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3‘3932’1f f The Hospitahlo Worn'an. y In the first place. she was great in he: hospitalities. L'ncirilizvd and barbarous nations have this virtue. Jupiter had the surname of the Hospitahle. .and he was laid especially to avenge the .wrgngs of , strangers. Homer extolled it in his 'verse. _ The Arabs are punctilicus on this sub- :ect. and among some of their_tribes it is not until the ninth day of tarrying that .the occupant has a right to 25;: his guest. , f‘Who and whence art thou?"1§_thls. vir- , tue is so honoced among barbarians, how ought it to be honored among those of us who believe in the Bible, which corn? '«mands us to use hospitality one toward ‘another without grudging? Of course, I do not mean under this (Sever to give any idea that I approve of that vagrant class who go around from ‘ place topiace, ranging their whole life- . time perhaps under the auspices of some benevolent or philanthropic ‘-'soe.i.ety. quarter-in: themselves on Christian {am}, lies wfth a great pile of trunkiifi’fbe hall and carpetbag portentous of tsrrying. There is many a country parsonage that looks out week by weal: upon the our-lu- ous arrival of wagon with creaking wheel ' and lank horse and dilapidated ,riV'el', ~oorne under the auspices of some chari- “table institution to spend a few weeks "and canvass the neighborhood. Let no , Inch religious tramps take advantage cg this: beautiful virtue of. Christian hospi-g~ tality. Not so much the sumptuouseess of your diet and the regality of your hobode will impress the friend orthe stranger that steps across your threshold as 'the warmth of your greetingpithe informality oi your reception, the reitera- tion by grasp and by look arr! by a thousand attentions insignificant atten: . tions, of your earnestness of welcome. ‘ There will be high apnreciation of your i ‘Welcome though you have nothing but; ~the brazen candlestick and the plain cheir‘ . to efler Elisha when he comes to Shunem_. Mr; beautiful is this grace of hospitality ’ w on shown in the house of God. I am thankful that I have always been pastor of churches where strangers are welcome, ' But I have entered churches where there 'was no hospitality. A stranger wvmlzi stand in the vestibule for awhile and then make a pilgrimage up the ions: ezsle. No door opened to him until, flush ed and! excited and embarrassed, ho misrtt‘d back again, and coming to some .hair .iiile'l new with apologeticair entered It while the occupant glared on him wffh . saw firearms along the beams of the cabin, and he felt alarmed. He did not know but. that ha ha! Xallen into a den or‘tmeves. He sat there greatly perturbed. After awhila the man of the house came Home w_i5h a gun on his shoulder and set it down ,in a corner. The stranger was still morn alarmed. After awhile the man of the house whispered with his wife, and flu strangu- thought his (1th III a look which scemeu so say. “Wall, u 4 mush, 1 must." Away with such accur<ed indecengy from the house of God! Le;- ,°'0!'! Church that would maintain larg- Chrmxén influence in community culsuro Sabbath by Sabbanb this beaumul grace of Christian hospitality. A 800d man tmvellihg in the far was: In the wilderness was overtaken by night ind ”firm, and ha put in an a cabin. Ho Washington. . Jen. 15,-.5- Scripture character whose name is not :381V03 13.. comes the subject-o! 1);. 'l'ulmagell gar. mon. in which he sets forth the qualms: of good and noble womanhood; text, II. Kings iv. 8. “Elisha. passed to Shanon). where was a great woman." The hotel or our time had no counter- Furt in an entertainment of olden time. ’l he vast majority ‘ot travellers must then be entertained at private abode. Here comes Elisha. a servant of the Lord, on a civine mission. and he must find shelter. A balcony overlooking the Vii-10y or Esdraelon is offered him in a private house. and it is especially furnished for his occupancyâ€"a chair to sit on, a table from which to ca:,-‘a candlestick by which to read and a bed on which to slumber, the whole establishment belonging to A great and good woman. Her husband. it seems, was a godly man, but he was entirely overshadowed by his wife‘s excel- lent-ice. just as now you sometimes find in .1 household the wife'the.center of dig- nity and influence andpower, not by any arrogance or presumption. but by superior tellcct and force of moral nature wield- ing domestic affairs and at the same time supervising all financial and husines'l afl‘airs. The wife's bzmd on the shuttle.' or the banking house, or the worldly business. ‘ ' You see hundreds of men who are sue-- cesslul only because there-ls a reason at home why they are sqoceeeful. ‘If a man marry a good. honest "jout'. he makes-glib fortune. If he mat-{fr-‘a fool. the Lord help himl The wife may be the silent partner in the firm. there may be only masculine voices down an Exchange. but there oftentime comes fromithe home cir- . cle a potential and elevating influence. i This woman of my text was the snot-riot: at her husband. He. as {anus Loan under- stand. was what we often, see in our day, a man of large fortune and only a moJi- ‘ cum of brain. intensely q'uiet, sitting a long while in the same place, without moving hand or foot: if you say “Yes." responding “Yes;" if you say “No." re- ; spending “.