St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 22, Number 51, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 10 July 1897 — Page 2

'f ^W^IN^P Till ‘jHKn/:ij..*BuT*A «?'•'■ Ilr''*l#HA Irv?" L^sf CHAPTER XXVIII.

The whole of that next year I spent in exploring South America. From time to ^stil^ecei^ed letters. The lawyer, JuT***^'?Ai|'n> governess, Mrs. Gray, ■*■**—'“‘were mytoft^espondents. It was in the autumn of that second year that the aceounfs of .loan began to improve. She had grown much stronger—she began to notice places and persons—to ask questions—to interest herself once more in things that were passing around her. One day I received a letter from Darby herself. The targe, strangely formed words had an odd look. She said: “Dear Sir Ralph—This is the first letter I have ever written, and I write it to give you good news. Joan is so much better. Soon. I think, she will be quite well. I have a fancy, dear Sir Ralph, that one thing would make her that, and very soon. It is you. I talk to her about you often and often, and she says: ‘I know him. He was very good. I think he was the best man in the world.’ So, you see, she must remember you. We are ad Nice again, and —is it not funny?— papa got the very same house for us that we had before, when you and Jo were married. I think she remembers it. Every day she asks more questions, and neems thinking out things for herself. Oh, I wish you would come! You have been away such a long, long time, and I miss yov very muA Papa is not a bit like you. He is always writing. Do please come. Your loving little “DARBY.” As I read those simple words the hard crust about my heart seemed to be broken ■up. I looked back on those two year# with a sense of wonder. How lonely they had been! How devoid of anything like love, or comfort, or sympathy! Yet even now, if I obeyed this summons, anil went, back to my wife's side, what would that life be like henceforward ? However well I might hide the fox. its teeth would gnaw at my heart beneath the cloak of indifference. I told no one I was coming. I resolved to take them by surprise. It was close on sunset when I arrived at Nice, and leaving my baggage at the station, 1 drove at once to the villa in its sheltered nook •f the Bay of Villafranea. , Keeping behind the sheltering laurels And arbutus, I made my way slowly to the house. The door stood open. I mot not a single soul; I passed in. On the right of the hall a door stood ajar. From the room within came the sound of voices. I listened. Only too well I knew them. The child’s sweet plaintive tones, and those of my wife. I crept up to the door and looked in. The room was half dusk. There was a couch drawn up by the tire, and lying on it a little shadowy figure—the child’s figure. Joan sat beside her on a low ehair. “I am sure he will come," Darby was saying. “You will be glad, dear, will you not?” “Very glad,” came the answer in quiet, even tones —the tones I remembered of yore. “Because he will take care of you, and be good to you,” the child went on. “Only. Joan, you must promise to tell him everything. He will not be angry. He is too kind and good for that.” “He was always good,” said Joan 'oft!y. “And you! What should I have done without you all these years? You held me back from sin and from despair. You gave me strength when I was weakest, and hope when I was hopeless, and patience when I was well-nigh desperate, and love when all other love failed. Oh, my child—my blessing! It is heaven’s mercy that gave you to me! I see that every day I live.” The next moment I entered the room. CHAPTER XXIX. For a moment we looked at each other in silence. I had thought of her, prayed for her, pleaded for her a hundred times in hours of solitude and pain. I heard her low cry, and saw the warm blood flush her cheeks. I lost sight of all the sor-' rowful and torturing past, and for a moment remembered only that she was my wife. A sort of constraint came over me. The fond words that had longed for utterance were frozen on my lips. Darby came to ■the rescue with a torrent of questions and remarks, and a few moments after- ; wards Mr. Templeton entered. We all sat down then, and the conversation became general. They would not hear of my going to the hotel; so my luggage was sent for, and I did my best to return the cordiality of my welcome, and to seem at home and content once more. Joan was very quiet. Each time I looked at the slight figure in its soft gray cress, or the pretty head with its clustering curls, a strange feeling came over me. A woman, no doubt, would have found relief in tears. I —man-like—was only conscious of a pain that tugged at my heart-strings and sometimes choked the words in my throat. She looked so fair, and sweet, and fragile. There was such a delicate, tender womanliness about her that I seemed to lose sight of that awful time of doubt, and the torturing years that had followed. When she went away with Darby and Roger Templeton had left, 1 fell into deep thought. My eyes rested on the burning logs, but I don’t think they saw much of them, for my heart, was heavy. A soft rustling noise roused me at last. Joat bad come in, and was standing close be side me. “I hope,” she said gently, “that you an not sorry you came back?" “Why should you think so?” I asket abruptly. For a moment she was silent. Then t «ort of desperate appeal came into he Iwce and voices

“Everything is changed,” she said, “since you were here before. I most changed of all. I think sometimes that when I was a girl—when you knew me years ago—that there must have breti some good in me. or you would not have loved me. Oh!" and she clasped her hands and looked at me with soft, wet eyes, “if I could only go back and be that girl again!” Her voice thrilled to my heart. 1 dared not look at her. “To go back,’ I said presently, “is impossible. That is the worst of it. With all its mistakes and follies, it pushes you on—on remorselessly. You cannot stay—you cannot return—you can only go forward, bearing the pain and the regret as best you may."

