St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 22, Number 52, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 17 July 1897 — Page 6

7 n:^ I®«W ) VW|^ ~ K —^7 |V I rtf. r * i/rfL\ ^mLps*^- ' :■ CHAPTER XXX. ; I rose very early next morning and 'Went out. But even the fresh, sweet, misty air could not cool the fever in my (veins. ... hr : .Wifen"l reached the villa grounds I “^■frfts still far from being as calm as I ^W'ished to be. The subtle sense of nssoKiation iiung about the place. Wherever I moved or looked, I seemed to s‘ e Joan ias I had been used to see her. Every . Ibush was like a ghostly figure; every ! ‘path « landmark of some scene or word. 'When at last I tunned a corner, and came (face to face with Joan herself, I could ji&ardly believe it was reality. She wore a (white dress, and had a little lace handkerlehief tied under her chin. As she saw me jahe started. Perhaps the morning light showed us the changes that time had (wrought, as the previous night had failed Ho do. She came up to me and put out her Hhand. “Darby is not well,'' she said, hurriedsly; “she seems to have taken a chill. I (Have just sent a man for the doctor. She iias fallen asleep now, but 1 don't like ®er looks.” “I was afraid she would be ill,” I anIswered, as I turned round and talked Reside her to the house. “Did she tell you i*bout coming to my room last night?” “No!” she exclaimed in wonder. “To iyour room! What for?” “She evidently thinks,” I said, “that we lare not quite on good terms—you and I—•and she wished to help me to a better (understanding; so she came to me with jyour journal, and begged me to read it.” “With my journal!” she cried, her face (growing suddenly scarlet. "Oh. she had |®o right—she should not have done that! fit was very wrong of her.” । “Do not agitate yourself.” I said coldly. (“You surely do not suppose I would read (•ne w*rd of it without your knowledge!” j She stopped and looked up in my face. ‘ “You —have not?” she said tremulously. ; “Os course not.” I answered. “Your (confidence is sacred. I should never think jof violating it.” A strange little smile came to her lips. “I might have known,” she said. “1 "Blight have trusted; you are so different ■ >to others." “I hope,” I said, “that any one who I rinows the meaning of honor would beSiave in a similar manner. I will give •you back your book if you wiX come to my room.” “Very well,” she said, softly, and followed me across the vestibule. I went iu and took her journal from ■the drawer where I had placed it. She ctood on the threshold and watched me. fl came up to her and placed the book in her hands. As I did so she turned very pale, then looked up in my face. “I ought to have no secrets from you,” she said slowly. "And 1 don't know why I should mind your reading this. There is nothing wrong—only—only it is very ifoolish.’’ “My dear,” I said gravely, “I have no wish to learn anything about you that your own lips cannot tell me. Some day, perhaps, you will understand me better than you have yet done. But I am content to wait.” She put her hand to her head with that Touch of perplexity. “To wait!” she said slowly; “that is -very hard. I know I ought to have told you long ago, only I think I was afraid. But I am not afraid now.” I drew her into the room and closed the •door. “Joan,” I said quietly, “tell me the en<ire truth. Between us there should be '.nothing to conceal or to avoid. Is there (nothing you remember?” Her hands nervously clasped and unclasped the fastening of the hook she held. “It is all —here,” she said fiintly; “only —I have not dared to look -since I recovered.” The color wavered in her cheek; her eyes met mine slowly, in questioning appeal. “If you would read it for me,” she said, •and held the book toward me. I saw her hand tremble. I took it and held it in my ■MBMM&ou quite sure.” I asked, “that you moan this? Do yon think thorn I anything here you would rather I did not ' read? You say you cannot remember; i you may have written things down that I were meant only for your eyes." She shook her head. She looked nt me with the trust and simplicity of a child. “I will never deceive you again,” she said. “When you know me as I am. you way act as you please. It is all there, I think; all except that time when my memory failed. Perhaps,” she added sorrowfully, “you may hate me —or despise me. ^ihere snay be things written down there <frtst I never meant any one to know; but ver? are so good, I—l do not think you wilt be hard on me. 1 am sorry I did not. ♦rust you from the first.” “And so am I, heaven knows!” I answered below my breath. “I will give you all the day to read it." | she went on presently. “Then to-night 1 will meet you in the garden—where - where 1 told you I would be your wife Sve years ago. Do yon remi mber?” “Yes,” I answered gravely. "I will be There.” How I lived out that day I hardly know. I shut myself up with that book, and devoured its pages with hungry eyes. Every detail of that young, brave life was aw Imfore me —its tenderness, its wrecked hopes, its broken faith, its struggles with temptation, its long hidden sorrow, Sts gradual awakening to a new happiness, And the awful death-blow that my own Stand had struck at that happiness. “If 1 •md but known!” I said to my Aching heart. “Oh, if I had but known!”

