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Mr. John.
BV EVELVN PARKER.
Hi. HE wedding had
yy passed off exceed-
\ JJtS** , . ingly e]1, and
everybody , z was
f vMdii, satisfied, ly with especial¬ the fact
of its being over.
C'ri'-t. I* Lad taken
place at the old-
fashioned early
hour, so that the bride and bride¬
groom and all the guests might be
gone before evening, find Mrs. Wal¬
lace, the bride’s grandmother, might
have time to settle down again before
bedtime. She was a very vigorous and
plucky old lady, but she admitted
that at four-score years it is well to
keep to regular hours. Mrs. Wallace
It was evening now.
had retired to her dressing room, and
the whole house had resumed its
wonted aspect.
At the drawing-room window slood
Christy Wallace, looking out at the
lingering sunset, and meditating on
the fact that no one was so thankful
that the wedding was over as herself,
and that for all her thankfulness life
promised to be a little uninteresting
just for the present. Blanche had been-
there so long, that though the cousins
had by no means been all-in-all to one
another, they had made part of each
other’s existence; and as for Harold,
he had been at The House all his life
long, and had run in and out of Mrs.
Wallace’s house as if it had been his
own.
There had been a time, before and
after Blanche arrived upon the scene,
when Harold had come in and out as
Christy’s acknowledged, if not ac
cepted, lover. Then Blanche’s livelier
ways attracted him, and nobody had
much account of Christy’s prior claim.
Mrs. Wallace even had said little, and
though she had devised a multiplicity
of errands and occupations for her
elder grandchild, she had refrained
from pettiDg, or any words of com¬
passion—a forci of consideration for
which Christy very heartily thanked
her.
Christy was i Linking of all this as
she leaned against the window, and
could not be sor^y that the strain of
the lover’s presence was removed.
Blanche had behaved very well all
through, been ve~y affectionate and
cousinly, but there was the faintest
suspicion of kindly condescension in
her treatment of the girl whom she
had supplanted. As for Harold, his
bluff good fellowship had been a daily
trial. They were gone, but the re¬
moval of her eross made Christy feel
as if life would consist of nothing to
do for some to come
She looked up the hill to where the
ohimneys of The House showed be¬
tween the trees, nnd wondered if Mr.
John was experiencing anything like
her own feelings now that Harold was
gone and he had the place to himself.
She wondered, too, if now they would
allow him the use of his surname, or
if he was to be Mr. John to the end
of the chapter.
He had gained the name during his
uncle’s life, and after Mr. Turton’s
• death, Harold, Mr. John’s half-brother,
had carried so much the more impos¬
ing presence that the squire still re¬
in the as Mr.
John. He was quiet and studious, and
if he had any love for society he re¬
pressed it, partly from his disinclina¬
tion to be outshone by his younger
brother, partly from his desire to
amend, if possible, the fallen fortunes
of his little estate, It was known
that his uncle had been ambitious that
he should marry money, but Mr. John
appeared to prefer to save his money
by strict economy, If he had ever
paid court to anybody, he and that
person were the only ones that knew it.
Harold also would have been pleased
to see him marry money, though he
was generous to him, and though
Harold had a sufficient fortune of his
own.
Harold had been much the bigger
man at The House, and Christy half
smiled at the thought of Mr. John be-
ing forced by circumstances to take
his own place.
The sun was going down now, the
garden lay in a shadow, though the
bright rays still shone on Mr. John’s
chimneys, and on the roses that olus-
tered over Christy’s window. Sud-
denly there was a step on the turf,
and some one came leisurely around
the corner of the house.
“May I come in, Miss Wallace? It
is lonely up at the house.”
It was Mr. John himself, and she
hastened to admit him. “I was
thinking of you,” she said, “and
wondering if we were to take to calling
you by your rightful name now that
there is only one of you. ”
“There has been only one of me
all my life long, I think, and that one
has been Mr. John. It would be dif-
fioult to turn it into anything else,
Miss Wallace.”
“Not more difficult, I should think,
than yon found it to change me from
Christy to Miss Wallace,” she said,
with a little smile.
“That happened, and had to hap¬
pen, when you grew up," he replied,
I with a faint flush rising to his face.
“When are you going to grow up,
then, Mr. John? I was rather slow
at it if it only happened five .years
ago, but you are even more dilatory,”
said Christy, talking for tho sake of
talking.
