The Syracuse Journal, Volume 5, Number 35, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 26 December 1912 — Page 3

JosepkC Lincoln Axtflaor of / / I Oy"WHitt«uk©x ? s T*laco /j / /'| 'iWnr' Cajfn Zri., JEtc. ZZ / i V® r nixx«-trwtio«xs B-y |Km Ellsworth. Copyri^Av.J?®?,by IXAppleton 8-Ccrnpoay

SYNOPSIS. Mrs. Keziah Coffin, supposed widow, t« arranging to move from Trum*i to Boston, following the of her brother, for whom si: » bad kept house. Kyan 3?epper, widower, offers marriage, ana 1* Indignantly refused. Capt. Elkanah Daniels, leader of the Regular church offers Ketlah a place as housekeeper for the new minister, and she decides to remain In Trumet. Keziah takes charge of Rev. John Eliery, the new minister, and gives hint advice as to! his conduct toward members of the parish. Ellery causes a •ensatloh by attending a “Come-outer meeting Ellery’s presence is bitterly r®•toented -By Eben Hammond, leader of the meeting- Grace apologizes for her guardlaA and Ellery escorts her home In the ra'G. Capt. Nat Hammond. Ebens son. bs!omes a hero by bringing the packet into port safely through fog and storm. Ellery finds Keziah writing a letter to L'me one. Inclosing money in'response *o a demand. She curiously «tartlff% when Informed of the arrival of Nat. ;<i>t calls on Keziah, and it develops tIH!. they have been lovers since, youth. Daniels remonstrates with Ellery for trending “Come-outer" meeting. Ellery is caught by the tide and Is rescued fey Nat. They become friends. Ellery meets Grace while walking in the fields, and learns that she walks there every Munday. CHAPTER Vlll.—(Continued.) "Wa’n’t it fine?” he whispered. “Talk about ybur' miracles! Godfreys mighty! Say, Mr. Ellery, don’t you ever tell a soul how it really was, will you?” “Np, of course not.” “No, I know you won’t. You won’t tell on me and I won’t tell on you. That’s a trade, hey?” U The minister stopped in the middle ■t of his step. F' • “What?” he said, turning. 1 Mr. Pepper merely smiled, winked, and shut the door. John Ellery reflected much during his homeward walk. The summer in Trumet drowsed on, as Trumet summers did in those days, when there were no boarders from the city, no automobiles or telephones or “antique” collectors. The Sunday dinners with the Daniels family were almost regular weekly functions now. Ho dodged them when he could, but he could not do so often without telling an absolute lie, and this he would not do. And, regularly, when the solemn meal was eaten. Captain Elkanah weiffl upstairs for his nap and the Reverdird John was left alone with Annabel. Mixs S&siefa did her best to be , entertaining, was, in fact, embarrassfnfily con.fide.nMal and cordial. It was hart! wof*: get away, and yet, somehow- or <*?her, at the stroke of four, the minister always said good-by and tod-k his departure. “What is your hurry, Mr. Ellery?” tKvgged Annabel on one occasion when ikt. of Moore’s poems had Jbeen Interrupted in the middle by the guetl’a sudden rising and reaching for hi? bat. “I don’t see why you always gc 60 eahdy. It’s so iftvery time you’re h«re. Do you call a* any other house cm afternoons?” “Jlsri prompt reply. “Oh, ns.” “Mrs. Argers said she saw you going aC’>!s the fields after you left here Saif? Did you go for a walk Px I did.” “i wish you had mentioned it. I love ft* walk, and there are so few people that b snd congenial company. Are y<W going for a walk now ?” “Why, no—er —not exactly.” f Tpi sorry. Good-by. Will you come agwm next Supday? Os course you will. You Jtnow how dreadfully disappointed I—we—shall be if you don’t.” “Thank you, Miss Daniels. I enjoyed the dinner very much. Good afternoon.” He hurried down the path. Annabel watched him go. Then she did an odd thing. She passed through the sitting room, entered the front hall, went up the stairs, tiptoed by the door of her father’s room, and then up another flight to the attic. From here a ; steep set of steps led to the cupola on the roof. In that cupola w-as a spyglass. Annabel opened a window a few Inches, took the spyglass from ita rack, adjusted it, laid it on the sill of the open window and knelt, the glass at her eye. The floor of the cupola was very dusty and she was .wearing her new-est and best gown, but she did not seem to mind. Through the glass she saw the long slope of Cannon Hill, with the beacon at the top and Captain Mayo’s house near it. The main road was deserted save for one figure, that of her late t caller. He wgs mounting the hill in * long strides. She watched him gain the crest and pass over it out of sight. Then she shifted the glass so that it pointed toward the spot beyond the curve of th% hill, where the top of a thick group of silver-leafs hid the parsonage. Above the tree tops glistened the white steeple of the Regular church. If the minister went straight home she could see him. But under those silverleafs was the beginning of the short cut across the fields where Didama had seen Mr. Ellery walking on the previous Sunday. Slowly she moved the big end of the spyglass back along the arc it had traveled. She found a speck and Watched it. It was a man, striding across the meadow land, a half mile beyond the and hurrying tn the direction of the beach. She ■aw hint climb a high dune, jump a fence, cross another field and finally ranish in the grove of pines on the •dge of the bluff by the shore. The man was John Ellery, the minister. Evidently, he had not gone ome, nor had he taken the short cut. Instead be had walked downtown a lougway and then turned in to joss therields and work his way ack. Annabel put down the glass and, ?edless of het father’s call, sat thlnk- - g. The minister had deliberately deRfrtf her. Mors than that, be had

