y
v-
VaA
4 4. .
K
I ,
,.. -
LM '.X.
1 .r i(t
fJS
00!S 4s
y fte r-M-A"
, fry fmrnatterricVl Wbcj
T
w
EEP, weep, O world!
World that He cam
in riivcI
He Is Blaln-He camo In valn-Hls head It
low In the gravel
His sun has gone down In blood; and tne
awful shock of defeat
JIath stirred the sepulchred dead, and they
walk the city's street
Slowly, with halting tread, and eyes un
used to the light;
'And "Where Is He?" they cry, In their wild
and vague nff right!
Then a votce, that Is not a voice, but an
echo lost In the gloom,
Maketh lament: "Ay, where? He la dead
In Joseph's tombl"
rWcep, weep, my soul! With the sorrowing
women three!
Bring Him thine alms of tears the Martyr
of Calvary!
For the mob hath wreaked Its will and the
nailed hands and feet
Are wrapped In the linen white, for tho
slumber of silence meet!
Night o'er the city broods, and the heavent
are black and grim;
With never a Star of Hope for thos who
have followed Him!
Mournful the plaint and deep, of the lost
world's final doom:
'He Is dead-thc Christ Is dead and laid In
Joseph's tomb!" (
1.1st, list, my soul! There's a. stir In that
rock-hewn prison
And the seraph sentry cries: "He Is not
here He Is risen!"
Then the first glad Easter breaks, In a
marvelous splendor white,
And tho world from Its sorrow wakes and
turns Its face to the light!
'Tho vassals of Rome retreat; and the
great stono moves at the breath
Of Him, at Whose girdle sway the keys
of tho jailer, Death!
filng, shout nndslng, while the skies with
morning bloom.
He llveth Who once was dead and laid In
Joseph's tomb!
Youth's Companion.
with its snowy blossoms almost hid
the girl's radiant face.
"I believe she has grown during her
ride up from town," thought Miss
Mary, but she said: "Honor, I've ar
ranged with the matron to let you
visit with the old lady till five o'clock.
I think it will do you good to know
her. I'll send Miss Brown for you."
"When Miss Mary reached the school
she went to her mother's room and
shut the door. "Mamma," she said,
while sho pulled oft her gloves, "I be
lieve I have found somebody in the
hospital who will teach Honor Wesley
more than we can."
"I'm terribly disappointed in the
girl," said the sweet-faced old lndy
who sat by the window, sewing. "I've
just had a letter from Honor's guard
ian about her New York trip. He sent
her a check last week for $100 for the
two weeks' holiday, yet she could not
afford a pot of lilies. This thought of
tho sick whom others don't remember
meant Mary Lindon going home in the
day coach instead of the parlor car,
and Lucy Craig giving up a pair of
kid gloves to afford the lilies. That is
the sort of thing I love to see my' girls
do. It could scarcely have meant a
bit of self-denial to Honor."
"I have great hopes for Honor," said
Miss Mary, cheerily.
Every girl at the round table glanced
curiously at Honor when she took her
seat. Her face was flushed rosily. It
may have been the effect of her walk
in the bracing spring air, but to Miss
Mary's keen eye it came from some
thing in the heart of the girl. The old
listlessncss was gone, a new purpose
and enthusiasm shone in the dark
eyes. Honor was one of the quiet girls
of the school; to-night sho seemed
more silent than usual.
The constant stream of chatter dealt
with the visit to the hospital and the
people there, and tears came into girl
ish eyes as they told pitiful stories of
the sick. Then the chatter leaped to
the Easter vacation. A group of the
girls were going with Miss Mary as
chaperon to Old Point Comfort, others
W5
JIB conductor
smiled as he rang
up SO fares on the
Boss Park car.
He would have been a churlish con
ductor who would not have smiled. It
.was balmy outdoors, as if the very
-approach of Easter had put to rout
the long, dreary winter. All along the
river bunk on well kept lawns there
were patches of soft, tender green.
Inside the car there was more green.
The 20 passengers hailed from tho
Lady Lindsay school, and 19 pairs of
arms were tucked about pots wound
in green crepe paper. Each pot held
a tall stalk of Easter lilies.
