Evening Star Newspaper, October 10, 1891, Page 7

YOUNG DOCTOR RAY'S TEMP- TATION. WRITTEN EXCLUSIVELY FOR THE EVENING STAR BY M28 E. D. £. N. SOUTHWORTH. ‘““The fall thon darest to despise— May be the anyul’s slackened hand ‘Has suffered it And take a fi . ADELAIDE A. PROCTER T WAS A DARK, COLD, BLUSTERING night in the month of March. But inside the dining room of tho Eagle Hotel in the country town of North Hills all was warm, bright nud cozy. The spacions room had been engaged for the night by the Northchester County Medical Society for their enstomary onference. The scientific discussions and the business part of the meeting was over. The festivities were in fnll fow. It wasavery mixed crowd of young, middle aged and old men, of well- dressed, ill-clothed and poorly clad men, that grthered aronud the table. Some seemed to come from the cultured classes of society, some from the middle and some few from the very humblest. But with one alone have we anything to do— Lee Rav. He waa tall, thin, ate young wan, ei d face, fine and ‘clearly out features: a fair complexion, lightly curling fluxen hair and beard large light-gra. blonde of the purest type. His hands were as white and shapely as any young girls. ‘ibe dainty cleanness of Lis threadbare black dress suit and snow white linen showed hit to ve a poor gentleman. Lee Kay was alone in the world. He had lost Doth parents in early chilihood, had been reared by a guardian educated at a public school. He had spent nearly the whole of his small patrimony in his medical training, so that when he received bis degree he had scarcely the menns to take im to the country town of Up; re He established his quarters in a little white ston cottage standing in its own shady yard on Mainstreet, on the same side and alout midway between the hotel and the post office, agood loca- tion, ke thought, for the practice of his profes- +*n. It was adouble house. with a passage * .nning through the middle from front to wack and having rooms on the right and left. It was the right-hand front room that thedoctor rented for his office and the attic room over it for his bed room. He also took board with the Such a femily! A sister, aged seven- mistress of the house; three lit- ed eleven, nine and seven, re- and seemed to bay. with the orpans for the sake of a home May Pigeon, the young sister. was a te in the primary department of tlie district pub- lie school. She was j plump little br tte, with curly dark hair, soft brown eyes and sweet «mile. Her dress was plain and neat. sae did her duties faithtully. t she was glad to get a iodger and boarder, whose pay would heip to support the ittle hoasebold, and she became happy in the company of the retinea and cultivated young man. With this good little girl Lee Ray began to feel in love for the first and only time in his life. Every lover thinks his sweetheart to be an angel, but Lee Kay knew his own to_be one. Achild who worked hard and cheerfully to support her orphan brothers to keep them out etthe strects and at school; who denied her- self of every bit of girlish finery that they night be better clothed: who stayed home from young peoples’ gatherings in the evenings to iarn their socks or mend their clothes; who wore a threadbare black cashmere gown with- out a single relief except the cheap little white collar and cuffs. Ah! that tireadbare black gown! [twas just the match for his thrend- bare black coat! It wasa boyish thought, but it seemed to bring them nearer togethe The best of his lot now was that he lived under the same roof with May: sat at the same table with her, and felt thet his weekly pay- ments helped to lighten the burden her young shoulders bad te bear. ‘There were times when this situation contented him, as it always con- tented May. She was happy. She would not have had anything changed in their cireum- stances. She hoped that the doctor might always board with her little family: that she might always see him at breakfast, dinner and tea, and when she sat sewing in her little parlor of ‘evenings feel that he was in his office across the passage reading, and that he might, maybe, come across and rap at the door and ask “May I come in and read to you somethi She Knew that the young doctor loved he and that he was not able to marry. of that? Why! neither was she! She belonged to her little brothers and Aunt Becky! She had them to take care of. So she and the doe- tor were alike in that matter. and that was an- other link of sympathy between them. And, after all, what could they want but just to live happily together us they were now living—like brother and sister in the same house together with Aunt Becky and the little boy Lee Kny's ottice rent, board and washing bills were causes of great anxiety to him. He could not know always how he should pay them from one week to another. Yet, so far he had ma aged to do so, but ah! not from his practice! He received small compensations from a new medical magazine, to which he occasional sent articles. Meantime he was “patien iting for patients.” He used every lawful and honorable means for acquiring « practice. Among the rest le joined the Northchester County Medical Society. but without avail. There were tive other physicians beside hin self in the town where there was only business for two, or at most three. And as far as in- yuiry cou overcrowded in every other town in Upperville. And young m with- out any considerat, fitness, seemed to be instigated by a mbition to enter the learned professions, to become lawyers, doe- tors or clergy The civil offices ot the gov- ernment are largely dlled with unsuccessful fufessional men, who would bave done mach better bad they learned some mechanical trade. And in the case of e Ray, there were other aiverse cir Hie was, perhaps, too conscientions unserupulous warfare that is sometir ¥ to success. It is generally believed that mens depravity only stands in the way of their progress, but it really seemed as if Lee Kay's integrity ob- structed bis course. He would not break a law of God or man, however safely he might have done so, to save a reputation or to gain @ fee, no matter how strongly his benevolence Or bis seif interest might be invoked. “Doctor,” said a high official diguitary, who had vainly appealed t 3 ©01 fidential service, m yon shall bave made your reputatio: have acquired s lucrativ practice you may afford to be so extremel Fighteous overmuch, bu: you really cannot afford so expensive 2 moral luxury at this stage of your career! ‘The young physician gravely bent his head and bowed his would-be patron out of his off. But that in” took his vengeance. He went about among his neighbors wsinuating that young Dr. Lee Ray was something of a’ erank, whom it would be scarcely saie to trust with a serious case ! And now to add to his other troubles Ray wi seriously in love! No word of love or love- making had ever passed between bim and lis jectheart. Un this evening of the meeting of the society he had taken a thoughtful and scholarly part in the discussions of questions of medieal science and ethics brought before the meeting. but very smali share in the festiv- ities that followed He sat near the foot of the a nutcracker in compeers as they cracked walnuts and nibbled : eu told unseemly stori and made frivolous jests Bik Lee Ray was in an evil mood: and he watched bis companions cbarital But “ cent. Every other resour: yond the ‘practice of their profession. He had nothing. There wi Patrick O'Halloran. the tall, broud-shouldered. large. limbed, bullet-headed sou of @ rich liquor dealer! He bad barely pet when he got his di- What brought him into the overcrowded profession? He would have been muchmore suit- ably placed bebind his father's bar. His clumsy Bands were not fitted