gone to considerable trouble to avoid observation. Why had he done it? Had Re done the same thing on other Sunday afternoons? Was there any real reason why he insisted on leaving the house regularly at four o’clock? CHAPTER IX. In Which KeziaM Troubles Multiply. Keziah was getting worried about her parson. Not concerning his popularity with his congregation. She had long since ceased to worry about that. But what worried Mrs. Coffin w-as John Ellery's personal appearance and behavior. He had grown perceptibly thinner during the past month, his manner was distrait, and, worst of all in the housekeeper's eyes, his appetite had fallen off. She tried all sorts of tempting dishes, but the result was discouraging. His absent-mindedness was most acute on Sunday evenings, before prayer meeting, and after he had returned from the afternoon at Captain Elkanah’s. “Say, Mr. Ellery,” she said, on one of these Sunday evenings, “do you know, it seems to me that Elkanah’s meals must go to your head. You ain’t in love, are you?” The young man started, colored, and was plainly embarrassed. “In love?” he repeated. “In love, Mrs. Coffin?” “Yes, in love. Annabel hasn't landed a male at last, has she? She’s a line over the side for a long time.” The hearty laugh with which this was received settled the question of Annabel’s success. Keziah was relieved. “Well, I’m glad of that,” she said. “I ain't got any grudge against Annabel, but neither have I got any against you. I’ll’ say this, though, for a body 'that ain’t in love you certainly stay with the Danielses a long time. You went there right after meetin’ this noon and now it’s seven o’clock and you've just got. home. And ’twas the same last Sunday and the one before. Been there all the time, have you?” “No,” he said slowly. “Not all the time. I—l —er—-went for a short walk.” Before she could inquire concerning that walk he had entered the study and closed the door after him. Sunday was a cloudy, warm day, “muggy,” so Captain Zeb described it. After the morning service Mr. Eliery, as usual. Went home with Captaip Daniels and Annabel. Keziah returned j to the parsonage, ate a lonely dinner, I and went upstairs to her own room. Her trunk was in one corner of this, room and she unlocked it, taking from a compartment of the tray a rosewood writing case, Inlaid with mother-of-pearl, a present from her father, who had brought it home from sea when she was a girl. From the case she took a packet of letters and a daguerreotype. The latter was the portrait of a young man, in high-collared coat, stock and fancy waistcoat. Mrs. Coffin looked at the daguerreotype, sighed, shuddered, and laid it aside. Then she opened the packet .of letters. Selecting one from the top of the pile, she read it slowly. Amj, as she read, she sighed again. She did not hear the back door of the parsonage open and close softly. Nor did she hear the cautious footsteps in the rooms below. What aroused her from reading was her own name, spoken at the foot of the stairs. “keziah! Keziah, are you there?” She started, sprang up, and ran out into the hall, the letter still in her han<>. “Who is it?” she asked sharply. “Mr. Ellery, is that you?” “No,” was the answer. “It’s me—