\'o"--inzine. eyes half shut, % month wide open. maintaining his posi- tion in society only becausghe basalaré‘e patrimony. But his wife. my text, says. was a great woman. He: name has nut. i come down to us. She belonged to that collection of people who need no name to ‘ distinguish them What would title or duchess or princess or queenâ€" what would escutcheon or gleaming: niadem be to this woman of my text. who, by her intelli~ , gence and her behavior, challenges the admiration of all ages? Long .ati‘er the l brilliant women cl‘ the court of Louis I The Hand on‘i'ne Rev. Dr :on.. Jan. 15.â€"A‘ Scripture rnose name is notftngen boo :ubjccg-of 1):. Talmuge’l ser- nch he sets forth the qualities | noble wonmnhood; text, 11. . “Misha passed to Shunam. a great. woman." our ti me had. no counter- :erxainmeuu of oIdun time. ricy of travollers must then at. prixate abode. Hero .Talmage Discourses on the Subject of Feminine Attributes. E'ne Shurtleâ€"-The Nobility of Womanhoodâ€"-The Great- ness of Christian Characteristics--The Duties of Women. * N Where are the feet that have not been blistered on the hot sands of this great Sahara? Where are the soldiers that have not bent umier the burden of grief? Where is the ship sailing over glassy sea that has not after awhile been caught in a cyclone? Where is the garden of earthly comfort but trouble hath hitched up its fiery and panting team and gone through it with burning plowshare "of disaster? Under the pelting of ages of suffering the great heart of the world has Aburst with woe Navigators tell he about the rivers and the Amazon and the Danube and the Mississippi have been explored but who c.1n tell the depth or- the length of the 3"“ river o£ sorrow, made up of tears lend bloodfrolling through all lands Pnd all 3298 hearing the wreck of families and o! communities and of empires. foaming, writhing boiling with the egoniee of 6 000 veursl‘t Etna Cotopexi end Vesu- ‘vi'us have been described, but who has ever sketched the volcano of ,fiflering retching upgrom its depths- the lo‘va and scorie and pouring them down the sides' to whelm the nation‘s? Oh, it - I could gather all the he irtstrings, the preken' heartstrings into a harp, I would inlay on -it e dirge sut h n4 was never sounded! MythOIOgists eli us :i gorgon and contain 1 and Titan and geologists tell us of extinct species of monsters but greater than gorgon 9r megathrium and not belonging to the rgel‘ifiet fable and not or an ex- duet species, a monster withen iron Jaw end e hundred irqj hoote has walked $1 per annum. L ’lhis woman of the text was only a itype of thousands of men and women 2 who come down from mansion and from 7 cot to do kindness to the Lord 3 servants i‘1 could tell you of something that you Lmight think a romance A yourg man 'gt‘aduated from \‘ew Brunswick Theolog- ical Seminary was called to a village cnurch He had not the means to rurnish the parsonage. After three or four weeks L ot‘ preaching a committee of the officers of the church waited on him and told ‘ him he looked tired and thought he had I better take a vacation of a tow day's’. The young pastor took it as an intimation that his work was done or not acceptable. He took the mention, and at the end of ' a few days came back, when an old elder ! said: “Here is the key of. the parsonaze. We have been cleaning it up. You had better go up and look at it. " So the ' it was carpeted and there was a hatrack all ready for the canes and the umbrellas and the orercoats. and on the left hand i of the hall was the parlor, sofaed, chair. i ed, pictured. , He. passed on to the other side of the hall. and there was the study 1 table in the center of the floor with L stationery upon it, bookshelves built. j long ranges of, new Volu'mes, far. beyond the reach of the means of the young ipastor. many of these-~volumes. The young pastor went upstairs and found all the sleeping apartments furnished, came downstairs and-entered the pantry and' there were the spices and the cofl'ees and the sugars, audLLthe‘ groceries for six months; He went'down into the cellar, and there was the coal for all the com- in: winter. He went into the dining hall, and- there was the table already setâ€"the glass and the silverware. He went into the kitchen. and there were all the cnlin- ary implements and a great stove. The young pastor lifted one \lid of the stove and he found the fuel all ready for igni- tien. Putting hack the cover of the stove. he saw in“ another part of it a lucifer match and all that young man had to do in starting to keep house was to strike the match You tell me that is aprOtry- phal. Oh, no! that‘was my own experi- ence. Oh, the kindnesses, oh, the enlarged sympathies sometimes clustering around those who enter the gospel ministry. I supposetthe man of Shunem had to ay the bills, but it was the large-hearted Christian woman of Shunem that looked after the Lord's messenger. Great l'lye'n__ in Trouble. Again, this ‘wqma'n of the" text was great in her behavior under trouble. Her only son had died on her lap. .A very bright light went out in that household. ’l‘he eiicred writer puts it very tersely when he says, “He sat on her knee until noon and then he died." Yet the writer Lyouug pastor took the key. went up to- the uarsonhnge opened the door, and 101* goes on to say that she exclaimed, “It is' Well!” Greht‘in prosperity, chi: woman was gieat: in trouble. 