i
4jtattsmoutIi Journal
c. w. t m:x:xi an. rai.'i.ur.
rLATT.-MOU'I II. : s KI1K SK A
ONLY A WOMAN.
She was only a woman, with a woman's heart
Who patiently. lovicglv. in paths apart
From the frreat world, with its tumult and
strife.
Wroueht out the duties of mother and wife
She sought neither wealth nor titles of fame.
But, unselfishly, lived each Jay as it came.
Unassuming and modest bar name was not
known:
But her power was felt by its pureness alone.
No toil for her loved oi.es she deemed too se
vere; She shared every sorrow, she calmed eTery
fear.
She brightened each Joy, she lessened each
pain.
And no one in need of her sought her in rain.
Though heart was oft weary, she asked no re
prieve. So Ion? as for others she good mlcht achieve.
She made of her home a blissful retreat
For world-wearied husband and children's
tired feeL
Her face was not beautiful, sare with the grace
Which a twautif ul soul can fail not to trace.
Hands girlish and white grew blue-veined and
thin,
, But in iabors of love they had sanctified been:
Steps bounding and joyous grew feeble and
slow.
But they never had faltered through weal or
y through woe.
'cselfish. pure, womanly, noble and true.
Her life held a grandeur which only God knew.
Long years passed away, then a village bell
tolled;
And kisses, unanswered, were pressed on lips
cold;
Hands, wearied at last, were folded for aye.
Damp loc'is were put back from a forehead of
clay.
Then a new grave was made 'neath flowers on
the hill.
And the mother's heart lay all pulseleas aad
still.
Ko marble vault there, no monument tall.
But old and youcj said: -'She cared for us
alL"
Her love was h-r life: to its altar she brousht
All her beauty of soul and the power of
thoupht.
As woman, wife, mother, she did what she
could
To further the weal of earth's grand brother
hood. No noddin? of plumes, nor of trappings so gay.
Told of honor or fame, as they laid her away.
But the deeds of her life were bcrne up above.
And the angels of God sans an anthem of love.
Alice D. Jones, in Womankind.
GEOliGE BROWN'S WIFE.
The Story of Her Marriage by a
Defeated RivaL
So they're married at last, are they?
Harried last Wednesday! Well, all I've
got to say is, I wouldn't have thrown
myself at a man's head, and acted the
way she did. Dot if I never had an of-
f fer in my life. Oh, yes; I know he
thinks she's everything' perfect, now.
Men alwaj-s was easy to be made fools
of! But he'll find out the difference be
fore long1, or I'll lose my guess.
Then how was it she happened to be
working- for me? Well, my cousin
recommended her, in the first place.
She'd been sewing in her shop for a
month, and the quickest fitter they
had. And when Ann found she wanted
a place in the country, and wouldn't
stay anywhere else, 'twas natural to
write to me. Of course, 'twould be an
accommodation to the girL And I
thought as long as I needed somebody
to help, and here was a chance to get a
city dressmaker for what I'd have to
pay a country one. I might as well
Lave her. Good nature always was nay
worst fault; I've suffered a reat deal
from it in my life, and it's likely I al
ways wilL But I must say right here.
Mis' Jones, that never, never, did I get
bo shamefully taken in as I did when I
hired Betsey tellers to work for me.
' ("Bessie" was what she liked to be
called, but 1 wa'n't going to put up
with any sentimental nonsense. I
called her Betsey every time.) Not
but what she understood sewing well
enough; bu there's other ways of de
ceiving people besides shirking. And
before I get through you'll agree with
me. .
Pretty? No. At any rate, I never
took much stock in her looks. A slim,
little, white-faced thing she was, with
big blue eyes and red hair auburn, I
suppose they'll call it now and some
how or other, I suspected everything
wa'n't right with her from the very
first. It wa'n't so much her shy, lady
like ways that set me against her as it
was that fashion of looking down at
her feet and never saj-ing a word when
a customer came into the shop. Any
body with half an eye could see it wa'n't
natural. And then there was her dis
like to tell anything about herself.
Which, to my notion, showed that her
past life wa'n't anything she was proud
of. If she had been, you would have
heard enough about it. Oh, I suspected
from the very first she wa'n't what she
pretended to be! But aslong as she done
her work well, and could cut by eye, I
considered it my duty to let well enough
alone, and not be prying. As I said be
..fore, being too good-natured is a fault
of mine, and I'm willinc to own it.