“What do people do when they
grow up? Get married, like Harold
and Blanche? Well, I admit that we
have let our juniors get the start of ue
in that. I hope they will have a
happy life,” he ended, dreamily.
“They expect it, and they are light¬
hearted people. Blanche is not often
out of spirits.”
Then the two lapsed into silence,
and sat gazing out over the landscape.
They were both thinking of Blaneho
and Harold, and of themselves as well.
The sun set, and the summer twi¬
light had it all its own way in garden
and wood and meadow, and here, in
Christy’s drawing-room, too, where
the silent figures sat by the window
and meditated.
Christy stirred herself with a bit of
a laugh, as a thrush in the acacias
broke into sudden cry. “I am keep¬
ing you here all in the dark,” she said,
and would have risen to ring for
lights.
“Not yet,” besought Mr. John. “I
came up here with a distinct purpose
to-night, but I do not know how to
set about it. I am a shy, awkward
man. Will you forgive me if I make
a blunder?”
“Surely,” answered Christy, in be¬
wilderment.
“ I want to show you a letter you
once wrote me," and he selected a
note from his pooketbook and handed
it to her. “Do you remember it?”
Christy opened it and read it by the
waning daylight. He watched her as
sh6 leaned to the window, thinking
what a dainty, delicate hand she had:
Dear Mr. John—I am sorry you asked me,
because it is impossible, Graudmamma
could not spare me. Harold will explain it
to you. Yours faithfully,
Christine Wai.l.icb.
f3be handed it back to him.
“I remember it very well, but it is
a long time ago. 1 thought it must
have offended you somehow, for it was.
then that I suddenly grew up.”
“It is possible for a man to be hurt
without being offended. The note
hurt me, but something was said yes¬
terday which made me think there had
been a mistake. Will you tell mo
what it was that I asked, and you
found impossible?”
Christy began to feel nervous; there
was something almost portentous in
the extreme quiet of his speech. His
face looked pale through the gather¬
ing gloom.
“It was a message that Harold
brought from you. You asked me to
ride with you to Bolton’s Cove the
next day, and I could not go partly
because granny did not think it proper
for me to ride with you alone, and
partly because the servants were going
to a confirmation, and Jones had to
take my horse to drive them. Harold
said he could explain all that in words
better than I could in writing. I was
vexed, because I wanted to go to Bol¬
ton’s Cove. You see, I remember it
all well.”
“Excellently well,” he answered,
with a curious intonation. “Perhaps
you will be surprised to hear that I
never did ask you to go to Bolton’s
Cove, and that I sent you no message
on that day.”
“I don’t understand.”
“No,” he answered, his hands mov¬
ing restlessly, in curious contrast to
Christy’s, which lay immovable in her
Jap. “It seems that I had two friends
just then more anxious for my perma¬
nent welfare thau my present happi¬
ness. I was writing a letter of some
importance to myself when my uncle
called me away. I left my desk un¬
locked, not supposing that anyone
would be likely to search into my pri-
vate affairs, but it proved that I was
too trustful. Harold examined my
letter, and reported upon it to my
uncle, and, as the result, my letter
was suppressed, and a message devised
for Harold to carry in its place. I have
a copy of that letter. Let me light a
candle; I should like you to read it. ’’
Christy sat white and silent in her
shimmering wedding dress, ghostlike
in the faint light from the window;
scarcely less so in the little yellow
gleam of the candle. Not a pose or a
motion of hers escaped Mr. John that
night.
She was rather frightened now,
when he set the candle down on the
shelf beside her and handed her this seo-
ond letter. The paper trembled in her
hand, and she bent her head nervously
over it. As she read she trembled more
and more, for this was a plain and
simple proposal of marriage from a
man to whom she had never dared to
lift her eyes from that point of view,
■and the very simplicity of it was so
like the writer that it was like haring
his very words breathed into her ears.
It was written live years ago. and he
it. was standing over her now as she read
To him the time seemed endless, as
she sat with bent head considering
those brief words. But it was more
than the words that detained her ; it
was the shock of the whole thing and
the difficulty of realizing its meaning.
Mho moved at lust, and he took hack
the letter.
“The explanation that Harold gave
mo was that you preferred him to me,"
he said, with the same forced quietude
of his former speeches. “If I sent the
letter to you now what answer would
you give me?”
“Mr. John!” spoke Christy in star¬
tled tones.
