CKLY
'S WOODS
iBy H. VV. TAYLOR
CHAPTER I.
Coming back from the small dry goods
store that served the government for a
postotliee, John Wildly, an everybody
fnuiiliurly culled the head of the Wide
ly family, was observed to be moving
at a significantly rapid pace, and to
huve bis head extraordinarily high in
the air.
Mrs. Wickly, at the kitchen table iron
ing very diligently, saw him through the
open window, dumped the smoothing iron
suddenly and heavily upon the scorched
section of an old and worn blanket and
n through the sitting room and out to
the front door.
"Now what is it you've got this time.
John? You needn't try to hide it. 1
know what It is, sir. I saw you start
out of the poHtofflce on a trot the minute
you broke it open "
"Broke open the postoffice, ma ? That's
aa indictable offense, punishable with
fine and imprisonment," called out Miss
Lizzie Wickly from her writing table in
the sitting room.
"Wait till I come and box your ears.
Miss Prunes and Miss PrisniB. I was
talking about the letter not the post
ofliee. Of course 1 mentioned the post
office. But "
"Thst explanation is sufficient, ma. 1
won't mark you as low as zero for this;
because 1 want to let you off before you
u.nke a more inexcusable mistake. Whnt
letter did pa get? Suppose you bring
the document in, and let's all discuss it."
"You'd better go on with your writ
ing, my young lady - You're only trying
to find some plausible excuse for leaving
off. I know you. Miss. Now. I'll war
rant that you haven't written two pages
since you came in from hoeing the cal
bnge. Where is the letter, John? Don't
keep a body waiting all day from her
ironing. You won't have a clean thing
for to-morrow neither of you. And
preaching at Mount Zion, too! Bight
under vour noses."
"So the preaching isn't through the
' minister's nose. like it was Sunday be
fore last we can survive its being un
der ours, can't we, pa?'
And Miss Lizzv could be seen through
the "middle door" chuckling in a very
mellow, little good-natured langh, as she
sat nt the small walnut writing table in
the light of the west window, away from
the sun, and shielded from observation
of the passing public by a dozen train
ings of morning glory vines, now guy
with a profusion of variously tinted flow
ers, too pretty to be also sweet.
"Why, it's a letter from the honora
ble Mr. Biler concerning my my estate,
you know," said Mr. Wickly, endeavor
ing to put on an appearance of great un
concern, as if letters of the import of
this one passed between the honorable
Mr. Biler and himself every day of the
seven on which Uncle Sam carries the
mail about the continent.
back to the things of this particular por
tion of the great world. "What is the
exact language of the letter on that
point ?"
"lleh! Why, lemme see! Yes! Here
it. is! 'For the purpose of determining
upon the first step to be taken; and if
thought advisable, to select and secure
some one of the counsel lor their heirs
to go direct and at once to England and
make the proper examination of all the
records so as to enable him to see exact
ly what proofs it will be necessary for
them to make in order to obtain posses
sion of the property.' There; that's the
exact language of the letter. And noth
ing, in my opinion, can be clearer than
tlmt," said Mrs. Wickly, holding the let
ter In her hand, and very manifestly ap
pealing to the young lady at the table for
confirmation of her conclusion.
The young lady at the table sat ab
sently, and perhaps lazily, drumming
upon her pretty, white front teeth with
rthe tip of the ebony handle of her pen.
"What do you think of it, Lizzy
calls out Mr. John Wickly, without look
ing up, and pretending to occupy himself
in picking a "raveling" oft his wife's
blue calico dress.
"I think that means more expense,"
finally the young lady spoke, and with
out slopping tin- lultoo upon the pretty,
white front teeth. "It means car fare
and hotel bills at Chicago, And then it
means contributions from the heirs to
pay the expenses that the lawyer must
incur in his trip to England. How many
of the heirs are there?"
"(ive a guess!" suggested Mr. Wick
ly, winking at his wife.
"Twenty?" suggested Miss Lizzy, look
ing sidewise out of the corners of her
large brown eyes.
"Thirteen hundred and eighty-four to
date; anil some of the back counties to
hoar from," said Mr. Wickly, in a burst
of triumph at this surprising denoue
ment. "Thirteen hundred and eighty-four!"
exclaimed both ladies in a breath.
"Thirteen hundred nnd eighty-four!"
repeated Mr. Wickly, by way of empha-
KIM
"I consider that number an ill omen,"
said Miss Lizzy, again drumming upon
the pretty, white front teeth anil open
iug the large brown eyes to their widest
in order to see, or not to see, between the
gicenish-gray leaves of the morning glory
vines that ambuscade her as to the pry
ing eyes of the side street and the more
remote curiosity of the front street.