't‘l‘J'bflministers. I wish somebody Would write a book about the joys of the Chile- tian minister. about the sympathies all around about him. about the kindness, about the genial considerations of him. Does sorrow come :0‘ our home, and in there-a shadow on. the cradle, there are hundreds of hands to help. and many who weary not through the night watch: in: and hundreds of prayers goimz up" that God would restore the sick. I: there a burning, brimming cup or calamity placed on the. pastor's table? Are there not many to hem him-drink of that cup and who will not he éomforted because he is stricken-'3 0h. ‘ior‘lsomebody to write a book about the rewards of the Christian ministry -â€" about his surroundings of Chris‘tifin sympathy! Agaln. thls woman‘ of my text wu‘ great in her klndne‘ss iowud God‘s moss- ‘ anger. Elisha may have been a'strarlge: ln that household, but as she found ouu he had come on a divine mlsslon he was cordially welcomed. Wu hang a grea many books in our day about the hard- {hips of ministers and the'trials of Chris- the blessing of God Vuyon hisr ’EStaSiaaiE and ,upon the sttanger within their gates. Rude but glorious Christian hospitality! being planned. Then the man or the house came forward and said to the stran- ger: “Stronger. we are a rough and rude people out here. and we work hard for a living. We make our living by hunting, and when we come to the nightfall we are tired and in are apt to go to bed early, and before retiring we are always in the habit of reading, a chapter from the word of God and making a prayer. If you don't like such things, it you will just step outside the door until we get through. I’ll be greatly obliged to you." of course the stranger tnrried in the room. and the old hunter took hold of the horns of the altar and brought down The Joys of the Minister. “'l‘ha menu was the master’s own din- ing room, _and him moment that the ladies had lothhefi'oom one otlthe guesns began a mom outrageous con‘v'erea'ulon. Every one was flabburguswd. '1 he musper.winced with annoya’nce, and than, banding down the tablé toward the oflen ler, said in his .ahrillest tone. ‘Shull we continue this convurnatlcn in the drawlng room?‘ and rose from his chair. It was really a stroke of genius thus both to terminate and to rebuke the lmnrcprleny without violating the boot-um duo [rem host to guest." Hon. George Russell, in his ”Reéolleo- tions an“ clleotious,” tells tha follow- ing 5501);: 01 Janeen, the famous muster of Balliol Collége: Sold like cattle on the shambles. Slave of all work, and, at last,- her body fuel for the funeral pyre of her husband. Above the trial: of the fire worshippers in India, and above the rumbling of the jusgernauts, I hear the. million voiced groan of wronged, insulte‘u‘, broken- hearted. downtrodden woman, Her tears have fallen in the \ile end Tigris, the La Plate, and on the steppes of 'lartary. She has been dishonored in Turkish gar- déu and Persian palace and Spanish Alhambra. Her little ones have been sacrificed in the Indus and the Ganges. There is not a groan, or ‘a dungeon, or an island, or a mountain, or a river. or a lake, or a see, but could Itell a story of the outrages heaped uoon her. But. thanks to God, this glorious Christianity comes forth, and all the chains of this vassalage are snapped; and she rises from lgnomlny to exalted sphere and becomes the afl’ectionate daughter, the gentle wife, the honored mother, the useful Christian. Oh. it Christianity has done so muéh for woman, surely woman will berome its most ardent advocate and its sublimest “amplification.- But what I want to impress upamiyou, my hearers.ds than you oughc no't to in- veumry the luxuries of, life among the indispensablas. and you ought not to de~ praciato this _\yoman of tbs text, who, when offered king-1y prefer-mam, respond- ed. “I dwell among my oan‘ppoplq.” Yum-this wornau of the ten mum-out in he:- piety. Just read the chapter after, you go home. Faith in God, and she “us not ashamed to tzflk about 1: before idolamrs. Ab. woman will nevep appra- clate what she owes to Christianigy uuztil she knows and sees the degradation of her sex under,pag:mism and Mohammed- anigm. Her very blrshioongidewd a mis- fortune. ’ . '. Oh, what a rebuke to the strife for precedence in all ages! How numy there are who want to get great architecture and homes furni~hed with all art all painting, all statuary, who have not enough tiste to distinguish between "Gothic and Byzantine. and who could not tell a figure in plaster of paris from Palmer‘s “\i’ bite Captive." and would not know a boys penciling from Bier- etmit‘ :1 f‘io ernite.’ " Men who buy large libraries by the equate foot. buying these libraries when they have scarcely enough educption to pick out the any of the month in the almanac! Oh, how many there are striving to have things as well as their neighbors or better than their neighbors, arm in the struggle vast for- tunes are exhaust? and business firms thrown into bankruptcy and men of re- puted honesty ru§h intomstcunding forg- eries! Of. course I say nothing agai 1:1, to- ilnemcnt or cultuxe. Splendor oi sin-Jo sumptuonsnes of diet, levishness in art, neatuess in apparel, there is. nothing against them in the Bible or out of the Bible Geri does not want us‘to prefer mud hovel to English cottage. or un- tanned she‘eps' in. to French broadcloth or husk: to pineapple, or the clumsinese of in beer to the manners of a gentleman. God. who strung the bench with tinted shell and the grass of the field with the dews of the night; and hath exquisitely tinged morning cloud and robin red- breast] wants us to keep our our open to all beautitnlx cadences, and our heart open to all- elevating sentiments. I: Again, this woman of my text was great in her application to domestic duties. Every picture is a home picture. whether she in entertaining an Elisha or whether she is girlie careful atti-ntlon to her sick boy or whether the is appeal- ing for the restoration of her property. Every picture in her case is one of ‘domestlclty; Those are not disdplcs oi the Shuucmite woman who, going out to attend to outside charities, neglect the duty of homeâ€"the duty of wife. of mother, of daughter. .