r
1 tff lr
CHAPTER HI.-Cootinued.
Standing upon a mound near her. ah
places her hands to her pretty month,
and, with a limple eloquence that cannot
b too kigbly commended, cries "Hi!" to
him. at the top of her fresh young roiee.
Whether the breeu has played traitor,
r whether the beading figure is of so
froM material ai to be deaf to this bril
liant appeal, who can say. At all events, !
he neer stirs or lifts himself from his
task, wbatever It may he. Nothing
daunted, Griselda returns to the attack.
"Hi!" cries she again, with a sharper,
freer intonation. And atiU nothing comes
of It. The bending tigs re ictuses to
straighten his back, and things remain as
before. It is really too bad. Getting
down from her mound she clambers up on
higher bank, and once more sends out
her voice upon the world:
"Hi, my good man!" This does it As
it compelled to acknowledge this tribute
to his virtues, "my good man" oprears
himself. -looks Tacaatly round him at ev
ery point but the right one first, and at
last sees Griselda. The effect produced is
not only instantaneous but marvelous.
Down goes his rod, his cast, hia choicest
fly an admirable orange grouse and he
comes steaming toward her at about
twenty knots an hour.
His eyes, ever since they first lighted
upon Griselda, have seemed to grow to
her, and now, as he draws nearer, ahe
too sees and recognises him. The knowl
edge thus gained so surprises her that
ahe very nearly falls off her high bank,
and then grows very charmingly rosy,
snd as charmingly confused. It is none
other than the young man who bad helped
to restore t&e carriage to its legitimate
position.
CHAPTER IV.
"It la really you?" cries he. with unaf
fected delight, coloring warmly.
"It is you, too," replies she, reflectively,
and as though it is a little unfair to
throw all the personalities at her.
"So it is," says he, amiling gayly. "Ton
wanted met I hope yon had not te call
often?"
'Very often," smiling, too, snd jumping
down off her pedestal "I thought I
should never make yon hear. Do yon
know the road to Greycourt? I don't"
"I do. It is a tedious way, and com
plicated. But if you will permit me to,go
with you and show it to you. Mm uj
saitr
"Oh, no. No, Indeed. It is giving yba
quite too much trouble, and how do you
know my name?"' asks she, with a shy
glance at him from nnder her long lashes.
"I asked somebody in the village, con
fesses he. honestly, "and be told me yon
were Mr. Dysart's niece. You don't mind
that do your
"No. I, too, heard of you," she says.
"but then I didn't take for granted every
thing that was told me."
"What did you hear of me?"
"That you were a young man 'down
from Lunnon town, an' as full o' tricks as
a egg's full o' mate,' " replies she, de
murely, evidently quoting somebody, and
with a glance so "full o' tricks" on her
own account that he laughs in spite of
himself.
"Well," says he, "I'm not from 'Lun
non town,' certainly, and I hope I'm not
'a greater wretch than my fellows. As to
my 'tricks, I don t betieve i ve one.
"If not from London, from where?"
"Rather close to you. My sister lives
Just over the border of this county, a
matter of twenty miles or so; and I spend
most of my time with her."
"It was a very good thing for my sister
and me that you came fishing," says Gri
selda; "or I suppose we should both be
now either dead or dying." Here she
looks round her. "Have we very much
further to go?"
"About a mile."
"I wish it was less," nervously. "I am
i ) afraid Vera will be frightened at my long
absence, ana ana umi my uncie wui oe
angry."
"Perhaps he won't hear of it," says Mr.
Peyton, hopefully. Griselda shakes her
head.
"He looks just like a person who would
hear everything," ahe says.
"I've heard a good deal about him off
and on. People will talk, you know, and
he's eccentric, isn't he?"
"If you mean weak in mind you were
never further out in your life," says Gri
selda, mournfully. "He la all mind. In
my opinion. There Isn't a weak spot in
him. By the by, have yon ever been to
Greycourt?" . .
"No. I've often thought I should like
to go on some Wednesday or other."
Some Wednesday! What Wednesday?
And why Wednesday? Griselda is dis
tinctly puzzled, but hardly likes to ask a
question on the subject.
"it's a quaint old house," she says,
"and might be lovely, I think, if the trees
were cut away and seme sunlight let into
It and a little furniture. It's empty.
nositivelv empty.
I t "Surely you forget the galleries?" says
be. "Is it indeed possible that you do
not know that those pictures of your an-
j ' cestors are absolutely priceless? Pnre
Lelys and Knellers, Gainsborough and
i Reynolds. Why, those galleries at Grey
court I've often heard my father say, are
about the finest in England. Your uncle
is good enough to open them to the pub
lic every first Wednesday in the month
at the very trifling charge of half a
crown."
! : "Why!" crie Griselda, flushing so hot
t : a color that the tears grow within her
! eyes. "Oh, you can't mean that."
"Well, why not?" says the young man,
boldly, preparing wttn a stout courage
to defend a vile cause. "It i to Improve
the tastes of the multitude that he does
It of course. And if he chooses to repay
himself for the wear and tear of hia car
pets, who shall say he has not common
sense on bis side?"