I Betsey Sellers had been working fo
ji me about four weeks when I got that
i " ' note from. Mrs. Johnson, saying we
were both wanted to sew a week or two
at her house. They'd always had their
dressmaking done in the city before,
but between you and me, I wa'n't so
much surprised as I might have been.
George Brown and I were old school
friends. You nidn't know that? We
went to school together down to the
little red schoolhouse. No, we wa'n't
in the same classes. We're well, very
near of an ge; but girls always are
more forward than boys. I believe t'twas
the lat year I went, and he'd just be
gun; but he managed to see a good deal
of me for all ot that. Aud his coming
home l'rom the west to settle down, a
rich bacl.e or, and his sister sending off
for me before he'd been i.i her house a
week, made it seem lather pointed.
Don't you thintt so? As for that story
about Mrs. Johnson's cousin having1
Betsey do some work and liking her so
well she was hired on that account. I
never believed a word of it. 1 suppose
they had to start something like that,
not to make her conduct appear quite
so bad. teeing she made out to marry
him.
he"iff that he' wasnc
Set her cap? I she aid think so! Tm
not the kind of person to say a word
against another, and everyone that
knows me will say the same thing; but
I declare to you, Mis' Jones, we hadn't
bean in the house an hour before she
beg'un to attract his attention. Sat
down the very first evening, when I'd
hardly known her to open her mouth
about her folks before, and com
menced to talk of her only brother,
who thought of going west for his
health. Wouldn't he tell her all about
California? Was the climate as nice as
they said? Did he think her brother
would be contented to live out there?
And a dozen other questions like that,
when she hadn't any more interest in
the answers than the man in the moon.
But it kept him busy 7alking to her,
and that was all she cared about And
that wa'n't the end of it! Awhile after
wards, when something waa said about
singing, she answered hitn up as if she
was the only person in the room;
though I'm sure I had my roouth
all open to reply, and everyone has
always told me my voice should be
cultivated. But she chipped right
in. Said she used to sing some
times at home, though she hadn't
done so for a long time. Of course he
had to urge her after that; and so did
his sister one of them soft, silly kind
of women she is, without two ideas of
her own. Aud common politeness
wouldn't let him do any less than to
stand there by her when she sung.
Such songs! About lovers and sweet
hearts, one calling on Douglas to come
back to her, and another telling how
she was weary of rowing just about
the same, to my mind, as asking a man
in plain English to marry her. It was
plain enough to disgust anybody, and
if you'd seen the look he gave me be
hind her back, when I commenced to
talk and laugh as if there was no such
thing going on, you'd have thought he
was of the same opinion.
The very next morning, I believe it
was, George came into the room where
we were sewing and commenced to get
up a conversation with me; at least,-1
knew from his manner that was what
he came for, though he only nade
some general remark about the
weather, and I helped him out by ask
ing if it didn't make him think of some
of the days when he and I went to
school together. But just as he was
answering, in a rather embarrassed
way I've always thought he was too
anxious for my good opinion to be
quite at ease with me that he had
been away so long and seen so many
different faces he was not quite sure
he remembered. Miss Impertinence
chipped in with some remark bow long
back those school days seemed; and
then, of course, he had to talk to her.
II 5 took her to ride that evening,
thouch I've always thought he meant
to invite me and was too bashful to
correct his mistake; and so it went on.
I'm not the kind of person to talk, or
there's things I could tell you. Mis'
Jones; enough to till a book. Of her
casting shy glances at him during meal
time and blushing bright red whenever
he caught her at it; hinting how fond
she was of ridiug, and what a lovely
moonlight night, whenever there was
the least chance of his inviting her;
and letting her hair down one day,
under pretense of a headache, and then
being so surprised when he came into
the room it was all put on, of course,
but he couldn't tell it. As for Mrs.
Johnson, she was one of those kind of
women who can't see farther than
their own nose. I remember of saying
as much to Betsey Sellers the first day
we came, and just hinting that if we
didn't work quite so steady when she
was out of the room there was no harm
done. I meant it for a joke, and it
only goes to prove what people have
always said about my good nature car
rying me away. But she straightened
herself up, looked sober and ''hoped
she would never abuse anyone's confi
dence in that way.' Poor thing! 1 al
ways do feel sorry for people without
any sense of humor.
As I said before, Mrs. Johnson never
could see anything that wa'n't right in
front of her eyes, so as soon as I no
ticed how she and her brotl er were be
ing hoodwinked by that designing
creature, I wrote to Cousin Ann. She
answered in three days, and after I'd
read the letter I made up my mind that,
out of common charity, I ought to let
Mrs. Johnson know what 1 thought in
stead of keeping quiet any longer.
