features and | the rippling black hair were almost as ‘ltho.\' had last seen them. They were | Strong men; but, as they looked on the fair dead woman, tears filled their eves. The alarm had been given at Bran tome now, and the servants came hurry ing out. Hearing the commotion, Angela asked the housekecper what it meant, and the answer almost stunned her. *“There has been a terrible acecident. Miss Charles,” replied Mrs. Bowen. “One of the ladies who has been stopping at '(,‘uldulo has been found drowned in ous lake!” » “A lady from Culdale?’ Angela questioned; and then Mrs. Bowen told her the whole story, as she had heard it from the servants—how one of the visitors at Culdale, a very beautiful lady. had been missing since yesterday afternoon, and had been found drowned in Brantome Lake. “What was thé lady’s name?’ Angela asked, in a voice quite unlike her own. The housekeeper replied that she was not quite sure—it was either “Dane.” lnr “Rane;” but she knew that the unfortunate lady was a famous london beauty. “I am going down to the lake, Miss Charles,” she added; ‘‘come with me:" and Angela went. She was bewildered and ineredulous, It could not be Gladys Rane, she tried to convince herself. She had been with her on the evening before, and had left her well and strong. What should bring her to Brantome? What had led to her death? How well she remembered her sitting under the shade of the trees! As she thought of their meeting. the dark, lovely face seemed to rise again before her. Surely Gladys Rane, with swhom ]shu had spoken so lately, was not the girl who had been found drowned. Angela had never felt any respect for Miss Rane; but she would have been shocked at such a terrible calamity, had the vietim been the greatest stranger. It seemed hardly credible that this beautiful woman, who had been queen of the season, should have met with such an awful death while help was so close at hand. When her eyes fell on the little group of men standing near the silent figure on the terrace, she uttered a cry of anguish; but apparently no one noticed it, Keeping close to Mrs. Bowen, she walked slowly to the terrace. One glance was enough to satisfy her that the dead body found in the lake was that of Gladys Rane. The face that not many hours \\mf«-rn was s 0 \xrilli:x;x‘; in its lovclinefs and bloom was now white as marble, cold ‘ and still! ‘ “What brought her here?’ Angela ask{ed herself. Could it be that Gladys had }(‘r;me in search of her, and that, in trying to make her may to the Hall, she had | fallen accidentally into the lak-% Every one seemed to agree that she had \ fallen in accidentally. When Miss Itaine | was last seen she was wearing valuable jewelry; and costly gems sti'l shone on | her fingers, a necklace of gold clsaped the white throat. 'They had not been | | touched; therv fore, it was evident there had been no robbery, no assault. As for , | murder, no such thought was entertained, | Who -would have any interest in the . | death of this beautiful woman whom .| every one lov:d and admired? XNo one - | dreamed that it was anytning worse than » | a terrible aceident. Angela did not go near the little knot 3| of gentlemen; but, seeing one of the Culdale servants standing alone, she went 3| up to him. i - “Does any one know,” she asked, “how ] the accident happened 7’ —and the answer s loswas N 6 - “Does any one know what brought the - | poor lady to the lake?’ she asked again; r | and again the answer was “No.” “She must have come in search of me, "’ e | thought Angela; and the thought sado | dened her inexpressibly. Suddenly she saw something om the

bank which attracted her attention—something saturated with water, and lying in a shapeless heap, something from which the water had taken the glistening beauty, leaving it a mere rag. She saw the gleam of the sun on the bright clasps, and in a mement the truth flashed peross her. She had left her silver-gray wrapper in the field where she had left Gladys Rane! She -had not thought of it before. - Now she remembered how she had unfastened it, and how in her sorrow and pxcitement she had come away withouts it. Perhaps Gladys Rane was on her way to bring it to her when the accident happened! With a great throb of relief she remembered that Miss Rane did not know where she was staying, so that it was impossible she could have come for the purpose of seeing her. Besides, Miss Rane would never dream that she was staying at Brantome Hall; it was the last place in the world where she would think of finding her. Whatever motive had brought her there, it could not have been to see her, Angela felt fully assured, She remembered how she had gone in the opposite direction so as purposely to mislead her. ‘ Then it oecurred to her that Miss Rane being a stronger in the neighborhood might not have known the way; gnd she felt a keen pang of regret that she had not thought of telling her. Vividly rose before her the picture of the nd the two roads—the one to the y narrow and shadeless, leading tofgualdale; the one to the right, broad and ®rdered with tall, spreading trees. Suddnly, as if by ins~"ration, Angela felt tfat she had solved the mystery—Miss Itide had taken the wrong road! She haawvalked to Brantome instead of returningto Culdale. But how the unfortunate girl ha-l fallen into the water was as great a mystery as ever. But Angela was yet to learn that the unfortunate girl had been murdered, and by whom; yet to learn that a chain of circumstances had placed her deadliest enemy at her mercy. (To be continued.)