“If you said ‘John,’ it would be all
the answer I would ask for,” he an¬
swered.
Christy half rose. She thought she
would feel safer ou her feet, and at
that moment the door opened.
.“The mistress wants you in her room
at once, Miss Christy, and shall I bring
in the lamp?”
Christy went np swiftly to her grand¬
mother— a little shocked at having lor-
gotten her for so long, and a good deal
relieved at having gained time before
giving her answer.
Mrs. Wallace was sitting in her chair
by the window, from which she might
have seen Mr. John’s approach to the
house.
“So John Turton’s here,” she said,
in her quick, sharp way. “What’s he
come for, Christy? What’s he come
for?”
Christy’s wits were hardly sufficient¬
ly collected for her to give an immedi¬
ately ; ntelligib!e answer.
“Never mind,” said the old lady,
nodding cheerfully, “we all know that
he has not come to see if his brother
is left behind bv mistake. Now, look
here, Christy, John Turton is here to
propose to you, and you are a fool if
you say no. He’s no fool and he’s
worth a dozen of his brothers. Har¬
old was good enough for.Blanche, but
he was not good enough for you, and
I was not vexed when he threw yon
over for her. You take John ; Ire’s the
man for you,” and the old lady nod¬
ded more and more vigorously in ap¬
probation.
“But, granny—” began Christy, ap¬
pealingly.
“Tut, tut! Never mind granny.
There, you don’t want to be vexing
yourself with the notion that I can’t
do without you—I cau manage, I can
manage ! You do as I bid you. Go
clown and drop a pretty courtesy and
say, ‘If you please, Mr. John.’ That’s
the thing, and there is no Harold to
come between you this time. Some
old women aren’t so blind as they
look, my dear. Come here, Christy,”
seeing how her grandchild stood
irresolute, with face working and eyes
suspiciously misty. “Bend down and
kiss your granny. You have been a
good child to me, and a comfort ever
since I had you, and I want to see yon
happily settled. John’s the man for
you. Go down to him, and to-morrow
you can send him up to me ; I don’t
want to see him to-night.”
But Christy lingered, kneeling by
her grandmother, really crying softly,
overcome by the tenderness from such
an unexpected source, coming on the
top of so many disquieting things.
Mrs. Wallace did not allow her to
cry long.
“That’s enough, Christy!” she said
briskly. “Cheer np and get about
your business. You are keeping tha
man waiting.”
So Christy had to go down. Mr.
John, listening with the ears of an
anxious lover, heard every footfall on
the stairs; heard uncertain steps come
across the hall, uncertain fingers laid
on the door-handle. His heart beat
as irregularly as her feet moved.
His eyes sought hers as she entered
—eagerly, anxiously. “What has Mrs.
Wallace said to you?” had
“She said that John Tarton
come to pronose to me, and 1 was a
fool if I said no. Oh, John 1” she said,
in a voice that was smothered in his
embrace, “if I was not good enough
for Harold—”
“Let Harold be; he has done us
harm enough already, Christy,” he
skid, with his voice tremulous with a
multitude of feelings. “I am promoted
to be John, and I feel that I am grow¬
ing up I”
“John,” she repeated, still much
smothered, “I—I suppose they will
naturally say Mr. and Mrs. Turton,
' be
won’t they? We shall both grown
up then.”—The Home Queen.
The Original Color ol Flowers.
Some scientific papers have endeav¬
ored to show that in the early ages all
flowers were yellow, and the various
colors we now have have simply fol¬
lowed the introduction of insects—
that flowers have, in other words, been
made beautiful in order to render
them attractive to insects, to encour¬
age their visits, so that the cross-fer¬
tilization of the flowers might be bet¬
ter effected. As morphology teaches
us that the petals of flowers are noth¬
ing but modified leaves, says a writer
in Meehan’s Monthly, we might im¬
agine that the earlier attempts at in¬
florescence would be green and not
yellow.
Diet far the Pet Dog.
The best menu for a pet dog con¬
sists of bread and milk, oatmeal boiled
in broth, vegetables mixed with gravy
(cabbage or greens of some kind,
flavored with gravy, should be given
two or three times a week in place oi
the grass which he would eat if he
could get it), biscuits and puppy cakes
and an occasional bone, without
meat, for the benefit of his teeth,
which will otherwise become loose
from want of use; water to any extent
and an occasional pinch of powdered
sulphur, especially in warm weather,
by the way of a condiment.