\'0 faithfulness in public benefaction can ever atone for domestic negligence. There has been emany a mother who by indefatigable toil has reared a large family of chiidron, equipping them for the duties of life with ‘ good manners and large intelligence and 1 Christian principlestarting them out, ‘ who has done more for the world than many a woman whose name has sounded through all the lands and through the centuries. I remember when Kossuth was in this country there were some‘ladies whoigo‘t honorable reputations by pre- senting him very gracefully with hou~ quets of flo}yers on public occasions But what was allwthat compared with the plain Hungarian" mother who gaveto truth and civilization and the cause of universal liberty a Koasuth? 7 Yes. utilis woman of my text was great in her sim~ pliclty. When this prophet wanted to reward her for her hospitality by asking some‘ preterinent from the king,‘ what did she say? She declined it She said. "I dwell among my own people." as much as to say: “I am satisfied with my lot. All 1 want is my family and my friends around me. I dwell among my own peOpIe.” " tide, The promiae assures us the Lord will provide. across the nations,and history a . wiry and sculpture, in their attempt w. skutc‘ it and describe it, have seemed to smut great drops of blood. But, ‘thanl: fimi, tbare are thosewho can” oo'nquer ds this woman of the text conquered annimiy. “ft is well, though my property ho gone, though my children be gone, though my home be broken up, though my heiith be sacrificed, it is wall, it is Well!" ’l‘hcro Is no storm on the son but Chriet is reuly to rise in the hinder part of the ship and hush it. Thurs is no darknms but the constellation of God‘s eternal love can illumino it. and though the wintsr comes out of tho northern sky, you have some- times seen that northern sky all ablaze with anroras which seem to say: “i ems up this way; up this way are thrones at light and seas of sapphiro and the splen» dor of an sternal hemon, Come up this way." We may. like the ships. by temnost b0 tossed On perilous daeps, but cannot be lost. Though Satan enmgu the wmd and the A lflnhshml Rebuke. 1110 To mtiful Home. The Home “'omnu. “OH, ‘w. ships, by tempest bo ’AD SOME POWER THE GIFTIE GIE US, TAB S ()MEMEE but the pain is numb at preseuf. D6 not ta to air." “You must not stir," said Daisy; “you do not know how badly you are hurt, Your ankle is brokenâ€"Robin says so; “It is but a little cottngé.‘ find we (all it “'oodside,” said Daisy“. “1‘ live here, alone with my umtlxer and Rubin." “\\'ho is Robin?" he asked}. ' “My brother," sdid Daisy, ‘.‘and 119’. gene to find a doctor for you." “I shall not need a doctor.” said Sir Clinton. He tried to move, and cried aloud with the pain that movement cost him. “Not as you know the wurd." he re- plied. “I was sane enough yesterday. Do not be alarmed at me. Daisy. I hav- nevurboen in nu asylumâ€"4 am not mad after that fashion: but :1 grout snrl‘uw came to me. and it darkened my reason for a few hours." “Was the sorrow dearth?" asked Daisy. “No; a thousand _times worse than deathâ€"but ‘1'» cannot talk about it. Where am I, Daisy?â€"whme is dis home of yours?" “Mad!” she rebontod. “Ah. me, how" terrible! Have you been mud?“ ‘Daisy looked at him with frightened eyes. ‘ “I rememberâ€"or. . 3.7mm Hem-on! member. ' I had been driven mad!" “VY-Imt was I doing in the wool Daisy?" She looked at him- half frightened. “Do you got know?" she asked. “No: it all sovms Mzmk. \tht brought me thew? Let me mink." He buried his fave in his hands. then suddenly cried out:- “Then I tried to raise you. and I could not; so I went to the" other end at the ”,“nod where tho mun “me at \\ ork, and they carried yam here." 3“I was going: through the W'oiuis. :md ygu were lying. ncms< the path; jumr flat had caught 'in the tangled Mum-has of an uld .tre-e. I was afraid at first that you-were dead. and then " _ ‘éAndlthen?’ he 'rope-avtod. for she had mused; ‘ “I found you." said Daisy. in a low voiceâ€"“myself .1 ~ fhund 'yo‘n." “You' found mo! \\'as I’ 1063? “Wave did'youfind me?" '~ Fer the time, it was all :1 blank. to him. He did not rummnhor his pain, or the cause of it. Ho mnld only re- alize that. after an intemsily (If agony. he was at rest. “‘No." he replied: “it 509nm to mu that I am in a heaven of warmth and comfort. \"hore um I, and how I came here, is all a blank." “Yes. How did I come hero? I do not know you. Daisy Ema. You haw- an angel's face. but it is quite «mange to me. Have you mmo down from th- stnmkha'n: you whim-f swift wings?" _ “No:- I am onJy Daisy Erna." .Suadonly she summed to rmnomber' That she was holding: his hand with both her own. Sho dropped it as tho 3:!) it‘bim'ned her: than. foul-in: ho “(Milli think that unkiml.‘ she touched it gently. “You are very ill." she said. “Do you know how ill you are?" “1?" she roplied. “I um Daisy Ernefi' He said the name over and uvor nztliri to h§msvifâ€"-“D1Lisy Erne." T19 was not quite capable of collected thought )6. Hrâ€" said. suddenly: “'\'ho is Daisy lime?" “I am Daisy." she replied. “and this is my home. You wonder how you same here?" He did not romvmbnr that. in all his life, he hud ever heard any one prlv before, and he listonnd tn thnve swam, simple words with \szln' (um no dared on fear. Praying fm' him! Had any one 1..:_'r-d for him. be wondered. since his mo*her died? . . Then it “as Duh} 5 turn to look Marbled. for suddvnly. she saw two dark eyes looking onmvstly in her own. ““‘ho are you?" he w‘hiqmrvd. “The doctor'will be here seemâ€"Robin has gone to fetch him: then'we $111!! know \vhethor he is Iikvly to live or die. You must pray for him. Daisy: I believe more in prayers than in doctora. I am going to make the tea." 