CUBANS LIVE ON PLANTS. The Insurgent Army Needs No Commissary D'epartmeat, One of the most disappointed men in town is Capt. Buenco, of the Cuban army. The captain, who is a member of the largest banking house in San Diego, Cuba, came to New York last July on a special mission. He soon finished his business and has been trying ever sinee to get back to fight with his company. Twice he has attempted to get away, once, it is said, on the HawKins, and again on the Bermuda. The second failure, which resulted in his being Lheld in $2,500 bail to appear before the grand Jury, prevented him from going on the vessel when she again weighed anchor last Sunday morning. “I was all through with my busiucss on July 20,” said the captain, “and here [ am still, held by thie bail until I don't know when, Ivery time II;‘, tried to get away something lms‘i%‘gnwl. If the people in charge of thye, 0! fiuda | had labeled their boxes, the gy Afiment i would not have stopped the Bteamer and I showld be back wi iends l by this time, with a chanee them. Here I can do nothingst I am useless, y “Loak at Col. Perez there. §e and I | began together. We were old school- | mates, you know. He staj@l and f fought and now he is a colon®l. llf I ¥ could have gotten back I'd be a colonel, | too, or dead. Oh, well, the rainy sea- | son is coming on, and after that the | fever. That will make the Spaniards ! sick, In the last war 38 per cent. of 1 them died of fever—to say nothing of i those we put out of the way with our ‘ machetes and bullets. [ “Os course, they cannot ride at all. | Perez has told you about that; but we | can outmarch them, too. One night, | about a year ago, we broke camp and | started to meet Maceo and Marti. We : knew that they were to land about for- » ty leagues away. By noon the next day | we had marched eighteen leagues, but ‘ we were net too tired to attack's Span- | ish column that came down on our | flank, a little to the rear. We Bad a | lively fight until 5 o’clock, when Maceo ! and Marti came up. Then, together, we | drove the enemy out of sight. ' *“We ought to have been pretty tired 5 by that time. Don’t you think so? Well, | we were not very fresh, but orders l were given to return by the route we | came, and, after hunting up something l to eat from what the Spaniards had | abandoned in their fiight, we marched [ back the whole eighteen leagues, reach- ' ing our starting place the next afternoon. You won't find any Spaniards to do that. We couldn’t if we weren’'t used to the food, and to the clintate and hadn’t lived out of doors all our lives. | “Another thing in our fag Jf, espe- | cially in the hilly country, wgere the woods are dense, is that we k _ plants and roots are good so $ and which poisonous. Almost anjywhere in Cuba there is enough studggfowing ‘ wild to keep a man alive, if hejknows | how to get it. We do; so, we'ean go ! about without a commissary depart- | ment. When we halt for breakfast or | supper, there is a bugle ecall a‘?‘:?signal | to prepare to hunt—get out sacks ready, [ etc. Then a second call, meaning to [ disperse to the woods. In g half hour, | perhaps, you will see all the men back ; in camp, each with some fruit or vege- | table that Lie has plucked or dug out of | the ground. We eat those things and | they agree with us. If the Spanish eat | them they have a pain in the stomach. ‘ “Ali we need to drive the Spaniards out is supplies. We've more men thg Wwe can arm. Soitis no use #r anyone ' to come to us looking for a job, uniess he knows something about artillery. l Then weo might use him, but I do not know certainly.”—New York™ Press. -e —————A———"—M‘.‘ As a fountaim finds its expression In overflowing, as a river in rushing to the infinite main, as trees busstiug into life and blossom in the springtide, so God feels it his joy to give liberally, and to give above all we can ask or think or desire, for Christ’s sake.—Cummings.