“COFFEE PEA.”
A RICH PLANT UNDER OULTIVA *
TIOX IN COLORADO.
It Flourishes lit Arid Wastes, Vat
lens Cuttle, .Makes u Delicious
Drink and May Have a
Croat Future.
HAT Colorado may eventually
become the source of a coffee
supply for tho country is not
as wild a proposition as it
may seem at first blush, says a Denver
letter in the Chicago Times-Herald.
Through a series of experiments nt
tho State Agricultural College a wild
pea has been so turned that it gives a
very good substitute for the Brazil
bean.
It is known as the Idaho coffeo pea,
owing to its having boon found in that
State growing in rank profusion. Col¬
orado is the first State to make a
specialty of tho introduction of the
pea for fodder for animals and food
for man. It is equal iv palatable for
both and possesses such remarkable
qualities that it would not be sur¬
prising if it obtained a regular stand¬
ing in the economy of life.
For the past two or three years the
pea has been growing in favor among
tho farmers of the Cache la Poudre
Valley, in which the college is located,
and the present season will witness
the production of large quantities of
it for stock food, for which purpose
it is probably not excelled by any
crop grown in this latitude.
The plant is a native of Idaho, where
it grows wild, its fruit being used
mainly as a substitute for coffee, an
infusion of the leaves having been used
for generations by the Shoshones be¬
fore they ever had any knowledge of
the imported article, Settlers who
invaded the West in the ’60’s gave the
plant the name of the “coffee pea,”
lor want of a better expression.
Scientifically it is the cicer areitinum,
and is said to grow wild in some parts
of Europe. Colorado
The first known of it in
was in the spring of 1893, when
Charles E. Penuock of Bellevue, Lari
mer County, received a few of the
seeds from Wood Kiver, Idaho. These
were planted, and Mr. Penuock was so
pleased with the results that he con-
tinued experimenting with the plant,
giving year by year a little larger area
to its cultivation until he had accumu¬
lated seed enough to supply several of
his neighbors with what they needed
for experimental purposes and also to
meet the calls for it from other sec-
tions of the country.
This was in the spring of 1830. As
a result of this distribution of teed,
several acres were planted in the valley
of tho Cache la Poudre last year to the
Idaho coffee pea. Success attended
these experiments and the value of the
crop has been clearly established. One
farmer, JohnG. Lindemier, raised 250
bushels last year and sold nearly the
entire crop at good prices.
Those who have fed it to stock say
that its fattening properties have no
equal. It has been found to take one
half less of it than corn to fatten an
animal. As food for milch cows the
tests have proved satisfactory, the
cows giving one-third more milk than
when fed on bran, and butter made
from the milk in winter is as yellow as
that made in 3 une. The ration is pre¬
pared by soaking the peas until they
become soft, by cooking them, or
grinding and feeding the meal. The
latter method is preferable because it
gives the best results. Stock prefer it
in that way to any grain, and do bet¬
ter. The average ration for a working
horse is three quarts a day. It puts
horses into excellent condition, gives
them sleek, glossy coats and keeps
them in good health. About the same
ration per day is sufficient for milch
cows or fattening stock. Hogs require
from one to three pints of the meal to
a feed, according to the size of tho
animal.
The plant is easily cultivated and is
prolific. A single stalk produces from
1000 to 1400 pods. In 1895 Mr. Pen-
nook thrashed sixty-eight bushels,
machine measure, from the crop of
Idaho coffee peas grown on less than
three-quarters of an aero of ground,
and considers 1000 bushels to the acre
an ordinary yield under proper cul¬
ture, the soif and climate conditions
being favorable. It thrives best plan ted
in drills three feet apart. The plants
should stand fifteen inches apart in the
row, one seed in a place requiring
about fifteen pounds of seed to the
acre. It should Vie planted as soon as
the ground becomes warm in spring,
about corn planting time, and hoed
and cultivated in the same manner as
corn. When the plants get a good
start they completely cover the ground,
so that weeds have no chance to inter¬
fere with them. It is a low spreading
plant, sometimes measuring four feet
across, with short, stout stems, eaoh
having many branches with thick,
dark green compound pinnote leaves,
covered ou the underside with hairy
glands. The pods are formed at the
axil of every leaf, and contain from
one to three peas.