The car stopped before the hospital
and the 20 girls climbed the long flight
of steps leading to the low brick
building that struggled over the hill--top.
At the end came Miss Mary, the
principal's daughter, and Honor Wes
ley. Miss Mary's lilies brushed Hon
or's hair occasionally. She was the
only girl in the party who had brought
.no flowers. She hnd excused herself
by saying she needed all her money
for her Easter visit to New York.
"All right," said Miss Mary, cheer
fully, "probably there will be lilies
enough to go around. There are sel
dom more than 18 or 19 beds occupied
in the long white ward."
Honor was left alone while her
schoolmates tiptoed about among the
patients. She had not imagined Bhe
could feel lonely here. She was she
was lonelier than any of the women
in the narrow beds. The nurses were
bustling here and there among the
girls, there were low bursts of laugh
ter and greeting as if everybody knew
one another. On the small table be
side each bed stood a pot of lilies. A
delicate fragrance was already waft
ed about the long room. There were
smiles ou pinched faces that lay on
the white pillows, and there were wan
faces that flushed rosily. Honor be
gan to feel terribly alone and awk
wardand ashamed; then Miss Mary
:ame hurrying to her.
"Honor," she said, "I'm so sorry. We
are short just one pot of lilies. It is
for a poor old lady at the end of the
ward. Nobody seemed to notice her
at first; there was a screen by her bed.
She lies there gazing down the ward
with such a pathetic look in her eyes.
I'm going to telephone for auother
pot to Fnrlow's."
"Let me ro for It, Miss Mary let me
give it to her."
Miss Mary looked at Honor keenly.
"Are you sure you can afford it?
Won't it break in on your trip to New
.York?"
"No, it won't," and the girl's face
jrrew scarlet. "I don't believe I knew
what dojng things like this means. I
am so glad there was one bed too
anany."
"So am I, Honor," said Miss Mary,
lieartily.
The girls were waiting in a knot by
the hospital door when Honor jumped
Off tile Pir ll'if ti 1if nrmc nltmit ..
wrapped pot. The tall, blender stalk I
The lady gathered the sobbing girl
into her arms as if she had been a lit
tle child, and the room was still. The
merry laughter of the girls In the 11
bary camo faintly down the hall.
Honor lifted her head and dried her
eyes.
"That happened three years ago,"
sho said. "I was just 13. My guardian
came to seo me. Ho told me I had
plenty of money and ho was kind
enough. He let mo choose -where I
would go, I did not care. I wanted to
go nwny from Snntn Barbara. I have
been in two or three schools. I did
rfbt like any of them. This bus seemed
more like home than anywhere 1 have
been and yet I'm not a bit like the
other girls; thev know it aud 1 know
it."
"I am very glad you have told me all
this," said the principal, gently; "it
is hard trying to be mother to girls
into whose hearts I cannot look.','
"I did not know I hnd u hcar,t, the
sort of heart grandmother used to
live in, till to-day. When I stood there
nlonc in the long white ward, without
a blossom to give to anybody and
watching tho girls movo about among
the narrow beds, I saw myself in one
minute as I am, selfish and hard and re
bellious. I would have given every
penny I had in tho world to give my
grandmother a happy half-hour, and
yet I would not spend a dollar on these
poor sick people. I Htood with a great
choking lump in my throat, when Miss
Mary came to tell me there was some
body who had no lilies. It made me
happy all at once. When I saw the old
lady at the end of the long white ward
I don't know when I had done such a
thing I bcnl down and kissed her.
She had a sweet, patient old face, and
white hair, like grandmother. We had
a long, long talk while sho sat holding
my hand. She has no relatives, and
for a week she was all alone. She did
not tell me this, the doctor did. She
was alone nnd they found her nearly
dying with pneumonia. Tho doctor
says he had a hard pull bringing her
through. She told me of one thing
SHE HAD A SWEET, PATIENT OLD FACE AND WHITE HAIR.
to spend their two weeks' holiday in
New York. The girls with homes not
too far distant were wild with delight
at the thought of seeing fathers and
mothers and brothers and sisters.
Honor was the only girl who did not
join in the general anticipation. Her
neighbor, roguish Mollie Cable, rallied
her on being tongue-tied.