Betsey had beguiled George into taking
her to ride that evening, so we two
were alone together; and I'm not the
kind to waste my words talking around
a thing.
"Maybe you haven't noticed it," said
I, "but it seems to me Mr. Brown is
getting rather too fond of Betsey Sel
lers. Don't you think so?"
She opened her eyes. "I think he
seems attracted toward her," she said,
with about as distant an air as if she
had been Queen Victoria instead of a
girl who worked in the shop until she
had the luck to marry rich. "I don't
know but what it is for his own good."
"Clara Brown," said 1 (just to remind
her that I rememlered who she used
to be), "do you mean to say that you
are willing1 your brother should marry
a silly chit not more than half his age,
and without a penny in the world? A
man like him, who could have anybody,
almost!"
"As for that, Miss Jewett," she an
swered, "since you are interested in
the matter, I may as well tell you that
I would much rather have him marry a
pretty, ladylike girl like Miss Sellers
than some quarrelsome old maid. My
greatest fear was that he would be en
trapped by-some one twice his age, who
could work on his sympathies by pre
tending to have gone to school with
him."
Did you ever? Thought she was hit
ting me, I s'p'ose! I can tell her one
thing. I wouldn't le as anxious as some
to marry into a family where the
inotber went out to work. But I re
membered Ann's letter in my pocket,
and knew it wouldn't take long to set
her down.
"An old schoolmate would stapd a
chance of being respectable," said I.
"While, as for Betsy Sellers well, of
course it's none of my business; only I
think it tny duty to tell you that I've
tTVertahi of "BIITk, X'n been removetirrTh
learned things about her that ivill
make me dismiss her from my employ
to-morrow."
She came down from her Ligh heels
in a minute.
"Oh," she cried, "I beg your pardon
for speaking in that way, Miss Jewett!
You know how anxious I am about ber
on my brother's account. What is it
yon have heard?"
"Well, it probably won't make anj
difference with you, as long as you're
so satisfied with the match. But since
I've got a letter from my cousin saying
she can't find out anything1 what she
done before she come to work for her;
and that, from something one of the
girls who was a great friend of hers let
fall accidentally, she's confident Sel
lers isn't her real name, I'm not willing
to take risk of having her work for
me."
I knew that hint about her name
would startle her. The Browns always
were terrible fond of good blood. Prob
ably because they hadn't any to boast
f themselves.
"Oh. dear!" she sobbed, hunting for
her handkerchief. "Changed her name!
Then some of her family must have
done something disgracefuL Or it may
be herself. I wouldn't have cared a bit
about her being poor, if she only came
of good family, but 'confident Sellers
is not her real name?' Are you 6ure
that is what the letter said?"
"You can read it yourself, I told
her.
She did, from beginning to end, and
cried a little more when she saw there
wa'n't the least ground for thinking1 1
wrote it.
"But you really mustn't be angry
with me for seeming so suspicious," she
said. "She was such a pretty-appearing
girl it don't seen: Oh, dear, dear,
I am so disappointed! If George had
got to fall in love with a poor girl I
don't see why it couldn't have been one
like the Courtneys or the Jacobs. They
haven't a cent in the world, people say,
but they go in the very best society,
and would be such a help to George
Though I'm sure I thought Miss Sel
lers There, they are coming now.
Please stay. Miss Jewett It don't
seem as if 1 could face them alone."
Of course I was willing to oblige the
poor thing, so I waited, and in they
came. He looked big and handsome,
and as if his mother might have been a
Jacob herself, for the matter of blood;
and she with her cheeks as red as
roses, her eyes drooping, and a half
smile on her lips. But she stopped
quick enough when she saw Mrs. John
son crying, and the look I gave her.
"Have you had bad news?" she
asked, looking frightened. "Is any
thing the matter? Have have I dona
anything?"
I turned my back and looked out of
the window. Mrs. Johnson cried a lit
tle harder and didn't auswer.
"Speak, Clara!"' shouted her brother,
taking hold of her shoulder. "What
in the name of common sense is the
matter?"
"I oh, George, I know you'll be
dreadfully angry, and not believe a
word of it," she whimpered. "But
really it seems to be trus. Miss Jewett
has written to her cousin about it, and
6he says they can't tied anything what
she did before she came there, aud that
one of the girls has let out that Sellers
isn't her real name at alL And oh,
Bessie, how could you deceive us so!