to take th of so def icate an instrament asthe human pulse. Yet. hhe was always “ilus” of money, and did not depend upon getting inte @ practice. And there were so many like him, drawa by @ mis- tukeu ambition from the ranks of manual lavor, for which their strong muscies titted th the ger- lady's bouguet than hardi gee uet than ing a scalpel. Then there was old Dr. Graystone, sev- enty-five years of ago if a dav! He had wade a cormtortable fortune by hi> practice be- ere the pressure of competition had driven so Be was better, nu doubt, at lending fan than lancing an abscess: for | coats and mufilers, many aspirants to despair. Why in the name of justice and mercy could he not retire and give the younger menachance? How could those trembling “old feel a pulee or write « prescription intelligibly?, a jere were, more convivial ‘snd’ hilarious Why should they not? Every one of where the money was to come from to pa} next month’s bills, nay, their next every year'sto come for # time ind But as for himself, Lee Ray, if hie article just sent to the uew Medical Review should not be ac- gepted and promptly paid for, how should be face his creditors? Certainly they were gentle and most considerate. May, his landlady, and Aunt Becky, his laundress. But that did not make the prospect of non-payment the less bit- ter. He knew his own ability. He knew that if he could only get an opportunity how surely that ability would be recognized, how secure his future success would become. But the medical profession was so overcrowded every- where. Competition ran so high. In his own adopted town as elsewhere. If only those two old doctors would retire, or—he hesitated to add even in bis thoughts—die. Or, if O'Hal- loran would go back to his father and keep his books or dispense his liquors; or if Schneider would emigrate to Colorado and buy @ cattle ranche. if—oh, if! Meantime “the fun grew fa It was past midnight when the meeting broke up and Lee Kay, all unconsciously, went forth to mect the most awful moment of his life The party from Upperville was the last to leave. It took some little time to get the stage coach they had chartered for their journey to be brought around to the door. So old Dr. Graystone proposed to treat bio party with a ot Scotch to warm them up for the cold drive of thirteen miles to Upperville. And Lee took his share and repented doing so to last day of his life! ihe whole party lit fresh cigars and set out dark hours of that bleak morning rn to Upperville. night! Could Lee Ray ever forget it while he sould live inthis lower world? Should he be permitted to forget it in the upper world? Meanwhile he drifted on to hisunkuown doom. ‘There were six passengers inside that coach— the doctors from Upperrille. ‘bey were tired and sleepy now, and, wrapped ap in their over. th bats pulled down over their ears, were lying back in their seats smok- ing while all the leather curtains were drawn down to keep out the cold air. Soon the stifling air grew so intolerable to young Kay that heasked leave to stop the coach that he might get outand ride beside the driver. Permission was given with drowsy warnings against pneumonia, influenza, &c., poor Ray thinking as he mounted his airy seat that he cared not now soon the one or the other should carry him off. the blustering wind had gone down or only rose in occasional puffs from the northeast. ‘The horses traveled slowly. They were tired, for this was beyond their usual working hours. ‘The driver was nodding. It was past his bed Luckily the road was good, thougis the and the horses, good old stages would as soon have dreamed of flying as bolt: ing. The coach erept along like a creature of infinite leisure. Time passed slowly. All was +o dark that there was nothing to be seen but erile fields and spectral forests, stretching away to the dusky horizon. The great clock from some unseen factory struck 4. by that proximity to the factory y knew that they had gone over haif the thirteen miles between North Hills and Upper- ile. All was silent within the coach, bat for an occasional snore from some one of the party sleeping heavily under the influence of fatigue and hot Scotch! Of all the set the young doctor was the only waking one. Tnat which had overcome the others had excited him, disordered his brain, stirred up all his nt evil passions and tilled him with bitterest He envied every one of his more fortunate ‘companions in the couch. ‘They could all pay their debts and enjoy all the com- forts and luxuries of life. He even envied the driver beside him! He was sure of his wages, his board and his lodging. He could even have envied the horses! ‘They were sure of their stalls and their fodder! But what was he, Lee Ray, sure of? Nothing, indeed, but hopeless indebtedness and endless anxiety While the poor fellow was maddening him- seli with these bitter thoughts the slow coach was creeping toward the railway crossing. And all within and upon the coach were asleep but Kay. He laid his hands upon the reins, but the sleeping driver started, seized them ‘tightly, dropped off to sleep again. And the horses crept straight on. Close and closer went the conch toward the fatal track! What was that? the low, distant hum and bur-r-r, and soon near and nearer roar and thugder of the rushing train! The first instinct ofthe young doctor was to seize the reins and turn the horees’ heads out of danger. But in an instant came a temptation, awift, fierce and overpowering—as sudden as the descent of the fabled Apollyon— to leap down from his seat, throw himself before the trainand so solve the problem, or end the pain of life! But, quick asa flash, a more internal inspiration seized him and forced him to spring off clear of the road and leave the doomed coach with its living freight to go to destruction! He struck the ground just, it seemed, as the rushing train struck the coach and hurled it up into the dark sky to fallin broken fragments with the mutilated bodies to the ground! Ah, heaven! the wild cries of terror, anguish and despair! The groans of mortal ‘agony distracting, maddening inst- ant's impulse, an instapt’s act had brought this ful choas (of destruction! The man lay ed with bérror, staring at his crime! The train had stopped. Amid the shrieks and groans and wails x crowd gathered ana grew. Where did all the multitude come from? Every house and hovel seemed to have giver: up its inmates as the graves will give up their dead at the Inst day!” A multitude of excited people appeared too distracted to suggest the best thing to be done. And he! the miserable man lying prone upon the roadside, stunned by the suddenness of ni awful full into guilt and heli, saw all, heard all as through a hideous nightmare. He saw dead men and dying men, mutilated and lacerated bodies drawn out from the wreck, and placed on planks or shutters hastily brought by the country people. He heard the sharp cries of agony from some who were still living, and then he heard a loud authoritative voice raised to inquire: “Is there a doctor present? sake let him come here! Ray knew that there could be no living md unhurt doctor on the spot. or that doctor would bave been the first to rush to the reseue. if by any forlorn hope any victim might be cased of pain or saved ‘om ath. Ray was a doctor, but he could not help, nor move, nor even ery ont. He lay there motionless until some one in the crowd stumbled against him, then stooped over hin, and with an exclamation of pity inquired. “Are ou hurt much? Where are you hurt? Can you answer?” And with these last words the speaker knelt down and began to feel his pulse, re- his question. But Ray could not answer, overwhelmed as he was in bis perdition of guilt. Oh, for the innocence of one hour ago! “The most grovel- ing