'l‘hn elderly wmnnn Iof‘t the mmn. and swoet. simple Daisy. (kneeling by his side. hogan her prayers. “I do not think so, mother. He dues not look as though. he wore married.” "How can you toll. child?" “I do not know 110“ I can toil. but I am. quite sure or it. ‘I novor undir- stood “byâ€"#1 kno“ some things by in- stinct. “ 111 he get better. mothen'.’ Poor boy! poor buy! How hard it \xouid be for him to die. hu'is so hand- some and bonnie!" ' “What a white baud, mother!“ slid the same soft voice again. "Why, see! mine is quite brown war it. TN» hand has never worked, has never [won stained with lubu-r. See. how b’fllltif full I thought such hands as these only belong“! to Indies." “A gentleman!" wpented the young girl called Daisy: I have often thought I should like a: see a real gentleman.” “You see one now." said her mother. Then there was silence for 301119 min utes. He felt his hand taken hvtm-eu two soft little ones, and gem'ly stmkel. “My dear Daisy. we only see game- kc'eper‘s and shopkeepers. I lived among the true gentry once. and this poor, wounded stranger is. a gentlenmn." “He cannot hear me," she was say. ing; “I wish he could, Oh. mother, how different: he is to every one elseâ€"m all the'men we‘ see here!" BETWEEN TWO LOVES. ()NT., THURSDAY, JAN. 19, 1899 BY BERTHA M. CLAY CHAPTER XIII (Contin ued.) EE HORSELS AS ITHERS SEE US." "Give me something to drink," he asked. ’ ‘ She gave him something in a glcsc thgt "trashed him wonderfully. Midnimht had long passed. and the dawn of another day »bri;:ht(~ned the Skies, when Sir Clinton awokeâ€"awoke to find the fair. pure , face of Daisy Eme bending. oven- hfim‘. He felt, ill in; deed, than; the pain 01' his broken limb was great. the fever high, his lips parched with thirst. - “We a; e verj' poor ourselves,” sadd M‘s 1* me. “but we will do our best for him.” Promising to be tho-re to-mnrrow, doctor loft them to their task. “Even if he has lost a fortune. he has Still a small one left‘ in the shape of dinmopd studs and a diamond ring. You will n‘ot let him want for any- thing. Mrs. Erna? He seems to have money. but we will not touch that until» he 'g'ots better.” ‘ said Mrs. Ema. The don-tor smiled quietly. with a sum:- djxixmtion of «but his trouble: had been than those simple “omen pos- ses<ed: then he said: “Perhaps he has lost his fortune," said Mrs. Ema. “No," replied Daisy; “we know nnu‘l- ing, except that I found him lying these in the woods, and when I asked him what took him there, he said that trouble had driven .him mad.” “He could not be in better hands." said the doctor. -“Do you know any- -thing about-himâ€"who he is. his name, or where he comeé from?" “No." Said Mrs. Ema; “it <90an as though Providence had sent him es- pecially to us. “'9 will nurse himâ€" Daisy and I.” ‘ “I must not disguise from you." he said, “that you will have a long. tea:- rible fask. This gentleman will be ill and helpless for months: you had bet- ter have a nurse for him." He gave him a sleeping draught: then, when his patient had fallen mm 21 dvcp slumber. he turned to Daisy and her mother. Then came mi interval of intone» agony for him, while the shattered bonus were resetâ€"pain so great that while it lamed he forgot the pride and scorn, the love of Lady May. \Vlwn it was ovwr, great drops. of ngmix tell from his brow. 'lhe doctor looking: on. thou: lit 10 him- self, f‘\V hich puiii dum heVfind it most difficult td-bearâ€"ri broken heart or I. broken ankle, - I wonder?" They little dr’ém'nod, on that fair sum- mer’s day, while the sun shone. the birds sung. and the lovely rows [mend in, what shape-mat life would take. “It was an ospooial mercy from Hara- ven," said the doctor, reverontly; “and “9 must imagine that as your life has been so stmngeiy preserved, it has been preserved that you may live to Work tl-at purpose outl‘ “It does not matter.” said Sir Clinton. with a deep sigh. “If. it had not been for Daisy here. 1 should have lnin on my face and died in the Woods." “I am afraid.” said the doctor..2r:1ve- 1y, “than it will be many months before you will be able to walk again." “Poor fellow!" thought Daisy. “What is the use of his being a gentleman if he has no one to care for him? How strange, tooâ€"so bonnie and so hand- sune! I should have thought that many people loved him." “Ho‘é‘xong shall I be ill?’ asked Sir Ciinton. “No.” was the reply; “there is no one for whom I should care to send." “Home," repeated the doctor. not lik in: that vague (*Xprmsio-nâ€"“you are near home. I should imagine?" “\Yould you like me to send for (my friends?” he asked again. .“.