At this moment the chimneys of Grey
court shone through the interstices of the
trees on her left and, with the knowl
edge that she had gained her home,
comes, too, the sound of running water.
and the thought that all through her re
turn walk through the leafy woods that
music had rushed a a chorus to her
words.
"Ah! now I know!" cries she, stopping
abruptly, and looking full at her com
panion, who grows somewhat guilty In
appearance. "That noise of running wat
er! that if the river that flows beneath
Greycourt' If I had only' followed it I
need not hive given you all this trouble,
"It is no trouble." say he, plainly.
She hold out to him her hand. "Good-
" she says, gently.
"Oh. not good-by, I hope," returns he.
anxiously, taking the slim little band and
y.lding It as warmly as he dares, per
iM wore closely ihau he !s quite aware.
"1 shall see you again i
"On. no. No, indeed." softly. "You
must not think that. Uncle Gregory does
not permit us to know our neighliors,"
He lifts his hat and Griselda, giving
him a rather solemn little salute, turns
away from him. A second later, however,
ahe finds him again bos-.de her.
"It there is all the appearance of com
ing rain in the sky," he says, gravely.
"Don't you think so? I fear we shall
hsve a perfect storm before long. I
thought I'd tell you, ao that yon might
get as much good out of these woods as
possible before the deluge. This week,
now, might be fine, but I should not an
swer for the next; and, indeed, if you will
permit me to advise you, I should recom
mend you to take a walk to-morrow. Who
shall say that rain might not fall the day
after?"
Who, indeed?
It seems the soundest reasoning. So
Griselda, having shown herself impressed
by it, inclines her head to him once more.
and. a turn in the path hiding him at last
from view, takes to her heels, and hard
ly draws breath until, having found the
small iron gate that admits to the gar
den at ks lowest end. she enters by it
and teets herself at last at home.
On the hall doorsteps, as it lying in
wait for her, stands Mrs. Crunch, the
housekeeper.
Dear me, miss, and so yon have re
turned," says she. "Dear! but master
will be main glad to hear of it He was
that npset by your absence that we
daren t so much as approach htm. Gn
seida'a blood grows cold. "But nsw he'll
be sure to tell you himself how glad he is
to see you back safe and sound."
CHAPTER V.
Mrs. Grunch, aa Griselda left her, turn
ed aside, and with darkened brow mad
for the library, Mr. Dysart's usual abid
ing place. Not finding him here, he
hurries onward down the hall, until she
comes to a heavy curtain, once handsome.
now moth-eaten and dingy, and pushing
it aside, reveaia a long flagged passage,
with t high, narrow door at the extreme
end.
Stooping a she comes to it she peers
through the keyhole, and finding it emp
ty, tries, with a cqutious, quiet grasp,
the handle of the door to find the latter
locked. Still very cautiously she slips her
hand into her pocket draws out a key,
well oiled, and inserting it in the keyhole.
softly opens the door.
A grim smile overspreads her face as
she looks toward the further end of the
room. There, on his knees beside a cab
inet kneels Mr. Dysart It is open, and
Mr. Dysart in his worn and shabby old
coat is kneeling before the secret open
ing, gloating openly upon its contents.
Piles upon piles of yellow sovereigns are
so built one on the top of the other that
they reach from one narrow resting place
to the other above, and so on. Dull, heavy
gold that scarcely glitters, sare in the
eyes of the wretched miser bending over
them.
Yet it is not so much on the money as
on a paper he holds in his hand that his
attention is cou centra ted. " He is so beut
on the perusal of it that he bears neither
the turn of the key in the lock nor the
woman's entrance. And now, as a mali
cious chuckle breaks from her, it so star
tles him that he springs to his feet as if
shot, and a sharp, horrid cry, that is
almost a shriek, escapes him. Hia face
has grown deadly white, great drops of
sweat stand out upon his brow.
"Comforting yourself with a look at it,"
saya she, with a malignant leer. As she
speaks she points not st the gold, but at
the paper he has tightly clutched in his
hand.
"How did you come Here, woman?" de
mands he, in a shrill tone. He is trem
bling, and with nervous fingers presses
the paper into the secret recess in the cab
inet, snd shuts to the oaken woodwork.
W hy, through the door, retorts she,
sullenly. How else? You should remem
ber to lock It when engaged on work like
this."
"I could hsve sworn I locked It" says
he, still shaking. "See! here is the key
in my pocket. I tell you," with increas
ing agitation, I did lock it. Are you a
fiend that you can follow me through
Doiteo aoorsr
"Hush! Don't give way to foolish fan
cies. And after all, why need my com'
Ing fluster you? Surely," with a mock'
ing air, "your occupation was an Inno
cent one; you were but refreshing your
sen witn a glimpse ot "
"Be silent woman! Are you mad?"
cries he, lifting bis arms like one in mor
tal fear.
"You're but a poor sort after all," she
says, contemptuously. "Too poor for
faith or trust of any sort What! can
you not even believe in me, who has
served you and yonrs long and faithful
for forty years? Is it likely I'd betray
yon now tor ma cnuuren t
"Ay, he served you falsely once," says
uregory uysart, a savor of pleasure in
hia tone.
