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'T MS p / */ s. A fas [c o » ' u * r (L\ tv; TmKSt'i h TJ r -4 M ■ Ji Ijrai ■T| flip ig^ CL 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.