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GOTHAM SOCIETY-LEADER. | ISS DE BARRIL has been elected by the New York Patriarchs to fill the place of Ward ‘ McAllister, The Patriarchs decided that there must be some one person selected to attend to the details of their future functions. Miss de Barril has been their choice. One of Miss de Bar- . T f AL .‘s\.«4;}--/ R h;v,‘\: S - (iR '//h §\ N\ / i B \3)*l < 1 M . ;"I.’ s e '/"‘»‘. AVi & Pad 11 .r” 9l ~-‘L o ; !I;AA “.;L ‘,/‘ 7 / A s \ 4 o A \4‘l / A “A ‘ /' /A E- - ¥ /e X N LA § | A ¥ i o ‘.‘\‘ \‘/’,‘l,’ s’ | B - Eaes S O / AL 92 S 5 ARI NAt 4 " 'v i »4@ »,,.:f_‘—}" s ,<_’:,si i T\ | B T MBSTRaE Ry S i A7\ PSR <2l s A 13 SR RA STy > VI T S Y e i o= s e o .. P 35 Al W ST LN (o > (//'- 2 o] P\ ,-_*,(«‘:‘»xm SN S & g \BER o & ERD - As =7 / \@.@ . N 5 MISS DE BARRIL. ril's duties will be to keep herself informed of the names of #hose to be invited, so that thiere will be no repetitions or omissions. Miss de Barril comes of old Spanish stock and her family was at one time wealthy. Toilet Hints, If one's complexion is “muddy,” sallow or covered with blackheads, the lotion bottle is not the remedy which should be sought tirst. Instead, the candidate for a complexion of roses and cream should begin to diet, Hot water taken half an hLour before breakfast with a little lemon juice in it is better | than creams to restore the skin to clear- ‘ ness. Graham and whole wheat bread, fruit, clear tea and coffee, if tea and ; coffee are used, plenty of green vegeta- | bles, lean meat and broiled fish form i an admirable complexion diet. Poultry | and candies should be avoided. ! & é < i After diet and exercise have paved | the way for other treatment, a weekly | face steaming may be tried. The wom | an whose purse does not permit her to | go to the professional beautifiers should E- ¢ ! fill a bowl with boiling water. Over % this she should bold her face, into , which a cold eream has been rubbed, { for ten minutes or so, covering her l head and shoulders and the bowl with + o heavy Turkish towel, After drying g the face shie should rub more cold eream { into It and she should not veanture out into the air for at least three hours. American Cultivator | Mating a Wood Box, | Following are directions for making a wood box of medium size froni that | excellent authority, the Ladies’ Home | Journal: The box should be 36 inches in { length and 18 in width, the height from | 16 to 18 inches. The interior may be { divided into two compartments—one | for wood, the other for coal—and treati ed to several successive coats of dark { paint or asphaltum varnish. An ordi- | nary canned goods box can be fixed up and painted to appear like an iron- { bound chest. Cover the surface of the i box with heavy builders’ paper, gliuing it on smoothly, avoiding creases or wrinkles, and paint a rich mahogans brown. Two or three « Its, each thor- | cughly dried and afterward varnished i and rubbed down, will make a gcod, | durable surface. Strap iron cornerys | and cross bands, embellished with big | ' o ! i A o gr-_Sar i 20 Wil St |e 2 R | =s ISAT R "T'?.cix”’*}'ff ; Tt NN B ! PSRN (el i S '3,l‘7‘:. N S i '-"%”’CZ‘C%I S A i ——mmemE ST 8 Wit eI | = 73:5‘??*25:\\\\ st i 'v.\ 7 ! = N e = i e ;_.