"He took my best my life, my soul
the heart of everything," says ahe, slow
ly beating one withered hand npon th.
other. "Though years have rolled by 1
have not forgotten; 1 shall not forget at
all. wnen nrst 1 saw tnem 1 felt as
though, if power were given me, I could
have blasted as they stood those insolent
hussies upstairs.
Something out of the goodly past, some
vague touch of decency belonging to th
days when he was young and happy, and
when honor was still a word to which be
clung with all his might, renders thi
coarse epithet, as applied to the pretty or
phan committed to hi care, -Insupport-
able.
You hardly remember, perhaps, tha
you are speaking of my nieces," he says
with an angry frown.
"Hoity toity! None of yonr airs with
me, say she, sternly. She advance
tep nearer to him. "Remember, Dysart,
that I can either make or mar you. 1,
and I only."
"I would I were ure of that" say he,
moodily. "But Have you forgotten
Bedley? He knew."
"Pish! He's dead; let him rest. What
a one you are to worrit! Twenty years
and more, and no sign of him, and I ask
you was be the one to remain quiet it hi
saw a way to forcing a sovereign out of
your'
"True, true," says Dysart, eagerly
catching at this suggestion. "And yet I
would give much to know that he was in
Uie grave."
"Ay, and I in mine! I know you
says she, with an evil look. "You fear
me." . , ,
"I fear nothing," says he, coldly.
"What," says she, slowly, regarding
him closely; "not even that your sou
should know?"
She pauses, pleased wia ber work. All
at once, as It were, on hearing this ques
tion, the oid man quails before her like a
beaten hound. The tie goes out of him,
he seems to shrink into himself, and puts
out hia hands as though to ward oil soul
fatal blow.
"Not that. Anything but that," h
mutters, feebly.
"Well, don't drive me to it," say she,
sulkily.
"Kememher, it was for him I did It
crie. h. sharply. "After all my love, my'
care, my secrecy, to have it now laid bar
to him! I tell you" his nngers working
convulsively "rather than that he should
know, it seems to uie that it would be a
sweet and :mp!e laing to murder him
who would betray me."
"I'm not goiug to betray you," says
she. "And ss for saying 'twss for him
you did it, w hy "
"Kor him. For his sake only."
Tartly, I think." says she, dryly.
"Kntirely; altogether. What other crea-
til re nail t to love me to love: ins
mother, as you kuow, hated me; and
when she died I was glad," aj he.
crushiug his Augers together.
"Yet the deed was scarcely necessary
if done for him." says Gruuch. holding
her ground. "That 'old auut of his the
mother's sister put want out of the ques
tion for him."
"I knew nothiug of her desire to niakt
him her heir then."
"You kuow it now, anyway." says she,
with a nasty sneer. "And it is uever too
late to mend to find by accident that
paper you have just locked up."
"I have thought of it." says he, with
lowered brow and eyes beut upon th
ground, "dreamed of It; and all my
dreaming has but conviuced me that
things had better stay aa they now are.
Into what better hands could they have
fallen? Who would have husbanded it
II like me? You know the care, th
trouble, the sleepless days and nights I
have devoted to the management of of
lou know whether It has ever been
joy to m rather a grief; a wearying of
the flesh, a curse!" The word comes from
between his lips with a little hissing
sound. "But it Is all for him, for him,"
he says, in a dying tone.
With restless, feeble steps he begins to
pace the room.
'lie believes in me. lie trusts me; he
alone now! But if ever he were to learn
the truth he would spurn me from him.
swear to you he turns and bxes h a
burning eyes on hers "I'd strangle you
with these hands, holding them out be
fore her, trembling with passion, yet
atrong and lithe, "before the words could
pass your lips."
Ttu not going to play traitor. I v
told you that," saya she, frowning. "I've
had a cbauce before this if I wished to do
it; and I'm not goiug to help bis children.
hatever happens. Her brow grows
black and her eyes lighten. "May curses
follow him wherever he be, even through
the gates of death!"
Amen, says Dysart, carelessly. Then,
a different tone: "Seaton is coming
home to-morrow."
You have a design." says she, fixing
her sharp eyes on him with a searching
regard.
True; and I think well of mentioning
it to yon." says Dysart. slowly. "After
long and careful thought I have decided
on abandoning more ambitious schemes
ad wedding him to my elder niece.
Vera."
(To be continued.)
DOROTHY DREW.
Anecdotes of the Late Mr. Gladstone'
Little Gran 'd loahter.
Dorothy Dtew, Gladstone's famous
grandchild, wbi.8tf loving companion
ship add d so much to tbe happiness
of bis Inter yejrs. is too subject of a
cry Interesting sketch In the Young
Woman. We learn from It that before
her fourth year her political view had
become decidedly radical; to ber mind
the House of Lords was a most repre
hensible Institution, aud tbe House of
Commons the mainstay of tbe nation.
When the House of I.otd.s was s;oken
of In ber p.esinee as the "Upper
House," she would rttoit: "You tn.an
the House of Commons!" She visited
the latter dur ng her third year, aud
for a time thought hersilf lu tbuah.