The hours waned, the sunset faded; the faint, chill wind came up from the sea, and swayed the leaves beyond my easement, and fanned my face as 1 leant there, longing for the dusk of nightfall as never lover longed for his beloved. 1 went into the quiet night, humble and weak, but glad at heart as never yet hail I been glad through many weary years of life. She fell down on her knees beside me when she came. I drew her to my heart. I murmured every word of love and comfort 1 could think of. Suddenly she moved and stirred. Iler eyes opened. I bent down and met their gaze. "Is it you, Ralph?” she said dreamily, then eat up an|l leaned her head against my shoulder. "1 have been asleep a long, long time,” she said, “but I hav,e had a beautiful dream. I think you are sorry for me. Will you try and love me a little again? You did once, I know.” 1 saw the tears gather in her eyes, I heard her voice quiver ami break in its | soft appeal. My arms closed round her I with al! the garnered passion and re- । morse of their starved and empty past. “Love you!” I cried. "Oh, my darling —my darling, there are no words to tell how I love yon! When 1 think of how I have misjudged you. wronged you, tried you, I hate myself for the folly and suspicion that have cost us both so much. 1 —I wonder you do not hate me, too!” “Hate you!” she cried. “You —” Then her head nestled back on my shoulder; she trembled like a leaf. “I 1 forgot,” she whispered. "Have you read it ?” "Every word,” I said. “And was I very wicked?” I could have laughed aloud in my triumph and my joy. “Very,” 1 said, “for not telling mi' at once what was in your heart. 1 thought it was Yorke.” Suddenly she drew herself away, and hid her face in her hands. "Oh!” she moaned, “1 remember now I remember now. It has all come back. He was—he was murdcnsl!" "Murdered!" I cried aghast. “?•>. no, Joan, don’t say tiiat. It was an accident.” “Tell me all!” she cried wildly. "I ran never know a happy moment till that my-, tery is cleared up. You followed me, did you not?” “Yes," I said. “But I think 1 missed the way when 1 heard the shot that guided me back.” “When you heard the shot!" she rfml, raising her ghastly face to mine. "Ymi were not there at the time?" "Certainly not." 1 answered. “Oh, thank God!" she cried; “tha k God!” and threw her arms round me u ; h a burst of hysterica! weeping. For long 1 could not soothe her; for long I could gather nothing from her in I coherent words; but at last t -■ truth | dawned upon mo. Sho feared tlm: I had I taken vengeance into my own hands that the long feud between Yorke ami my - self had culminated in this act of revenge for the dishonor he had sought to east upon my life. 'I his shock it was that had acted so terribly Upon Iler feeble strength, a .1 for a time overthrown its mental balance. Ami now, fur the first time, sho h arm d the truth, and, learning it, was like one mad with joy and relief. The revulsion of feeling was so stnmg. it almost frightened me. “Oh." she cried amidst wild s.ibs, “you have been so gobd so good so good! You must never leave me again! Indeed —indeed I will try to be all you wish. I will nover hold a thought back from your knowledge. Only trust me again take me hack to your heart for. oh, my hus band, I love you so! Al! these tears I have loved you. and you would not believe it, though 1 tried to show it you. There is nothing I would not do for you to make you happy or give you peace. 1 would die for you this moment if "No,” I interrupted, "for that would be foolish, Joan. You shall do better—you shall live for me.” "From this very hour," she said so’emuI bent and kissed the quivering lips. “From this very hour,” I answered. CHAPTER XXXI. It is the late afternoon of a mild February day, when, leaving Joan in her boudoir with Nettie Croft and Darby. 