You know how pleased I've been to see
George take such a fancy to you, and
never minded at all about you being1
poor, and now "
"Clara, will you stop?"' ehouted hex
brother, turning the color of a piece of
scarlet cloth. "I believe, Miss Sellers,"
he stammered, turning to her, "that it
is a hardly necessary to say that
whatever communication these ladies
may have to make will not make
the slightest difference in the feeling
of a respect I have for you. If
you have changed your name, and a
I'm sure you have a good reason for it,
whether you tell it or not"
He wa'n't a very fluent speaker.
(Poor man! Blood will tell, and of
course it couldn't be expected.) But
his meaning was plain enough. I gave
a little sniff, 1 couldn't help it, at the
thought of such infatuation; and Miss
Sellers turned around to me, her eyes
sparkling like diamonds.
"It is you I have to thank for this,"
she said. "You wished to disgrace me
to undermine the confidence of the only
friends I have in the place. But I am
glad to say that you have not succeed
ed. I did change ray name. Not be
cause I was ashamed of it But we
were very poor; some of us girls roust
earn our own living. I would not
have minded for myself, but it Hurt
papa to have the old name brought so
low, and so, when I obtained a position
in a dressmaker's shop I took my
mother's. It"
Mrs. Johnson had dropped her hand
kerchief. "Old name!" she cried. "Then it may
be all right, after alL Who are you?"
"I am Bessie Courtney. And, oh,
Mrs. Johnson," the tears coming into
her eyes all at once, "I meant to tell
vou this very evening: I did, indeed.
You have all been so kind tc me
that"
But I didn't wait to hear the rest
It wa'n't anything I was particularly
interested in, and I'd other things 3a
ray mind. Of course what I'd done was
only out of good nature, and Vhere is
some might think I deserved thanks
for it, as long as my intentions were
all right But I knew they wouldn't
look at it in that way, and I left the
house the very next morning.
And now he's married her! I hadn't
a doubt but what he would when they
found out who she was; and I dare say
the deceitful minx planned the whole
thing just to get acquainted with him.
But it shows what her ideas are. A
Courtney, who can trace her ancestors
straight back to kings and queens, to
take up with a man whose mother
worked out! Not but what George
Brown was a thousand times too good
for her. Pauline Phelps, in Leslie's
Newspaper.
Frogs and toads are of inestima
ble benefit to farmers and gardeners;
each creatura is estimated io devour
every season fifty-seven times its weight
of insects
PERSONAL AND LITERARY.
Anna W. Williams, whose profile
graces the silver dollar, is the teacher
of kindergarten philosophy in the Phil
adelphia Normal school. She is also a
lecturer of considerable popularity,
and has written many papers on Froe
bel and his doctrines.
Mr. Munro Ferguson, according to
a Scotch newspaper, said that after
prodding Mr. Gladstone on the subject,
the ex-premier said: "My dear sir, I
might as well undertake to replace the
first man in the garden of Eden as to
carry home rule for Scotland."
Onlj' one man in the history of the
senate, Thomas II. Benton, of Mis
souri, served longer than Justin S.
Morrill, of Vermont, who has been a
memler of that bedy nearly thirty
years. Benton was elected October 3,
1520, and retired Marcli 4, IsM.
Thomas Carlyle once told a young
college graduate in the presence of
Gen. J. G. Wilson, "better continue at
the plow all your days than depend on
the writing' of histor3' for a living."
He abandoned literature and is now a
successful preacher in Scotland.
Thomas H. Benton, for thirty years
United States senator from Missouri,
would not allow the word "Hon." to be
prefixed to the pamphlet copies of his
speeches which he sent to his constitu
ents and other persons. "The title
page reads, "Speech of Mr. Benton, of
Missouri."
Dr. Addison Hills, the "father of
the Lake Shore railway," who fills the
office of assistant to the president, has
just completed his eighty-seventh
birthday anniversary, the Railway
Times says: He is hale and hearty, and
performs his duties with his old-tima
regularity and punctuality.
Dan Beard, the artist, probably did
not work his single-tax sympathies into
the illustrations to Mr. Astor's new
book. He distributed them plentifully
through his illustrations to Mark
Twain's "Yankees at the Court of King
Arthur," and Mark wrote to the artist,
saying: "I was netting for fireflies and
caught a comet"
Lewis Morris, one of the most
skillful versifiers and accomplished
literary students of England, sa-s:
"There never was better poetry than
now, since Shakespeare. It is a stupid
and ignorant cry that poetry is dead.
It is not dead, and can not die so long
as human nature, limited in knowl
edge, is always reaching onwards to
ward the unseen."