The Idaho coffee pea grows and
matures without water, a characteris¬
tic that farmers with dry knolls on
their farms will appreciate. It will
be seen irotn this statement that the
coffee pea is an arid region plant, it
does better ou unirrigated land; bet¬
ter in a dry climate than in a moist
one. This being true, there need no
longer be any dry wa-te places on the
farm. They can be made to prodnoe
big crops of superior food for man and
beast.
of As the the pods are the formed first formed at the axil j
leaves, soon
ripen, so that there are ripe and green I ;
pods and also blooms at the same time
all throuah the season, and tbe plants !
are in bloom at harvest time. The
pods never crack, so none of the fruit
is wa sted by shelling out and tbe crop
can be harvested at leisure. The early
autumn frosts do not stop the growth
Of the plant or injure the peas.
As a substitute for coffee it is rich
and -nutritious, having a richer and
hotter flavor than ordinary coffee. It
can be used freely by invalids and
♦ liildreu, with known bouelioial ef¬
fects. It is nourishing, but lias none
of the stimulating qualities of the
coffee of commerce. Many old coffee
drinkers prefer it to Java or ltio, and
cannot tell the difference, It it
parched and ground like other coffee,
one-thild less being use settled with
an egg, nnd, with cream and sugar,
makes a delicious drink.
When the valuable properties of this
wonderful plant become known, and
the farmers learn liow to produce,
harvest and thrash it to the best advan¬
tage, it bids fair to prove of greater
benefit in the arid region, as there is
probably no other grain that possesses
so many valuable feeding qualities as
the Idaho coffee pea. Mr. Sands, of
Nebraska, who experimented with the
plant last year, writes enthusiastically :
“It will build cities nnd railroads
when it becomes known.”
Infancy niid'Cliildltood.
Every physician encounters deplora¬
ble cases of children three and four
years old whose diet consists almost
exclusively of meat, simply because
their perverted appetites demand that
article. In suen extreme instances
the most severe measures nre justi¬
fiable in order to resume the natural
and healthfni method of feeding, to
save the child’s health, if not its very
life. We should permit it to become
genuinely hungry by withholding all
meat, or even all food, until it will
consent to recommence taking milk.
Wo may aid the child to overcome
any temporary repugnance to milk by
making it as palatable as possible. It
may be aerated in a milk shake,
beaten in a cream-whipper, flavored
by oyster juice and renamed “oyster
soup,” seasoned with any harmless
essence.
Variety is desirable, and oven nec¬
essary, in the diet of all children; but
in seeking variety we should never
lose sight of the main principle—that
milk should be the chief and frequent
article of diet, and meat, if not wholly
exolnded, admitted only as an occa¬
sional and non-essential part in the
diet, of any child under six years of
age. Many children reach that age in
superb health and with fine physical
development without having known
the taste of meat. The little oue wili, 1
naturally tire of milk if he is always
given plain milk, milk, milk, without
any change. But milk with oatmeal,
milk with hominy, milk with cracked
wheat, with cracked corn, with rice,
with baked apples, seem in infantile
judgment quite different dishes.
There are also the various cream soups,
made up without butter or seasoning,
beyond the natural pinch of salt.
This we may vary with a number of
articles not taken with milk, but
served in a different course. —Harper’s
Bazar.
Making Commercial Diamonds.
Chemists have recently and in pub¬
lic made actual diamonds, Comparable
in every respect, save one, that of zize,
with nature’s most valued product.
But the crystals so manufactured have,
while true diamonds, been so micro¬
scopic in proportions as to be of
no commercial value. Now, however,
United States Consul Germain at Zu¬
rich reports to the State Department
that a Mr. E. Moyatt claims to have
discovered a process by which dia¬
monds of larger dimensions may be
produced. In principle his process is
similar to the one already used—that
is, to crystallize carbon out of iron and
steel by means of high pressure
and high temperature. Yet there is
an improvement in the technical oper¬
ation. Pulverized coal, iron chips and
liquid carbonic acid are enclosed in a
strong steel tube, hermetically scaled
and subject to au electric current be¬
tween two terminals in the ends of the
tube. The iron liquefies, is saturated
by part of the pulverized coal, and at
the same time the liquid carbonic acid
evaporates, thereby creating enormous
pressure on the liquid iron and coal.
