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NASHNAL NATIGNA ‘ERS FAR .5ERS FAEMER E "I (”is ' Mi? CUMPANY ’NTREAL. sroakk. E AND ROPE. youwfiactogctit. BS HARBOWS PAINT {00F PAINT r5 Watch C... form a. Faction if you and KCHANTS, Lot RD MINING EX- ad for Cat-dogma. (50.. HBASTFORD. .dny tired, now I m lcr'a Compound In: . 'juw'l nan-u- -v1- Xovomnzm wow. 3:" “diction. Ind I yup gunfight-finding” 'vule‘ 1! that mean on. 3mm on And an mach h tn am y u "proâ€"mud. mo oxpnu In!“ ‘15 cums “dub,” .aINEINUun 4 VA N fimMMmMMU "MTRMTRMH What overwhelming: commentary you the Bible, what re enforcement for patri- archs, prophets, apostles and Christ, what distributions of Scriptural know'iedg‘e‘of all nations in the paintings and engrav- ings therefrom of Holman Hunt’- “Ghrist In the Temple,” Paul Vemnese's “Magdalen Washing the Feet of Christ.” Raphael’s “Michael the fluenmgolp’.’ Albert Dnrer’s “Dragon 0'1: ,thé Apocin 1 so,” Michael Anmolo‘s “Plague of the fiery Serpents," 'Iintorett‘d’s“ “Flight Into Egypt.” Rnhens’ “Descent From. the Cross,” Leonardo Du Vinci’s “Last Supper,” Claude's “Queen ;o£..:;hgba,’.’ Bellini’s “Madonna" at Milan: Qz'cdgnd’S‘ “Lost Judgment” and hnnglrgtlflhtmilee of pictures, if they were put in line, illustrating, displaying, dramatizing, irradiating Bible truths until-[the _Scflp- tures are not to-day so muchfonyaper as on canvas. not so much in ink‘as in ’all the wlors of the spectrum. 13;.133 ' forth from Strasbnrg, Germany, there. camea child that was to eclipse in‘ speed‘an’d boldness anything and everything that [the world had ever seen since the first ; color appeared on the sky at the creation. Paul Gustave Dore. At ll years of age he published marvelous lithographs rot -t3__ -1 __L.... I.“ All! It is not in a spirit of prudery, but backed up by God‘s eternal truth. when 1 say that you how; no right to hang in your art rooms or your dwelling houses that which would be offensive to good people if the figures pictured were alive in your parlor and the guestsof your housahold. A picture that you have to hang in a somewhat secluded piece, or that in a public hall you cannot with a. group of friends deliberately stand before and discuss ought to have a knife stabbed into it at the top and cut clear through to the bottom and a. stout finger thrust in on the right side. ripping clear through to the left. Pliny i-z‘e elder lost his life by going near anon-2h to see the inside of Vesuvius. and the further you can stand off from the burning crater of sin, the ' better. Never till the books of the last. ,‘day are opened shall we know what has {been the dire harvest of evil pictorial: end unbecoming art galleries. Despoil n .mun’s imagination. and he becomes- a gmere carcass. The show windows 01“ En;- lish and American cities, in which the .low theatres have sometimes hung long dines of brazen actors and actressesin :Ityle insulting to all pro rig-tr. have “ made a broad pas. to death for multi- strides of people. Bur so haven)! the other guts been at times subomed of eyil. How {has music been bedraggled? Is tm-re any 5 place so low down in dissolm-oness that. Huto it has not been carried David's in: p land. Handel‘s organ. and Gottsuhaik‘s jpiano, and Ole Bull's Violin, and the gflute. which, though name-d after so in- isignlficant 3 thing as th- Sicilian eel. {which has seven $9033 on the side. ill»;- ;flutc holes, yvt for thousands of years has had an exalted missiui? Archim‘~ ture, born in the ham-t of him who made the worlds, under iii amine and :wross its floom, what l‘ucchannliun xerelries have been emu-ted! it is not against any of these arts that they have bee.) so led into captivity! - ~ “my... _.._ . his own. Saying nothing of whatnhe did fob: Milton's “Paradise Lost.” enfblazdn- in: it on the attention of the-wonldgho axes up the Book a? bookfifiiél Rim}! What a poor world this would be if it were not for What my text calls “pleas- ant pictures!" 1 refer to your memory and mine when I ask if your knowledge of the Holy Sax iptnrcs has not been mightily augmenml by the woodcuts or engravings in the old family Bible which father an?! mother Trad out of and laid on the table in the 01.1 homestead when you were boys and girls. The Bible Icenes which we all carry in, our minds were not got from the Bible typology, but from the Bible pictures. To prove the truth of it in my own case. the other day I took up the old family Bible which I inherited. Sure emugh, what I have carried in my miml of Jacob’s ladder was exactly the Bible engravings of Jacob's ladder. and so with Samson carrying ofl the gates of Gaza, Elisha restoring the b‘hunummitezs' ion; the massacre of the innocents, -.,Glui’n't bless- ing little children. the crucifixion and the last judgment. My idea of all these is that of the old Bible engravings, which-I scanned before I could read avvord."z-’I»'lmu‘s~ is true with nine-tenths of zqu. 111 could [wing open the door of yom’"foreh'ends, I would find that you are walking picture cries. The great intelligence abroad about the Bible did not come, from the general reading of the book. for the majority of the people read it but little, 11 they read it at all. but all the sacred scenes have been put before the great mama, and not printer’s ink, butthe pictorial art, must have the «amid-tho achievement. First. painter’dpéndil-for the favored few and then enguver’l plate or woodcut for millions on millions! 