-?:—*‘1" AN {5 AN DTN N 1 —5 — B = . TN % T ] MR i 3 RR S O ‘ = Rt | E5 - —3 S g = > Bs e | et — ? . - — ‘ ARTISTC WOODIOX. rough-headed, hand-made nails, add to the apparent strength of this chest and give it the character of an antique | strong box. | A box of this sort may be put to use i as a silver chest, and, if so, it should | be lined with canton flannel or felt, | which may be tacked or glued fast. Sev- | eral trays may be provided in which to | keep spoons, forks and other small ar- | ticles.of plate. Revolted at the Crinoline. | Sometimes the American woman de- | clines to be dictated to even by her | dressmaker or tailor, but with the re- | cent advent of smaller sleeves peopls i begin to wonder if the next step may innr be in the direction of those sKkinticht abominatioms worn some fifteen l years ago ard from then on for five or i six seasons. The American woman has shown herself much more independent ‘m‘ late than she was once in matters of comfort or convenience or lvoks. She, | for instance, would not adopt the hide- | ous crinoline recently, although dress- | makers and importers tried their best | to bully her into doing it. She stood | her ground and so absolutely refused | that the threatened fashion died in its | tenderest infancy. DBut that was a mat- | ter of the becoming. The American |

Woman had sense enough to see that she would make a guy of herself :n hoops. Padding in the New Gowns, After a woman has been through the hands of her dressmaker it will be mora than ever difficult this year to determine her physical proportions, or even to make a reasonably accurate guess as to whether she is plump or scrawny. In the first place, the new sleeves, tigiht almost to the shoulder, call for pretty good looking arms inside of them or they have about as much style as pump handles. “In the meantime,” said a fashionable dressmaker, “we pad. 1 have sent home but two waists this month that haven’t had the sleeves plumply interlined to give a good outline. And then the princess gown that is coming back into favor looks a sight unless the wearer has an ideal figure. It’s an art to pad up to the requirements of this dress. Yes, indeed, it's a year of figure paedding, sure enough.”

Benefits of a Nipping Air, Women should not be afraid of outdoor exercise, even though the winds may blow fresh and chill from the lake or prairies. The cold aid will do no injury if they are properly protected and take exercise enough to keep the circulation active. On the contrary, it will do good. It will purify the blood, (it will strengthen the lungs, it will im;prove the dlgosﬁog. It will afford a | healthy, natural stimulus to torpid eir- | culation and strengthen and energize lthe whole system. The injury which i often results from going into a cold at+ | mosphere is occasioned by a lack of ! protection to some part of the body, ex- | posure to strong draughts, or from | breathing through the mouth. Avold | these and you are safe. i o e ! Malge Kendall’s Tea Cloth, b “Promptly at 4 o'clock I serve tea in | my Epglish home,” writes Madge Ken- { dall to @n American friend. “My embroidered tea cloth must be oge and | one-half yards square, with a plain oval { shaped center on which to rest my tray, { containing sugar bowl, teapot, cups and { i_ e L e ! ;' \ | SO Y % A& Nt \\‘3’7\. : 2 4 \\" L "\ _ I LD ¢ .g.,z:,d Q?':&La SR AN Ve A %,’ | 0‘7"&"‘ e e / ~ /// N ’ : ;\‘, ‘\}\'\o “*-\‘;{fa\ ;7-’#.\ Yy, SO 2K £ 0 & et K 3 i ‘{'y'l/j 3 ;.7'3}&/ .g Ol AR B iR D e iy | 20r7 > L ! MADGE KENDALL’S TEA CLOTH. | saucers, ete. 1 chose clover for the de- [ sign, because when first landing in | America I was presented with a bunch { of the fragrant plants, and I have ever | since associated them witn your couney i Women Are Goeoed, | Women constitute two-thirds of all the church members of the TUnited | States, but only cone-thirteenth of all { thie eriminals. ! Feminine Fancies. The new neck fancifuls are more elaborate than ever. i Women who own a superfluity of jewc¢ls use real diamond ornaments on | their bonnets, | Leather is being employed in the for- { mation of many dainty fancy articles | for the boudoir desk. | Faecial massage is particularly neces- | sary when wind and cold combine to | make the skin rough. | A unique combinetion of colors is a [ toque with a steel crown, surrounded Q by a