n ’ I Bill

And She Cried Tears of Utter Loneliness and Despair. Nat. Are you busy, Keziah? I want to see you for a minute.” The housekeeper hurriedly thrust the letter into her waist. “I’ll be right down, Nat,” she answered.''“l’m cornin’.” He was in the sitting room when she entered. He was wearing his Sunday suit of blue and his soft hat was on the center table. She held out her hand and he shook it heartily. Before he could speak she caught a glimpse of his face. “What is it?” he asked. “What is the matter?”— “Well, Keziah, it’s trouble enough. Dad and I had a failin’ out.__.We had what was next door to a real/iuarrel after dinner to-day. It would have been a real one if I hadn’t walked off and left him. Keziah, he’s dead set on my marryin’ Grace. Says if J don’t he’ll know that I don't really care a tin nickel for him, or for his wishes, or what becomes of the girl after he’s gone.” . |

Keziah was silent for a moment. Them she said slowly: “And Grace herself? How does she feel a|>out it? Has he spoken to her?” “I don’t know. I guess Jikely he has. Perhaps that’s why she’s been so sort of mournful lately. But never mind whether he has or not; I won't do It and I told him so.’ He got red hot in a jiffy. I was ungrateful and stubborn and all sorts of things. And I, bein’ a Hammond, with some of the Hammond balkiness in me, I set my foot down as hard as his. And we had it until —until—well, until I saw- him stagger and tremble I actually got scared and feared he* was goin’ to keel over where he stood. You ’’now why I can’t marry her, n£>r z_ an>gne else in this round world bur you.” “Nat, I can’t marry you.’ “I know, I know. You're always sayin’ that. But you don’t mean it. You can’t mean it. Why, you and me have been picked out for each other by the Almighty, Keziah. I swear I believe just that. We went together when wejwere boy and girl, to parties and such. We was promised when I first went to sea. If It hadn’t been for that fool row we had—and ’twas all my fault and I know it—you never would have let that da—that miserable Anse Coffin come near you. I'm goin’ to have you. Coffin is dead these ten years. When I heard he was drowned off there In Singapore, all I could say was, ‘Serve him right!’ And I say it now. I come home then more determined to get you. Say yes, and let’s be happy. Do!” “I’d like to, Nat. I only wish I could. But ’twouldn’t be any use. ~ I can’t do it.” He snatched his hat from the table and strode toward the door. Turning, he looked at her. “All right,” he said chokingly. “All right. Good-by.” His steps sounded on the oilcloth of the kitchen. Then the back door slammed. He was gone. Keziah started, as if the slam of the door had been an electric shock And she cried, tears of utter loneliness and despair. The clouds thickened as the afternoon passed. There came a knock at the dining-room door. Kleziah sprang from her chair, smoothed her hair, hastily wiped her eyes and went to admit the visitor, whoever he or she may be. She was glad of the shadows, they prevented her face from being seen too plainly. “Good afternoon,” she said, opening the door. “Oh! it’s you, is it?” “Yes,” admitted Abishai Pepper, standing on the stone step, and shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. “Yes, Keziah, it’s—it’s me, thank you. I'only wanted to see Mr. Ellery.” “He’s but. Good day.”