'l’hm. the artist’s 1;:- mil and the engraver's knife have sometimes been made subservi- ent. to the kinztlum of tha bad is frankly “knitted. Alter “washes and scorin were removed from llvt‘cztianeum and Pompeii, me walls of those cities discovered to the explorers a degradation in art which con- not; be exaggerated. Satan and all his lnxps have always wanted the fingering of the - easel. They Would rather have possession of that may; the arc of prinn~ lug. for types are not so potent and quiet: for evil as pictures. The powers _of darkness think they have gained. afiri- numb. and they have when .11} .some re- spectable parlor or public art gallery they can hang a. canvm mubzu'rassin: to the good, but. fascinusing to the evil.- Washington, June 18,â€"Dr. Talmagn shows in this dimo;..se how url: may be- come one of the mightiest agencies for the elevation and salvation of 1-110 human race. The text is Isaiah H. 12. 16. “The ---.. u in nu: u. lad. JV. any of the Lord of hosts shall be ‘ ‘ upgp all pk mun: pictures, ’1 A Mighty Agent for the Elevation and Salva- tion of, the .Human Race- Bev.,Dr. Talmage Preaches on the influence of Pleasant Pictures in the Development'of Christian Character-- Encouragement to Artists. THE MESSEGN OF ART VOL. VI. NO. 26. $1 per annum. Famiiian Bib!" t {I PP.“ Uni-IV soon lung stro: ing mon gall‘ “cit endl two othe I ‘ There needs to be a concerted effort for” the suffering artists of America, not ‘ sentimental discourse about what we owe toartists, but contracts that will give them a livelihood; for I am in full sym- pathy with. the ‘Christian farmer who i was very busy gathering his fall apples j and some one asked him to pray for a. . §~poor family, the father of which had ' broken his leg. :vnd the busy farmer said: i : “I cannot stop now to pray, but you can ; roc' ‘[ gO'down into the cellar and get some: 50w ' corned beef and butter and eggs and ' are potatoes; that is all I can do now.” ; Emfe Artists may wish for our prayers, but; ture ' they- also want practical help from men 1 The who can give them work. You have heard ' a ( 1 scores of Sermons for all other kinds of . 531% zsufl‘ering men and women, but we need will sermons that make pleas for the suffering whix men and women of American art. Their l W work is more true to nature and life; than some of the masterpieces that have ; nicm become immortal on the other side of the liture see. but it' is the fashion of Americans to ' iotl mention foreign artists "and to know ! End ‘ little or nothing about our own Copley? wh ' and Allston and Inmzm and Greenough ; <3th and Kensett. Let the afl‘luent fling out of ; worl their windows and into the back yard ; of u .valueless daubs on canvas and call in ; ioti these splendid but unrswarded men and p '_ tell them to adorn Your walls not only i salve ‘with that which shall please the taste. I corn“ hut enlarge the minds and improve the Ethat‘ morals and save the souls of those who‘. mak‘ gaze upon them. All American cities need = or - 1 great galleries of art, not only open an- I hoop]: '5 nually for a few days on exhibition, but ; I res ' which éhull stand. open all the year? for I ; round, and from early morning until 10 war( . o’clock at night, and tree to ell-who l cell i I would come and go. i of a ! What a preparation for the wear and ' he 1 ' tear of-the day}: five minutes’ look in ents‘ '{thw'morning at "some picture that will‘ in 2; "Open a door into some larger realm than i g‘ that in rwhieh our population daily 1 5:31 drn'ddee. ’01- what a good thin the halt ‘ 10v" 8000 â€"one of admiration for the greatness of his soul, and the ether of commiseration for the needs of his body. But so it has been in all departments of noble work. Some of the mightixst have teen hardly bestead. Oliver Goldsmith had such a big patch on the coat over his left breast that when he went anywhere he kept his hat in his hand clam 1y prmsed over the patch. The world- renox nod Bishop Asbury had a. salary of $54 a year. Pointers are not the only ones who have endured the lock of appreciation. Let men of wealth take under their patronage the suffering men of art. They lift no complaint; they make no strike for higher- wages. But with a keenness of nervous organization which almost always characterizes genius these artists suffer more than any one but God can realize. mine. was pi~2kcd our. of a lumber games. Grew were the trials of Uuentin Mansys, who toiled on from b1 u ‘smith’s an~vil till. us a painter. he won wide recogni- tion. The first. omissionaries to Mexico made the fatal Mistake of destroying pictures, for the 10:3 of which art and religion muss ever lament. But. why go so far back when in this year of our Lord to be u painner except in rare ex- ceptions, means p m my and neg leot. poorly fed, poorly clad, poorly housed, bcmuso poorly appreciated? When I hear a man is a painter. I have two feelings wms they did wixh then? colors. The oldest; picture in England. 