mass of violets from which spring [ upright loops of cherry red velvet, i The tailcr-made girl does not bundle | np until she looks like an Eskimo baby, | but she putis on a fleece-lined or chamois | jacket under the coat and thus gets all | the required warmth without disturbing the graceful lines of her figure. A Joy Forever. \ When Gen. Warre was commander-in-chlef of the Bombay Division, he I once gave a luncheon at Poona, where l about forty officers were present. The { only lady present was Mrs. Warre, who i sat at the cther end of the table. l Now the general, in the course of con- ; versation, often addressed his wife, and | whenever he did so called her “Joy.” | Among the guests was a cheeky young !.\'u!»;z‘lte-:';\ from the gunners, by name | Macdenald. i This youth suddenly paralyzed the E;‘]l(’&"i by saying to the general: “I say, who's ‘Joy,” general?”’ . There was an awful pause, and the 1 ceneral sald very slowly and distinetly: | . “Joy,” Mr. Macdonald, ‘is a pet name I sometimes give my wife.” “Quite right, too, general,” sang out the unabashed subaltern. “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” This remark saved the situation.— London Answers. Cure and Prevention. Ancient medals represented the goddess Hygela with a serpent three times as large as that carried by Aesculapius, to denote the superiority of hygiene to medicine, prevention to cure

THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. SERIOWS SUBJECTS CAREFULLY CONSIDERED. A Scholarly Exposition of the Lesson —Thoughts Worthy of Calm Reflection—Half an Hour’s Study of the Sgrix»turcs—Time Well Spent. Lesson for Jan. 3. Golden Text—*“While he blessed them, lie was parted from them, and carried up into heaven.”--Luke 24: 51.

Subject, Christ’s Ascension. Acts 1: 1-4. Tor a year we are to study the history of the apostlic church, chiefly from the books of Acts. Taking up the narrative where thé evangelists leave it, we ~hall continue it down to about A. D. 70, completing the life of ’aul. The Jessons thus cover a period of about forty years. "There shonld be continuity in the teaching throughout the year. A definite plan is made possible by the nature of the selections. It is important to start right, with a clear idea of what you wish to accomplish. A rapid review of the life of Christ would be very helpful; read the - account of his ministry in the *“‘interwoven gospel” or in some short life like Stz}lkor's. At any rate, read the evanzelists’ accounts of the period after the resurrection, Matt. 28, Mark 16, Luke 24, | 2 2 35 o the forty days, from the following passages: (1) Matt. 28: 8-10. (2) John 20: 13, 14. (3) Luke 24: 1331. (4) Luke 24: 34,1 Cor. 15: 5. (3) John 20: 19-24, Luke 24: 33. (6) John 20: 26. (7) John 21. (8) Matt 28: 1620, 1 Cor. 15; 8. (9) Luke 24: 50-53. The appearance to James (1 Cor. 15: 7) is in adition to these. During the forty days it is not probable that Christ was seen many more times than are recorded. What the nature of ihis body was we can not’ judge except from his immunity from the laws of mat- ! ter. If, as we believe, he rose from the grave with a spiritual body, which he made visible at will to his disciples, then there is no particular difficulty in accepting the ascension, which has been rejected by many who admit some of Christ’s miracles. There is no evidence to show that the complete change to the spiritual body took place at the time of ascension. It came, so far as we know, at the resurrection. Explanatory. “Shewed himself alive:” notice the phrase. We are not to understand that during those forty days Jesus was at all times visible, or visible at all to unbelievers. But neither are we to understand that the disciples merely had visions, to which there was no corresponding objective reality. Jesus' body did actually leave the sepulcher, and must have been changed into the body in which he showed himself to his disciples.