poverty, the most miserable illness, the uttermost destitution with innocence would have been heaven to this! “Help, here, some of you!” said the man who was kneeling beside him; “here is another one done for, | am afraid ! Help came and Ray felt himself lifted and laid upon a shutter. As he was borne along he saw a row of six mangled corpses laid on planks an‘ guarded by two men with torches in their hands And then he fainted. How he was taken back from the scene of the catastrophe to his own lodgings he never re- membered. st shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose ? Within a few days after the catastrophe, which had removed every rival from bis path, leaving him a clear field, young Dr. Ray seemed to be gaining the whole world—that ix, the whole world of his own small sphere—that of he sole medical practitioner in the town of Upperville. She very morning after the trag- edy he had as many calls as be could attend to that day. And ob. cruel irony of fate, some of these were to attend the families of those who had been k'lled in the railroad eollision of the night before—bereaved mothers, widows, sis- ters, prostrated with grief! Dr. Graystoue’s old wife died. Young O’Halloran’s betrothed went mad for while. Other misfortunes resulted. Bat Dr. Lee Kay rose triumphant upon the rain of his rivals. The only medical practitioner in the town of Upperville, where there bad been six! And the season ‘of coughs and colds. eumonia, rheumatism, &c., was at its Keight! He knew thie state of aifairs could not last. It seemed like a dream even now. soon as it should become generally known that there was but one doctor in Upperville young pirants for medical practice would flock to the scene of enterprise and there would be more rivals than ever-—with this difference, however. that they could not now become suc- cessful rivals. He. Dr. Lee Ray, had the inside track and bis position would be secured beyond the possibility of dangerous competition before the arrival and settiement of the young medi- cal graduates who would be sure to come. ory If 80, for God's He bought a gig and horse and hired a boy to attend to them. He rented the barn in the rear of the Pigeon promises and turned it into a stable. A more successful you = sician than Lee Ray did not live on A more miserable than writhe in sheol! relish for love. f this world ry which only death could rouse him. He might Bave killed himself in his mental had not some inspiration taught him that here on this earth he must expiat te his sin, if, indeed, it could ever be expiated, and work out his salva- out. ‘He tM@ea day and if, perchance, it could possibly be worked longer for weslis or fate for thaws be hed lost all taste—but because for one reason, para- doxical as it may seem, he could not rest ex- waka begets tees forbs grat a ay in ‘atone for all the good he could. He answered ev made He visited and his own cost. Yet, potrdtintanding his hard and continuous work, he did not down. He kept himself up by a seductive drug the powers of which for present and the danger of which for future evil he knew. And, notwithstanding his liberal charities, he accu- mulated faster than he could find use for it. And whatever else he was doing, he prayed inwardly day and night. Prayed for for his one act of madness, his one jeadly sin. Prayed that he might be permitted to atone for it in labor and suffering. Prayed, but prayed in vain. Ob! for the peace and in- nocence of a few months ago, with all its pov- erty and privation! Oh! for the lost paradise of his soul! In the midst of his mental tortures his atten- tion was drawn toward May in a painful man- ner. It was during the short, dark days before Christmas that late one night Aunt Becky crept to the young doctor's office with a myxte- rious, not to say guilty, look, went up to him und whispered that she wanted him just to take » good look at May, “promiseuous like, and not to let on as anybody had put anybody up to doing of it.” To the doctor's inquiries the old woman ex- plained: “The child had a fever every after- noon and sweats in the night and fits of coughing in the morning, aud that was the way her mother began to go!” With troubled eyes Lee Ray ed at the speaker. Through all the dull gnawing of the wornf that dieth not” he felt a sha pang. Was his angel” falling ill? An in the nightmare of his ife he had not noticed it: He quostioned Aunt Becky further and learned enougu toaiarm him for the young girl's life. He promised to observe the in- valid and to do all he could tor her relief. Aunt Becky again bound him over to secrecy ‘o her own interference and then left his office. ‘The next day being Saturday before Christ- mas the young teacier iad a holiday until the Monday after New Year's day. Dr. Ray took cccasion to put afew adroit questions to her without exciting her suspicion, which she an- swered frankly and, so far as she knew, truth- : not ill--not much. She had cold. Aimost everybody had at this season. She was not going to lay up for it—not she, in- di the n careful examination the doctor discov- ered that the girl was doomed; that her life was A question of a few weeks, or months at far- thest. He did not hint this fatal fact even to Aunt Becky. But he formed a resolution con- sonant with his morbid state of mind aud his theory of expiation. He would marry this con- sumptive girl, so that he might take care of her both day and night. He would devote himself to the prolonging. consoling and chceriag her life, so that she should never know her danger. No! not even when she should die in his arms, or slip from life to living on forever! She was already fit for heaven. And then his sin might be pardoned for the child angel's sake. It ix needless to repeat the arguments by which he persuaded her that her own health and his happiness depended upon her resigning her position in the school and becoming his wife. She was but a child of seventeen, weak, failing and snffcring, and ske loved him, be- lieved in him and looked up to him. So they were married eariy in the new year. My story draws to a close. ‘The young hus- band consecrated every.honr not given to the duties of his profession to his bride. But she grew no better. He took.a fine house, fur- nished it sumptuously. He made her sick room a dream of comfort, elegance, luxury! He bought a closed coupe that she might drive out without danger of taking cold. ‘The best of wines, the most nutritious food, the strongest tonies were procured for her, yet she grew worse. : Nor was the nightmare of his own remorse lifted in the least degree! Mis toil, his prayers, his charities to the poor, his devotion to his dying bride, all tailed to lessen the depth of his pair, that grew deeper every day. At last, s he foresaw, his child bride fell asleep one evening in his arms and so passed from the troubled life of the flesh to the tranquil life of ‘the sou. Then the crisis came! It was on the day of her funeral and it was in the cemetery. Hi had never entered this cemetery before. Now he stepped out of the mourning coach at the great gate and walked behind the pallbearers who were carrying the casket toward the o} ve. To say that he walked like a man in jeous dream would be to describe his condi- tion not ealy for this one day, but for all the time that had passed since the sense of unpar- donable guilt had fallen upon his soul. Once he raised his eyes as he walked and there! right before bi ring at him! ac- cusing him! were five graves with five head- stones bearing the names of his victims! And for the second time in his life he fainted away! “How he loved his young wife?” he heard some one say, as he lost consciousness. Wuen he recovered his senses he found him- self in bed. He knew that he must have been