“I wanted to ask his advice about somethin’. It’s a secret. Only him and me know about it. Good-by. I’ll find Mr. Ellery.” “I wouldn’t go to the Danielses’, if I was you. Elkanah might not like to have you chasin’ after his visitors.” ‘‘Oh, the minister ain’t at the Danielses’, not as late’s this, he ain’t. I know where he is. I know-where he goes Sunday afternoons—and why he goes, too. Mr. Ellery and me’s good i friends. We understand each other.” I“Ix>ok here, Kyan Pepper.' What are you talkin’ about?” ' “I just said I knew where Mr. Ellery goes every Sunday afternoon. He don’t know anybody knows, but I do. That’s ail there is to it. I shan’t tell. “■Tell? Do yoft mean there’s somethin’ Mr. Ellery wouldn’t want told? Don’t you dare — I will see Laviny! ” “No, no, no,-no. ’Tain’t nothin’ much. I just know where he goes after he leaves Elkanah's and who he goes to meet. I— Lordy! I hadn’t ought to said that! I— Keziah Coffin, don’t you ever tell I told you. I’ve said more’n I meant to. If it comes out there’d be the biggest row in the church there ever was. And I’d be responsible! I would! I’d have to go on the witness stand and then Laviny would find out how I— Oh, oh, oh! what shall I do?” “What is it?” she persisted. ‘‘What would bring on the row in the church? Who does Mr. Ellery meet? Out with it! What do you mean?” “I mean that the minister meets that Van Horne girl every Sunday afternoon after he leaves Elkanah’s. There, now! It’s out, and I don’t give a darn if they hang me for it.” Keziah turned white. She seized Mr. Pepper by the lapel of his Sunday coat and shook him. “Grace Van Horne!” she cried. “Mr. Ellery meets Grace V an Horne on Sunday afternoons? Where?” “Down In them pines back of Peter's pastur’ on the aidge of the, bank over the beach. He’s met her there every Sunday for the last six weeks—longer, for what I know. I’ve watched’m. I ain’t lyin’! It’s so. I’ll bet you anything they’re there now, walkin’ up and down and talkin’. What would I want to lie for? You come with me this minute and I’ll show ’em to you.” “ ‘Bish Pepper,” she said slowly and fiercely, shaking her finger in his face, “you go straight home and stay there. Don’t you breathe a word to a livin’ soul of what you say you’ve seen. Don’t even think of It, or—or dream it. If you do I’ll —l’ll march straight to Laviny and tell her that you asked me to marry you. I will, as sure as you’re shakin’ In front of me this minute. Now~ you swear to me to keep still. Sw’ear!” “How — how’ll I swear?” begged Kyan. “What do you say when you swear? I’ll say It, Keziah! I’ll say anything! I’ll ” “All right. Then mind you remember. Now clear out quick. I want to think. I must think. Go! Get out of my sight!" Kyan went, glad to escape, but frightened to the soul of him. Keziah watched him until he turned from the main road into the lighthouse lane. Then, certain that he really was going straight home, she re-entered the parsonage and sat down on the nearest chair. For ten minutes she sat there, striving to grasp the situation. Then she arose and, putting on her bonnet and shawl, locked the dining-room door and went out through the kitchen. She was going to the pine grove by the shore, agoing to find out for herself if Kyan’s astonishing story was true. The pines were green blotch against the cloudy the gloomy waters of the bay. She skirted the

outlying clumps of bayberry and beach plum bushes and entered the grove. Then she heard low voices. As sb* crouched at the edge of the grove, tw* figures passed slowly across the clearing, along the bush bordered path and into the shrubbery beyond. John Ellery was walkinfe with Grace Van Horne. He was holding her hand in his and they were talking very earnestly. Keziah did not follow. What would hpve been the use? This was not the time to speak. She knew now and she knew, also, that the responsibility was hers. She must go home at once, go home to be alone and to think. She tiptoed back through the grove and across the fields. Yet if she had waited, she might have seen something else which would have been, at least, interesting. She had scarcely reached the outer edge of the grove when another figure passed stealthily along that narrow path by the bluff edge. A female figure treading very carefully, rising to peer over the bushes athhe minister and Grace. The figure'of Miss Annabel