Although Verdi is eight-, he is not
the patriarch of musical composers, as
many people think him. That honor
belongs to Ambroise Thomas, composer
of "Mignon" and "Hamlet," who was
born in 1811, and is consequently three
years the senior of Verdi. Auber lived
to be eighty-nine, and Mr. Thomas is
so well preserved a veteran that there
is a prospect of his reaching that great
ge.
Frank Savers, of Waynesburg. Pa.,
has found some valuable letters in his
old garret. One of them is dated Phil
adelphia, Pa., October s, 1777, and ad
dressed to Georire Washington. It was
written by Jacob Duche, who was evi
dently a minister in the church of En
gland, and who in this letter declines
the chaplaincy of the continental con
gress, to which he had been appointed
by Gen. Washington.
HUMOROUS.
Dangerous City. "A nice sort of a
town this! At every corner a creditor
awaits a fellow." I'liegcnde Blatter.
Preseilla "Don't you wish you
were old Van Bullion's wife?" Prunella
"No: but I wish I was his widow."
N. Y. Herald.
Landlady "Have yor tried the cof
fee this morning, Mr. Linton?" Mr.
Linton "Yes, I have, and it has proved
an alibi." Brooklyn Life.
"How is Dykins getting on with
the farm he bought?" "Pretty well.
He tells me he saved money on it last
year." "How?" "Let it to another
man." Tit-Bits.
Howard "Who is that girl that
mumbles so frightfully to whom you
introduced me?" Hewitt "That's Miss
Hunkinson. the teacher of voice cul
ture." X. Y. World.
Indignant Constituent "Sir, you
have proven false to your principles."
Great Statesman "Nothingof the sort.
I merely wore them out and got a new
et" Indianapolis Journal.
German Police Ordinance. "From
the beginningof darkness every vehicle
must have a lighted lantern. Dark
ness begins when the street lamps are
lighted." Fliegende Blatter.
She "Kiss me again." He "My
dear, I've just kissed you seventeen
times in seventeon seconds.': She (re
proachfully) "Harold, you love an
other:" Philadelphia Record.
Mrs. Kidder "I had a close call to
day, dear." Kidder (anxiously)
"W-what was it?" Mrs. Kidder (com
placently) "Woman next door came
in to see me." Buffalo Courier.
Disturbing the Peace. Jadg-e
"What's the charge against the pris
oner?" Officer "Disturbing the peace,
your honor." Judge "What was he
doing?" Officer "Singing 'After the
Ball '"Detroit Free Press.
"Josiar," said Mrs. Cnrntossel, who
had been reading a chapter on art in
her weekly paper, "what do you reckon
a 'lay figure' is?" "A lay figuie? I
dunno onless may be it happens to be
the price o' eggs." Washington Star.
Wife "What do yon men have at
the club that you haven't at home
which makes the club so much more
attractive?" Husband "My dear, it is
what we haven't at the club that we
have at home which constitutes all the
attraction." Atlanta Constitution.
Aurelia (anxiously) "Have you
seen George this evening, papa? He
promised to call." Papa "Yes, he did
call, and I entertained him for an hour
before you came down stairs." Aure
lia "You entertained him, papa?'
1'apa "Yes. I gave him a list of all
the new dresses you had last year, and
the cost of each. I never saw a man
more interested, yet he left very hur
riedly Tit-BiU.
RELIGIOUS MATTERS
MOTHER'S HYMNS.
Hushed are those lips, their earthly song Is
ende.l;
The singer sleeps at last:
While I sit gazing at her arm-chair vacant.
And think of days lor past.
The room still echoes with the old-time music.
As sinking soft and low,
Those grand, sweet hymns, the Christian's
consolation.
She rocks ber to and fro.
Some that can stir the heart like shouts oT
triumph.
Or loud-toned trumpet's call.
Bidding the peoule prostrate fall before Him.
"And crown Him Lord of alL"
And tender notes, filled with melodious rap
ture. That leaned upon His word.
Rose in those strains of solemn, deep affection.
"I love Thy Kingdom, Lord."
Safe hidden in the wondrous -Rock of Ages,"
She bade forewell to fear.
Sure that her Lord would always gently lead
her.
She read her "title clear."
Joyful she saw "from Greenland's icy moun
tains." The Gospel Has unfurled;
And knew by faith "the morning lij,-ht was
breaking"
Over a sinful world.
"There is a fountain: " how the tones trium
phant Rose in victorious strains!