\'o," said Sir Clinton, “I am far enough away." Stir Olinrton looked at» llim half dazed. Near home! What a dream it seumel! Londonâ€"Eastwold! \‘l'hnt n . whirl of thaugln'. T‘uen me [noun-e ot'il’mt Lon- don drawing-room, crowde with people. all watching, all admiring his promised Wife; and then the picture of that other room, where she stood under the light- fair, proud, radiant. “There never was 'trouhle yet,“ thought the cynical doc-tor to himself, “but that woman caused it. I um afrni ,” he said. “that you have nmt winh a very painful and disnzn-euble accident. I have a theory ur my own about pain." “What is it?" asked Sir Clinton. “I think that if any one has svvere mental pain, that physical pain rulieve: it, dis-tracts the mind. takes off the ut- tt-n-tion, does good in a thousand ways. You have had a trouble that for a few hours had driven you mad. you my. You .will forget it in the pain of your broken ankle. It is broken in two places," continued the doctor. “and you will have :1 great deal to endure. You were walking when you fell: then you are near home. I Sllppnst‘?" "A very comprvlmnsn'vo all.” said vho donor. Then he said to him<elf that the trouble had been caused by :1 wo- manâ€"he could not guess how or what. “Yes." replied Sir Clinton: "it w a. terrible trouble, :1 great Shnck. drove me mad for a few hours. and. trying to walk it off, I fellâ€"(hut is a} "You have had said. The doctor looked attcnxu'wly at him. He saw that his patient \\ as a man of condition. He noted with koon obs-r- vnu'on that he “ore an evening drws, and had some valuable diamond ctuds. “You have had a great shock." he "This is a bad accident." he said; “your ankle is broken in th places. Mow did you fall?" “I do not rcummhe'r,” said Sir Clinton. “N0," chimed in Daisy. “he does not remember anything about it. He mys some great trouble had driven him mad." “Yesâ€"my mother and I. We will take are of you unmi] you are well." Then Mrs. Eme came in with tho ioctorau shrewd, kind. clever man. He examined his patient carefully. “I am so sorry," She said: “I wish I could bear half or all of it for you." Simple, almost child-like words; but they soothed him. It was very swwt. after all, to be cured torâ€"to be spokrm so gently to. “It I am we me?” he said. I-Ie lay quite stfll, wondering if what she said were true. Then. as thought and reason became clearer. he began to perceive it. Hot thrills of pain >eem- ed to clasp him with an iron hzmd~~pmi~n that deepened and grew greater every moment. It was so bad. at last. that it forced a moan from his lips. Daisy belt her innocent head over him you win stay with The months that followed were like a rusting-mint in Sir Clinton's lilo: he suffered terribly, and was quite nnalylu 10 Milk. How many long Weeks spelt-t in that little white room he s» n ceased to count. lle watched the llu\\' . 01‘s fade, the red rm rs droop ullC' by ”at; and die; he watch» the \thi‘ l ‘wl .1 he s» it that the 11' 153-" Ill» more dull; he “an ted the Mia. mor fade into autttwmâ€"tln- sun: little birds ceased. lIe know , a: :ne corn was growing ripe in the H: lie heard Daisy speak «.t‘ the fruit that “1H in- 5411-! 1"th ripening in the trees. and still he was unable to move. The autumn tailtnl. and the winter set in. Lying lllt'l'e. he watched the snow fall. 11c llt'ill‘tl the Wailing of the wind among the grunt. forest trees; he know that outside all was bleak and COlll. It was not until the spring began to come that he Cullld avalk out, and much had happened lJL“ ftro then. Lying more. often alone, thinking of his own thoughts. Swimsâ€"'1‘; his own dreams, he was lwttor altlc to N-lilllllte his love for Lady May. lle saw that it had indeed been his lifeâ€"- that or his love slain. so cruelly sin it, nothing remained to hint: he saw that he had loved her with a dovotion pa .9. ing the love of men. 110 had staked his whole life on this one issue. and it had failed. He' felt little intowt in L't'llillg Well. \Vhot was he to do? He .litl not care to go out into the \"Jl'ld anti take his place in it again: the lit- tlo room was a‘ raven of rest. He Won- tiered himself that he could llOt.vln some measure, forgot her: every mtin- ttte, slewing or waking. her face was before him; every minute her voiv sounded in his ears. Once he startiel Daisy; it was in the summer time. when he lay so very ill. She stood near the window, where the sunbeams fell «In her, and seemed to crown her wish gold; they brightened her fair hair and race until they made her look like the plOlld lady he had seen under the light, with her golden hair nnd shining gems. [1’0 Bn t inhuman.) A Doocripuon of the Progress of Tho! Formation. Along the shores of ocean: and otbo large bodies of water, especially in tbt region of the estuaries of large river: there are usually immensa masses 0 shifting and. It is not within the «on: of this article to dosutlDB the formatlot or more sand banks. It is sumclent u my. therefore, that they usually begin a long sand bars behind which there on sheets of still water. These shallow boys in the course of time, fill up with mud becoming salt marshes intersected b: thoroughfares, salt ponds and windlnt creeks. In the meantime. the long, fin sand bars have developed Into sea islands or beaches. When the tide falls, the can: of the shore, ground into powder by tht waves and dried by the sun and wind, it blown in the direction of the provalllul winds, usually inland. The sand move like snow, until it meets an obstruction when a dune, or sandhill. torml. equal in height to the obstacle. A section through a dune stWs a beautilul stratl flcation. the sand having been deposlned in thin layers, always varying. however [fish the nature of the sand, the voice“! of the wind, and the obstructions, largl or small, which it encounters. Thou dunes are not hurled bodily by 31" breezes. but little by lintlo, forming .nd rolorming, forward and backward, changing, in fact, with every caprloo oi the wind, gentle and almost lmporcoptlbll during a light sea. breeze, but a stinglnd. blinding landhlast in times at gale In spite, bowovsr, of all those minor changes, the sand mass is generally mov- ing, perhaps only a few inches 8 your. 1' the direction of the prevailing winds A great don! depends upon the do! winds. in that at night the and Is damp and firmer. And so mountains of and are formed, which are often held “mom"! by hardy plants, which have gained- precarious footing, but; which sooner or later, unless watched and fixed. bozln to ohifc, engulfing meadows, farmlands. lakes. bays. inlets, In fact, anythlnlr un- lble to check its courso.