1 stroll out of the house, and, scarce thinking of what I am doing, take the path to the old summer house—the tragic seine of Yorke's death. I have not been there since that awful day when the body was discovered. I cannot tell what impulse prompts me to go there now. unless it is a hint dropped by Mrs. Birket that a rumor has been circulated saying that the place is haunted' —that a shadowy figure has been seen coming out of the summer house in the dusk, that it stands there moaning and wringing its hands for a brief spm- , and then vanishes. 1 was walking steadily on, when, just as the light grew dim ami shadowy, 1 fancied I siw something moving in the open space beyond. 1 st pped abruptly; my footsteps had made no sound on the wet, soft moss, and, in the shadows of the trees. I could see without being seen. As my eyes grew aci-ustomi d to the light I saw that something certainly was there ■ —a figure < touching close to the ground and uttering from time to time a low, strange moan. I crept a little nearer, keeping well under the shadow of the trees. Then suddenly I sprang out into the open space and confronted the creature. At first I could not be quite sure what it was. A heap of rags, a grimed | and wasted face, win re the dark eyes i | flamed like lamps, a mass of wild, dis- i beveled 'hair, black as night, hanging loose and disordered over the shoulders; this was the sight that greeted my eyes. “What are you doing here?” I di mended, as the wild eyes met my own. The only answer was a low chuckle. The wretched creature drew her rags closer round her. seeming to hug something to her bosom. I repeated my question, coming a little nearer as I did so. This time sho burst into a volley of incoherent exclamations mingled with abuse. I saw she was hopelessly intoxicated; the soddened, brutalized intoxication of an habitual drunkard. “No—no,” she kept repeating; “don’t come near me! I did not. mean you know I did not mean it! Oh!" sh-r^dden-

1y shrieked, “take the gun from him! He will shoot me—he is coming! Keep back I tell you—keep back!” I went up to her, and seized her by the shim.ders. She was too weak for resistance, and presently stood there passive and cowering. I took the bottle from her and tossed it into the bushes. "Now, ’ I said, “follow me to the house 1 am a magistrate, and you must give an account of yourself. bhe looked at me in bewilderment I wondered what it was in her eves that reminded mo of some one I had once seen -some fugitive resemblance 1 could not catch or trace. She stumbled after me with weak, unsteady steps. When we reached the lin’d 1 took her round to the servants’ entrance and gave her in charge of a good-natured scullery maid. <ict her washed and give her some docent clothing.” 1 said; “I will sp ( kto her utter dinner.” The woman went meekly enough away and I returned to Joan’s boudoir. Nettie and Alfy were there talking quietly together. I wondered as I looked at them whether Joan's hopes would ever be realized -whether the time would conn when Nettie would reward her young lover's devotion? hen dinner was over that evening 1 made some excuse to get away, Icavim them together in Joan’s favorite rooi» I sent word that the woman was to brought to my study, but n few moments afterward the footman retnrne<l. saying she was so ill that they had been obliged to put her to lied. "Shi' talks .ill the time, sir." ho went on. "it is a sort of raving. Mrs. Birket is with her now. She thinks a do,-tor should be sent for." 1 went straight to the room. The old housekit per met me at the door, then dosed it after us. 1 saw she was’tn mbling greatly. Sir Raiph, she whispered, "don’t vou know who it is?” I glanced at the b.d, but I could recog nize nothing famiuar in that awful face, those wild eyes, and mutter t.g lips. “No, 1 -a d. “1 >o you ?" es, she answered, in the same low key; “I recognized her at once, but I have said nothing to the other servants. She is Mrs. Mar.-h. That white hair must have been a disgnl> ." 