1 “We,” she said, humbly, “have had to 5 bear both, I fear.” '» Then she rose and stood before me. Her • face was white and anxious, her hand® R wore clasped tight, and hung before her; the folds of the soft gray dress caught light ami shadow from the flames. * J “There was something,” she said, and I her eyes looked at me piteously, like a child’s. “It was about about myself. I have tried to remember, but I cannot. I can remember the girl you met here. I know every walk we took. I know the very tracks of the sea. I—do not think I was bad then,” and her voice grew mixioux. “I did not mean to be, I know. I was happy, too. in away. and I had faith and hope, and life did not seem so hard and sad a thing. Now,” and she put her hand to her brow and pushed the loose curls back, while her eyes grew clouded —“now it is all so different. Yet I cannot tell why—l only feel as if my life had all gone wrong —as if, somewhere on its road, I had missed happiness; and, when I long for it there is a gulf between —a gulf I can never pass.” The words, and the young, sorrowful voice, smote me to the heart. “My poor child,” I said, brokenly, “I would it were in my power to give it back to you!” “Why sign’d you cere?" she said, and half turned away. “I was not good to you. I have thought of that very often. And I wer eared about your feelings my own weemed to fill up everything, and when I did —” Again the cloud came over h.W face, her eyes droopisl, her little hand moved with restless touch among those soft white curls. "When I did,” she said, "it was too late.” I was silent. I seemed to have too many words to speak, yet something kept me from speaking even one. “In all my thoughts and dreams of you,” she went on, “I always knew how good you were. I—l hope you believe that. There are things I have told you that I felt you did not believe. Sometimes it is so hard for a woman to speak, and when we feel we are misunderstood it makes it harder. 1 I have often tried to tell you of my feelings, but you chilled me. You did not mean it, I know: but always I felt, ns I told you just now, that you were so good, and so true, and so strong. Oh, a’lways always I felt that! And if I could have come to you and told you everything, I know 1 should have been happier.” “Perhaps," 1 said, huskily, “you can tell me now.” She drew back from me, shuddering and white. A change cam cover her, as if some hidden hand had struck at her swaying figure. She hid her face in her hands. “I cannot," she cried, piteously; "1 cannot! It has all gone from me. Often and often I have tried to remember, but it is al'l dark." “The light may come yet," I said, eagerly. for I knew well enough that, until jHwfect confidence drew her heart to mine, my dreams of happiness would never be more than dreams, nor sho, my wife, be more than the shadow she had been for those two years of suffering. Her hands dropped. She looked at me again. "You are my husband." she said. "I remember yon and I remember what you told me about love and trust. I 1 lost both, did I not?” I was silent. For a few seconds the room was still as death. “Yes,” she said, as I did not speak. “1 know it. But why have you come back?" “1 have come back.” I said, and my voice was unsteady as her own, “because, after aH. yon are my wife; your sorrows are mine; your troubles, too. I have left them too long unshared. I have been selfish ” “You!” she interrupted, and looked at me with eloquent eyes; "you selfish! Ah, no, no! you never were that!” “Yes,” I said, “I was; and I have much to reproach myself with; but there is still a future for us, and we must make it as happy as we can.” “One can’t call back trust,” she said sorrowfully. "If it goes, it goes forever And even if you loved me—j "I do love you,” I said earnestly, toneh- | ed to the heart by the piteous sorrow in her eyes. She looked at me for a moment as if in doubt. “Until