â€"Jobn Glflord ll Elnmwrlng Mugaztno tor Joanna. He smiled at her simpdc notiuns, re member-lug that the housakeepor :-.: Eas'tond had just such a sum for her wages. So it wa> settled; Mr. Charm was to have me sole use of the 111th. parlor and bedroom. and the mistress of the house was to give him all the care aud_at:temtion possible. “T shuuld be-qu-irc \\'.i ling Sir Clinton, “to live und die fate had something else in “That is n inn-u “‘99k," she vufj. xiety com me, sir. .' :w J'vally anuru 11'! u .1 9 So he decided in his own mind to 1*:- main unknown. More than mm- the ductow asked. curiously, whether he wopld not like to communicate with his friends. The answm- was always~nu; he preferred being alone and in p-lece. lie saw that Mrs. Brno and her daugh- ter were poor. He called the moaher 1.» his side one day wln-n tin-y were alune and made arungemcnts with 201-. He told her that the doctor T‘llULLJlll it pro?» able he should be the-re fur months yet. and he shuul-i A. . ‘ r her mind at ease. 'l‘hvn ‘w 1, , . such a liberal uffur mu: rile , ‘-'w\.r xuun's eyes slmn‘ wi“. “an“ . v4 --.\Ir. (,‘liflon. ','7\'i(lemtly these kiwi people, who were doing so much I‘mâ€" him, had no idea of his rank: tlwrvt‘w‘z It was not from dot-Tar"- ””1” m rank or title, that th:'-' “"379 5" kind. Then, in his own ,..2ud, ho formed a. romantic little ppmâ€"he would new-r tell them «no ne really was. but he would confer almost endless benefits on them; they should alwaya~ thinkof h'm as Mr. Clifton. the zen-{lemma they had nursed and cared for. He grew to like the name. it fell so sweetly from Dalsy's lip-s; it was pretty and music“, He liked it, too. because it never I'v- minded him of his past life. To luv-.- hcurd himself called 54‘ Clinton by the sweet lips of a pretty girl would have been a shock to him. “I should not have been surprised," said Mrs. lime, “if he had been a. noble- manâ€"am: looks like one.” "1 um glad." said Daky, musinzly, "(hut he is not a nobleman. he would have seamed so very far above u<.” “So he is now. child," said Mrs. Ema â€"“as far as heaven from earth." Sir Clinton was slightly amused \vhun he bend that n;\\' name given :0 him Daisy knew nothing or tiths; ewn the word Clinton was new to her. She thought he said Mr. Emma. and she told her mother that their patieu‘t's name was a very pretty oneâ€"it was Mr. Clifton. "I wish, Daisy,” saéd Mrs. Erna, one morning, “that you would ask the gm:- t‘lomquhis name: it is so awkward :11- w:.ys saying 'he' and 'his.’ Do ask him." Sir Clinton was very ill that morning; 1th excess of pain had made him fever- ish. When Daisy bout over him and. in her soft, coodng voice. asked him would he tell her his name, he said. "Sir Clinton." “Nay." he replied. "all women m not. I know some too proud and tau lofty ever to think or such things." “Then they are not true women,” said Daisy, naively. As she stood there, blushing and smiling, her pure, fair face brightem-d with his few Words of praise. be con- tl'astod her with that other woman who had broken his heartâ€"the one all tend- erness, simplicity and sweetness: the other a]! pride, hauteur, and beauty. The very extremes of womanhoodâ€" swwt, simple Daisy, and proud Lady May. “Am I?” asked Daisy. with a pleased iiifle smile. “I think all women are by nature.” “You are a capital sick mime” said, faintly. Then, an hour later, she brought him tea. She bathed h’Is hands and face in the most clear. delicious spring water, and she placed a great vase of roses where he could enjoy their fragrance. She (half raised him in her strong. white arms as shv Spoke. He felt that he could have rested his head on that kindly shoulder, and have wept like a child. “That is my mother's favorite lemon tea," snhe said;“1he recipe for making it has been in our family for many years." DANG Enors INTIM AC!" CHAPTER XIV. 30411 CHAS. W. RICHARDS, Publisher Prop. and die here:" but else in store for [We me every shadow of an- "1’ :xy excu é sure thought J in thin layers. always varying. however, filth the nature of the sand. the velocity of the wind, and the obstructions, large or small. which it encounters. The” dunes are not hurled bodily by 3b. breezes. but little by little. forming and relorming. forward and backward. changing, in fact, with every caprice of the wind, gentle and almost imperceptible during a light sea breeze. but a stinginfl. blinding landoblast in times of sale In spite, however, of all these X11100? changes, the sand mass is generally mov- ing. perhaps only a few inches a year. in the direction of the prevailing winds A great deal depends upon the day winds. in that at night the sand in damp and firmer. And so mountain: of and 3" formed, which are often held tampon“, by hardy plants, which have gained ‘ precarious footing, but which sooner or later, unless watched and fixed. bet": 3° ehift, engulfing meadows, farmlandfl. lakes. bays. inlets, in fact, anything "I" A Deecripuon of the Progress of Their Formation. Along the shores of oceans and 01:11.: large bodies or water, especially in the region of the estuaries or large rivers, there are usually immense masses of