The frequent rising and sitting f tbe
members axm und c. lveJ her, how
ever, aid from tbe.-e movements and
the oratorical gesticulations of the
speakers, ahe fancied lier-ieif In a gym-
tiaslutn--an impression derived from a
previous visit to such a place. For
soffii! time after this, the Commons was
the place where grauilml goes to do
his 'uantics," or, on occasions, "the
place where grandad goes to do bis les
sons.'
Her visit to Queen Victoria was a
momentous episode In bur young life,
and from the artlile above ui jn l nid
we quote the narrative of her delight
ful experleni es:
Dorothy relates how she went down
the very long corridor lo put on her
new white frock and her silk gloves,
and how a grand servant nil dressed In
red came to say that the Queen was
waltlug.
"The Indian man whom the Queen
likes very much was at the door, and
the next moment Dorothy stood before
the great Queen wh im her grandpapa
had served for sixty years. But Dor
othy thought nothing of the vastucss
of the empire, or of the li.ngtli of the
reign which all the World was cele
brating. It was nothing to her that the
kindly gray-haired lady before her waa
mlstrtas of one-quarter of the whole
human race.
To Dorothy tshe was Jnst another
woman like grandmamma, with a
white cap mi hur h ad; and Dorothy
courtesled and kissed ber, and told her
her name was "Dors e," that she called
Mr. Gladstone "grand pu pa," that tbey
ell had pet names at the caatle, and so
on and so on; and many Interesting pet
names were revealed on both aide.
"Tho Queen put on ber glasses and
asked me to go to the other Hide of the
room, so that she could nee we better,"
Dorothy explains, "and then alio took a
little Jewel-case and said: 'This la for
you.' ,
"I, opened It and saw a darling Hrtle
brooch, with a diumond V and a dia
mond R a id a turquoise I, and a little
crown at tbe top made of red enamel.
I courtesled and blamed her bund and
said: 'Thunk you very much.' Blie
looked very nice nnd kind, and I liked
her very much."
Then the Queen Us ed the little d -hu-tante
again, aud Dorothy und her moth
er returned to town.
Kipling, who I numbftred among the
celebrities who have sought Dorothy's
acquaintance, telh an amusing story of
their meeting. Th y bud bron In the
grounds surrounding Hawanlen ful
some time together, wh.n Dorothy's
mother anpeared, faying:
"Now, Dorothy, I hope you have not
been wearying Mr. Kinlirg."
"Oh, no; not a bit," wan the. fnitikl;
unconventional rily.' "Mr. Kijillu;
has been wearying me!" '.
HATED FENIMORE COOPER.
IVrpetnat War Waited Ketwecn Aa
thor ftnd Village Lad.
Not so many boys read J. Fcnlmore
Cooper nowadays as three or four de
cades ago. but If It were possible to
have ao accounting to-day It would
pretty surely tie found that no one,
barring only Cn plain Marry at. has
P'"J nJ rtoIlKUt.-d ao many lads
with hia stories,
It Is more or Iras of a shock, there-
fore, to those who remember III in as
one of the chief patron saints of their
boyhood, to learn that In actual life
Cooper and the boys of bis village
were aworn euciule. N. C Brewer,
who was one of the boys, but Is uow
an elderly man living In Cleveland.
gave the world this Interesting hit of
personal retnlulscvuce the other day.
He llvwl at Coopo.-stown, Otsego Comi
ty, N. Y when Cooper made bis home
there,
"There was not a mnn In the town
whom the boys hated as they did Mr.
Cooper," said Mr. Brewer, "lie was
typical Englishman of l lie austere sort,
surly to boys aud very liberal In the
use of bis walklugstlck ou tbelr back
wbeu be got the chance.
"He was probably very Irritable, and
the boys kuew this and made matters
worse by goiug nut of their way to
annoy bliu. We used to get luto hia
orchard and steal bis apples, more for
the pleasure It gave us to muke lilm
angry than for the sake of the ap
ple. His manner seemed to Indicate to
us that be bad a very exalted arose
of Ills own Importance and llutt he
thought we boys ought to take off our
bats to bliu every tluio we met bliu In
the street. I was about 10 yeans old
at the time and bad uot rv.nl ao of
his stories.
"Perhaps It may aoem odd. but It la
a fact that while I have all bla works
In my library. I have uever read any
of tbeiu, aud the only recollection that
I have of him are the boyhood feel
lugs of dislike caused by bl manners
and by his treatment of the boys ot
Cooperstown. This seem strunge when
the fact Is considered that bis stories
have pleased so many tbousauda of
boys." New York Sun.
ROYAL INFANT PHOTOGRAPHED
BY CHEN Of ITALY.
Amateur photography has entered ou
sudden revival lu Italy since royulty
adopted the fad. Queen Helena Is now
one of the most ardent eutbuslusia with
the camera aod one of tbe most
BklllfuL
The anapshot she prides herself most
on is that she recently obtained of ber
t. ,!... .1.. (I,. Irln..u Vr,Ui,l,I
""'. ....... i
Margbrlta Mllena Elisabeth Itowaua
Marie Copies of the photograph have
been prvseuted to the women of the
royal court and tbey are taking up the
camera fashion.