1 started. “Mrs. M ireh!” I cri< d. My voice r.nehed the wretched creature. Sho bait rose m the bed ami stared wildly at me. “Who calls?” she -a d. "Is it J.ady I errors .'“ Then she burst into a peal of wild laughter. “Lady F. rrers whirr is Lady Fern r ? She thought to have him, did she! No no. my lady; he is my lover. Hot yours. He shall m\ er be yours; I will kill him first!" I hat ,s how she goes on a" the time," said Xl rs. Blrki t. “I think you had better not tell my .ady, s.r; it m ght upset her.’ "I did not kill him," mutter^ I the wuntin on the eom-h. "it was only a threat. Why did h. taui't me I who |..ve.; him as that pa. fam d girl eunld never have done? I, who was h;s s n,. , toy. h i fancy f. r an idle hour? I told h m I w arned him but he would mu belli ve." 1 bent Clos -r to j „ r , • ,ss )i. ;d. ‘I • y. I take i|;s ,1, " 1 and ilist iui-t ly. A gray. Idy hue cr. pt .o- r ’ : fa e. She stopped as <m . in the attitude of listening. “They mi he slid. “I -aw them i i I.■ A-h ok!” nud she >1 id b red, an ! pointt d w ith otte tri mining i-ttml to a .s,r. tier of thi room. " Tip r, Wlty does he p that gun at t..e? T,.q him to go away! Tell him toil him ted him!” Her voice rose ti’m st to a shriek. "There is no .me th. re," I 'd sternly. "Try to collect your thong ; : s. !»,. y.m know that death is m ar?" “Yes,” she sa.d. . nd laughed a harsh. Weak laugh. “I know. T:,. ; are st ra :.ga tilings about. Ihe room i< full »f them. They have been with me a long, long time. That is what tiny -i.d D'ath! I did not mind. I>i y. why d es- he stand there? I 1 did not kid him. 1 till y u I did not kill him! "Hush!" 1 -aid soothingly. “If you were there tell me all about it. Did the gun go off in his hands?" "He was desperate.” site panted, “and so .-o was 1.1 hade him forgi t tin pale, cold girl wliovo heart had never for on< moment held for him the passion of my own. 1 to!d him 1 would follow him to tiie world's ।nd and he cursed me. Then I grew mad. I I snal hed at the gun. I said my wretched life should end. He seized it from mo. We strngg • : a second. and he fell face downwards on the ground. 'I hen terror seized me. I—l could not stay tin re. I tied like a hunted thing. No one had seen me come; no one saw me go.” So low, so broken, those last words. I scarce could hear them even in the silence of that quiet room. But as they ceased I hoard Joan’s voice, so sweet and so'.imn. murmuring the prayer that in childhood and manhood, in age and trouble, in sickness and death, seems to spring naturally to all lips. She had entered the room unknown to me. Tin? woman listened. Her face grow calm, a shaoow swept ov< r her sac ■, her eyes closed. “She is at rest now." I said, and turned to my wife, and, with gladness solemn ami unspeakable, folded her to my heart. "The lasi doubt is cleared away." 1 murmured passionately; “oh. thank heaven fur rhat!" (The end.) New Stamps. S-tnnip gatherers will be glad (or o>fherwtsc) to hear that new ones Jmve been issued whicli can be added to their colb. "1: on. This lot comes from Abys-sinj-.t. Tht re are seven seriea and they' are about the size of Italian sta.mps. The first four series have on them the head of King Menelek. in profile ami crowned, anil the other three bear a lion very much like the Saint Mark’s <me at Venice, ex-opt that, instead of wings, there rises from it. a ting with a or; -s. The lirst series, v hleh are green, have a value of a quarter of a gucr.dii Unit is. about a cent and a half; the second, red, cost throe cents; Ilie third, blue, six cents; the fourth, brown, two guori-he, twelve cents. Those with the head of the king have written in Amharic, “Menelok II.” The other three series with the lion are: the first, dark violet in color, and cost four guerehe, twenty-live cents; the second, light violet, fifty cents; and the third, black, sixteen gucrche—one dollar.