brought hither ina state of unconsciousness. The room was very dark. He could see but one spark of light, which seemed to come from a night taper on the hearth, and the indistinct figure of some one near the foot of the bed. Bat he did not wish to speuk or to be spoken to. He was in perdition! Parted from his May, parted from all that was good forever and ever the great gulf that separates heaven from. hell. All that he had done bad failed in ex- piation and atonement. His prayers had not been heard, his good works had not been ac- cepted! Why not? when his remorse had been so deep; when he had tried so hard to expiate, to atone! It seemed now to be borne upon his mind that his remorse had been only remorse and nof repentance. It could not be repentance without confession. He must confess. ‘The law could do nothing to him, he knew. The Jaw could not touch him fer jumping off the coach, saving himself and leaving bis uncon- scious companions to go on to be killed by the approaching train. Public opinion only could punish him for that, but with abhorrence, exe- eration and ostracixm much harder to bear than any sentence the law could inflict, but not so hard, so awful as retribution from the pangs of conscience. He would bear this burder of guilt no et! He would make an open confession. Then, perhaps, at last, though he would be socially aud professionally ruined, God would forgive him! Then be would lea Cpper- ville, take poor May's little brothers with him and go to the far southwest and get work for himself on some ranch. He would die, but the boys would live and get on. Yes, this day he would make his confession. ‘This resolution gave him more peace than he had enjoyed since the night of his awful crime. ‘he nightmare was gone. He fell into aaweet sleep. When he awoke again the room was lighter. He sighed. Some one caine to the bedside and looked thim. He made out the figure. that you, Aunt Becky?” be inquired. “Oh, honey! do you know me? I'm that glad! Thank the good Lord in heaven! How do you feel, honey?” “Better than for a long time past!” “Let me open the window and take a good look at you! “Who brought me home. Aunt Becky?” “Old Dr. Graystone and young O'Halloran. And one or t'other has been along of you night and day ever since! But I ‘open the win- dow,” said the old woman, joved off. “Dr. Graystone! O'Halloran! What in the world are you talking about?” inquired the per- plexed invalid. Aunt Becky opened the window and threw back the shutters and let in the morning sun- shine before she turned around and answered. “Yes! and that dewoted to you as if you'd been their owndear flesh and blood! Young Dr. O'Halloran is down there on the sofa into your office, whore he’s been all night, in case of &@ change. One or t’other of them young doctors has stayed in the house all night every blessed night ever since you was took. And one of them old doctors come here twicet da Ray did not answer her. Heecarcely heard her. He was staring around the room, now clearly revealed in morning light. It was not the sumptuous chamber he had fitted up for his invalid bride, where he had nursed her and where she had died in his arms, and where be bad slept ever nee ated was his former ittl6 garret room at cot oe see ee ga eons yaired, ing ly an ly, Sid pessing his Nand over his brow. “Now, bain’t I told you? Dear old Dr. Gray- stone and that fine y. Dr. O'Halloran fetched you! But now. you've got to hush battering and — which I must say you allers took it as " asa lamb, even in your worse tantrams!” suid Aunt . Asshe spoke she put the spout of a small feed- ing vessel between “But ‘Halloran—were— were killed on the—railroad!” be said, as she withdrew the vessel from his lips. atireume again! That's Thal you're been doing ‘* evor since 3 va was took! never was killed! It your own in d@'lireums. Why, when I had the I'maginated I wasa—. But there's Dr. Gray- stone's gig now! And thank the Lord for it. Now I'll goand let him in and send him w and then get a cup o' coffee for poor Dr. 0" “fore goes oat!” mum! Aunt Becky, ‘and sbuffied down stairs. ‘What is all this? What anpZBank You, doctor. How long have I been “About a fortnight, my boy. Ever since the night of the last meeti: Tot our society.” “And the accident? The collision? You are mfe! Thank God! Was—war any one fatally injured?” he asked. “Ah, there you are! Off again! A fixed idea is ns hard to eradicate as the head of a tape- worm! There was no collision, my ung friend! ‘Though the narrowest escape I ever heard of. “How—how—hov was it?” faltered the young “The noise of the rushing train aroused us. You jumped off. The coach passed over the track safely just as the train rushed past.” “And—and—and?” “The horses reared but were soon quieted. We pulled up and got out to look for you. Found you on the ground unconscious. We brought you home. You have been ill two weeks, delirious or comatose all the time until now. ‘Now I think you are safe. “And—and—an’l it was only # dream of fever and delirium: “Only that.” “Oh, thank God! Thank God! Thank God! Farewell all dreams of love, of wealth and fame! Welcome guiltless poverty!” soe HUMAN DIET. SEEDS FOR Some Curious Ones That Are Eaten by Savage Peoples —Other Queer Foods. MA S5iND sunsists To A GREAT EX- AVE tent upon the seeds of plants. Of course, all the grains are soeds. Likewise the nuts are all seeds. Thero other seeds, and many of them, by no means so familiar asa diet, which, never- theless, contribute largely to the support of human beings. Acorns form an important article of diet among many tribes of Indians. They are bruised into meal and made into dough for bread. The meal is usually soaked preliminarily in water to take away its bitter taste. Acorns are stored away in trees by woodpeckers, and in times of scarcity the natives rob these deposit Many kinds of grass seed are used to make flour for bread and mush of excellent quality. Along the rivers in Colorado and Arizona grass seeds are collected in large quantities and sup- ply « much valued winter food for the Indians. They are ground into fiouz, mixed with water into a dough, and cakes of ‘the latter are baked in the hot sand. Suntlower seeds of several species afford a staple article of diet among tue Indians of southern Utah andelsewhere. They are ground and sometimes mixed with greasy marrow from the bones of animals for baking in the ashes. BREAD FROM MESQUITE. In southern California the Indians make bread from the pods of a leguminous plant called the “mesquite.” A squaw pounds the ods fine ina wooden mortar. Then she takes rom her head her conical hat and sprinkles a little water inside of it. Next she sprinkles a little meal in the hat, then alittle more water, again a little more meal,and so alternately until the hat is full. ‘This accomplished, she exposes the hat and its contents to the sun until the mixture is baked into a solid loaf. In southern Utah grape seeds are ground into meal for food and palm seeds are larly treated by the Indians of southern Cali- fornia. The Quapaw Indians in Arkansas ex- tract the meats of black walnuts and mix with corn for br Gourd seeds are parched, e Indians of iy to rho are the laziest of savages, save them- trouble in the collecting of these ‘‘pinons” by kindling fires against the trees, which cause the nuts to fall out of the cones, while a sweet gum exudes from the bark, serving their uses for sugar. Savages find many sources of food suppl where civilized people would starve. In’ Ctab the flowers of the cat tails, which bloom in the spring, are regarded as. delicney either ra cooked. Boiled, they make very good soup. Cali- fornia Indians make bread from the of cat tails, which they collect in large quanities by beating it off from the plants and catching