The little princess la 7 months olV
Her birth was not hailed with great de
light In toe palace or among the people.
as a mule heir was hoped for. but she
has won her way Into p iptilurlty and la
enthusiastically cheered wherever she
appears In public. She Is a healthy.
vigorous child.
At her birth, the llrst of Inst June,
thousands of prisoners were pardoned
and liberated, nnd all the poor chil
dren of Rome were given diuuers In
honor of the little royal maiden. Every
child born in Rome, In Naples and In
tbe metropolitan provinces on the same
day received from the King and Queeu
a complete outfit, a cradle and a anv
lnga bank book with $-0 to his credit.
An Opportune (lilt.
A good-natured, easy-going German
living in Chicago asked his American
wife to pick out some little present
for bla Bister In the old country. Ha i
had squandered his fortune, saya lbs
Record-Herald, but bis sister still bad
hers, aud with careful Teutonic man
agement bad swelled It to a comforta
ble sum.
The American wife knew nothing of
tier sister-in-law, nnd she appreciated
the limitations of her own iinuncci aa
well a
for a
T1IK qUEKS A.U HKB BABV.
i the difficulty of choosing a gift the simple truths enlarged upon, club
stranger. But she wetit to a orated, and presented in th language of
ropoHltory for woman's work aud dhv
covered there a dainty bag of cUamol.
leather embroidered with wteatba of
forget-me-nots aud emblazoned with
the one word "Money," to Indicate Its
uxe as a secret purso to be worn about
the neck In traveling.
It seemed an Innocent little gift, but
Fritz danced with ilullght when be saw
It "Ach, th9 very tiling!" he cried.
"I would uot write; and ask ber-nol
but 'Money' and 'forget-nie-nut,' itch.
It is tbe most beautiful reminder!"
Ula wife, who had not thought of tbe
matter In that light, protested nnd
would fain have withheld the present,
but Fritz was linn. It was sent to
Uermnny at Christmas.
A few weeks later a substantial cnocU
came ki acknowledgment. The sister
bad indeed appreciated the situation.
. Two English "Ails."
It is said Unit in the window of a
country under1ulteiin shop Is displayed
a full-sized coffin, whereon Is placed
this notice: "Wanted An adult assist
ant. Inquire within." The case find
a parallel In that of the picture shop,
the window of which contained :i pic
ture of Cupid, to which the legend
was .attached: "Wntited- A respecta
ble boy."-London (Hobo.
Ever notice that wlieu your children
.vant you to do a thing, they have a
way of getting word to you?
iia all
. - - '!. . ,u ... ... ,.-i..u' y.v .m wai j.t.. .ia.t '
n I Vfl .H'0-V.S'w:il.'V..V''..Vl.1.ii.';'i I
Aim of labor Organisation.
T h underlying
philosophy of labor
orgjtuiaatious Is to
giv men and wom
en time to think,
time to set, tints to
cultlrat a belter
feeling, time to ex
tend their wants
and necessities. W
want to give mutt
time whereby h
way cultivate a fraternal foeliug with
bis fellow, that h may cause a demand
for articles thut coutrlbut to his com
fort aud susteusnc. In a word, to mske
the workers the producer of the wealth
of th world great consumers.
To permanently Improve the condition
Ot the people, to Improve their habit
and customs must b our aim. There are
two classes who Indulge in debauchery
and rum those who do not know what
to do with their time because they have
too much tuouey, aud those who hav too
much time bet-ana they hav no work
to do aud caunot obtain any.
The man who works tweW hours a
day finds life comfortless. 1U sleeps to
work, live to work aod know nothing
else but work. Ho who works too many
hours a day haa uo regard for his per
sonal appearauce. He meets and asso
ciates with uobotly when he goes to work
who la belter coudilioued than he is. lie
care for nothing but work. On the oth
er hand, the man who works a roua
bl number of hour is the very oppo
site In hi personal habit. He has m
spar tim. and what does he do with It?
II goes luto hi parlor. It that parlor
has no carpet. h feels that it should
har ouoT As hia children grow up about
ul in they must learn a Utile music, lie
must have pictures and other Ihiuga that
contribute to his comfort,' By degrees
his habit and custom improv aud.
therefore, to that extent, he la a better
ciliaen and h helps all the nior lo
strengthen the republic. This Is a high
aim. It is the true aim of labor In Amer
ica and every country of th world.
Kor too mauy jear. for too many cea
times, hav th working peopl been
looked upon aa wealth-producing Ina
chine, to b used 10 the utmost exteul;
to be pushed, to be lashed, to b rant
down, to be girdled by cast-iron tyranny
so long as they produce wealth for th
rew. loo much thought has been devot
ed to what men and women can produce,
ami too utile to gtviug tnem au oppor
tunity to live.
W want to give the people time time,
tb great factor of the world; time, which
produce all wealth; time, which begin
our era and ends mir last breath; time,
, the converter of all opposition to reasou;
ttliiA v-hi..k j.l.ll....... .IIA...I. ........
. .' . . .ii.uuu,.ij, k,.,.
justice and allow fair dealing aod com
, honesty to prevail.
8AMCEI. ROMPERS.
President American Federation of Labor.
The Selfishness of Churches.