GREAT HOST FOR GOD TWENTY THOUSAND CHRISTIAN ENDEAVORERS MEET. Convention the Most Successful liver Held-Rev, Francis F. Clark, bather of the Movement-History of the Society-Mi u hty Growth Shown. Kvery Land Represented. San Francisca correspondence: \\ hen Rev. E. R, Dilke tapped with his gavel m Mechanics’ Pavilion Thursday morning he called to order the greatest convention California has ever seen. Ten thousand Christian Endeavorers faced the speaker, men and women from every quarter of the laud, representing every part of the world. At the same time in VVoodwnrd’s pavilion an overlluw convention almost as large opened for business, San I finciseo w as turned over uncondi- ■ A REV. F. E. Ct ARK, 0.0. tlonally to the vigorous young delegates who had journeyed across alkali plains.! through deserts, under burning suns and over banks of snow to plant their banner on the Pacific eoast, (in every side could be seen the colors of the Christian warriors. At every turn ware met the cam- 1 est faces of the advocates of higher and better lives. The scenes nt the pavilion resembled a national political convention, except that more women were in evidence on this occasion than usually attend great gatherings. In fact, fully two thirds of the i delegates were of the gentler sex. But their pr since tended to make the scene ,

1 % -M ' ---7=^l L/.y I ■ - r?^ &i| nOW® ■,. .., i - ?1 MFCHANH s PAVILION, THE HI GH AIDITORIUM WHERE THE CONVENTION MET.

more striking in color and more animated In spirit. All the streets in the business district < r the city and in the neighbor hood of the different headquarters were Congest I with the tl. msands of visitors. History of the Society. The story back of this immense gather Ing in the land of flowers has a romantic interest that lifts it far above the com monplnco. But sixteen years ngo this world-wide organization had a humble birth in a little, out-of-the-way church in j Maine. To day there tire 48,000 societies, wi h a membership of 7.000,000, young people in every part of the civilized world, from Spain to the Samoan Islands, in the south seas, and from Australia to Alaska. In this time 10,000,000 meetings have i been held by Christian Endeavorers. Copies of the constitution numbering 5,000,000 have been printed in forty languages, and at least 15,0(10,000 copies of the pledge. More than 1,000,000 associate members have joined the church, and mors than $2,000,000 has been given for denominational purposes. Such, in brief, is the remarkable history of one of the m<Ht conspicuous religious movements of all limas- „ ... has eclipsed all previous reunions. TIR central meeting place was Mechanic< Pavilion, which occupies an entire sqflare in the heart of that western metropolis, and has seating accommodations fo-' 10 ; 000 persons. The second great meeting place was Woodward's Pavilion, which is about ten minutes' walk from the central rendezvous. It is an octagonal building with a seating capacity of 7,000. These two places of meeting were supplemented almost every hour in the day. with gatherings in the various churches. Even the Chinese churches and a mariners’ church hospitably throwing open their doors. This religious siege of San Francisco | was nothing if not pictmosque. It was a ' nineteenth century "doings" wldch doubtless made the monastic saints of long ago turn uneasily in their graves. The Chris- j tian Endeavorer goes in for a happy re- ; ligion, and if he cannot vent his exuberance in a long and loud hosanna he re. sorts to a “yell" in characteristic college boy fashion. Most interesting of all Ihe meetings j were the services in out-of-the-way places. I Prayer and song and exhortation werej made by xvandmdng bands before the heathen temples in Chinatown, in the I magnificent gambling saloons, among the sailors, on the wharves, in the jails and : in the slums, in the different factories, in the hospitals—in fact, wherever the Christian Endeavorer could plant his two feet and his symbolic flag. Sunrise Prayer Meetings. One of the features was the sunrise Dray<r meetings down on the beach of