it on blankets. CARES OF SEAWEED. Indians of the northwest coast subsi upon cakes of seaweed prepared by pressing and drying inthe sun. They also cut this same sort of seaweed very fine and mix it with the grease of the candi fish, thus composing a repulsive oily mass. which they relish greatly. Seaweed cakes of the sort described are also made by the Chineseand shipped in consider- able quantities to China. Several species of wild clover are eaten by the Indians of North America generally. When the blossoms appear whole villages may be seen squatted in the clover meadows plucking and eating the flowers to satiety. The latter are used for cooking also. Along the Columbia river a kim of bread is made from « moss that grows on the spruce-fir tree. This moss is prepared by placing it in heaps, sprinkling it with water and permitting itto ferment. Then it is rolled into balls as big asa man's head, and these are buked in pits. ‘There is a 9] it largely pecies of seaweed, a kind of kelp, which the Indians of Alaska are very fond of chewing. It isas tough as leather, and one piece will last a man who has good teeth for u whole day. These Indians have an interesting fashion of collecting herring eggs. They weave mattresses of cedar twigs and sink them with in the water. The fish deposit their upon the twigs, and it is subsequently coliected and dried. The root of asort of turnip is used by the Indians of Tennessee for a very curious pur- pore—namely, to cure dogs of the habit of eat- This root has a very hot and_ biting flavor, and a sinail portion of it is put into an egg, which is placed in tho dog's way. After wallowing it stily and without consideration the animal never will touch another ogg. LARV2 OF INSECTS. Indians are fond of the larvw of many in- sects and they do not despise slugs as an article of food. Roasted crickets are a favorite dict with them, particularly in California and Utah. Grasshoppers furnish many tribes with a large part of their subsistence. The nsual method of preparing them is to dig a pit smaller at the top than below. Some heated stones are put into the pit and a quantity of grasshoppers thrown upon, them. ‘Then some more hot stonesare put in, another layer of grassh< find eo on until several bushels. have thus beet roasted. When cool, the gra: taken out, dried and ground. alone or mixed with pounded ncornsor berries, the mixture being made intocakes and dried in the sun. rs are very abundant and m the Indians dig a hole, fire in the bottom of it and drive the swarms of insects into it‘from all directiona. Then they cover the opening with blankets. ‘fhe hoppers thus killed are taken out and put {nto bage with salt. Afterward they are spread out to dry in the sun. ‘The wings and legs are removed before eating. ‘There is « sort of cactus consumed in great quantities by the Arizona Indians, the seeds of which pass through the Tho latter are collected, washed, eet and eaten, being considered a great _—__—_e- _____ filed for A Jodement bie boon Aled fos 952,000 against Two imposi dormitory for boys, and Roble Hall, the girls’ | FROM THE PACIFIC COAST. Interesting Gossip About San Francisco and ‘Her People. FAMOUS NOB MILL PALACES—THE MOPKING- SEARLE MANSION—STORY OF TIM MOPKINS’ ADOPTION—TER STANFORD UNIVERSITY AXD ITS ‘MANIFOLD ADVANTAGES. ‘Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. ‘Sax Franctaco, Sept. 25, 1891. Tam slightly handicapped in anything I may say of San Francisco by the fact that it has been much better said by other more widely known to fame. So for fear of maling any mistakes I want to in- Gorse all the good that has ever been chronicled of this wonderful part of the coun- try, and just to hint that really it would be rather a hard matter to exaggerate when you commence to enumerate the resources of Cali- fornia, from climate up and down the scale, Just as you please. I have not been all over the state, for while my spirit is willing the flesh is weak. I have been almost satiated with good times, good cheer and great sights until tired nature fairly rebels. The most interesting part of my stay has been the amount of variety that a well-devised itinerary of travel from one part of the state to another has afforded. z Thate been from palace to cee | camps, and enjoyed breaking bread in themall. I say ‘advisedly, for while my stays in the dif- forent homes of royalty in the old world were limited to the presence and good offices of a hired guide, I doubt if any of them better de- served the name than do a few of the magnifi- cent residences on San Francisco's Nob Hill. HOUSES ON NOB RILL. Senator Stanford's town house, corner of California and Powell streets, Mrs. Mark Hopkins Searles’ home adjoining and the Crocker and Flool mansions 0} ite repre- sent in the aggregate more : ee prob- ably any other block of houses in this coun- try. They are all in such a commanding loca- tion that the city lies at their feet, but so far has the city grown to the west of this block that the neighborhood without these mansions would not be considered any longer fashionable. San Francisco should and will in the course of a few years have a dis- | tinctive architecture to beautify its hills and the copying of designs, such as are suitable in fiat cities, will no longer be followed. This is the reason that neither the Flood nor the Crocker mausions, which are almost square Structures, are admired by visitors. On the contrary, the Stanford and the Hopkins honses are pleasing in architecture and the outlines are gracefully broken by tow- ersand porticos. Just at present many eyes are turned toward the closed up Hopkins man- sion and much speculation is indulged in as to who will be its next tenant. The property has been on the market for the last year, as Mr. Searles did not ever care to live there and as his lamented wife seemed to do exactly as he wished. They were in unison on this subject. The price for the property is « million and a half, but a quantity of the valuable furniture and pictures were included in that figure. However. there were no offers for the place, although it was understood that a million wonld be thankfully received. If Mr. Tim Hopkins succeeds in breaking the will the chances are that he will not care to live in the house either; in fact, he could scarcely afford to do so, unless he alec gets the bulk of "his adopted mother's wealth. This suit is the most interesting topic in this city at present and the hope is general that he Those who have known Mrs. Hop- kins for thirty or forty years wonderin; where all the remarkable stories of when an how she adopted ‘Tim can have originated. HOW MRS. HOPKINS ADOPTED Tix. The true story is so simple that it is not sur- prising that all the little furbishings have been added to make it read abit more romantic. ‘Tim's mother was Mrs. Hopkins’ cook. She was with her a long time and was a general favorite in the Hopkins household, not only for her skill in the kitehen, but also for her general demeanor. One day Mrs. Hopkins went down to her kitchen and was surprired to find a little boy there with the cook. She asked to whom the child belonged and between sobs and tears the cook admitted the child was hers, and feeling that he: would be a hindrance in securi herself a home she had manage to-keep the boy, then about able to run around, without any ono seeing him. Mra. ins was touched by the woman's appeal and told her she could keep the child in the houss if she would not let Mr Hopkins see him, for he would te sure to object. When the little fellow was four years old both Yr. and Mrs. Hopkins wete too fond of him to be parted from him, and as his mother was about to marry atich mar she was easily persuade.i to givechim up. Personally Mr. Hopkin greatl, respected