yon love and trust me, too,” she said very low, “we shall never be happy. Between us, like a cold ghost, there is always that, something ” I turned aside, sick at heart, but recognizing ^nly too plainly the truth of her . ' words. I I went to my room, but I was too rest- : less for sleep. I was racked with doubts and fears, and all the sorrowful events a that had freshly come to my knowledge. , For long hours I sat there buried in t deep thought, when a slight noise aroused r me. The door opened softly, and on the 1 I threshold stood a little white figure, with s something clasped to her breast. She looked so unearthly in that dim light, that for d a moment my heart stood still with fear, p Then suddenly she glided forward, and g syent straight up to my bed, and laid on it. 'f the book she he'd. The action gave me t, speech and courage again. I sprang to n my feet. j- "Darby!" I cried. She turned her startled face to mine. ■e “Do not be angry,” she said beseechingly. “I thought you would be asleep, si and I wanted —oh, so much!—to bring you this.” a “What is it?” I said, coming forward, yr and taking up the volume from the bed. “It is to make you huppv acaiu.” she

said, “you and Joan. She is very sad, tulM you do not understand even h®w she lw®» you, but I do! And this," porting totfti book, “thkj will toll you. I used to intVo her read it to me sometimes, anu I thought often, oh, if you only knew!*? “But what is it?” I asked in growling bewilderment. J "It is Joan's journal,” she said, fend vanished. “Heaven forgive me,” I said, “if I Ikve misjudged her!” Hb-sJ I took up with trembling hands the j®j r . mil that the child had brought to me. The record of those years of anguish lay th®re, yet I feared to read it. It seemed Wine dishonorable to pry into the secrets of n woman’s heart- to take advantage of her helplessness, and tear ruthlessly the veil from her simple confidences, meant as they were but for her own eyes. 1 had respected Yorke’s —how much the more, then, should I respect those of my wife—my other self? The girl who had held mF heart, and shared my life, whom still I lovde and fain would have believed. As I thought of these things I resolutely put the book away. W 6, I knew very little of women; but I thought that no woman would respect the man who wrung from her ignorance aud helplessness the secrets ML her pa**’ whether the past were innoeent^^gh’^; “She told me she has alwnysja^W/ me," I gJTd; “I vnll not. fail her uO* confidence Is to unite -ns again It , a voluntary gift from her heart «Kjuine not a rifled treasure, stolen in tho ark, as if my hands were those of a (To be continued.) POSTMASTER WAS IGNO^L Tt Ought to Have Known that Blac nn<l Olhciiu Noir Were the SaitL In the mining camps In Upper Michigan iw»ople of every nationality X,ler the sun are employed, and the Riaftbat arrives at the nearest point of dfJß^ry is as Incongruous as a crazy work. Thar Is what an amateuj^^, master thought as he looked I; oj 7er in the candle box in the rear of tafe board shanty which served as a grockty store and postottiii* combined. He via® looking for a letter for a half-breed, Vho sat on a soap box and waited. ’There never was such a nai io in the world,” «ald the postmaste r in a grumpy voice. "Who ever h prd of Blackbird for a name?” । "Dat eez so- dat my name-mp,” said the man who wawted the letter. HoHpoke with a strong French accent. ’Teter Blackbird, my sadder, he make It, too.” “And I toll you Blackbird ain't no kind of a name—heathen or otherwise. Say. Frenehy, what you done to pick up a name like that? Ilowsomever, if rhe letter was hen* it would be piafi readin’. Mebbo it'll come next weed Who d'ye expect it from, ennyhow?? "Me fader an' it zee money g»t -dat I leu' hlm-me.” “Well, get out now with your jargon. If it comes I'll save it for you. Come agen when you can't stay so long.” and the letters