In the Lady Lindsay school there is
a half-hour every evening after tea
when tho principal is to be found in
her room for a ciiat inside a closed
door. Honor wns the firbt to claim her
to-night, and the old lady led her to
the large chair by the window. The
girl did not sit down, she stood over a
vase of daffodils, touching them with
tender fingers. She turned when the
principal spoke to her nnd burst into
an agony of tears. Tile old lady rose
and drew her to a low chair beside her
own, nnd the girl hid her face in the
tender arm that encircled her. She
did not interrupt the tears; bhe
smoothed the soft brown curls softly
and waited till the sobs grew fainter.
The girl raised her head and kissed
the lovely, wrinkled hand that lay on
her shoulder.
"1 never really lored anybody in my
life, except my grandmother," said
Honor, in a choked voice. "When I
was a little tiling four years old
I was left alone in the world. Mother
and father were lost at sea. I remem
ber being told how the great ship went
down nnd that they would never come
back. I don't believe I understood
what it meant. Grandmother came
for me from California to Connecticut
and took me home with her. There
was never anybody quite like my
grandmother. We had nobody in the
world but each other. One morning
I went to call her nnd she did not an
swer; she lay with her eyes closed;
she was smiling and her snowy curls
straggling over the white pillow. Tho
birds were singing and the sweetness
of the roses wus coming in at the open
window and down on the beach 1 could
see the fluttering sail of the little bont
we were going out in that morning
bne and 1 nnd I could not believe It
that she had left me quite alone."
she wants more than anything else in
tills world. She was born and brought
tip in Arbutus. On Easter Sunday they
celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of
a littlo church there. Her father
built it. When she was a girl she sang
the dedicatory hymn and helped to
decorate the church with flowers. She
was married there. She told me all
about her wedding day. She wore a
wreath of lily of the valley and a
white muslin frock. I asked to sec
the doctor before 1 came home. He
thinks on Saturday she will be well
enough to travel, ne said Bhe would
soon grow strong with a change of air
and rest, and if she was happy."
The girl turned away and touched
the golden daffodils caressingly.
"Well, Honor, dear, what can we do
for her?" asked the principal.
The girl's face flamed with scarlet.
"That is what I wanted to ask you. I
would rather go to Arbutus than New
York. I have plenty of money to tuke
good care of Mrs. Truitt, and I would
like to have you be my guest. I heard
Miss Mary say she was looking for a
place in the country where you could
go for a vacation. They say Arbutus
is lovely."
The principal drew the girl to her
and kissed her. "I will be very happy
to go with you, Honor. I have old
friends in Arbutus and cannot think
of anywhere I could have such a peace
ful two weeks."
What an Easter Sunday that was in
Arbutus! There was scarcely room In
the homely little hostelry for the
throng who had gathered from far
and near. Every house in the village
had its guests, men and women to
whom tiie memories of childhood were
sweet, nnd they brought their boys
and girls, enger to see father and
mother's old home. Easter was late
that year, and spring was forward.
The maples along the street had flung
out blood red tassels, and the lilac
bushes sported tiny green tufts. Ev
ery dooryard was gay with hyacinths
nnd tulips nnd daffodils. Even in the
dark woods, which clothed the moun
tain side, there were outbursts at
golden green willow and snowy shad
blossom. The sweetness of spring and
the peace bequeathed by Christ to
earth filled the church ar radiantly as
the sunshine itself. There seemed ta
be a new joy in the very peal of the
bells, and one felt the glory of the res
urrection in the music that echoed and
reechoed within tho walls. A famous
organist who was once a barefoot boy
in the village had found a substitute to
fill his place in a New York church. He
was putting his heart and the inner
most thought of it into the music that
breathed the soul of the Easter time.
The chancel held sheaves of snowy lil
ies, but even rarer than this fra
grance came a spicy, delicloun sweet
ness from long wreaths that swept
from pillar to pillar. They were woven
from the green of the cedar nnd rosy
mayflowcrs, from which somebody had
called the village Arbutus.
The Easter service was a beautiful
and solemn one. A gray-haired rector,
who preached the iirst sermon in the
new church, aided the young pastor.