and every one is confident that the will his mother made in his favor prior to her marriage will not be set aside. ‘TRE KTANFORD UNIVERSITY. Senator and Mrs. Stanford have been down at. Menlo Park all summer at their beautiful country home. Palo Alto, where both were busy with the preliminaries incident to the opening of the Leland Stanford, jr., Univ sity. The buildings, which have been now nearly five years in process of construction, are all finished and thoroughly equipped and furnished for the reception of thestudents and the opening of the classes on the day fol- lowing the opening ceremonies,October 1. The great quadrangle in the center of the grounds will, under ite cloistered arches, afford spacious class and lecture rooms, assembly halls, the library, offices and all the working rooms for students and faculty. Gatside of the quadrangle there are other buildings where all the mechanical arts and all branches of electrical science will be taught. structures, Eucina Hall, the dormitory, have ina measure been Mra. Stan- ford’s especial care since the first stones m their foundations were laid. She bas watched every detail of the work and in all of the little things which will go so far toward making these build- {ngs practloally home she. has given the reatest thought and consideration. In Eucina fall about 350 boys can be accommodated; very nearly that number have already entered. Each bed room is arranged for two boys. Each room has two broad windows, two single brass and iron bedsteads, two easy chairs and four other chairs for company, a» double combination ine af2t gararisobe es pecially de re. Stanford, and a Writing table for joint use, also spesiaily made. re are bright rugs on the floor and various other womanly tcuches that make each room # glimpse of home. In the girls’ dormitory the rooms are similarly arra and in every- thing can be seen the thoughtful consideration of the benefactress. Senator Stanford has 30,000 sheop at his Vina ranch. A part of the last shearing went to make the blankets under which the students of the university will sleep, and beautiful, soft and warm they are. 4 MAGNIFICENT orrr. ‘When it is considered that all the advantages of the university are free to students from any and all sections, their books are free, and the teaching force not excelled, and in many repects scarcely equaled in the oldest colleges of this country, it will be seen that this jificent gift of Sen- ator and Mra. Stanford to the’ yonth of the country is unexcelied in the zntals of munificence ‘or philanthropy. By the time the growing needs of the university demand it the outer quadrangle will be finished and the plan of the main buildings completed, and the main entrance to, the quadrangle ‘will be a memorial arch in which will be placed a marble statue of Leland Stanford, jr. Other than this no suggestion of the name of the founders will appear in any part of the buildings. ‘The only expense to which the pupils are subjected is a small ono for , £200 0 year. One bundred of the boys already on- Teimiee perieges sense’ eee ‘The same pri are open whom thete are nearly 100 already foarte Coeducation will be the rule and the devel- opment of any in the from hundreds of applicants and represent stan many of the pep fs f Stanford, jr., arrai an cases containing many valuable and all inter- esting articles will find their pares © lace in the university museum exactly as he them. The two rooms, in fact, have been exactly duplicated in the museum, and when the cases will be placed in ition it will indeed seem as if the real founder of the museum had just left them. Added to this the superb collection of curios from every land, the paintings, hundreds and hundreds of them, and many of the most famous in the world, the bronzes, the statuary and wonderful works of art with which fine residences of Senator Stanford in this state are filled will indeed make the new museum rank with the best in the world. A late addition has been the re- ceipt of copies of most of the finest paintings of the old masters from the Vatican, Dresden and other famous galleries. These’ pictures are framed even in exact imitation of the originals. i ail eF25 ‘MRS. HARRISON'S PAINTING. Coming generations will al-o gaze with pleas- ure on the painting presented by Mra. Harri- son, upon the occasion @f her visit here last spring to Mra. Stanford. It is generally re- garded as the very best she has ever done and satistied herself, or she would not have given it It is painted on porcelain and repre- ray of pink and white cosmos flowers. y framed in moss green plush. Baby McKee will be gratified to hear that his equine namesake, christened by the President last spring at Palo Alto, has passed the kinder- gurten age and was very lately promoted to Ligher class in Senator Stanford's horse school. One of the sights at the Stanford stables is early each morning when the baby horses are put through their peces on the kindergarten track. The President and Mrs, Harrison en- joyed this part of their visit greatly and had the pleasure of naming two promising fleet- footed youngsters after Mrs. McKec's two children. H. dic. ——-- NEW PUBLICATIONS. THE SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES: Its History, by Hampton L. C: of the Philadelphia Bar; and its Centenni bration, February 4, ‘is9, prepaved under di- Tectiou of the Judiciary Ceuteuniai Committee. Puladelphia: Jehu ¥. Huber Co. SPANISH INSTITUTIONS OF THE SOV'TH- WEST. by FraNg W. BLackwar, Ph.D. Johns Hopkins Uhiversity) Projessor of History and Sociviogy im the Kansas State University. Baltimote: ‘The Johns Hopkins Press, Wash- ington: W. H. Lowdermilk & Co. HAND BOOK OF INVESTMENT SE- ITIES. For the ase of Bankers, Investors, ‘Trust Institutions, aud Railroad OMicials: Sup plementing Poor's Manual of Railroads. 1991. New York: H. V.& H.W. Poor, Washington: Kobert Beall. AN INTRODUCTION TO THE LITERATURE OF THE OLD (ESTAMENT. By S. K. Driven, D.D.. Regius Professor of Hebrew, and Canon of Christ Church, Oxford. New York: Charles Scribuer's Sons.” Washington: Brentano. THE HISTORY OF MODEEN CIVILIZATION: A Handbook, based upon M. Gustave Du- condray's Histoire Sommaire de la Civuisa- tion. With Illustrations. New York: D. Ap- pleton & Co. Washington: Robert Beall. Readings Anna H. Elmina Boston: Lee & Shepard. ~ Washing- |. Morrison. BABY WORLD: Stories, Rhvmes,and Pictures, for Little Folks. New Eaition.” Compiled from St. Nicholas, by MaxY Mares Dovck. New York: The Century Co. Washington: Robert Beall. THE USE AND ABUSE OF MONEY. By W. Cts- NINGHAM, D.D., Vicar of Great St. Marz’, and University Lecturer, Cambridge. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. Washington: Bren- tano’s. MARJORIE AND HER PAPA: Row They Wrote a story Pictures fer It. By ROBERT Hows Fixtcae:. ‘Iilusirated, New. York: ‘The Century Co. Washingtou: Robert Beall. ON THE LAKE OF LUCERNE, and Other Stories. By Beanice Waits) E Ks ing of Mary Fenwick,’ pleton & Washington THE FINE ARTS. By G. BaLowrs Brows, Pro- fessor of Fine Art in the University of Edin- burg. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. Wasiington: Brentano s. A LITTLE TOUR THROUGH IRELAND. By an ‘Oxonian, With Illustrations by John Leech. New York: W. S. Gottsberger & Co. Wash= ington: W. H. Morrison. A NEW MEXICO DAVID. and Otter Stories and Sketches of the Southwe-t. By CHARLES F. LouMis. ‘New York: Charles Scribner s Sons, Washington: Bret ‘* THOSE WESTERTON GI WARDEN. author ete. New York: John W ington: Brentano's: THE BOY SETTLERS. Kansas. By No York: Charies Brentano's. THE SQUIRREL INN. By FRANK R. STOCKTON, author of Tange,” et¢., etc. New ‘The Century Co, Washington: Kovert By FLORENCE ase on the Marsh.” Co. Wash- A Story of Earty Times in Brooks. Illustrated. New weT’s Sons, Washington: HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM. Nik MARTIN. Hiustrated. pleton & Co. Washington: Robert Beall, THE WOMEN OF TE : 3 New York: sco. M n: Rovert Beall. TWO WORLDS, and Omer Poems. By Richaro WATSON GiLbEK. New York: The Century Co. Washington: Kobert Beall. RECALLED TO LIFE. By Guaxt ALLEN. York: Henry Holt & Co. Washingt Ballantyne & Son. WE ALL. By OcTaVE THANET, with Hlustrations. New ¥ . Appleton Co. Washington: 5 AN THE SHADOW OF SHAME. By AvstrN Gray- VILLE. Chicago: Charles H. Sergel & Co. WILMOTH THE WANDERER. By C. C. Dan. ‘New York: J. 8. Ogilvie. a HOW JOURNALISTS AID JUSTICE. An Incident of the Whisky-King Investiga- tion. Gen. H. V. Boynton, in Century. “Another instance to illustrat? this branch of the subject presented itself in Secretary Bris- tow's able and crushing campaign against the gigantic western whisky ring. Fortunately, just before he undertook it, he discovered that the cipher of the department had been betrayed to members of this ring. It was impossible to fix the responsibility, and this uncertainty caused both uneasiness and perplexity. The remedy devised was to limit the knowledge of intended, and of all prelimi Sovennel Sythe, Soccomty Minti oni bl solicitor, Maj. Bluford Wilson. It was further agreed that the dispal itches of the department toand from St. Louis should inan arbi- pass trary a and held by two journal- ison in Weckingtou ‘and. tho other tn St Louis, and that no copy of that cipher should be furnished to any one, not even to the Secre- tary or the solicitor. And so it caine to pass that all orders and directions which were given by the Treasury ment in regard per tg) vs eae tho whiny ring et he work and all information received by it from St. Louis up to the mument that the govern- ment was ready to make seizures were first sent to the journalists for translation and trans- mission in their cipher. Asa result, a ring of immense proportions and influence was broken, millions were recovered by the government, and other millions saved. Later in the case guilty men escaped because a President and cabinet officials did not observe confidence in regard to vital points of the government evi- dence. link between the present de A NOTABLE ANNIVERSARY. Of the First Visit of Lafayette to the Na- OF THE CITY OF WASHINGTON THEX—HE PROD- ABLT STOOD ON THE SITE OF His PRESENT starce. OLD PHILOSOPHER, WHO SAYS the city park is more pleasing to him than the wider stretches of country scenery, de- clares that now is the season that he likes the Dest. Perhaps it is because he is in the autumn of his life and he and the time are in full eym, pathy, but he says that one park in particalar is full of fine recollections to him now. A Star reporter found him a few days ago sitting apa noble effigy of the Marqu this is the reason why he gazed at it Next Monday, October 12, marks the seventy- first anniversary of Lafayette’s visit to the cit of Washington. Nearly three-quarters of century ago he stood on ah © very spot where his statue now is and looked a White Honse across the street. The ; when he made. his visit, marks a connecting and revolt times, for in the crowd that flocked along the avenue there were nota few gray veterans « the war of independence, who, forty thee years before, had been with the young marquis at Yorktown, when Cornwallis had surr and now there area few old meu, the old phil osopher of the city park among them, who re- | member how on that bright October 4 ago their fathers raised them in th the crowd and ther I old gentleman th: But the statue ws 1 a mere boy iu years and app nce. but bav- ing discretion and wisdom beyond his years. yette that the few surviv < bis ashington remember was portiy and full of years, His coun o youthful fire, but had ere never was a tin Lafayette was not a handsou & Along the old turnpike road from I he rode into the little federal city sev yearsago. He was the nation was only fitting he shonid c new city soon after his arri come at once. Several engag mae before he reached our shores and he had to satisfy first. It was the mi August when the Cadmus, commanded by Allyn, dropped anchor in New York harbor abright Sunday morning, and it was a few days later that he wrote to President Monroe saying he was anxious to come to the cap a8 soon as it conld possibly be arranged. ‘Then he went to Boston, then to Portsmouth, N. H. and then back again to New York. Then by went up the Hudson and the historian of iis visit. pauses in his narrative to be steamboat on Itimore nty-one guest and it this ie went to bany and he stopped at one or two historic spots on the river—at West Point to look over the scene of former military operations aud at Clermont to see old friends. He cane buck to New York and started out for Washington the | latver part ot September. On the he was at Trenton, on the 27th he crossed the Dela- ware and went on to Philadelphia. Ho left th old town on October Sand went straight to Ba timore. There, as indeed everywhere cise, he went throngh a round of feasting, and actually left the dinuer table to take his chariot for Washington. It was toward night! nearly the whole journcy was mi dark. There was a mounted Baltimoreans accompaning him, and more | on their account than bis own the marquis proposed that they put up for th night at «hotel on the roadside. But it fell about that some malicious tory owned the Lote: escort of and had called it Waterloo aud the chivalrous | to lodge | Baltimore men wouli not consent there, because the name must be isagreeable to their guest—nay, they even went further and wished to tear down the sign that bore the name and were only prevented from doing +0 | by the fear of Lafayette’s displeasure. So the jole party rode all night loug. HIS WELCOME AT THE CAPITOL. It was bright and early in the morning and they were still some little distance from the Capitol when Cap. Sprigg, who had been gov- | ernor of Maryland and was quite a we character in his day, mding at the head of o fine little band of cavalry, met the general on the road. On Monday morning, only tne day after tomorrow, when the readers of Tae Stak make up, and lazily rnd their eyes, let them ook out of their window the bright city and think of the scene that thei fathers witnessed seven decades ago. It ix easy enough to imag ine, ‘There was Latayette, with bis son George and his secretary, Monsieur Levasseur, in the great, heavy chariot. There were several other important individuals in chariots. There was the band of Baltimore gentlemen on horseback, all pretty tired, perhaps, but all resolved to see the sights that ew the day had in store for them, and there were Capt. Sprigg and his “band come to welcome Amer- ica’s idol to the capital. The procession formed and nearer the Capito! was met by the city corporation of Washington. A triumphal arch had beer erected, and they all passed under it and entered the Capitol, where all the municipal officers had gathered. Then they proceeded to one of the porticos, and in the presence of an immense concourse of people or made an address of welcome and the distinguished guest delivered an appropriate response. Without stopping further they moved down Pennsylvania avenue to the White House. Betore he hnd entered the city and afterward Lafayette was accompanied by a large crowd of enthusiastic people. of Washington had turned out, but tus would not have formed 0 large an assemblage aw the one that greeted him, and it ix certain that the countrys for miles around mn have been drained of its inhabitants, Everybody wanted tocatch a glimpse of the French-American. When the procession reached the White House only afew entered the grounds. These went in to be received by James