were paekisl awdL^>r the next ei>mer. In a week the half-breed wd^mck as before looking for a letter t^vTeter Blackbird.” And, as lM‘for»^J| letier awaited him. “Can you read writlng?' r as rt ed the jM>stiua.s(er, angrily, as he fllpptsl the lettew on the n»ugh <*onnter. “Wbailor I hev lettre come eef I no n'ad?" asked the half-brmsl in return. "Then you look here and sm* that then' Isn't anything for “Peter Blackbird." The woodsman took each letter in his grimy hands and with infinite pains and ditheulty spelled out the hard names to which the one had given seemed an easy one. At hist he seized one with a yell of delight, ami began tearing it open when the postmaster insisted on seeing it.” "Hello!" he said, "this ain't your letter!” "Yum, yum. yum. dat my lettre- I tell you dat name in Eeuglish -for you not speck a de French dat my fader hanwritc dat my naim.” He held it up and the puzzled ;>ostmaster hsiked at the inscription and read this legend: * "Pierre L’Oiseau Noir.” * ♦ (’amp Alger, Mich. • • • ******»**«« "Well, what the has that got to dd with you?" asked the postmaster. "Dat Peter Blackbird in French all right. What for .you zat ign’rant,” was tin* half-breed's answer, as. seizing his precious letter, he faded away. Rings. Collet-tors are eagerly stOHing the iron mourning-rings that generally worn in Germany in 18* as they are now worth more than the? weight In gold. These rings are ißßmonies of the heights to which Germ’in patriotism mse againut Napolf i? 1 m ISI3. In that year the Princesst's i^the Royal House made an appeal to^ je nation to sacrifice all personal ornameiits for the sake of tlm tn-asury, tJiemsolves setting the example. This appeal has its parallel in our own history, the long Parliament having, at the beginning of the struggle lietwwu Parliamentarian ami Cavalier, made a similar call upon English patriotism. In conse<|uence of the personal example of the prinersses. an immense number of mourning rings were sent to the treasury at Berlin, each sender receiving an iron ring in acknowledgment, bearing the words. "Gold I give for Iron.” From a place called Swinemunde, m> less that one hundred and fourteen gold rings were sent, the same UiumlM-r Innug dispatched in exchange. 1 hese iron rings lire now extremely rare, hence their Value. Granite. / Granite is the lowest Spek in the earth’s crust; it is the btWrock of the world, it shows no evidence of animal or vegetable life. It is from two to ten times as thick as the united thickness of all other roek^. It is the parent rock from which all the other rocks have been directly fcr indirectly derived. ! i I

! CHAPMAN IS CHOSEN. heads the democratic state ticket of OHIO. temporary Chairman Sloane Attacks Policy of the Republicana-Silver 1 Sentiment Controls the Convention The Ticket and Platform. Rer n Rllv?r Their S1o KO „. Fe- W. II Imre Ireasurer James E Wilson For Seh" l‘e Works. Peter 11. Dennan or bch<M>l Commissioner. .. Byron H. Hurd J he Ohio Democratic State convention neld in Columbus was the most largely Attended of any such ocrnsion since the Civil war. The now Columbus anditoHum, with a seating capacity of U.UOO. had just been completed for the convention, and its capacity was not equal to ' HORACE 1.. CHAPMAN. (he demand for admission. The new auditorium was beautifully decorated with bunting and plants. There was a profusion of portraits of Democratic loaders about tb<“ walls, but that of President Cleveland was not in the collection. AA hen the convention was called to order at 1(1 a. m. by Chairman Durbin he congratulated the party on the sicns of the times and tin* enthusiastic condition of the party. He niadc a speech for free silver. Prayer was oflered by Rev. E. L. Rexford, pnstor of the Universalist Church, and then Hon. Ulric Sloane was intnsluctd ns the temporary chairman

COLUMBI s Al DITORH’M, WHERE THE < (INVENTION WAS HELD.