It i admitted that each lad!
vldual ha conception of the
rellglou uf Christ dillenug from
that of all other; but the full
lamcntul principle, lov for all
.uankiud, and its coiicumilunts
of charity toward the ueedy aud
wayward, aud help for tbe weak aud do-
pendent, seem to be tbe gcuerally swept
ed Idea ot th teachings uf Christ.. A
to th practice of these teachiuits, for
which it may be supposed that church
organisation wa instituted, a tuw in
quiries may not be amiss.
1 there either love or charity In an or
gauiiution which endeavor to hav Its
member cousider the organisation as the
principal feature, aud la not this the uni
versal practice uf all deuouiiuatluu uf
the Christian religion? Ar not the ques
tions raised ill l lie business aud other
meeting question la which tb denomi
nation I the n-utral figure?
Is there a light la the life or teachings
of Christ which lead to this couditluu?
Did he say, "You Presbyteriaos must ad
vance Prealiyteriunism, ' or "You Uap
tists must sdd to your roll of member
ship?" or "You Episcopalians muai add
to your wealth'" or "You Catholics shall
hold yourselves uluof from all others?"
How much time aud directlou was giv
en by Christ to orgsuiiiug aud how much
by the modern church organisation as
compared to th work of love in hcaliug
I the sick, feeding the hungry, clothing the
naked aud helping the weak?
I Is It of Christ's teaching that the entire
effort of the congregation shall be put
into tbe erection of a tempi of worship,
in which it I themselves who arB the
benetlciarle of almost all the effort?
Is th rivalry between the different de
nominations to have the most splendid
building, the finest and most costly fur
nishings, the best music, and the most
brilliant orator for the pulpit of the Unfil
ing of Christ?
Is It religion or Is it selfishuess which
prompts the congregation to spend thou
sand of dollars for building and fur
nishing costly edihcea and let the widow
tarv in the adjoitijug block?
I It a tribute to Christ that one do-
nomination has the highest salaried min
ister in the world, and yet it Is In thut
fact, and not In th; amount of Christina
fellowship exhibited, In which that con
gregation prides itself, and for which
their strongest efforts have been given.
Does tbe educated mind become so that
It cannot comprehend what la nuulo plulu
to the most unlearned, but must bnvtt
"f, no"' pmrouno scnoiarsf
I
of chH((t ,, tne modern churi,ht
tne conditions, a above Interrogated, are
certainly the most noticeable of the fea-
tures of the churches, which are, lo ef-
cert if not in Intent, but societies of man's
own instituting.
FRANK PLANERT.
What Is an Educational Fad ?
A school fail is a part or a line
of school work With which ono
is not lu full .accord or sympa
thy, through . Ignorance of its
purport or on account ot an hon
est difference of opinion. It Is
a school room innovation in the
experimental stage. I'uds vary In de
gree, in the elements of time, and Ideal
ity. They are dinVrent things in differ
ent times ut different places. They have
their exits and tbelr entrances. . Tiuiu
alone proves their value or their worth
lesstiess. and thut which Is righteously
dubbed a fad will fudo as a fashion of
tbe hour. Fads are of two kinds, ephenv
eral and eternal, and mortal man, be he
editor or educator, cannot always classi
fy. A fuuey to-day may be a fad to
morrow, a foible the next day, and, In
the bunds of some unbalanced euthuslust,
I fool thing thereafter. ' ,
We do not now consider geography a
fail, but the courtiers of Isabella of Spain
alii, that subject was a fad with pnu
Christopher Columbus. A half century
ago tbe Hpenrcrliiti system of penmanship
was hailed as a fad; It was opposed bet
cause it was said to destroy individuality
I
LA
iillii
mfm
and character lo peumaushlp. To-day
th vertical syatem I termed a fad an
opposed for precisely the 4Ui reason
but the one had and the other ha a mis
alon to perform; each wa a dlslluct atcp
lu advnuc: each received or will rccclv
modification, but each yaleaiatlaed th
work and called attention anew to
most Important subject. Music la ouie-
1 1 iiica and lu som place termed a fad.
Hut the fifteen in Iti ii (- dally of Instruc
tion lu vocal music In th school room
haa a distiuct temporary and permanent
villus; we may say It ha a temporal and
spiritual valnn. Condemn aooiier th two
or Hire hour' daily instrumental prae-tli-
lu the home.
In mauy cent ml Plate th consolida
tion of small rural schools and the trans
port at Urn of pupils by public cauveyanc
may b rouiidered and I oinetiiue
I rmed a iid. but It I a fad that will
fSw In fovor a Ha advantages ar bet
ter understood by th public. Whatever
teuds lo Improv th rural vhoola aud lo
keep the bo) a on th farm should rveviv
universal approbation, b It fad, fact or
fancy. In cebraska at preent the ele
lucni of sericulture, lucluding a fair
knowledge of the habit and structure of
the common plant, birds. Insect and
quadruped. Is a fad, perhaps, but that
ureal agricultural State will Instruct It
youth thoroughly In tbe cause and depen
dencies of Its commonwealth.