beautiful Gohlen Gate. Each morning the sailors were invited to join with representatives of almost every port they touch in their voyages to sing and to pray. The complete program for the convention would fill a good-sized book. Os special interest were the great choruses of hundreds of voices which sang in the two . gieat meeting places. The first gun was hied Wednesday night, with twelve simultaneous meetings, led by twelve wellknown divines from every part, of the nation. At the same time Rev. J. Lester ells of Jersey City, N. J., gave a steroopticon lecture in Metropolitan Temple on "Christian Endeavor Among the Life Savers.” Long before the hour appointed for the opening of the convention on Thursday every seat in the vast pavilion, which ac(ominodates over l(),(Wio people, was occupied. Promptly at DdlO the great gathering was called to order by Rev. E. R. like of San Francisco, and after a musiial welcome by the choir, brief devotional exercises were conducted by Rev. Philip )■. King of Benton, Tex. Thon the weaome of the committee of ’97 was delivered by Rolla V. Watt, who spoke in part as follows: 1 his niornhur our dreams are realized, our hopes are fultilled, our prayers are answerid; for we witness the sissembling of an international <’liristinn Endeavor convention I tor tile first time on the shores of the mighty I nemo. God bless you. We are glad you are here; we welcome; thrice welcome. VVe welcome you lirst and above all for the sake of our Master, whose banner of love is over all and whose servants you are. He had said if wq lift Hint up. He will draw all men unto H'tnself, anil Just as we represent Him fit cm thoughts, our words, our deeds, in our daily Ilves, so men will see ilint. He holds in His hands the solution of all our probit ms -social, political and spiritual. It is I art of Christian Endcavof to take these preferred gifts and offer them to mankind. We welcome you. therefore, because you are seeking to present the Savior of Mankind to the world, that the world can be made better. After the applause which followed the remarks of Mr. Watt had subsided, the welcome of the Golden Gate pastors was ! given bv the Rev. John Hemphill. Lieut. Gov. Jeter then welcomed the didogates ! and their friends on behalf of the State of I'allfornin. An anthem was rendered by the choir, and, in behalf of the visiting I Endeavorers. the Re". Ira Landrith of Niishx iT'. Tenn., responded to the various addtf'ss 's of welcome. President Clark's Message. The subject of the annual message of the president, the Rev. Francis E. (’lark, D. D.. v i- "A World Encircling Religious Movement; How Shall It Fulfill God's Design?" lio said in part: I have attended conventions, since I last ■ met you. In the Metropolitan Tabernacle of i I London and in the Reels of Bengal; in St. 1

Andcrw'- Halt of Glasgow and In the artcient « ipital of rhe I’nnjab; among our Irish En- ('< nvorrrs In Belfast ami on the sunburnt . I lains of southern, India; In crowded Berlin | ; and on the Fnely tablelands <>f the Trans- ■ tial; among the Alps of Swltzcrland'and on I ' the vast veldt of the Orange Free State; in | I s- a-girt Stockholm ami In the karoo of South | Africa; in lordly I'aris and in quiet Welling- | i ton; in the Cape of Good Hop-q and every- ; a here, amid ail these diversities of custom and costume, of manners ami methods, of : languages ami laws. 1 have found that the Christian Endeavor ideals are substantially i the same. Moreover, the people whom I have seen have been of diverse creeds and views of rcI Hgious truth. All, to be sure, have aeknowl- ' f.lged the supremacy of Jesus <’hrfst as the >"U of (tod and the only Savior of lost sinners. All have accepted the Bible as the I word of God, and the Holy Spirit as the I sanctifier, comforter and'guide in such soil ' I only can Christian Endeavor flourish. But I i hi minor particulars the creeds and forms of i । church government of these hospitable hosts I of our society differ as widely as their cornpit xions. The shade of tan on a man’s i cheek does not make or unmake his man- ■ hood; the shade of bls creed does uot make or unmake his Christianity. Our society then has these signs of a universal movement. It was born in obscurity V " ..iiW CONVENTION BANNER FOP. 1597. and weakness. It has not owi d its ex;~ : .-mc : to human advocacy or eoelcsia.-tieal author । ity. It has spread to every land. It has been found adapted to every evangelieal creed. n> r very form of church government and i" et cry race and class and language and ' .m- ; dition of people, it has fa:i<d only n -eie . the principles involved in our covenant pledge have/ been ignored, or where n n:'* been crushed out by denominational author- । ity. In answering the question of the sab-। ject, he said the movement must be true I to its fundamental idea; must necessarily I be unif.' ing; must be a pervasive force. I must be saerify/ial, and must listen to . God's voice ami continually obey it. Con tinning, he said: This 'ls a world movement, thank God, awav from materialism, formalism and a larrcn ecclesiastlclsm back to God himself. Endeavorers, let this be the motto, the