of the convention. Mr. Sloane said in part: Silver the Keynote. “The people of Ohio, anti indeed, of the I nion, are to be congratulated upon this kirge assemblage, sot it is a convention of representatives of the whole people, the masses, and not of bosses, of trusts, of syndicates, or of hired tools of the despotism of Wall and Lombard street greet). This ism vention comes from the common people, and owes its allegiance alone to them. In these respects what a contrast, it offers to the late convention at I'oledo. for that convention was not called, organized or controlled along the lines of what the fathers of the Republican partv taught, but merely to obey the mandates to do the will of Mark Hanna. It is expected that your temporary chairman shall strike the ‘keynote’ of the coming campaign. Well, that ‘keynote’ shall be sounded on a silver chord. It will be no new note but a prolongation of that sounded by the national convention at Chicago last summer and one that has grown in power and volume since carried in a grand diapason of more than G. 000,000 voices to the polls last November.” Just before the convention was called to order a large gold cross was carried into the hall. It had as ornaments the crown of thorns and a clock indicating 16 minutes to 1 o'clock. The speech of Chairman Sloane was frequently interrupted with the widest demonstrations of up plause, especially in his references to silver. James Gilmore of Eaton presented the report of a conference had between the central committee and a committee from the sib er Republicans, at which the latter asked tor representation on the ticket. Judge Gilmore thought the matter beyond the province of the committee on rules, and suggested that the convention deal with the matter. A clamor followed, which increased when a similar request from the Populists was read. W. P. Hackr.ey, chairman of the Cuyahoga County delegation, opposed in impassioned language any concession to either the silver Republicans or the Populists, and moved to lay the special reports on the table. This proposition was received with tumultuous applause. Air. Hackney proceeded to assert that the Chicago nlatform was broad enough for any one to stand upon, and if liny third or fourth party wanted to get on they could do so, but only as Democrats. Two silver Republicans in the audience arose almost together to ask whether they were to understand that they were not wanted. Chairman Sloane advised the gentlemen that personally he would like to see a representative of that party on the ticket, but he understood the senti merit of the delegates to be adverse to recognition. The theory of the chair was supported by a practically unanimous vote of the convention. Gen. A. J. Warner, president of the National Bimetallic League ami chairman the committee on resolutions, read the

platform, which merely repeats the financial plank of the Chicago platform. A plank denouncing trusts, which hud been agreed upon hi committee with the understanding that it was to be submitted as a supplementary report, was unanimously adopted by the convention. Another report, recognizing the belligerency of Cuba, was heard witli much applause and made a pait of 11h- platlorm without a dissenting vote. '1 he anti-trust plank reads: We declare all trusts and monopolies hostile and dangerous to the people’s interests and a standing menace to the perpetuity of our free institutions, and we demand the vigorous enforcement of all anti-trust laws and such additional legislation as is necessary for their immediate and final suppression.” Candiclatcß Presented. Iho various candidates for Governor were placed in nomination as follows: 1 mil J. Sorg, by Allen Andrews of Hamilton, who vouched for his candidate’s allegiance to silver; Judge Allen V. Smalley of Wyandot County, by Gen. E. B. I inley ot Bucyrus; Allen W. Thurmau of Franklin, by Benton Childers; D. D. Donavin of Henry County, by Dr. Garrett; Robert T, Hough of Highland, by Jesse NJ I.euis; H. ],. Chapman of Jackson, by N\ iltiam E. Fink of Somerset; Judge Samuel M Hunter of Licking, by John LvlcSweeny of Woonter; Judge Jolin M. \ auHidt*r of Kuss, by S. V. Giirrcttj । Judge A. W. Patrick of Tuscarawas, by I Judge Mitchell; John C. Welty of Stark was withdrawn by the Hon. John E. Mon net when his county was called. Delegate Reed of Columbiana County took the platform after the roll of counties had been completed and placed the name of Mayor James A. Rice of Canton before the convention. Jesse Lewis withdrew Hough before the ballot proceeded. There were 959 votes in the convention; necessary to a choice, 480. The first ballot resulted: Sorg, 118; Smalley, 128; Thurman, 78; Donavin, 100; Chapman, 241; Hunter, 61; Vanmeter, 29; Patrick, 60; Rice. 113; Congressman John J. Lentz oPColumbus, 9; Gen. A. J. Warner of Marietta, 3; John (1. Reeves of Lancaster, 17. The second ballot resulted: Smalley, 40: Thurman, 45; Donavin, 85; Rice, 142; Hunter, 13; Patrick, 4; Sloane, 1; Lentz, IS; Chapman, 599. On motion of Judge Smalley the nomination of Chapman was made unanimous. Ex-State Senator M. D. Shaw was placed in r.omination for Lieutenant Governor by ex-Congressman F. C. Layton of AVapakoncta, hut pending the call of counties for the presentation of candidates for this office the committee arrived with Mr. Chapman. As no other candidates were presented, Senator Shaw was nominated by acclamation. Fusion Question Again. Mr. Chapman made a vigorous speech of aceeptam-c, promising to stump every