Monroe. The cabinet were with him, and army and navy oficers. y Monroe were old friends and had served in the army together and they greeted one another affectionately. WHAT HE THOUGHT OF THE cry. And what did Lafayette and his French com- panions think of Washington? It is not strange that it made an impression which the years that have followed have proved was not a cor- rect one. It is really hard to realize that the | city whose praises are now «ung by all Amer cans and foreigners, too, was seventy sosmall «nd ragged that comparatively fe: people believed in its future. Lafavette’s pec- retars has chronicled his impressions of the a imite of the city without finding a «i tation. The plan of Washington is 0 gigantic that it will require a century for its completion. It is only built up in the interval which sepa- rates the President's house from the Capito! and this space at present forms a moderate town.” He says nothing of his belief in the future beauty of the place. A hundred years was too far to look auead, to mind the story of the ugly | duckling. This poor creature, it’ will be re- membered, having been hatched out in the ordinary course of incubation was at once pro- nounced so ugly that nobody had a good word tosay for it. It was atand snubbed \d universally abused. It ran away and tried to hide, but it grew with extraordinary quick- ness and as it grew it became uglier and more awkward than ever. But after awhile the ugly duckling’s plumage began to grow, too, and its FEW BELIEVED IN THE CITY THEN. There was something like this in the growth tell | The whole population | 7 Sojected to such an arrangement and hed in. sisted that they should take charze of him, and #0 tt bappened that Lafayette, who was more beloved by the American peopie than any @ther foreigner ever bas been, coming to the — of the country was not the gues: of the dent but of the Little city of Washington SAW ALL THR SORTA, for ao he was generalir called «din Washington three days om hie tt doting that time he suw aif the we orgetown, then a much van Weshington, be im nt buildings, he saw the It bad onty a foweta- rival fo ven went wo ae. in which 4 people can hardly ve of suf Gn te Virginia, er te a mile de rights apected th Cok © thenter vhree or fe Jefiersos » home ui by the Long bridg structure matter it #1 This » came back ing the river wes surprised at this Jorg tybods November took stup bac which had him. Washin am the last fare te bad never beer fore 1824 militar with land apon which the city had 4 out, fo) he had marched all around ighborhood in 1781, when he te Yorktown campaigu. Ours is a young cyt, 4 is trae, but it was built on soil that bad seom Many interesting events of alirring history be | fore men as the xite ext ue of the hero 12th of Voi COMIN, scVeutY-one veare age. — METHODISTS OF GREAT BRITAEN. 1 | A Talk With Dr. Stephenson on Cherch Matters in timgiand “The Weslevan Methodist eburch bas litical a the Rev. Thomas Bow= D.D., premdent of the odist conference, tom STAR re- Wut nothing aubious in Dr * manner when be mid that. “lt tredisionai policy,” he went om, * 4 church, all interference with what may broadly be termed “party po 4 We have in our m # po- Wesleyan Met Via ‘ubership representatives © both the great political parties, and if we al lowed the church courts to be used for polities PUrposes we would drive out the adherents o! one or the other. Wedo not want Met thing but a great church and ought to be room in it for perso: olitical belief. Where a ques pertisan we dou't touch it, bat we to ditsuade our people fre on the « bem mew j citizens demands a activity. The question of the disestal church in England a mi nor is it's very live question just n doctor had m, to th but the reporter h hen that mi comes to be tough there it will not be © contest as in Scotland or W the Presbyterian by church government: in England the q ed up with the saver . tone biuarelf has carefully retained hitherto trom caprensing any judg- the subject. He dove not, as I under- 4 his principle, propose | unless it is in accord with the expresse # majority of the people. That ple woul in the long run apply to the English ax well as to the Scotch cuurch, but when matters will reach thai stage it « impossible for me to |say. One thing will, however, help it much, A ‘iderable portion of the clergy of the Em- | Slisb charch would like discstablishment, for e to carry oat their « that the ripen nt will come | Views. It is probable establish coutt of prc | party tnftucn | their sacerdotal teachings aud practice ought to be remembered thet that wivicll divides the Church of England is not disesiabs Usbiment. but the doctrine of apostolic sucres= ston, with ail that flo ment would not make The aristocra want to be th: belong to that « tion, at least, but ay hurch and for the & 1a t think ¢ between the two clases of Episcopalians widen. So far ax England is concerned #is« tablishment 4 tat this time p whe That there be no mi understanding ae to the position of our church I ought, perbaps, to say that Methodinm does re tions which are necessarily political have so direct 4 bearing upor are great moral questions fir achureh, f ft the laws which Probably te urch had more to de With the abolition of the Contagic wee act. On such sib- jects We do not hesitate to speak TRE TEMPERANCE MOVEMENT IN GREAT BRITAPS. “Does the temperance movement flourish = Great Britain’ “Vex. Th no doubt that th an enormuos growth of tempera: The vast majority of thee | tions, are now total abstaine churches have th organizations viger- ously at work. ‘There has been a wonderful change in the habits of the p oxprecunsly K persons of the middie and upper ad there is ne doubt that some foras Jocai option will occupy a prominent posi- tior in the next liberal prograu. “Do you require a pies total abetinesee requinite for membership! ; none of the principal churches Ae. Some of the smaller ones have such a refula- t change?” rs past there has been com There is a sort of an idea pre alent that for many years Methodism was quite content to leave aggressive effort and ail ‘that 18 LOW associated with “the forward move- t’ in abeyance, content to be the church ef -to-do, comfortable people That is om unfair statement of the case. There was for many years a timid and cautions policy, but i arose out of circumstances whick, although they migat not justify it, would at least ar- count for it. Abo y Yearsago we sutlered the most terrible convulsion that ever rent Methodism, and for a time it was all we could do to hold our own, bat splendid efforts ulti mately relieved us of our ds good — working Scarcely had we emerged from that dist w when concerted efforts were made to reach the | poorer people, and fifty-seven preachers were pointed to labor in that field. The impo ce of this mixsionary ore apparent, but it ot Mood and Sankey that the great wrought in the chureh ventionalities were Lroken dow began to see that God's work could be done im reer manner than they bad previously re garded as ble. Then came a great struggle =the turning point in the history of the move- ment--the question being whether we sbould sell our central church im Manchester fog an enormous amount and with it build suburban churches, or retain the property (which was in the heart of the city) and carr, ‘on mission work. ‘The property was not and the success of the mission made the London mission possible. The Lon- don mission is wonderfully, successful, but not more so relatively than the missions in Bir- mingham and other places. It is quite « mix- take to imagine that the London mission stands alone in representing the forward movement im Methodism, although its success and pupa larity no doubt assists all the others. THE VCUMENICAL CONFERENC)