purpose, the pinyer, of this our coming seventeenth year: To abide in Christ, to surrender ourselves to Him. to let Hint use us, to think less of our efforts and more of His fullness, to seek a larger infilling from above, deeper draughts of His life, more emptiness of self, more fullness of Christ. Thus only will Cliristlan Endeavor and all for which it has come to stand—Christian citizenship, Christian missions and n thou.sand forms of benevolence—receive ever fresh life and vigor. Statistics of the Society. The report of John Willis Baer, general secretary, contained the following: “In 18S1 there was one society and fif-ty-seven members. In 1897 there are 50,780 societies and a total membership of o.OOOjHO. Os the States having more than 1,000 local societies, Pennsylvania hails, with 3,443; New York has’ 3,049; Ohio, 2.383; Illinois. 2.013; Ontario, 1,783; Indiana, 1,387; lowa, 1,33(>, and Michigan, 1,071. These figures do not include the Junior, Intermediate, Senior and Mothers' societies. Pennsylvania leads the junior societies with 1.397; New York his 1.288; Illinois, 993; Ohio, 970; California, 551; Indiana, 5-19; lowa, 518, and Massachusetts. 517. The banner given to the State that has made the largest gains goes this year to Ohio. The second junior banner goes from Mexico to Spain. T here are 36G Intermediate societies, CalSAN FRANCISCO Y. M. C. A. nAT.L. ifornia leading with 51, Illinois having 44; Ohio, 32, and Pennsylvania, 27. The mothers’ societies number 70, Illinois leading with “O, Pennsylvania having 20 and I Kansas 11. Twenty-seven senior societies have been organized, California, New j Hampshire and Pennsylvania each having three and Connecticut two. “England has 3,925 societies; Australia, 2.124; Scotland, 433; Wales, 311; India, 250; Leland, IG9; Madagascar, 93; Franco. (>8; Mexico, 100; Japan. GG; West I Indies. o 3: Turkey, 41; China. 53; Africa, । 52; Germany, 32 —in all, 7,919 societies in j other countries. In addition Canada has ! 3,390. The badge banner for the greatl cst proportionate increase in the number

of societies, now held by Scotland, will go I to the Endeavorers oq the Emerald Isle. “In ilte Fnited States the Presbyteri- - ans have 5,531 young people's and 2,934 junior societies; the Congregationalists ! have next, with 4,156 young people's and : 1,322 junior; Baptists, 2,640 young people’s and 1,080 junior; Cumberland Presbyterian, 867 young people’s and 361 junior; Methodist Protestajits, 971 young people's and 251 juniors; Lutherans, 869 young people's and 324 juniors, nearly fori ty denominations being represented. “A missionary roll of honor contains the names of 10,468 societies that have given i nearly $500,000 to missions through their i own denominational missionary boards. I I luring the*last eleven months 25,264 of । the juniors have joined the church, and from the young people’s societies, 187,125 - in all, 213,389.’’ Award of Endeavor Honors. Immediately aft**r the reading of Secretary Baer's report the badge of honor for the greatest increase in number of societies during the last year, which had been hold in England, was retained and presented to the same country. The junior banner for the greatest increase in tho Dumber of societies, hold by I’ennsylvaj nia for thtee years, was wrested from the I Keystone State by Ohio. The next inei- ' dent was the presentation of the banner to the country making the largest proportionate gain in number of societies during the last twelve months, which has been in possession of Scotland during the last year. It was won by Ireland. The junior badge banner given for the greatest proportionate increase in number of societies during the last twelve months was awarded to Spain. It had been in possession of Mexico. CONFISCATE THE COAL. Railroads Head Off a Famine by-Gob-bling Tp All in Transit. Railrojil companies Thursday issued orI dors to vontiscate all coal being carried J over their respective lines. It was issued I because of the coal minors' strike and ini- • pending < '>al famine. The roads on which । the coni has b- en stopped are the heaviest ; earners in the West, ami include nearly jail lines luaiiing our of Chicago. The immb.-r of estimated ears < onfiscated and the roads responsible for the seizure are Cars. Illinois Central 2,000 Wabash 2.500 Chicago, Milwaukee ami St. Paul. 1,200 Atchison, Topek.a and Santa Fe .. i,BOO Chicago, Burlington and Quincy.. 1,000 Chicago and Alton 2,700 Indiana, Illinois and lowa 1,500 Hock Island 1.300 Monon 1,000 Total 15,000