county in the State in the interest of sil- | Gen. h'inley attempted to reopen the fuI sion question, and have it taken from the table and recommitted to the central committee with power to act. He was almost cried down, but protested with much vigor until he was fully heard. He was followed by Gen. Warner and Charles Fillin in the same strain and bed'am broke loose. Allen O. Myers reminded the delegates that they had settled the question in the morning, and if they reeonsidt red it and recognized the silver Republicans they must recognize the Populists and cease to be a Democratic convention. Otway J. Cosgrove of CincinI nati followed, indorsing all Mr. Myers had i said. Dan Banst of Crestline, a stiver ; Republican, said that he was there to say I that his party was not there asking for ! repres-mtation. Gen. Finley then with- , | drew Ins motion. For Supreme/Judge the first ballot re- ; suited as follows: J. P. Spriggs, 455; 1. N. Abernathy, 360%; Lewis D. Johnson, j 54%; Seth Weldy, 38, and John J. Har- । ' per, 92. The second ballot resulted as follows; Spriggs, 613; Abernathy, 122; , Harper, 7, and Johnson, 1. Spriggs was , nominatt d. John J. Harper is a lifelong Republican, i who voted for Bryan and Sewall last, year j on account of the silver issue, and is still i co-operating with tin- a Ivocates of free silver. For Attorney General, W. IL Dore was nominated on the second ballot. For State Treasurer, the first ballot resulted: Charles Spenney, 30; James F. i 'Wilson, 245; Charles N. Gaunter, 176%; David M. Fisher, 220%, and John L. Kennedy, 237. James F. Wilson was nominated on the third ballot. For member of the Board of Public Works, the first ballot resulted: Lorenzo D. Abel. 270; Peter H. Degnan, 501%; George W. Dinsman, 112%, and Hugh D. Clarke, 15. Degnan was nominated. For School Commissioner, the first ballot resulted: S. C. ^'urnipseed, 40< James H. Lee, 171; C. L. Brumbaugh, IS4: George P. Deshler, 15; Byron IL Hard, 428, ami D. A. Howe, 13. The rules were suspended and Hard was nominated by acclamation. A motion was made to indorse W. J. Bryan for the presidential nomination in 1900, but under thy ruling of the ehair there was a substitute for throe cheers for Bryan, which were given with much vigor, after which the convention adjourned. Letters received in New Bedford, Mass., from Herschel island brings the intelligence that three of the staunchest steamers of the San Francisco whaling fleet are caught in the ice off the mouth of the Maekenzu river. They are in danger during June, when the ice hroaks up. The Jives of 120 to 150 men will be in danger. Charges have been made against John Goodnow of Minnesota, nominated a> 'tousul general to Shanghai, China.

THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. SERIOUS SUBJECTS CAREFULLY CONSIDERED. A Scholarly Exposition of the Lesson —Thoughts Worthy of Calm Reflection—Half an Hour's Study of the Scriptures—Time Well Spent. Leaaon for July 11. Golden Text.—“Beliieve on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou sbult be saved, and thy house.”—Acts 16: 31. 1 bis lesson trej.ts of Paul and tlie Philippian jailer—Aetw 16: 22-34. As a woman wa« the first convert in Europe, so another woman wa. the cause of the firsit persecution in Europe. The verses 16-21 relate how the disturbance arose which led to the arreet of Paul and Silas. A young Moman afflicted with a pemiliar form of nn-nita.l and physical derangement which led to iiMohereut utterance supposed by the ignorant to be prophetic, was healed by Paul. ILr masters, who were then ib'priwd <>f their income, angrily att;u k<d the medicir&g Jews and accused > iH-m b.