After the doxology had been sung
there was a short after Hervice, in
formal and memorable. The old rec
tor's voice came brokenly, most of all
when he led to the place of honor in
the choir an old, snowy-haired woman
with the eager flush of youth in her
face. "Mrs. Truitt," he said to the
congregation, "whom a few of my
people, will remember. Hers was tre
sweetest voice that led the choir t
our first service. Again she will sing
for us the hymn we listened to that
Easter morning fifty years ago."
There wns a solemn hush in th
little church and all cyca
turned to the old lady, dressed
in delicate gray, who held a hymn
book in her trembling hands, The
notes of the great organ swelled in a,
splendid prelude, then they changed
to a simple thread of music, the bar
mony of an old hymn tune. A quaver
iug voice took up the melody; it sound'
cd old-fashioned nnd tho words came
haltingly, but the famous organist
waited humbly on the trembling voice.
It gained strength lino by line, nnd
presently there returned something
of the sweetness nnd strength of
youth. The congregation held Its
brenth; there was almost a note of
triumph as site sang:
"To this temple, where we call Thee,
Come, O Lord Df Hosts, to-day;
With Thy wonted loving klndnosi,
Henr Thy servants, na they pray;
And Thy fullest benediction
Shed within Us walls uhvay."
It Is four years since that Easter
Sabbath. I saw Honor Wesley yester
day. She was the last girl among a
line of fuir young graduates In snowy
gowns and white mortar boards with
blue tassels. Honor's face had gained
something more than girlish beauty.
There was a certain womanly stcad
fastness of purpose In tho brown eyes
and a rare sweetness nnd tenderness
about the delicate mouth. The tears
dropped silently into the pink roses
that filled her lap when the principal
rose to make her .farewell speech td
her girls. "Oftentimes," she said, "I
hear it said, nnd of tenor I feel it, that
one just lenrns to live in this world
that is, learns how to adjust oneself
to it, when the summons comes to
leave it. So that really every stago of
life is a commencement. All the inter
vening periods are only preparations
for the commencement. We Imvc not
attempted here to teach you bare facta.
Wo have tried to give you a broad cul
ture that shall make you love and cul
tivate in yourselves, in the world about
you and in humanity, all that is fair
and good and gracious. We have tried
to mako you gentlewomen, enrnest
women, unselfish and considerate of
all about you. In giving you away
from our household I do it with my
blessing aud my Godspeed, but with a
heartache."
The gentle principal spoke a few
wordB of farewell Individually to each
girl. When she came to the last name
she choked for a moment. There were
tears in her voice us she said: "And
Honor Wesley, in giving her to the
world, I am giving up a dear, dear
daughter. I am mott proud to num
ber her among my alumnae, for she
goes to take up a great work. Sho
leaves next week, with her adopted
grandmother, whom wo all love and
honor, to make her home in New
York. She has chosen as her calling,
to share her life and wealth, her sweet
womanliness, gentleness and spirit
uality, with the sick, the helpless, the
hopeless, the forsaken of a great city,
God speed you, my Honor." Good
Housekeeping.
No Fntalltlrs,
Mrs. Gooph I told my husband I
should simply die if lie did not get
me a new Easter bonnet.
Mrs. Wooph And did ho get it?
Mrs. Gooph Well, you haven't seen
any funerals lenvliiir our house, hava
you? Baltimore American.
A I'erll Cone II y.
"Thank goodness, Easter is overt"
"Why so grateful?"
"Oh, Harry and I always go to
church cross Easter morning; he
never likes my hat and J never like
his necktie." Brooklyn Life.
No Joy In Ilia Cup,
Wyld The paper Suva Easter will
be pleasant.
Muck Not for me. f refused to
buy my wife a nev bonnet. Harlem
Life.
SCHOOL AND CHURCH.
The Methodists of Indianapolis have
raised $50,000 toward the erection of a,
hospital.
The popo's daily average of letters
nnd papers reaches the enormous num
ber of 22,000 to 23,000. Thirty-live sec
retaries are kept fully employed with
his holiness' correspondence.
Rev. Henry A. Sullivan, rector of the
Cathedral of the Holy Cross, in Boston,
administers to the spiritual wants of
tho .largest congregation In New Eng
land, his parishioners numbering be
tween 8,000 and 9,000.