3 nor- train of Chaucer. though now ofgreat Queen Elizabeth 1: was the habit of some people to sfimnd much. of their time in knocking pictures to pieces. In the reign of Chm-lea I. it. was ordered by Parlia- mens that. all pictures of Christ; be burn- ed. Painters Were so badly treated and humiliated in the beginning of the - ighceennh century that they were 10 wer- 43.1 clear down out of the subliminy of rm is art and obligni to give accounts of ' The world. and the church ought‘to come to the higher anpreciation of the divine mission of pictures. yet the authors of them have generally been left to semi-starvation. W est. the great painter, toiled. in unappreciation till, be- ing a great skater. while on the ice he formed the acquaintance of General Howe of the Englishman-v. who, through coming: to‘admira West as a clever skater, graduallv came to appreciate as much that which be accomplished by his hand as by his heel. Poussin, the mighty painter. was pursued and had nothing with which to deft mi himself against the mob but the artist‘s purnfolio. which he held ovev his heal to new 0:! the stones hllf‘lmi :1: him. ’l‘ha- pictures of Richard -\\ ilson of Et'-f‘:‘.:li‘.d were sold for fabulous sums o.” munuy after his death. but the living puinter was glad to get for his “Alcyone” a. piece 70! Stilto'n cheese. From 1640 to 1643 there were 4.600 pic- tyres “11m!” dcsvmyed. In the reign of It is no more the word of God, when put before us in printer‘s ink than by skillful laying on of colors or designs on metal through incision or corrosion. What a. lesson in :zzomls was presented by Hogarth, the pniutur. in his two pic- tures, “The Rakes Progress.” and “The Miser’s Feast.” and by. Thomas Cole's engravings of the “Voyage of Human Life" and~tbe “Course of Empire” and by Turner‘s "Slave Ship!" God in art! Christ in art! Pntriarchs, prophets and epostles 1n art! Angels in art! Heaven 1n art! ‘ of literature, the Bible, and in his pic- tures, ”The Cmuiun of Light.” “The Trial of Abraham's Faith." “The Burial of Sarah,” "Joseph Sold by His Breth- ren," “The Brazen Sex-pent," “808.2 and Ruth," “David and Goliath." ”The Transfiguration,“ "The Marriage in Cans,” “Babylon 19311011" and 205 Scrip- tural scenes igr-‘nll, fish a. boldness and a. grasp and . “moan supernatural afllatus that, mak 'tho hour: thb and the brain reel and: the tears mum and the cheeks blanch and the emim- nature quake with tile tremendous thingioi‘ God and eternity and the dead * I 31.“le staggered down the steps of thn Brzm‘mu Art Gallery under the power of I’m-3’s “Christ Leav- lng the Pmetoriuux.“ Profess you to be a. Christian man 02‘ woman, and see no divine missxcn in M? and acknowledge you no obngution cit-her in thanks to Goa or man? The Lr‘solll of Art. g Furthermore. let all reformers and all I Sabbath school teachers and all Chri~tian ; Workers realize that. if they would be I effective for good, they must make pic. I tures. if not by chalk on blackboard: or ! kindergarten designs or by pencil on canvas. then by words. Arguments are i soon forgotten. but pictures, whether in language or in colors. are what produce stronger effects. Christ was always tell- ing what a. thing was like, and his ser- mon on the mount was a great picture gallery, beginning with a sketch or a “city on a hill that cannot be hid,” and ending with e. tempest beating against . two houses, one on the rock and the other on the sand. The parable of the : prodigal son, a picture: parable of the s sewer. who went forth to sow, a picture; . parable of the unmercii’ul servant n pio~ ? ture; parable of the ten virgins. a. pic- .: ture: parable of the talents, a picture. a The world wants pictures, and the appetite begins with the child. who con- 5 sents to :0 early to bed if the mother : will sit beside him and rehearse a story. 5 which is only a picture. When we see how much has been accomplished in secular directions by Ipicturesâ€"Shakespearc’sutragedies, a pic- ture; Victor Hugo’n‘ writings, all pictures; John Ruskin’s-and Tennyson’l and Longfellow’e works. all picturesâ€" why not enlist, as far as pessible. for our churches and schools and rcformatory work and evangelistic endeavor the power of thought that can be put into word pictures, if not pictures in color? Yea, why not all young: men draw for them- selves on paper. with pan or pencil, their coming: career. of virtue it they prefer that of vice if they prefer that? After making the picture. 'put it on the wall or paste it on the fly leaf of some favorite book. that you may have it before you I read of a man who had been executed for murder.” and the ’ jailer found after- ward a picture made on the wall of the cell by the assassm’s own hand, a picture of a flight of stairs. 