-forc tin- magistral vs of attempting to proselyte Roman citizens to the Jewish ic.igion, which was an offense again-st the laws. Apparently without the formality ot a hearing, the inagistTutes ordeivd them to be- la-aten with many stripes, and thin ca^t. them into priamu There wm at thos time intense feeling in some parts of the empire against Jewish proselytizens, who were making converts. In Rome itself theiv were persua^^of noble birth, chiefly women, who accepted the Jewish religion and worshiped in synagogue®. The authorities while witling to allow subjects already of_ot'her faith to remain therein, would not permit the desertion of native Romans to the Jewish ranks; nor did the public look on such a proceeding with anything less than scorn ami hatred. This feeling, and the fluent lack of distinction on the part of pagans b<t-ween Jews and Chiri®tians, explain® the violent attack at Philippi. "To keep them safely”: for a further hearing and punishinont at some later day. “The inner prison”: not an underground dungeon, but an inner room with, heavy wall®, without windows or ventil'a^ tion, dark and disagreeable; a place reserved for d'angerous criminals, while ordinary offenders were confined' in the-out-er prison, lighted by windows. That Paul and Sila® could pray and sing while in great pain from the scourging, the stock®, the close air and the dampne®®. showed of what stuff they were made. NVe are sometimes apt to at-, tribute all the endurance of ancient Christians to semi-miraculous strength, from heaven. Doubtless they 'hud such help nt times, but a good store of sound manly courage was not wanting. That whidh the prisoners sang was probably extracts from the Psalms. This miracle must have ar<>used the most mingled feelings in Paul himself a® well as in his fellow prisoners. To see the doors, behind whndh. some had left hope forever, suddenly flung open, to feed the chains snapissl and the stocks split, would astonish all beyond measure. But Paul, who quickly surmised that the Ix>rd luad done this act of deliverance, as for Peter many years before, did not Ipse his presence ot numi. wiie esou|>e of prisoners was commonly punished by the forfeit of the keeper's life. “Supposing that the prisoners had been fled”: an expression not in accordance with present grammatical usage. Better, “that the prisoners had eacaixd'.” Superstitious fear of the earthquake probably had os much to do with the jailer's fright as the thought of bis prisoners^ mipposed escai>e. The question, “AVthat j mu®t I do to be saved?” certainly had not । the fuH meaning which we commonly at- , tribute to it. The jailer was thoroughly j frightened, connected his dianger with seme fault of his own, perhaps some ne^lect of his j/agan worship rather than any sen.-;** of moral lack, and asked what he must do to escape the impending calamity —-not punishment after death. Nevertheless, Pa.ii and Silas gave him an answer suited to his case. lie was answered better than he knew. “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ”; when they “spake unto him the word of the I»rd,” we may suppose that there was a sufficiently full explanation to enlighten him and his family, whom he sent for after seeing to the refastening of the doors and the replacing of the fetters on the other prisoners. Paul probably tokl them the story of Jesus and his teaching about sin and the cure for it, then explainetl the meaning of baptism. AA’hen in his gratitude the jailer took Paul and Silas out into the court where there was a tank used for bathing purposes, to relieve the pain of their wound® by washing them in the cool water, he or Paul suggest el that there was no need' to wait for the p«»rfc'Hnanee of the initial rite of which they had been speaking. Accordingly he and the members of his family—all of whom were of sufficient age to understand the instruction which Paul had previonsCy given them —were bap- | riz<sl iu the reservoir or eis>tern elo-- by. i A homely but b> autiful picture is this - f a jailer’s breakfasi. party to his looking wards, now his b-nefactors. The action of Paul and Silas in r’J .'sing to depart secretly in the morning, demanding a public acknowledgment of the wrong done them a s Roman citizens, was not due to petty pride or obstinacy. “In asserting so strongly their personal rights, they may have been influenced in part by a n'atural sense of justice, and in part by a regard to the necessity of such, a vindication of their innocence to the cause of Christ at Philippi. It was important that no stain should rest, upon tlwir reputation. It was notorious that they hail been scouiged a.; J imprisoned as criminals; .and if, after their departure, a.ny one had suspected or could have insinuated that possibly they had suffi-re-d not without cause, it would have creatul a prejudice against the truth. Next Lesson—“ Paul at Thessalondcs and Betea.”—Acts 17: 1-12. True Progress. What is true progn«ss? Every step that leads to a true alm. What is a true aim t Every landmark that is mapped out in our ideal of humanity's trust. AVhat is humanity’s trust? “Have ye not known? Have ye not heard? Has it not been told you from the beginning.' 1 Have ye not understood the foundations of the earth?”—Jewish Messenger. In England there is only one place of worship to about every 4,000 persona.