"Why?" asked both her auditors, fac
ing round toward her, and remaining so
in expectation of the soniewhut delayed
I eply.
"Because it's exactly the amount 1
gave for the land. And because," she
went on after a slight pause, and wav
ing her ebony baton toward the range
of hilly woodland that from the nortl
"Now. John Wickly. you know there's Mid east reached almost to the village of
more than that in that letter. Hand it Nindtown, "that is tne exact amount oi
here, till I read it myself. Don't you tne two mortgages upon n now.
suppose I could tell by the way you
struck out for home that there was some
thing more than usual in this letter?
.Now give it here, and come in till I
read it."
And the sturdy Mrs. Wickly held out
her hard and full-veined right hand in so
imperious a manner that Mr. John Wick
ly was constrained to draw the docu
ment from the pocket of his black alpaca
summer coat and deliver it with a tri
umphant grin into the hard palm afore
said. "Now then, you read that and see if
it doesn't mean something. Some people
that 1 am acquainted slightly with have
often expressed doubts on the subject of
the great Wickly estates In England."
Here he leered triumphantly in the di
rection of the walnut writing table and
the morning glory vines that just now
began to rustle their green gray leaves
in the prairie breeze.
"But after one glance at the contents
of this letter, 1 don't think any person
of mature judgment would "
"Now, pa, you wait till I read it." calls
out Miss Lizzy, laughing still, but not
so gaily in fact, ith just the faintest
sound of vexation in the langh or shade
of it upon her fair brow, perhaps. "You
know I always get a different meaning
out of those letters every one of them.
And . haven't the meanings that I got out
of thorn been much more nearly the true
meanings than those that you and ma
got out of them?"
"Why, Liz, that's about the size of it,"
said John, sitting down, in the doorway
nt the feet of his wife, who was already
deep in the mystery of the letter as to be
oblivions to everything else. "You've
been a great deal nearer right about them
than I have been, anyhow. But then it
may be said in view of this letter that
the others were preliminary Hereto
fore the letters have been inquiries into
family history, the tracing of relatives
and relit ionships, and so on. But
this "
"Why. there's to be a great meeting of
the heirs at Chicago next Tuesday!"
cried Mrs. Wickly, in the greatest burst
of enthusiasm.
"A meeting of the heirs!" exclaimed
Miss Lizzy in amazement, and with real
interest very plainly depicted upon her
very expressive countennnce.
"A meeting of all the heirs," repeated
Mr. Wickly, with that grave judicial and
impartial nod of the head which discloses
the entire lack of any merely personal
and selfish interest of the speaker in the
subject matter of the discourse.
"The heirs and their 'counsel meet
there for the purpose of of what is
the exact language of the letter on that
point, Matt?" said Mr. Wickly, Jerk
ing bis Wife's apron . gently, to call her
CIIAPTElt II.
The daughter resumed the drumming;
and the mother, looking aghast at this
coincidence of ominous circumstances,
cast her eyes down at her husband.
"Nonsense, Liz," said Mr. Wickly.
smiling a little, but slightly annoyed, too,
"what can that have to do with it?
That's of no consequence at all. The
land has grown in value on account of
the rise in timber lands everywhere. Of
course you couldn't have gotten such an
amount upon a mortgage if the cash
value of the land wasn't twice as much,
at least. And it has again doubled in
value since the last mortgage, I mean."
"How?" asked the young lady, mean
ing to ask after the particular method
of the increase in value.
"I asked at the bank; and Zell told
me that you could have as much more
upon the land whenever you wanted it."
Mr. Wickly glanced keenly at his
daughter, and saw's gratified smile come
into her eyes anil spread swiftly dowu
to her dimpled cheeks and her red lips.
"Twice thirteen hundred and eighty
four are twenty-seven hundred and sixty
eight. And that means that my bind is
worth more than five thousand. I begin
to feel somewhat like an heiress myself,"
she said smiling. "I guess you will have
to go to Chicago, pa. I won't have to
mortgage my land for that, you know."
Mr. Wickly drew n long breath of deep
and satisfying relief, and the thoughtful
puckers at the root of his nose' rippled
away in a smile that had the peculiarity
of starting in the region of his eyes.
"And whnt becomes of the omen of
thirteen hundred and eighty-four, Liz?"