This process considerably increases
the dissolution of the coal in tho liquid
iron. While the mixture is cooling
the carbon crystallizes partly in the
form of real diamonds and partly in
the form of similar stones. These
crystals are released from the ingot by
dissolving the iron in diluted muriatic
acid. The mixture by this method re¬
mains tinder high pressure during the
operation of the electric current.—
New Orleans Picayune.
Mechanism of the Human Body
The human body is an epitome in
nature of all mechanics, all hydraulics,
all architecture, all machinery of
every kind. There are more than three
hundred and ten mechanical move¬
ments known to mechanics to-day, and
all of these are but modifications of
those found in tho human body. Here
ure found all the bars, levers, joints,
pulleys, pumps, pipes, wheels and
axles, ball and socket movements,
beams, girders, trusses, buffers, arobes,
columns, cables and supports known
to science. At every point man’s best
mechanioal work can be shown to be
hut adaptations of processes of the
human body, a revelation of first prin¬
ciples used in nature.—Ladies’ Home
Journal.
Awakened by Telephone.
The Johnstown (Penn.) telephone
office has-adopted the call system like
that in vogue at leading hotels. The
subscriber who wishes to wake at a
certain hour calls up “central,” who
registers it. When tbe time arrives
the operator rings up the subscriber,
If he turns over and fondly imagines
that it’s an alarm clock, he is nicely
fooled, for the telephone bell will keep
ringing until he stops it, and tbus
“cen.r.ii” will know that he is awake
and up.
SABBATH SCHOOL
INTERNATIONAL LESSON FOIS
MAY’ 2.
Lesson Text: “Paul Regins Ills First
Missionary .Tourney," Acts xill.,
1-13—Golden Text: Mark
xvl., 1G—Commentary.
1. "Now there weroin thechureli tlmt was
at Antioch certain prophets and teachers, as
Barnabas, etc., and Haul." The work began
at Antioch through the preaching of those
who were scattered by the persecution about
Stephen, nnd was followed up by Barnabas
and Saul teaching the people for a whole
Antioch, year (chapter xl., 19, 126). Tho church at
things, hearing the of the need, in temporal
of believers in Juda, sent them
relief by the hands of Barnabas and Saul,
who, having fulfilled their ministry, re¬
turned to Antioch.
2. "Separate Me, Barnabas and Saul for
the work whereunto I have called them.”
Thus spake tho Holy Ghost, ns the believers
ministered to the Lord, thinking much more
of His business thau of any comfort of their
own, and even mortifying the body if per¬
chance the soul might bo more alive to
things eternal. It is written of Job that he
said, “I have esteemed the words of His
mouth more thau mv necessary food" (Job
xxiii., 12). When the disciples brought our
Lord food at Jacob's well, He said, “I havo
meat to eat that ye know not of." “My meat
Is to do the will of Him that sent me and to
finish His work” (John iv., 32. 34). When
the things of tho Lord are of more impor¬
tance to us than aught else, we have the
spirit of fasting.
3. "And when they had fasted and prayed
and laid their hands on them they sent them
away.” The Holy Spirit is the Ono who has
full control of all tho alTairs of the church
during the time of our Lord’s absence.
4. “So they being sent forth by tho Holy
Ghost departed unto Seleneia, and from
thence they sailed to Cyprus.” The Holy
Spirit called them, sent them forth, and
would use them as He saw fit that God
might be glorilled. All that the Lord Jesus
said or did was by the Spirit, and He alone
can do in and through us that which ought
to bo done.
5. “And when they were at Salamis, they
preached the word of God in the synagogues
of minister." the Jews, and they had also John as their
As servants of Christ wo have
but one book, the word of God, and but one
Teacher, the Holy Spirit. This word we
must make our constant study, and this
word we must ever speak in whole hearted
reliance upon the Holy Spirit, and “To tho
Jew itrst" seems to bo the unchanged order
(Rom. i., 16; it., 10). The promise to Moses
still holds good, “Now, therefore, go. and I
will be with thy month and teach thee what
thou shalt say" (Ex. iv.. 12).