> mW ife * iIM

Rising to Peep Over the Bushes at ths Minister and Grace. Daniels, the “belle” of Trumet. And Annabel’s face was not pleasant to look upon. (.TO BE CONTINXTED.) FOUGHT WITH RAILROAD TRAIN Herd of Infuriated Bulls Held Their Own in Combat With piece of Man. At a point on the railway line between Mirabel and Canaveral, on ths Spanish side of the boundary line be> tween Spain and Portugal, there ones occurred an odd sort of bullfight. A train had just come out on a sweeping curve from the hills and down upon a little jjlain when the engineer saw directly before him a herd of bulls on the tracks. The engineei blew his whistle vigorously and all the bulls fled, with the exception ol one great fellow, who made straight for the train with horns lowered and roaring defiance. It was too late to prevent a collision and the bull was killed, but his car case, lying z under the ‘wheels of the locomotive, prevented the train proceeding. Passengers and crew unite's to clear the track. In the meantime the great herd of bulls, scenting the iblood of their dead leader, came flocking back, pawing and threatening. The nearer they came the more infuriate? they grew, and finally they charged like a whirlwind on the little band of workers. Then all the men abandoned theli task and took refuge in the cars. The bulls followed them to the very steps bellowing and pawing. Soldiers aboard the train tried to stampede the animals with stones. The bulls recoiled, charged again, recoiled once more; and for two hours the battle raged, victory now seeming to be with on« side and now’ with the other. At last as night came on, the bulls withdrew and betook themselves to some di» tant shelter. Then the employee and .passengers were able to set to w’orj again. The track was cleared and the train proceeded on its way. Homesickness Spoils Photographs. Aunt Maria thought, and so did hei relatives in the big city, that th« photographer was unpardonably di» courteous. For three successive dayt he refused to take Aunt Maria’s photograph. On the fourth day he told why. “In justice to her,” he said, “I de not want to take her pictures now She is too homesick. Most out-of-town people want to be photographed while in the city. If they are longing for home I put them off with one ex cuse or another until the homesickness wears off- , “If you want your aunt’s turn out well, just hunt up some from her home town who happens tc be visiting here at present and bring him Uepe so she will meet him unexpectedly. The meeting will put spaflkh and animation into her face, and net ther she nor I will be disappointed with the photographs.” Guided by Wireless. The latest and most wonderful us< to which wireless apparatus has been put is set forth in a paragraph from Berlin, Germany. According to th« newspaper report experiments have been going on for some time with a rudderless, crewless motor boat on Lake Wansee which have proved re markably successful. The inventor of this crewless boat is a school teacher named Christian Wirth. In trying out his invention the boat was : towed out two miles in th* lake by means of his wireless apparatus all the boat’s movements were directed. The boat threaded its way unerringly through numerous craft without the slightest accident. Good Excuse. It was on the sleeping-car. “Say, mister,” said the man in th* ' upper berth to the occupant of the lower, “quit that music, will, you? What do you think this is, a <on certhall? The rest of us want to sliep.” “Why, the car is so stuffy," said the warbler, “I was only humming a|littl* it was then that he was hit Ath a Pallman pillow, remaining uncon<ioui for seven hours. —Harper’s Weelsv. (