He laughed as he got up and stretched
himself as lazy people do, nnd then draw
ing down again as to his arms, shoulders
nnd head, emitted what might be termed
a notably contented little grunt at the
conclusion of the yawn.
"John de Wicklif died in 1384," said
the young lady, with due solemnity. "He
was the only member of the Wicklif fam
ily at all noted, from its beginning down
to myself. We stnnd as sort of mile
stones along the highway of the Wicklif
family he the great John, noted for
speaking and writing original and hetero
dox thoughts; and 1 to become noted for
exactly the same things. Now there
must be other likenesses In us. For of
course I don't look like him."
"Look like him!" exclaimed Mr. Wick
ly with a laugh. "I should say not. Jolrh
-was as ugly an old mortal as you'd find
in a day'B ride according to all the
authentic likenesses of him. He must
have had eyes like yours, Lis! Big round
brown ones."
"Nonsense!" said the young lady, Ir
reverently. "Everybody knows that all
those old paintings from which the en
gravings are made, exaggerated the eyes
ludicrously. Why, they all have yes
exactly alike. Look at our presidents.
for instance. Don't you see that all of
them dowu to Jackson had those same
big round black eyes, according to the
artist? Maybe that was the one common
trait that made them all presidents. Bift
more likely it was the peculiarity of the
artist it was his style in eyes. Isn't
that Mr. Mason. yonder, ma? I wonder
if he is coining here? If he is, I'm go
ing out in the garden to hoe the beets.
And you can tell him that I in engaged
for the present."
"Why can't you stay in and entertain
your teacner and monitor, .iiss i.i.zy :
I don't understand this new departure us
to the garden, John," said Mrsr. Wick
ly, mischievously. "I used to have all
the hoeing ifnil weeding of the garden to
do until Mr. Mason came here to board.
And now I declare I hardly know a gar
den when I see it I heard In in discours
ing to Liz "
"Now, ma!" said the daughter, with a
very pretty frown due to the concentra
tion of purpose In drawing on her gar
dening gloves, perhaps. "Now, ma!
Didn't he have all that about the abso
lute necessity for physical labor for ev
erybody, in those sermons that he
preach "
"Through his nose, Liz," suggested Mr.
Wickly, with a shout of laughter, bois
terous as a boy's.
"Now don't laugh that way, pa. Of
course he'll heur you, and know that
we're making fun of him. And 1 wouldn t
want to insult him so grossly.
"Insult him, indeed! He's entirely too
sensible a fellow to be insulted in any
such trivial way. What an everlasting
worker he is! That professor, J. Alii
son Huntley, must have an easy time of
it. I can't see what's left for him to do!
This man seems to muuuge uil the dig
ging, and all the gathering up of fossils,
and all the writing in the-field book. And
he carries the surveying apparatus him
self with one rodman and one chainmnn.
I've seen thein myself. And I've never
seen Prof. Huntley at all. Not a glimpse
of him."
"Yes! Isn't that queer? None of ns
have seen Prof. Huntley, although he
has beeu here since the last of March
the 24th day exactly. I know, because
I made the lettuce bed that day, I sup
pose he feels too high above the Sand
town people to present himself among
them. I should think he'd come to hear
his able assistant, Mr. Mason, preach of
a Sunday, anyhow," put in Mrs. Wickly.
with some energy and indignation.
"Why. ma, he takes the train home
on Saturday morning or Friday evening;
Of course he wouldn't care to stay over
just to hear Mr. Mason preach! Isul
there all the wise preachers of the groat
city for him to pick and choose among?
And isn't it right, too, for him to put
all the coarse, mechanical work upon his
employes? I don't see why you people
should find so much fault with Prof.
Huntley. I think he's a Bplendid gcntle-
nian, and I am dying to make his ac
quaintance. But I must hurry out. Mr.
Mason is only across the street."
Shaking her head at her mother, Miss
Lizzy, pulling up the long gloves, and
pulling down the long sunbonnet, run out
into the garden, chirping a little frag
ment of a love ditty,
"She won't hear a word against that
Huntley," said Mrs. Wickly with a laugh.
"I believe the girl's in love with a man
she never saw. So I do."
"Oh, like enough! like enough! She
isn't in love with Mason, though! Poor
fellow! I absolutely pity him, Mutt. She
teuses and worries him to death, when
ever she can bring herself to bear his
society for a minute! Now, she'll hoe
that garden till high noon if he stays in
the house that long. I've a mind to send
him into the garden just to tease her a
little."
"Better let her have her own way
about it. If she doesn't like his com
pany, the less she has of it the better
she will be pleased. And I don't want
her to get so she won t speak to him.