The students of Cornell have evident
ly been doing some extraordinary good
work this year, as the midwinter ex
aminations showed that only 79 stu
dents in the entire university failed
to pass up to the requisite number of
hours. '
The Interior would hnve the next
general assembly formally declare the
American revision of the Bible the
standard for the instruction of the
young, directing the board of publica
tion "to use tho revised text and no
other in all Sunday-school helps."
Tho oldest piece of writing in the
world has recently been given to the
University of Pennsylvania. It con
sists of nn inscription on n fragment of
vase which wus smashed xin n raid by
the Elnmltcs of Nipper. It is 0,50ft
years old, dating back to the time of
a king who lived 4,500 yenrs before
Christ. The characters are not in
cuneiform, but in picture writing.
In the high school in Sioux City, Ta.,
the school board hns undertaken what
is provlug to bo a very successful ex-'
periment in serving hot lunch to the
pupils at cheap prices. A lunch-room,
has been fitted up, and there the pu
pils can purchase many hot dishes at
low prices. Everything is sold for
checks, which can be obtained in lots
of ten and 25 cents' worth. Much time
is saved in this wny, nnd It is possible
to serve 90 boys nnd girls in ten min
utes. CORONATION COMPLEXIONS.
Exprrta Km ployed by Rnu;llau Aria
tocrnta to Mnlco Them
Ilcnutlful. i
The coming coronation festivities
are being eagerly looked forward to
by women of all ages who movo in what
Is known us the "smart set." It is an
ticipated that there will be a tremen
dous Influx of wealthy Americans and
"distinguished foreigners'' nnd mem
bers of our aristocracy who are
blessed with miirringcnble daughters
regard the forthcoming ceremony in
the light of a huge marriage fair in
which, owing to the multitude of buy
ers, they hope to obtain high price
for their wares, says Reynolds' News
paper. In conscqupncc, every possible
means to enhance their own nnd their
daughters' beauty is being employed
by the fcmnle scions of "our old nobil
ity." A walk through the West End
thoroughfares or a ginnce at the ad
vertisement columns of the society
journals will reveal Hint a large num
ber of professional beauty doctors
hove come over from the United States
and France for the purpose of replen
ishing their purses by adding to, or
pretending to udd to, existing charms
or by restoring those that are faded
nnd gone.
Those practitioners can only be con
sulted by very wealthy women, ns tho
meanest of them would scorn n fee of
less thnn five guineas for advice and
treatment. Six months' trentmeit
usually costs 500. Vanity is alwuys
prepared to pay a large fee.
They occupy as a rule, fiats in aris
tocratic streets in Belgravla and
Mnyfair which ore furnished sump
tuously and fitted up with curious
nnd expensive electric machines.
These people mostly impostors
boast that, with tho scientific meth
ods at their command, they can
mako nny woman of 55, or even older,
appear ns young nnd good looking as
the average well-preserved woman of
30, providing they unbuilt, themselves
to their treatment for six months or
so.
At present, it is no exaggeration to
state Hint their rooms nre crowded
with peeresses and their daughters,
who are pnying enormous blackmail
and ore submitting cheerfully to op
erations which remind one of the tor
tures of the Spanish inquisition.
Cliurchen In Home.
The guide books are responsible for
the popular impression that there are
305 churchs in Borne, one for every day
in the year, but that is a mistake. The
exact number is 352, including the four
great basilicas outside the walls. Be
sides these there are about 018 chap
els connected with monasteries, nun
neries, schools nnd private palaces,
and a lnrgc number of shrines erected
by Individuals In different parts of the
city to fulfill vows or show gratitude
for deliverance from peril or sickness.
There nre 08 monastery establish
ments, 42 for monks nnd L'O for nuns.
The number of inmates varies from
time to time with the season, and av
erages about 4.000. N. Y. Sun.
A Ilolo,
Gilliooly An' phwat is one av thira
Filipino bolus, anyway?
Foley Whoy, the bolo is a shillaly
made out av a knife, Puck.
w
1
1
t
x
f
Ifl
4
A
I I ft. 14
ivM
y
EM
wei