0n the lowest stop he had written. “Disobedience to par ents;” on the second. “Sabbath break- ing;” on the third, “Drunkeunoss and gambling;” on the' fourth. “Murder," and on the fifth and top step, “A gal- lews’] _11 that man had 'made that picture As the day of the lord of hosts, accord- ing to this text. will scrutinize f_the pio- tures. I implore all parents to see that in their households they have neither in book nor newspaper nor on canvas any- thing that will deprave. Pictures are no lonzer the exclusive possession of the afliuent. There is not a respectable home in these cities that has not specimens of woodcut or steel engraving. if not of painting. and your whole family will feel the moral uplifting or depression. Have nothing on your wall or in books that will familiarize the young with scenes of cruelty and wassail; have only those sketches made by artists in elevated moods and none of those scenes that seem the product of artistic delirium tremens. Pictures are not only a strong but a. universal language. The human race is divided into almost as many languages as there are nations. but . the pictures may speak to people of all tongues. Volapuk many have hoped, with little reason. would become a‘ worldwide language; but the pictorial is always a worldwide language, and print-{ ers’ types have 'no emphasis compared with it. We say that children are fond of pictures; but notice any man when he takes up a book. and you will see that the first thing that he looks at is the‘ pictures. Have only those in your house that appeal to the better nature. One engraving has sometimes decided an eternal destiny. Under the title of fine arts there have come here from France a class of pictures which elaborate argu- ment has tried to prove lrreproachable. They‘lwould disgrace a barroom. and they need to be confiscated. Your children will carry the pictures of their father's house with them clear on to the grave. and, passing that marble pillar, will take them through eternity. hour or artistic opportunity on the way home in the evening from exhaustion that demands recuperation for mind and soul as well as body! Who will do for the city where you live what W. W. Corcoran did for Washington and' what others have done for Philadelphia and Boston land New York? Men of wealth, if you lam too modest to build and endow such in. place during your liretime. why not go i to your iron safe and take out your last 1will and testament and ‘make a codioil , that shall build for the city or your real- ulcnce-a throne for American art? Take isomc of that money that would otherwise 1spoil your children and build an art gal- ‘lery that shall associate your name for- ‘evcr not only with the great masters of painting who are gone, but with the great masters who are trying to live, and also Win the admiration and;lovo of tens of thousands of people, who, unable to have flue pictures ‘of their own; would be advantaged. By your benefactions build your own monuments and not leave it to the whim .of~:”others. Some of the best people sleeping in. Greenwood have no monuments at all, or some crumbling stones that in a few years will let the rain wash out name and epitaph, while some men, whose death was the abate- ment of a nuisance, have a pile of Aber- deen granite high enough for a king and eulogies enough to embarrass a seraph. Oh, man of large wealth, instead of. leaving to the whim of others your monumental commemoration and epi- tanholozv. to be looked at when Deo e are going: to and fro at the buria of others, huilu right down in the heart of our great city. or the city where you live, an immense free reading room, or a free musical conservatory. or a free art gal; lery, the niches for sculpture and the walls abloom with the rise and {all of nations, and lessons of courage for the disheartened. and rest for the weary. and life for the dead; and 150 years from now you will be wielding influences in this world for good. How much better than white marble, that chills you it you put your hand on it when you touch it in: the cemetery, would be a monument in colors. in beaming eyes, in living posses- sion, in splendors which under the chan- dclxer would be glowing and warm, and looked at by strolling groups with cats- logue in_ hand on the January night when the necropolis where the body sleeps is all snowed under! Power of Pictures. The tower of David was hung with 1,000 dented shields of battle; but you, oh man of wealth, may have a grander tower named after you, one that shall be hung not with the symbols of carnage, but with the victories of that art which was so long ago recognized in my text as “pleasant pictures.” 02:, the power of pictures! I cannot deride, as some. have done, Cardinal Mazarin, who, when told that he must die, took his last walk through the art gallery of his palace say- ing: “Must I quit all this? Look at that Titian! Look at that Correggio! Look at that deluge of Caracci! Farewell, dear pictures!” “OH; WAD SOME POWER THE GIFTIE GI'E US, TAE SEE DORSELS AS ITHERS SEE US.” OMEMEE 'ONT., THURSDAY, JUNE 22, 1899. Liverpool Mnrkotn. Liverpool, June ISLâ€"On Saturday prices closed as follows: Wheat. an‘. steady: Walls, 63 1,1411; No. 2 R.W., (3s Kd; No. 1 Northern. spring. 65 4d. Futures steady; July 6: 1%d. September 68 8%6, December 65 434d. Maize, snot firm, mixed American. 33 5%(1 new, Rs 6%:1 old. Futures quiet: Jul-y 3s 53; , September 3s 6%d. Flour, Minn. 1155 3d. Antwerp is the princxpal market of Belgium for paints and colors. London, Ont. June 19. â€"At t(hre (house market here on Saturday 2.251wxesy first half June make, were (bourdcd. Sales: 782 boxes. as follows: 377 at 8310, 845 at 8 5-160, 160 at8%c; bidding: brisk. Canton, N.Y., June 19,â€"Two thousand twd hundred cheese. large and small, sold 80 to 8%0; 1,400 tubs butter 17§4c Belleville, Ont, June 19.