Atthi

HAT fixed the time for | the ending of one year and the beginning of another? More light. In the countries where Wfter is cold and dark grim the severest weather comes after the oid year goes. It was in

less biting air, but in increasing light, that the proof was found of the “turn o' the year.” The dead year is often buried to the dirge of wintcr'smost bitter winds. The frost is going deeper, when the season is normal. Nature's sleep is most profound. There is only one sign that the sun has turned and is coming back. That evidence is a little more daylight, a little less of the darkness of night. But more light is enough. It makes the change a time of joy, of new hopes and more confident turning to the future. There is the promise of spring in the added light of the day and the promise of growing good and retreating evil in the coming of the new year. It means that mankind has another chance for better things. It gives hope of a new foothold and endeavor to a fresh start. The world is invited to turn its back on the mistakes and sins and troubles of the past and look to the ever-wonderful possibilities of the unknown time to come. There is the charm and joy of New Year’s. In that revival of drooping confidence, in that lure of the infinite, lies the appeal of the day which is always greeted with enthusiasm, no matter how many generations have seen the hopes of the year's birth wither before its death. After many failures success may come. Who knows? That is the magic question—“ Who knows?” The world gains from year to year in a thousand little things, and sometimes a great evil long endured goes crashing down. Who can say what the limit of triumph may be in the better times to come? For the world, like every young year, is getting more light. It has more of the sunshine of truth, more of the life-giving rays of knowledge. If they seem cold and sterile, at times, it is because humanity’s year is still yOung. “We are ancients of the earth, and in the morning of the j times.” This increasing light of knowledge, this brighter beacon to guide the of mankind, must flower and fruit in richer gains than humanity has yet won. It is an accumulating force, like the warmth which the sun gives the earth in spring The thinkers and dreamers of the world know that this is so. They are inspired by the consciousness that with growing knowledge there must come increased power and higher wisdom to direct and control it for the help and uplifting of mankind. The faith sees the life and growth, the color and warmth of spring, in the lengthening days of winter. They perceive that 1 the world of men a<ad women, and of the children, too, though still far from the full tide of its summer, is already well into the long new year of the human family. They are as certain of the spring for all mankind as they are that January will pass and May will come. It is a mistake to reflect too much upon the past. It has its lessons, but the learning of them should not so absorb our attention as to preclude us from incorporating them into our daily life, transmuting the memory and experience into the gold of useful practicability and ready work that yields results.

Introspection was getting so insistently a habit of the New Year that we are beginning to forget it was but a means to an end —the reflective porch to the large and spacious chamber of lofty resolve and accomplishment. We fancy sometimes that a faint suggestion of maudlin sentiment crept into the self-analy-sis, converting what should have proved a stepping stone to higher planes of activity into a more purgatory of self-abnegation ending in a cul-de-sac. We want to make our reflection an avenue that leads through paths of earnest thought to the high tablelands of glorious endeavor and achievement. The soul itself must be utilitarian and not waste itself in unprofitable penance. What has the year accomplished for womanhood? There has unquestionably been a remarkable renaissance of the fettiinine. Woman has broadened her outlook, established her claim to wider recognition of her talents, impressed public life with her power for good, and raised her physical and mental scale of the sex. Thank God, among the general advancement there is one is inspiringly reactionary—a reversion to the old veneration for the sanctity of motherhood —the holiest and divinest calling of all, a calling involving great sacrifice, great sorrows, but bringing with it, on the other hand, untold compensating joys. In the medical profession woman has done well, while in the humbler

MERCY OF THE COURTS

The justice of the peace was in the south and a marked state of ignorance. He was approached by a man desiring a divorce, and he did not know what to do. Calling a friend to his side, he whispered: “What’s the law on this p’int?” “You can't do it,” was the reply. “It’s out of your jurisdiction.” The husband, observing the consultation, and feeling keenly his desire

War Balloon Destrr;/«d. The German paper and Waffe describes a bullet nan. ed for its inventor, Lentz, for which great things are claimed in the way cf destroying dirigible balloons, which will undoubtedly appear in the next war between nations of the first rank. Instead of being a shell fired from a howitzer, like other projectiles of this sort, this bullet can be made up into cartridges for the ordinary rifle. Two prongs are held in slots in the bullet while it is in the barrel of the