Drawing and elementary aclene ar
not fads, and thty hav a distinct eon
omic value In ludusirUI center. Manual
training lo Ita various phaae, dotuettle
clone, etc.. may or may not It fad,
according to local conditions. Kvtendinj
the department stor plan of tbe great
universities and college down through
th high ichiHila' Into tb grammar grade
is, I fear, dangerous fad.
We lack the time and th public lack
the patience to wait for resulla In un
certain rxperlmeniatlon In the grammar
grade. I' than one hour In eight la
passed by th child In lb school room
when h attend regularly throughout
the school year. Th averse attendance
would not equal one hour In twelv. per
haps ther ar fads in the home, on th
treel, in society, that Influence the child
for good or for III. Society may train
our youth for social functions, pink teas,
and midnight revels, while th school I
endeavoring to tralu for belter cltlseo
ship. Our school for delinquents and
defective ar now striving lo giv each
individual therein that equipment which
will riiahl him to live an In lependent
life In the world, and the public schools
should do no less: they should do more;
that which they do In the direction of
developlug and strengthening ao earnest
desire for belter living, for huuest labor,
for higher rititrnshlp, for Independence,
for self Tcltiiucs, Is not fsddisiu.
WILLIAM U. PCWLKll,
Stat Superintendent ot Instruction, Ns
braaka. What to Do When Engaged.
Matrimony haa ben
described lo two acta aa
follow:
Act .-Pays bur ad
dress. Act II.-Pays for hr
dresses.
Hut surely there ought
to be aa engagement act,
and th question la how
long that should he. It
should tw loug enough to euabl th cou
ple lo study suJ understand each other's
characters, but not ao long that they
grow away froiu each other lu taste and
feeling, (letter to tuk th ball at th
bop, so to speak, and marry la th ardor
of lirat love. Some peopl who hav bee
acquainted from childhood become en
gaged, and ar so long in that condition
thai they get a settled down, not lo any
prosaic, look. They might as well l
married and, Indeed, far better. At first.
engaged people ar mildly Interesting to
their frlrnd. bill s little of them goes far.
W weary of hearing it the perfection
of the loved one, and of romantic plan
for the future married life. Amelia s
eyes and hair may be beautiful, but the
sister of her sweetheart prefer to talk
and bear talk about tbelr own eyes aud
hair.
The society mother say to her daugh
ter: "Kor the sake of your family duu't
have a long engagement. You'll want to
see him every day, and If 1 don't go with
you to places people will talk. Then
there must be as many rooms reserved
for you as for royalty, and If your fath
er smells cigars, he won't Ilk It, and
other young men will become shy of tho
house, and your sister will t bored,
and, my dear, if you ar going to I
mnrried, marry soon and bavs done with
It."
Ho much depends upon time, place and
the circumstances of those concerned that
it 1 not possible to lay down a rule as
to the proper length of etiaageuienis.
More Important It is to think how tho
tlmo shoald bo used.- ' '
Unsympathetic peopl often wonder
whnt engaged persons find to say to each
other during the hundreds of hours they
spend together. Consider, however, that
they have to tell the history of their past
lives, their present feelings, snd their
future hopps. Not long ago I beard an
engaged girl saying, "I wonder If I ought
to tell him all?" Probably this "all" did
not refer to anything more criminal that)
nine mild flirtations, hut It Is well, as a
rule, to make a clean breast of It so that
ther may be no revelations after mar
riage. During the engagement period the
couple should point out to each other
alterations that should be mad In con
duct and character aa plainly as tbey
do in reference' to tbe house they ar
taking. This Is better than establishing
a mutual ndtnlrutlon society with a mem
bership of two and might sav criticism
und nagging afterwards.
The best use to which a couple can put
the engagement time is to settle, for tha
sake of each other, their habits in i right,
direction. A good test of love Is to ask
how much Is he or she willing to felvo up
for the sake of the supposed loved one.
I know young men who have given up
almost all aiiiull Injuries In order to be
able sooner to afford that greatest lux
ury In life a good wire. A suggestion
was recently made that there was room
for a new society which should teach hus
band and wife tbelr duty to each other.
"Tbe first article of the constitution
should be that any person applying for
membership should solemnly covenant
and agree that throughout married life
he or she would carefully observe and
practice nil courtesy, thnughtftilnes and
unselfishness that belong to what It
known aa the engagement period,"
This would b an excellent rule, (or th
m
engagement vrii should prepare fot
marriage, and th conduct of people to
wards ch oihr In th former should
uot greatly differ from what II I la
latter. Why should lov-niklng end wlia
courtship, and of what u ar rouqueal
If they ar not guarded?
UKV. K.J. II AUD Y.
Author of "How to 11 Happy Though
Married."
false Economy Is Destroyer.
What should you think of a
engineer who would try to
eiHinomla sn lubricating oil, at
th expense uf hi machinery or
engine? W should say that a
la very foolish, but many of u
do much mor foolish things!
for, whil w do not economise on that
which would Injur Inniilmat machinery,
w nimomls In eherrulims. In. recrea
tion, In play. In healthful amusement,
which would lubricate Uf' mchnlsui
and tnak It last longer.
How many of us allow lb dellrat ma
chinery of our bodies. o wonderfully
made, to run without lubrication until It
I o worn, rasped and ground away by
friction that th whol being Jar aod
hakes, aa It wer, when It should run
noiselessly and unconsciously!