â€"Twenty-one factories boarded 1,860 White cheese; 1,620 boxes sold at from 8%0 to 8 9-100. Cornwall. Ont, June ISLâ€"Thom were 1,520 boxes Canadian white cheese ofl‘ered on the Cornwall Board here on Saturday; with the exception of 75 boxes, all sold at 8 7-160. Cowunsville, Que., June 19,â€"At the cheese board on Saturday 34 facnorics ofl'ercd 1,828 boxes cheese; one cruamury oflered 125 boxes butter; 17%0 bid on butter; no sales; 80 to 8%c offered; tonal sold, 1,760 boxes. Cheese Mun-Reta. Ogdensburg, N.Y., June 19.-â€"Twenty lots; 1.733 boxes offered on Saturday: 196 sold at 8%0; 8%0 bid for balance, but refused; afterwards, on street, all sold atSXo. Watertown, N. Y.. June 19.â€"Checse market on Saturday active; 6.300 boxes sold at. 80 to 8%c, 8993 ruling; bulk for Montreal. Lambs. choice to extra». Lambs. good no choice . Lambs, common to fair. Hogs.medium and heavy Hogs, Yorkers. . ....... Pigs ............ ; . . . . . East Buflalo Cattle Market. Cattle, choice 10 cum, .sa') Cattle. ‘41.] ves , Sheep. Sheep, good to choice. . choice to extra. . good no choice. .. 4 I‘d-b; 2.3 00 5’) To 50 30 i Milo] Chickens, per pair ..... Turkeys. per lb ....... Spring ducks, per pair. HAY AND STRAW. Hay, timothy per ton $10 00 to $11 50 Hay cl met, per ton . 7 00 9 00 Straw. sheaf per ton . 6 00 7 00 Shruw, loose per son 4 00 5 00 DA! RY PRODUC‘I‘S. Butter, lb. rolls. Butter, large rolls Eggs, new laid. , . Peas. bu ....... Oats. bu ....... Rye. bu ....... Buckwheat. bu. Chicago ...... s .. s .. s 773*; s 78*; New York... . . . . 832‘; 53 7:1 Milwaukee ._ 79 , _ St. Louis... 77% 79}; \1 Toledo ...... 79 793/3 bl Detroit ..... 79% 80% 81% Duluth, No. 1 Northern. . 7715 77% 77% Minneapolis, 74 7; 7435 74% Toronto. red. 71 Toronto. .\'o. lhardun-wy 85 Toronto St. Lawrence Market. Toronto. June l9.â€"Heceipts of farm produce were large on Saturdayâ€"1.100 bushels of grain, 20 loads of hay and one of straw. with the usual deliveries of butter, eggs and poultry. Potatoes very scarce. and prices firm at $1 to $1.10 per bag. Butter plentiful, selling at 13c to 150 per pound for the bulk, with a few choice dairy lots at 160 to 170, to special customers. Eggs were not nearly so plentiful, selling at 140 to 160 per dozen, with some few choice new-laid lots at 170. Pohltrv â€" Prices remained un- changed. Chickens sold at 50‘. to 800 per pair, and ducks at 750 to 90c per pair. GRAIN. Wheat. Wheat, Wheat. Wheat, Barley Prices on This Sldo Hither. But Fol-alga “'bea} Advice. Do No: Show Much Responseâ€"Tho Quotations. Chicago, June 19.â€"-’1‘he wheat market was firm on Saturday and quotations from the principal centres all show higher prices. Leudlng “'hent Market-I. Following were the closing price; as impormnn centres Saturday: Cash. June. July. Sept. before he took the first step, henever would have taken any of them! Oh. man, make another picture, a bright picture, an evangelical picture, and I will help you make it! I suggest six steps for this flight of stairs. On the first step write the Words, “A nature changed by the Holy Ghost and washed in the blood of the Lamb;” on the second step, “Indus- try and good companionship;” on the third step, “A Christian home with a family altar;” on the fourth step, “Ever widening usefulnessz" on the fifth step, ”A glorious departure from this world;” on the sixth step, “Heaven, heaven, hea- ven!" Write it three times, and let the letters of the one word he made up of banners, the second of coronets and the third of thrones! Promise me that you Will do that, and I will promise to meet you on the sixth step. it the Lord will through his parduning grace, bring me there too. Whine. bu. . . red. bu ........ Fife, spring. bu goose, bu ....... bu ............. MARKET REPORTS. POULTRY. ..$0 $0 60 10 cot-comm 26 95 95 I2 1/ 0400 5.00 4.4.8 40 00 25 ' 12% ul 153 14 69 4:3 62} 85 50 b5 to $0 to £0 to$ no $5 50 10 00 J 85 4 50 rubbi- CCC ooxc .000 0.. .00 5.0.0 6 00 “ADD-*QCC‘OV 00 :35 65 50 1t) 60 69 69 K 00 «l5 -l remain on board wages. I have not myself the faintest idea where he went. It was nearly three years before he returned 11) England; then he was so cgrri'bly changedâ€"«his face had grown Clinton want awayâ€"went by himself. taking no servants with him. I had been living with him three years then, and I knew no more than the others did about him. We all received a message thmugh his solicitors that we were to “No,” said Adolphe. “You seem cumi- ous over Lady Trevlyn, Mrs. Jordan,” he said. “I will tell you a]! I know about it, and flhis was told me by one of hen- hausehoid. Some years ago, mhen she was a young girl. they were engag- ed to be mamiedâ€"nhey were lovers; than uh'ey qmmmledâ€"I have never heard how gr whyâ€"they quarreied and parted. Sir Once she thought it was just possible all this might be a mistake. Perhaps Lady May was related to him; they might be cousins: she could not tell; she would ask. If they were related, ever so distantly, that would account for the friendship between them. " She might have known how passion- ately she loved her husband from the relief that even that faint susm’clon gave her. It gave