W§ End. F7 I y 4

ranks of nursing our efficient hospitals tell their own eloquent tale of the labor done by those who “watch the stars out by the bed of pain.” For the large masses of the girlhood and womanhood the arena of commercial life has widened its doors, and evidence is seen on all hands of the efficiency of the new female recruits to the business ranks. Their presence in this great army of strenuous endeavor will tend to purify and strengthen it, and make it worthier than it has ever been before. The prizes are many, but those who do not gain them must not be disheartened. The very striving after them stiffens the fiber. “The athlete matured for the Olympian game gains strength at least for life.” While I have dwelt in this short review of woman s progress on the more expert phases of her career, it must be pointed out that ability is not the be-all and the end-all of woman’s existence. It is the great lever that moves things, but another quality is required for the settling down. Greater than all her accomplishments is her capacity for shedding around her wherever ■ she goes the fragrance of a sweet and beautiful life, and smoothing out the raveled sleeve of care. It is in the belief that she is fully capable of this mission that one looks forward in confidence to tjie immediate future —a future in which the pulse of vibrant life will throb sympathetically and intellectually to the ultimate benefit of the whole of the community.

•••••••«••«•o«**a*c*a»»cs* • • • Thoughts for New Year | • •

“Resolve and resolve and still go on the same?” Nay! Nay! not so; but’ rather resolve and with a steadfast purpose without equivocation or mental reservation, harness the firm resolution, the will of your intent to the wagon of your purpose loaded with the dutiful obligations of your everyday life. Obligations to home, to business relations, to the proper demand of your church and social environment, to civic and patriotic responsibilities. Duties never; clash; something is paramount, something worth while. Do that! Be true to thyself, to that conception of that self which raises within you a real sense of self-respect; that self which you admire, to which you aspire; that manhood to which you would attain and toward which energies of mind and will bend, never loosing the call of the vision. Before all men honorable—a high sense of hqnor is a well spring of conscious joy and a reservoir of power to the possessor.

The looking-glass of yourself often may discourage you., but it is the consciousness of what you ought to be, and tfi.e desire to attain, laying aside every weight or hindrance and running with patience the race you liave set before you. Never stop the cry of your soul, your real self, to the call of the unreached goal. The poets with their wide and deep discernment ofttimes sing truly'of tae soul cry and its evolution into an abundant life. Lowell: Os all the myriad words of mind That through Ahe soul come thronging Which one wis e'er so dear, so kind So beautiful as longing? The thing we long for that we are For one ’transcendent moment Before the present poor and bare Can make its sneering comment. Tennyson: O for a man to rfsa in me ■ That the man that I am May cease to be?, Holmes: Build thee more stately mansions O my soul As the swift seasons roll! Leave thy low-vaulted past! Let each new temple nobler than the last Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast Till thou at length art free. Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea. With every business item and relation be honest, and fundamentally, by

to escape from his matrimonial woe, explained: “I’m willin’ to pay well; got the money right here in this sock.” At this the justice assumed his gravest judicial air. Obviously he was deeply pained. Never before in all his life had he been so bowed down by grief. “You knew before you came here,” he said sadly, “that it wasn’t for me

r ! , but fly out when it is in the air. \oun it enters a balloon casing, the z s' < -- L.o n these prongs releases a sd'■■■< ’ which explodes a primer, settin, X,V O” W,r - aV’rigible might escape the few e Hills at it by a cannon, it would J.ardlX ho » e to P a . ss unhit through ihe hai 1 of buUets / ired by a regiment: and «? ne suth pullet exploding within itß>*^ nve ®°P e would destroy the balloon, aS v">fo rtur,aie Wellman balloon BUm i 3ner. I