For his preaching and example have cer
tainly done a great deal fn stimulating
her to more persistent work at her writ
ing. And that pleases me. Besides, he
has obtnined for her the writing up of a
little summer resort pamphlet for some
of the railroads, and she is to got nearly
a hundred dollars for it. Think of that
and other work that it will naturally
bring! That's how she can let you go to
Chicago this time."
Mr. John gave a low whistle, and mut
tering something to the effect that he
supposed it was in reality i rof. Hunt
ley's influence that was doing all these
fine things for their daughter, turned to
greet Mr. Mason, while Mrs. Wickly,
declaring all her irons ice cold, ran back
to the kitchen.
(To bo continued.)
kmwmh
Utftf.
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films used cost $10 a section for the
2,000 impressions.
Could Figure It Out.
"How long have you been out of
work, my good man?" asked the head
of the household ns he parleyed with
the rusty-looking caller.
"I was born In 'i8, sir." Detroit
Free Tress.
THE GIUUT 8K AltCll.
"How should man be Just with Ood."
Job ix., 2.
This cry, "How may I be right " Is
the cry of the ages. Human history Is
the record of our attempt to unswer
It. Man Is naturally a truth seeker,
and this is the search ol all truly great
souls. The enduring monuments of
literature are those that have In some
measure answered this question. All
things that have been worth while
have helped us to know and t realize
the right. Health, happiness, freedom,
morality, all are but varts of the right;
all are but sections of the sublime
whole for which man ever seeks. The
search manifests itself in different
ways; It may be as selemee. the pusslon
for the knowledge of the right rela
tions of things; as justice, for right re
lations amongst men; as philosophy, as
ethics, as religion. Back of all ou
life Is the Instinct of progress; we push
toward Hie pciTcxi. A.iid perfection
we now know rests not in more things
but in bringing nil the things that ure
Into right relations with one another
The Idea that any man can be right
regardless of others we out as ab
surd. The ideal civilization we work
for here, even the heaven we long for,
Is simply a condition of living when1
the things that separate, despoil, and
Introduce discord are no more. The
hope of the nice Is to be In right rela
tions with all things. All the great
religions ure ns the footprints of peo
ples who have sought the truth that
would lead them to be right and just
with one another, with the world, and
with the great unseen power)) behind
all being. Our universal sense of
wrongness Is but part of our passion
for lightness.
The sense of imperfection and the
desire for improvement have marked
all religions Unit have Influenced men.
In the Jew this desire for righteous
ness was supreme. Job is but a type.
Coming, to himself amongst the ruin
of nil the things he counted most pre
cious, he forgets their loss In his desire
to solve the great problem. What is
right and how may I reach It? Some
where he knows there Is a solution to
all the riddles of his friends and the
questions of Ms own heart. An order
ly universe is not crowned by a being
whose life must ever remain an unsolv
ed riddle. Men are not adrift In a fog
with no hope of taking bearings. If
men have marked the natural world
with lines of latitude and longitude for
the guidance of Its travelers, the moral
world Is not without Its markings.
Job's very question contains the only
answer that has ever satisfied man.
Cod himself Is the great meridian of
all morality. From him we may meas
ure all relationships and get theni
right. That Is the essential message
of the Bible; it strikes that first of
all In "In the beginning Cod "
Every life Is right In the measure tlint
It adjusts Itself to the unvarying will;
amongst the nations they have the
kingdom who do his will. The world
has made progress In precisely the pro
Krtlon that this will has been realized.
The promise of the present is that this
great standard, this universal law by
which all may Hud the right, has Imhmi
made known to u 11 through a life. One
of our own has set forth (iod. One
has lived who has shown ns liow to
live. For every problem there Is now
an example of its solution. For every
diiliouliy there Is something better far
than a declaration of dirty; there Is the
great Doer of the deed, lie has come
near to man than men might come near
to tine another. He reveals the right.
struct people In the teachings of Jesus
Christ, to incline their hearts to love
him and to lutlm-nce them to follow hi
his footsteps. IXies the church fulfill
its aim? Yes, In millions of instances.
It seems almost superfluous to in
quire why people should Join the
ehur.h. And yet there are obvious rea
sons why tims question should be rais
ed and answered. Multitudes of peo
ple more than half of the nation's
population ure not members of the
church; they need the church; the
church needs them. Tlvey should con
sider tills question, and should consider
It In a manner becoming manhood and
womanhood.
TH1U.MPH OP THE HEART.