—— *“Many iunfallible proofs;” a very strong word in the original, though the revised ‘ version omits “infallible.” The idea is of | demonstration through the evidence of | the senses.—''Speaking of the things ! pertaining to the kingdom of God;” the }«Hsuiples might not be convinced by the mere appearance of a person resembling their Master, but when he talked to then of the familiar subjects on which he had beén instructing them for three years, \ they were convinced. | “Being assembled together with them:” | this may refer to the occasion noted in | Luke 24:49.——**Should not depart from | Jerusalem:” because they could not go forth to preach until they had received ‘ the Spirit.——'"The promise of the Fath- | er, which, saith he, ye have heard of | me;” the promise to send the Holy Spirit, | as in Joel 2: 28. They had heard it from | Jesus in such passages as John 16: 7. | Teaching IHints. { Note-how the two volumes of Luke’s | narrative overlap each other. At first | thought it would seem most natural for | the gospel to end with the ascensiobn and | the Acts’to begin with the meeting in the { upper room; but there was no line be- | tween these two periods. Christ’'s work | was in one sense completed on the resur- | rection morning; that is, his earthly !\vnrk. his work of redemption. Those ifn;r'ry days. while he lived. so to speak, | sometimes on earth and sometimes in the | invisible world. were a beantiful and fitting close to his sojourn on earth, but they belong fully as much to the second { chapter of Christian history as to the | first. When he disappeared from sight on Olivet, there was no sudden change, 'mrxw-ly a passing from the realm where | he could be seen only by sight aided by | faith to the realm where faith alone could f behold him. [ The “infallible proofs” of the resurrecifiun miay perhaps be dwelt on at some [ length in teaching this lesson, though | more properly belonging to the life of | Christ. The strongest proofs are, that { the disciples did not expect a resurrec- | tion; that if the body was stolen it would f:-»-m;xi:d_\' have been produced; that even i Thomas was convinced; that the various j:;wwwm:s of the appearances after the resurrection vary from one another in minor points, not enough to destroy their alue as records, but enough to prevent iny possibility of an invented story. The ascension of the risen Lord was a token that henceforth earth and heavex are very near together. Angels had passed and repassed. Elijnh was repre. sented as having entered heaven without ! death, but now the gulf was completely | bridged. The Lord should return as he ' had ascended. The disciples must often I have returned to the summit of Olivet on | calm evenings, and watched with wistful , eves the sunset glory, half hoping to see the gates of the west swing wide to let ' the conquering Lord pass through on his wav back to the waiting earth. But they :Hzl. not let their visions interfere with their tasks. How well the power of the invisible ruled their lives for the overthrow of material obstacles and the upbuildine of a spiritual kingdom. the book of Acts and the eariy history of the church attest. Next Lesson—“ The Holy Spirit Given.” et 2 115 Joininz the Church. Joining the church is in one senze & very small affair. It makes no difference whatever in your life in one sense, It is simply the open confession of what you already believe in your soul In another sense it is of the utmost importance. It means the open alliance of your life’'s powers with those whom vou believe to be battling on the right side in this great moral conflict. It means that yvour influence with men shall be for the right.—Rev. J. P. EgYert