W economise In our friendships by
nsglei-llng them; w economise In our o
rlal Hf until w ar obliged lo pan
In our lifwrk, beeaus th a ilea, so to
peak, hav become dry, and w hav lo
lop Uf' train vry lltll while beeau
of th not-hose. whrreaa. If w would
only lubricate our bearing by taking
few minutes ber aud ther to th
ludicrous aide of life, or bv s little chat
with a frU.n.1, w iniiiht avoid mu.-a pay
leal misery and many things detrimental
to health.
How unfortunate It la that tb poor,
the pe'H'l 'ho should py lh leati for
thing, pay th hlahrst price for nearly
verythlng-prlre which even people la
better circumstance cannot afford!
They buy shoe which com lo pieces
almost th Aral tim Ihey put them on.
and pureba clothing which rip, an I
has lo b constantly tewed and resewed,
and which never looka nat. They buy
their coal by lb bucketful, veu when
Ihey could better afford to buy It by th
ton, til us paying two or tare lime what
It I worth. They buy cheap groceries,
which Is the worst kind of economy, adul
terated pie, because Ihey are rheaperj
poor soap, poor verylulog and thl is
th worst kind of economy.
Th poor would be shocked If Ihry werw
told that they ar more eitravaganl than
th peopl who ar well-to-do. It I not
always because they cannot afford to
buy In quantities, hut ihey do not think.
The people randy calculate or tts pa
per and pencil to (Igor oul th mat. It
poor people would learn how to us their
bralna, and learn to Rgura mnr bow to
buy, with vva their small means, to th
best possible advintag. and how to us
th best economy not for th day mere
ly, but la th long run-they would great
ly Improv IhtHr condition. Orlaon Hwott
Marden in Success.
Movement for Good Roads.
Th movement for good road
will be on ot the greatest uf
till century. Oood common
road are bound to cum. Tby
carry 110 por ceut of lh cow
i
mere that comes from th farm
Is'Tor It can reach a railroad
tralu or boat. It la this Item that assures
us good nisds In th near future and ac
count fur our need of them. Their con
struction will mem nut alone a beucBt to
tb farmer, but to rouimerc In general,
la our own country Hist aid I going
to be placed forcibly be tor the people,
T,i National Good Itoad Association
-.v 111 lead in this, and undertake to so ed
ucate th popl of th cities that they
will willingly assist in lb construction
of road In tb agricultural communities.
Th road belong lo everybody, and ev
erybody should b Interested lo them.
New York, Massachusetts, Nw Jersey
and other States hate already adopted
wis legislation fur their Improvement,
and I believe that within very short
tlms other State will follow th enaia
pies set by these leaders.
W. II. MOO KM.
President Nstlonal Uood Roads Associa
tion. CONQUERED THE BAKER.
Klephsnt ltroiiiiht Ul Ill-NaUred
Friend to Time,
Among the many odd presents re
ceived by Queeu Victoria waa au ele
phant, which, when a mere bnby, wns
out to ber by an Indian prince. Ha
traveled as a (lock passenger ou one
of the Indian mall steamer from Hum- .
bay, and aa he bud attained but tha
height of a well-grown calf aud was
alwuy docile and tractable, be waa
pertultted to have the run of the decks
for au hour or two every morning.
By the Bailors be was culled the
"boa'n'i mate," owing to tho penchant
he bad for carefully picking up every
looso coll of rope Hint he could Und and
then throwing It over tbo tide, being,
aa Jack said, "as bad as a tiitvitl lieu
tenant for keeping (be decks tidy."
Among other Hc(imlntiincea thut be
formed wns thut of the ship's buker,
whose galley lie soon discovered to be
the place of origin of all tlto sweet
dainties with which h was feted. Here
be took to making a regular luorulug
call and was generally regaled with a
tart ot piece of cake.
But one tnornlug, when be called and
extended bis trunk, aa usual, the coots
happened to be lu III humor, and In
stead of a cake tho elephant received a
tap ou the trunk from tbe roiyug pin.
Tbe blow was not sevens, but tbe
bos'n turned tall and went trumpeting
up the deck, where be took a position
that enabled bltn to watch for bis as
sallunt Before long bo saw the baker leave
tils "shop," and having apparently
uiado up bis mind what to do, the bos'n
promptly marched down, and with a
few vigorous swoops of bis trunk
cleared every shelf lu tho bakery.
Loaves, tarts, cakes, patty pans and
cake tins lay In a confused heap on tbe
deck. This achieved, bo bolted like a
mischievous schoolboy, and wus locked
up In disgrace; but when the circum
stances been tne known the popular ver
dict wns in bis favor, ami bo was al
lowed big liberty aa before, . ,
-Bos'n was no sooner set free ngalq
than he marched down to the baker's,
and from that day be never fnlled to
exilot his tribute. It wns regularly
paid, and he and tbe baiter became tbe
bost of friends.-Youth's Companion. '
Too many people do what they
should do and then expect credit for It
1 1 i,i I
V
g UUUC1 CUUVIIUUIIUU,
l uvuuiuienuu oriw.
I not I Jwnr