By Bishop rmtlowM.
Men will differ in the doctrinal views
which St. Paul the apostle of Intellect
Is supposed to have taught They will
establish rival
churches on the
purely metaphysic
al, theological or
ecclesiastical opin
ions which their
leaders may hold.
The unity of the
church Is an Impos
sibility seen from
this survey point.
Like confronting
mountain peaks
Christian believers
Mere wouian is not counted as a per
sonal entity In the census of Slam, but
the queen appears lu bloomers and a
fancy blouse at public receptions.
Electric street cars, controlled by
Danes, run at a fast pace over an
eleven-mile route lu Bd about Bangkok.
THIRMT OF THE HOLIj.
tty Her. R. G. fndey.
The Palmist says. "My soul thlrsteth
for thee as a thirsty land," and we
either are or have been In that same
condition. Thirst taking hold upon us.
and death staring us in the face, us it
j confronts the thirsty land, or the men
I lu the open boat, for the Master says:
i'Ho, every one that thlrsteth, come ye
: to the water."
Have you ever wanted a glass of
water on u warm summer day, and al
though there were other things in plen
ty ,.e com milk, lemonade and other
drinks to tempt you you were not and
could not be satisfied until you got the
water? So men may drink of the pleas
ures of the world, but their thirst will
not he satisfied until they come In
touch with Christ nnd thus get "the
living water."
JOINING THE CHURCH.
By Rev. Frederick C. Priest.
The church Is an association of those
who profess belief In the teachings and
example of Jesus Christ. What does
'the church aim to accomplish? To ln-
BISI10P FALLOWS.
these bodies of
stand.
But below these peaks lies the same
great mountain range. Below all tiiese
oppositions which spring from the re
ligion of the head Is the great bed rock
of the religion of the heart. IiOgic ul
ways divides, love always unites.
The Christian's heart Is full of sym
pathy, full of generosity, full of toler
ance, full of patience, full of love. We
must bring the heart into business, In
spite of the teaching that "busuiews Is
business," which means that all the
higher sentiments must be removed
from Industrial or commercial transac
tions. The unnatural war between la
Imw aud capital will never end until
Justice, which Is simply love lu righte
ous action, shall prevail.
DOOM OP THE IMPENITENT.
By Rev. Orrln R. Jenks.
Three positions are held concerning
the destiny of the Impenitent namely,
eternnl conscious suffering In hell, uni
versal restoration and, lastly, that of
final and everlasting destruction.
The first view, though held by many
In Uie past. Is being largely abandoned
by thoughtful men. A touching that
puts sinners Into a burning hell, where
they are tormented unceasingly for
millions of ages, Is a doctrine that is
unbearable and one that men can no
longer preach nor Intelligently believe.
While the second view, that of uni
versal salvation, appeals strongly to
many minds and has able advocates,
yet It Is fatally lacking in scriptural
suport. The Bible Is certainly strong
In its teaching of future punishment.
The last view, that of the final ex
tinction of the wicked, is believed by
a large number of people, and is coin
ing more and more to gain the assent
of thinkers. The end of sin is death.
Sin and sinners are doomed to total,
final and everlasting extinction.
CONSEQUENCES OK SIN.
By Rev. Trunk H. Wilt:
A common remark in religious circles
to-day Is: "What we need Is a new and
deep conviction of sin." If for the time
being men seem to be less conscious
of crime against God, they are under
going a tremendous swindling of heart
as they come to. appreciate more keen
ly the wrongs consciously or uncon
sciously done their fellow men.
You can be guilty of no meanness In
the shadow, you cannot even be faith
less to yourself, but that you send a
twinge of iNiln to society's outermost
verge. The day Is jmst when n man
can say: "My conduct Is no one's busi
ness, so long ns I harm only myself
nnd am ready to take the conse
quences." It Is everybody's business,
for everybody takes the coiisciiucnces..
If you do not believe It, try the go-as-you-please
policy, and see how quick
ly society, witli Its liuMlciilably height
ened sensitiveness of conscience, will
bring you up with a turn.
Short Meter Sermons.
Every true mail seeks truth.
Braggards nre ulwnys laggards.
You cannot lead without love.
Hiding In sin prevents Its healing.
Soft soap usually has much lye in It.
Pessimism is tho worst of all here
sies. The only living art Is the art of liv
ing. Work is the only coin that buys
wisdom.
Ijibor forJod Is vnln without love
for man.
Muny are willing to give the Lord,
seed corn If only they cun have a morfr
gage on the crop.