6. 7. Coming to Paphos, the deputy of the
country, Sergius Paulus, sent for them, de¬
siring to hear the word of God.” Thus the
Spirit leads together those who are ready to
hear and those who are ready to speak the
word of God, as when He brought together
Philip and the eunuch, Simou Peter and Cor¬
nelius. When it is thus His doing, some¬
thing is always accomplished to the glory of
God, as in each of these cases. What, there¬
fore, can be more desirable than to be fllled
with and controlled by the Holy Spirit? For
our comfort we remember that our Lord
Jesus said, “If ye, then, being evil, know
how to give good gifts unto your children,
how much more shall your Heavenly Father
give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him”
(Luke xi., 13). We have also the comfort o
knowing that if we are fllled with the word
of God and controlled by the Spirit of Goa
He will fit into our lips the right message at
the right will time (Prov. of xxii., of 18). the And disciples. Math,
x., 20. be true us as
8. “But Elymas, tho Sorcerer, withstood
them, seeking to turn away the deputy from
the faith.” The sam6 old serpent, the devil,
and satan, who turned Adam and Eve away
from God, is ever at work. He seeks to keep
people from hearing the word of God by
making believers indifferent to the command
to preach the gospel to every creature, and
when the word has been preached ha will, if
possible, take away the word out of their
hearts lest they should believe and he saved
(Luke viii.. 12); or if it is reee.ved, he will.it
possible, choke it that it may not bear fruit.
Resist the devil (Jas. iv., 7). called
9. “Then Saul, who is also Paul,
fllled with the Holy Ghost, set his eyes on
him.” The Holy Spirit can look through
our eyes as well as speak with our voice, and
our eyes will then be searching in some little
measure as Christ’s were. But wo will be
unconscious of it, for anything like self con¬
sciousness is in opposition to being fllled
with the Spirit. Moses wist not that the skin
of his face shone (Ex. xxxiv., 29). And no
doubt Stephen was unconscious that his face
was as the face of an angel (Acts vi.. 15).
This is the first time that Saul is calle 1 Paul.
10. “Wilt thou not cease to pervert the
right ways of the Lord?" Thus the Spirit in
Paul addressed him. calling him a child of
the devil and enemy of ail righteousness.
Some good people to-day would say that he
was a child of God, and that God was his
Father, though he was wandering from Him.
But the Spirit of God does not talk so. The
Lord Jesus said to certain religious people,
“Ye are of your father the devil” (John viii..
44). It is also written of Cain that he was
of the wicked one (I John iii., 12).
11. “And now. behold, the hand of the
Lord is unon thee, anh thou shalt be blind,
not seeing the sun tor a season.” Instantly
it came to pass, nnd he sought some one to
lead him by the band. His outward condi¬
tion was now like his Inward condition. He
was truly a child of darkness. If his dark-
—- - n i,r Mr rata life or only for a sea-
ness Wcta ** 1 * Lord spoko ,
son it was well for him. But our
of some who would be cast into outer dark¬
ness where there is weepingand gnashing of
teeth (Math, xxii., 13). In Jude xili., we
read or some to whom is reserved the black¬
ness of darkness forever. Happy children are those
Who, receiving the light, become of
light, and happier still, it as such they walk
in the light. when he what
12. “Then the denuty, saw
was done, believed," being Thus astou the shed devil at the
doctrine of the Lord.” gained over¬
did it and lost his man, and the Lord
him. Tne word of the Lord will always ac¬
complish the Lord’s pleasure, an 1 prosper in
that whereto He sends it (Isn lv., 11). It is
ours to be fllled with it, and let the Spirit
accomplish by it through us that whicn He
pleases. Where the word of a king is there
is power (Eecl. viii.. 4). and ours is tho word
of the King of Kings.
13. “Thevearaeto Perga in Pamphylia, returned
and John, departing from them, to .
Jerusalem.” Having gone through Cyprus
with the record of but one convert, though
there may have been others, they now cross
over to the mainland.-—LeBson Uelpe.r.
BANK CASHIER UNDER ARREST.
Charged Wit Embezzlement of the In¬
stitution’s Funds.
The Georgia Loan, Savings and
Banking company, of Atlanta,of which
G. Y. Gress is president and Henry
A. Cassin secretary and treasurer, is
alleged to be insolvent. A receiver
has been asked for and tha affairs of
the concern have been brought to
light in numerous court petitions filed
with Judge J. H. Lumpkin.
The trouble of the company is one
of the results of the alleged embezzle¬
ment of Henry A. Cassin, and the
company appears to have been wreck¬
ed by the misappropriation of the
funds by Cassin, who is under arrest.
iChe London’s Westminster c»ocix,
Big Ben, “reports itself” each day au¬
tomatically at Greenwich, where a re¬
cord is kept of its accuracy.