shifting sand. It is not within the «one of this article to describe the formation or mess sand banks. It is snmcient to say. therefore, that they usually begin as long sand bars behind which there no sheets of still water. These shallow boys. in the course of time, fill up with mud. becoming salt marshes intersected by thorouzhfaros, salt ponds and winding creeks. In the meantime. the long, flat sand bars have developed into sea islands, or beaches. When the tide falls, the sand of the shore, ground into powder by the waves and dried by the sun and wind, is blown in the direction of the prevailing winds, usually inland. The sand moves like snow, until it meets an obstruction. when a dune, or sandhill. forms. equal in height to the obstacle. A section through a dune shrJWS a beautiful strati- fication. the sand having been deposited -, -- En“ Buflulo Ens: Burial”. N 1 mm] 0113-1114;; won with. :1 fairn' 31-11“ ublu mums the mt (NHL The: sunply m the demand mod 31 or On"the fut we]; {at welLflnishr-d I Miss Perkléighâ€"Oh. I know itâ€"also that you are one of the first membeu at lt!â€"Chicago News. sIm-k: red Winn-r. Us In; No. 1 Nag-(horn. mix-Eng, 65 1d: com. 35 “Qt-d. new; peas. in Iota-d; pork. fins: lax-d. 29s; mlluw, 225 6d: bacon. heavy. l.c.. 27s 6d: light. 275; short rut. 28$: cheese, white. 495 6d; colored. 493 Nd. ‘ [JVQI‘DOOIâ€"CCOSU'E at when: steady at 66 3d for red winter. ed umwr mun-es. 6. WIN for March and In: Sad for May. Spot maize. 3; 10191 for new. Futures 35 101,56 for old Jam. 3s 81,4“! ior new Munch. m 8% for May. Flour, 19s 3d. Gruped the Opportunity. Miss Prlmleyâ€"Ah, yes; I come of u very old family. wiro uumublo $5 to $5.15; good to chat“, 1.1.) :0 #3: fair to good $4.50 to $4.75. ' ‘holco to ('SIZ‘H. $4.40: 300d to $4 to $4.13: common 10 good. $2.50 . . The close was smadv. but than were quite a number 0! decks left unsold British Markets. Liwer'oooL Jan. 16.-â€"(12.30.)â€"N0. 1 031.. no §'â€"' b _ .m x.) WIS: good to best {at heifer; $4 10 $4.25: {air 10 good heifers, $3.75 {A 5.; wind far cows and heifers. good to cho'ce $3.75 to 5!: In: Cows. good to nest. $3.25 to $3, I: («,nmmn to good do._ 2.25 to $2.75: slovkm‘fi choice to extra quality. $3.85 to $4.10; (-mnmnn to 20nd du.. $3.60 to $3.85; Jersey smokers, $2.75 to $3: SIG-ck heifcrs $3 to Slim; feeders. good to exxra. $4 to $4.30: Common to L'nod. $3.75 to 54: fresh cows. chalet; to ox‘m gmd bag; $50 to $55; good to chuiw. $42 to $46; shipping cows. $24 to $3”: sprin ers, good to extra. $35 to $45; culws, (.- nwe 10 extra, $7.50 to 7.75' 20m! to ch0ice_ $7 to $7.50; ht-avy fed swer calves. good color, $4 to $4.59; common. 5:; to $3.75. Show; :1:le Lamb<~Thp nQ-ri ~,_ “rn; "- (1-5 1w: («mpgn‘ed “‘iJl 15.32) 175m" Pd 9‘?" “ Show) cew-h'e : '34 loads basis of Eu" numuu Cattle Market. , Ifiax‘. Runny”, y, y" Jan. 16‘â€"Ca:.ueâ€""rhe 10::‘1 :m-r ._,\ won: about 160 loads, and win; :1 fuirn; .1- 1H'e demand for the denu' mm. Ludut." mt market was In good post- mud, Thu >1“:va uI export (-atlde was light. the (if-mum} mod and prices quatably high- wr rur'nu- m: weL-n'mshed steer-x. Handy rat m-erfinhhcd butcher grades Were in amin- ~upply. but madame demand. The hultrm and common kinds were weak and Ion-er. There “'er cniy 11 loads of Canada mock-ms and :1 umdsrate supply of Michi- sn. and with :1 good demand prices were higher. Gqu to b051, smooth, In: export ~1ule. $3.50 io $5.73; good to best, SLSO to $5.50; (-xxmn bulls, 54 to $4.50: good to t-huice blllt‘hlr steers. $4.65 10 $5.10: 0913' mom to 3.91331: bulls. $3.75": to $4; fat bulls. chatnice, and culls f Lambs sold at from ‘Vt’l‘e sold at tram hard thewi.) 0 80 .... Toronto. n-d.. 0 7” Toronto St. Lawrence Market. Receipts of 2min and “the: farm pruduco won- light 10-day 170 bushnls of grain and 20 loads of ha."- VVheat cash-r: whim. 1m 1m~hex~r sold a-t 730: 20088. 100 11mph» at Tllhgc. Barley 93$; 01w mud sold at 47¢ per bushel. Oats steady; 20; bushels sold at 34c to 3414.0. hard -. . 77. Minneapolis Tprnmo, No Chicago .. va York Milwaukee St. Louis ‘ Toledo .. lielrnfl .. Duluxh, No‘ Normorn Duluth. No‘ To x-L-n-u‘pizulate, the visible supp, a when: 'u Canada and the United Suuu- w- zc-ther vim that afloat to Europe, 5 .34,- 735.000 bushels. against 55.198000 1) we): a week 3420. and 70.808.000 {bushels :1 ya: 320. . As cummared with a week ago. the ”sible sumuy o! win-m in (Tmndn and the 111494 States has mama-mu 57.2000 bushelg; 11m: 0! corn has inwrcawd 2.427.000 bu-heh‘. Md that of oars Ines increased 388.000 bum-g» Chicago Wheat (‘luwd Hither {or the Day, But, Liverpool Beginning: Strong Ilium-d m aulurduy’u Prices. Munday Evening. Jan. 18. leermol when: z'uLures were strung early 10-day, but ward on‘ again later. cica- 1m: unchanged l'x'mu Saturday‘s fiml ngurm. Paris when: udvuncml 5 to 15 ('euuznes x3.»- d3;!:._‘\'JLD xluur up .3 cull-mes. (.‘thazo when! ' Iuturvs upened fairly straw: today, but closed only ' to Kc per bushel abow Saturday’s quota- tlons. Fo‘ lowing are the closing prices to-dnv Important centres: wads :X'mh 53‘ and 1; M "3" fine «is of EUQ q\7':hlv.. IH price: was ‘ " u-‘f rancv "meted ,. 3w» Maury or the Merino: ml‘z‘luo v.1: a good demand mm trade lambs by the tenders. JG}; left but a narrow margin of differ- :-e in Drkes. Lxxmhs (twice to «Kim. re quotable $5 to $ ] : good In ohmic», :.34 Leading “Zhent Market In. Visible and Afloat. SAND DUNES. .1” 071 0 71 u 731:: 1.0671/'06<ng o 701/ ...070% STEADIER. 0 70 Casn. Jan. Mar. Ju r. $.... $0 [1% $0 ‘33 11 ulâ€"1 ocsv -~ .1 01.3% 00924 i!U.Lâ€"No. :_1_ca1., no COO 3‘4 0 705a