her strength to have the room, to go down stairs and, talk to Adolphe again. All in the most casual way, she asked him if Sir Clinton had any relatives, in London; and the an- awer was “No.” Then she said: “Is not Lady May Trevlyn a distant mlative of his?” "And I cannot wonder at it,” She thought, with her rare sweetness of humility. “I am not to be compared to her; she is beautiful beyond most women. She is a lady, high-born, high- bred; I am only a country girl. No wonder that he loves her best. Why did he marry me!" How that day passed Daisy never knew. Under mtext of indisposiition, she remained in her own room: she could not have borne the sound of voice. or the sight or facesâ€"her heart was broken with the tragedy of her own life. Sometimes she thought she would creep home to the baby. and die without one word of what she had dis- covered. She was almost tired of the usedess, weary struggle. She could not hope now for his love not even in the long years to come; her child's pretty prattle and pretty ways would not purchase it for her. Besides which, she had no proper grounds for accusation. No one had told her that he loved the Lady May: after all, it was principally her own surmise. She was confident of it after seeing them together. Should she write a letter to Lady May, telling her that Sir Clinton Adair was marriedâ€" that he had a wife and child in France? She looked a proud and lofty lady. one who would scorn even to look at an anonymous lerbtevr. Should she write to him? She was puzzled what to do. Or one thing she was quite resolvedâ€"this should not go on: she must huVe it end- ed. The best. the wisest plan would be to see them both together. VVheu'.’ was the nexrt question. That she could de- ctlde later on; she would not hurry her rate by any precipitation. She would have no scene by which the world could be enlightened, but she would have jus- tice for herself and her child. He might not love them, but he should not look at this fair woman with his heart in his eyes. All that day Daisy sat in her room trying to thunk what she should do. Should she go to him and upbmid himâ€" tell him she knew allâ€"she had found out his love for Lady May? Should she insist upon his making their mafi‘age public at once, and introducing her to the world as his wife? Ah, no: for if she did any of these things, he would only hate her the more. “I cannot endure that,” thought Daisy. “He does not love me, but I could not bear that he should hate But that could not be; if she took her own life, she should never see the face of God. 'Dhem there was the little babyâ€"me sweet, laughing, cooing baby --with tiny pink hands and dimmed feet. She must not leave that. Baby had but herself; his father cared little for itâ€"all his heart was with Lady May. Dead! The wovrk struck her. What calm nest, what unbroken sleep comes to the dead!â€"-no wear and tear of Mfe, no jealousy, no pain, no sorrow; nothing but deep, calm, sweet, unbroken rest. “Dead!” W'my, death was the omly way in which she could free herself and him. She knew there was such a thing as divorce; but, then, it must fol- low wrong-doing; they would not give it for a mistaken marriage. “It it were not wrong," thought Daisy, “I would kill myself. If I could go to Heaven, I would cheerfully give up life.” CHAPTER XLVII. "I WILL HAVE JUSTICE.” What was she to do? That was the question which puzzled her. How could she free him, so as to make him happy with this beautiful woman whom he loved? Tears rained from her face as she remembered the lines that he lovedâ€"“He was weary, waiting for the May;” but the May he longed for. was not the sweet month of leaves and blos- soms; it was a lovely, golden-haired lady. He was wearied of waiting; and it was through her that he had he wait at all. If she were not in the way, he could marry Lady May. “He must hate me," she though-t. “Why did he marry me? He must hates me, and wish me dead." ‘ "Oh, my loveâ€"my love!” she said, “I would have died toa- you, and you have forgotten me!” (Continued) She knew it all now. The last mam gleam had died out or her hezmut she knew it. The oniy thing that remained for her now was to see \\ hat was best to be done. She loved him better than henself; unkind and neglectful as he was, she loved him‘ better than any- thing or any one in the world. She stretched out her hands with a bitten- BETWEEN TWO LOVES By BERTHA M. CLAY. “I will pray so ezlnlestfily {in death. she said to horse-If “that Heaxen will never refuse to hear me. " “I will make him own me as his wife before her,” she said. “I will make him tell me in her presence why he mmied me. I will have justice as I have never ‘had love." It was Iafe before Sir Clinton return- ed; she, sitting watchinz the hours with jealous eyes, knew how late. Ah, we", it would ‘not be for much longer She thquz-h‘rt Heaven was very merciful: thox'e was plenty of room for her in heaven, although no one wanted her on earth. She would have justiée'; than she would go home to hm- baby and die. She felt quite sure that she under stood it all now: that the whole story lay open before her; and vehement de- sire for justice tank possession of her. to avenge himself on his beautiful 13:15:- Iove; 