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word of mouth, truthful. “Ah what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.” A lie seldom travels alone. It weaves a web, in the meshes thereof sooner or later we are humiliated. The truth alone is courageous, and courage is a manly virtue. A lying tongue is the curse of a habit grafted on a cowardly nature An individual is not honest with him self or honorable in his dealings with his fellow because he is not willing to face the unvarnished fact or bear th* brunt and burden which justly is his, a responsibility only made irksomp by his cowardly lie whereby he would shift the burden and stand behind the veneer of an assumption or false position. Fear not. the man within you will work out if you will it so; undiscouraged, undismayed, pressing on. you become conscious that, having done your part, it is due to arrive. Be not discouraged, fellow wayfarer Yield to thati man within you. whose insatiable longing is the inspiration that shall bring the nobler self to being; the. self that now chafes at limitations; that opens the windows through which you see the visions of your undying hope, though distant yet existent, and yours to obtain if- you will but hold your straight way course. Laugh at Your Burden. Most of us are bending under the burden of some great load. It may be care, it may be disappointment, it may be injustice, it may be physical pain or spiritual discouragement, but it is heavy. Often it seems heavier than we can .bear and we cry out and pro test. These burdens are very real, but really they are not half as big and Jieavy as we make them, declares a writer in the Universalist Leader. Wf have had them upon our shoulders, entirely out of our sight, so long that they have been magnified by imagination or weariness or impatience, until ' the}’ seem unbearable. Now. then whatever your burden may be, how ! ever long' you have been earpyJff£ it. ! and however proud you may have bei come of your self-imposed martydom just take your burden down and look iat it honestly, and you will be sur prised how it has dwindled away whlh you have been magnifying it in your mind. Look at it frankly and fearless ]y and in nine cases out of t-en will your tears be turned to laughter and your sighing into-song. Most Famous City in History. The one spot which more than any other has controlled the history o* Europe lies, strangely enough, not in Europe itself, but in Asia. For the possession of the site where Christ "suffered, was buried and rose again,' more blood has been shed than for any other. An immense number of lives were laid down during the Crusades; and for 600 years before the Crusades, and even to the present time, a constant stream of pilgrims has poured into Jerusalem to worship at the spot made sacred by the cruci fixion of Christ. From the fourth ceu tury after Christ until 50 years ago this site was generally conceded to be within the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. Now two sites dispute the claim of being the actual Golgotha This latter claimant is known as “Gordon’s Calvary,” though to an American. Dr. Harlan P. Beach, ot Yale university, is due the actual discovery of it. General Gordon, the hero of Khartoum, having first se cured for it general recognition.— Christian Herald. Too Strenuous Plan of Teaching. “Once upon a time, many years says the Western School Journal, “this editor visited a school in which the teacher in the grammar class tried to illustrate every verb by appropriate actions. Thus the verb run was pictured in a scamper around the schoolroom; the verb strike took form on a boy’s back. ‘But,’ remarked the visitor, ‘what are you. going to de with the verb lie (to tell an untruth)? You surely wouldn't ask the children to lie, and when the verb howl is in the lesson would you bid them howl?’ She had never thought of that, but the absurdity of her method seemed visible to her. We hope so.”

to separate husband and wife, and yet you not only take up the valuable time of this court by talking, but you actually propose tx> bribe me with iiK vey. Now, how much have you got in that sock?” “About six dollars and a half, your honor.” “Is that so? Then I fine you five dol lars for bribery and a dollar and a half for taking up my time with a case out of my jurlst’iction; an<l m*-' the lord have mer/y on your souls The Popular Ma/azine.

Dairy Cow at the Head. The dairy cow owes a salute to the Country Gentleman for the compliment paid her in saying that “civili zation and the dairy cow are closely associated.” As a food producer, says the Country Gentleman *ae cow re (urns eighteen pounds fifc every hundred pounds of feed given her, while her nearest competitor, the hog, returns only fifteen pounds, and the hen, with all her cackling, gives the owner I but a scant ten pounds of food in retarn for his investment of a hundred