1hetn, when his courage failed him, he had carefully kept her out of sight. W ,7 ,-,w__,. â€"â€"»y. n». v-u, vs c:_s.AA-L. “And my life," said the girl, “has gone for nothing4gone for the whim of an hourâ€"my life. that is so mud: to me, and so little to any one else.” “I can do without it." said Daisy, with a curling lip: “I do not want it, but_I will have justice for myself and my child.” A most unfortunate idea came to her then; it was that ‘he had married hea- to avenge himseif on Lady May, and then, when the deed was done. he had not the 0011mm to avow it. Daisy felt that she had solved the problem attlast ”she had never been loved. never been cared for. She was but a means of 1% vengo: her heart. her life. her love and been as nothing. Ho had married 1161' Then Daisy was compelled to leave her thoughts and go down stairs, where a variety of duties no one else could perform were waning for herâ€"duties that she began to loathe. She loathed this great. splendid house, with its mofus'ion and luxury: it wom- ed to her to embody one of the reasons why he had not proclaimed his mar- riage with her. She fancied he “'55 ashamed to introduce her, ashamed {0 show her as the mistress of all his wealth. “It will not be for much longer." she said to hen-self; “I will take good care of that." He had evidently repented of it. for he had taken no Mops to introduce her to any oneâ€"indeed. no (me here in Eng- Innd knew anything about her. A sud- den flush of anger burned her face: her passionate. despairing love gave place to angry pride. She felt that, let him have what excuse he might. he had spoiled her life Without having any motive for it. Better a thousand 1imos to be sleeping under the daisies than to be here-bet- ter to be dead. than living to shut out all hope of happiness for heme”. No idea of the truth occurred to her: no suspicion that he had married her from She spoke lightly, but the very bitter ness of death was in her heart. She could understand it all now; it was plain as the pages of an open book. He. had loved her, and they had quarreled: the quarrel with her whom he loved so intensely. was the sorrow which had driven him mad; he‘ had, no doubt. fallen in the woods where she found himHhalf dead with fatigue and misery. That‘part of the'story was plain enough to her': she could imagine, too. how, having returnedto England and finding his beautifuldove true and faithful b) him. the old charm had been rcdoubled. “'lmt she could not imagine was why he had married her. That was the fatal mistake; but for that he would have been happy enoughâ€"he would have mar- ried Lady May. That was the grand mistake, the great blunder; the one error which could never be remedied. “1115' had he done it? He had evident- ly never ceased to love Lady May. They had not been married very long when she had wondered so at his emotion over the lines ““‘aiting for the May." It was his beautiful love of whom he was thinking then, she knew; he had never ceased to love her: then why had he married any one else? That was the only mystery left now in the whole story. It could not have been that he loved herâ€"that was not pos- sible; he had asked her to be his wife. to marry him: but he had never said much about love; besides which. any faint, feeble affection that he had for her, was nothing compared to the im- ter.sity of his love for Lady May. “Why did he marry me?" cried tine unhappy girl, wringing her hands. an impulse of manly kindness and gem- erosin She bewildowd herself in try- ing to discover how it “as “It is like :1 riddle,” said Daisy, light- ly, as she turned away; “no one can guess it." “That is the mystery"; that is what the world cannot understand.” like a story-book." “I am pleased to interest you. Mrs; Jordan.” said the polite valet~:.9“but ‘1 have little more to tell. Sir Clinlron (-ame buck, looking years older, haggard and care-won). Every one was delight- ed 00 see him, and welcomed him Warm- ly. He met Lady May agaix‘z. and they became friends. Every one expected that they would marry; but they have not dome so, and I do not think that any one knows the reason why. I do not. and I am Sir Clinton’s trusted ser- vzm-t." . , “How strange!” murmured Daisy. “Yes, it is strange: for it is well known that Lady May refused some ex- cellent ofi'ers. We quite expecfod every day to hear the marriage announced. He visited the house, he goes every- where with her; but there has been no such announcement yet. and, I begin to think, never will. If they meant to marry, they would have done so long before this. I do not think there will ever be a marriage now.” "Yet they areisuppose to cm for each other." said Daisy. CHAPTER XLVIII. A SURPRISE mmxm'r. m housekeeper dgd not go the next “\‘What is it?" asked Adolphe._ “Nothing." she replied, faintly: “1 pain here at my heart: it is gone now, quite gone. Go on, Adolphe;.you talk like 21 story-hook." older, and his.,eyes had a dim. dazed kok, such as you see sometimes in the face 01 a man whom sorrow has driven mad.” She rose horn her seat with 1 little RICHARDS, Publisher and Proprietor. She never saw the sunl'lt streets, or heard the sound of the children at‘play: a strange idea had taken posseséion of her. She was wondering how a con- demned criminal Walks from his cell to the scafl'old: how short the way must seem to him. “"2111 death at the and: how his eyes mu<t linger on the dark; ened walls. on the living: faces near him. so soonâ€"oh. Heaven. so soonâ€"to poll before him forever. She felt like that, now: she was walking to her doom. “'hat matter the sunshine and the cheerful sounds? there was death at the end: {or it would be death to stand before him and accuse himâ€"~10 hear him. perhaps, repudiate herâ€"perhaps deny all knowledge of \her: and. it he did not do that. to curse her for coming. Theme could never be death for how “worse than this, the slaying of her love. On, wiflh‘quick steps mat never falter- ed. There in the distance she saw :the iron railings against which she lean- ed that day. in her agony When she first saw Lady May: the day and hour on which the hand of death had seized her. On, with» a donmse that grew greater with every step. She wuss!»-~ inc to seek for justice. not only for hee- self, but for her little child in fan! Fnance; the child who had never known ing down hbr tam. tenn bliming her where they fell. Tears! She raised hex: head proudly. She had not known that she was weeping: it must have been. with thinking of her little one, who ind. no one to love him but his mother. - “I will not face my enemies with tag." on my face," said Daisy. ., " a father's lov_e or a father’s care. And there were tears in her eyes. tears rain- It seemed so amaze going flaroumh the streets in her own character. She did not notice the admiring glances bent on her. the admiring eyes that followed her. She rho-ugh: only of finding her husband at Clifl‘e House. Many n passer-by stopped to look at this beau- tiful fair-haired woman in the black velvet dress, whose face was so uncon- ious and whose eym seemed to look so far away. Daisy passed on. the sun was shining brightly. the sky was blue, the western wind sweet and calm; the people looked happy and pmsperods, the little children were all at play. I am Lady Adair!" She went for the last time to her room. impatiently enough: she pulled o! the false gray hair: She had all her senses about her: she burned the gray frcmlostit should he found: the white cap she left in the bureau drawer. In her box she had one dress that shehad purchased in case of any such comin- goncy as this.’ a dress of black velvet: it was some relief to throw of the qutint costume that had disguised the grace and elmnee of her beautiful figure, and army herself once more in a (11955 that suite? hor youthful beauty. Even in the mlk st of her sadness and despair Daisy did not forget that: she koked fain- emoug‘h for any man's love; with that flush on her flower-like face, that light of resolution in her eyes, fall: and mxful as women need be. Yet she laughed as she looked at that re- fleetion of herself: what did it matter how fair she was? he would never- love her. never care for her; the wo- man he loved was a thousand time. more beautiful than die. “I need hardly have asked the ques- tion," she thought; “where is it'likely he should be? He has no fime to read my letter. he has to go to Cllfl’e House. If I wanted anyfiling to nerve me. this will; if my courage fails me, I have but to remember {what my life was less than nothing to him. that he has spoiled it for a whim. that he married me as an act of vengeance. and then had not the «umge to carry out his revenge. I have but to think of my rwn broken heart and my little child‘s face. I shall have courage for anything then. Good-by to Mrs. Jordan! Good-by to Lifdale House! Stayâ€"for my child’s sake no one must know that I have been here. I will go. and leave no traces: they may say the housékwper left suddenly and without cause. but they will never con- nect the housekeeper with Lady Adair. “a. V._.,__.»...vuu ;v'4 me. Now I “ill have justice; there ha been no merrry Shown to me. I will show m-ne. I will find out where she is, and confront him with her." Adolphe was not in the house, but one of the footmen gave her all the in- formation tllmt she required. 01 course he was gone to Clifie House; the pity was he could not live there. A hitter smile curled her lips. self, that had been, by the post-mark upon it. lying there for {our days, and was still unopened. It was (1qu and dhty; it had evidently lain therg un- opened ever since it came. That was the climax. As she held that letter in km hands all gentler feelings seemed to die out of Duisy’s lxecxrt; her face burn- ed with armor, horheart boat fast, her hands trembled. Hot sweet face was not at that moment pleasant to see. "SO." she said, slowly. “it is even 200 much 'tr-Juble to open my letters now. It might have been to tell him that baby was ill. to ask him to comeâ€"~it might have been most important: no matter. he had no time to. read it: he remembers nothing but Lady May; there is no though, no cure: no consideration for murning as usual for her orders; 51m Margm-ie in hm- phce. who, in swer to Sir Clinton’s polite inqui replied that Mrs. Jordan was not ‘ He was sorry. but he was going again. so that he begged she would give herself any trouble that day his mural. ke'ry it seems to think that inquiries, d" on