"Filled with that precious blood, for all the
ransomed.
Drawn from Immanuel s veins."
Dear saint, in heavenly mansions Ion? since
folded.
Safe tn God's fostering love.
She joins with rapture in the blissful chorus
Of those bright choirs above.
There, where no tears are known, no pain or
sorrow.
Safe beyond Jordan's roll.
She lives forever with her blessed Jesus,
The lover of her souL
noston Transcript.
A SELF-OPINIONED MAN.
Let Not Thv Left Hand Know What Thv
Right Hand Uoeth."
A modern poet says: "It is not what
man does which exalts, but what man
would do." Power, therefore, which
decreases in the one, increases in the
other the power to do what needs to
be done in the world. The ambitious
man in public life, who is always cal
culating about the efforts of his
speeches on his reputation, has no
such degree of influence as the man
who advocates the right and is de
voted in the interests of his country
without regard to his own fortunes.
One can not make as good a speech if
he thinks of his own reputation. The
eloquent man does not say to him
self, as he goes on: "How eloquent I
am!" The instant he grows self-conscious
he ceases to be eloquent True
eloquence has an abandon to it The j
hearers think not of the man, but of ,
the truth, and say, not "How eloquent
, he is," but "What he said is true." He
j who, doing a kindness, is saying to
himself: "That is most kind of me,"
has a patronizing manner which makes
his very kindness an affront; his right
: hand stretched out to raise the fallen
i accomplishes less, if it must be with
' drawn, now and then, to steal behind
' his back, grasp his own left hand, and
j shake hands with himself on his own
left hand know what thy right hand
doeth."
So we may consider it either way; as
to character, which degenerates if one
lias a low and easv standard, and be
comes fine and pure if one has a high
standard; or as to service, which is
least efficient if one is self-satisfied, but
it is most effective if one is humble and
self-forgetful, and these two charac
ter and service are one. "God resisteth
the proud and giveth grace to the
humble." He resists the proud, not
necessarily by bringing calamities upon
them, by casting the mighty down from
their seats, but by the ver3" tendency of
the proud, self-satisfied one to degener
ate. He gives grace to the humble lie
cause He can because they are teach
able, aspiring, obedient to His will,
ready to do His work. God can not
help one who is satisfied with himself,
nor can anyone else. "Seest thou a
man wise in his own conceit,
there is more hope of a fool than
ot him." If we have a high
ideal of the Christ-like quality, if
we are ever struggling' upwards, God
helps us. He makes every circum
stance, pursuit and experience help us.
Our very buffeting will make us strong
er. He will make all things work to
gether for our good. He judges us not
by what we are, but by what we aspire
to be. So let every one of us take as
his own these noble words of a very
great humble man: "I count not my
self yet to have apprehended, but one
thitgl do, forgetting the things which
ire behind, and stretching' forward to
the things which are before, I press on
toward the goal unto the prize of the
high calling of God in Christ Jesus."
Prof. George Harris, in Watchman.
AIDED BY A FRIEND.
An Incident in the Life of a City MisMon.
arr.
A woman, engaged in missionary
work among the poor of Chicago, found
& pitiable case of distress. While pass
ing through the hallway of a tenement-house,
she heard sobbing- and
moaning. Knocking at a door and en
tering a room she found a starving
woman dangerously ill, with a child in
her arms and no attendant
It was a harrowing instance of hu
man woe. Husband and wife had come
from England to America, and had
made a fair living; for several years.
Then the man's heafth failed, and the
wife had exhausted their savings in
nursing and finally burying him.
With the baby in her arms she could
not find employment Starvation and
death stared her in the face. She was
tempted to think that except for the
child the sooner life was ended the bet
ter. It was easy to ffive medicine and food
and to restore the woman's health.
It was hard to find work for her.
She was a skilled lace-maker, having
learned the trade when a girl in the old
country.
The missionary interested Chicago
ladies, and formed a lace-making class,
which was taught by the woman. It
was a temporary expedient for providing-
her with a little money until
she comld find something else to do.
Incidentally it enabled the missionary,
who joined the class, to become pro
ficient in the art.
Subsequently the missionary was em
ployed among the Indians of the north
west. She was a practical woman, not
content with religious instruction
alone, and found the work depressing
because there was no industrial em
ployment suited to Indian women.
Her health and spirits failing, she
went to Japan, where the marvelous
skill of the native lace-makers passed
under her observation. Like a flash
came the thought:
"That is what the Indian women can
do. Why did I not think of my poor
Chicago lace-maker's trade when I was
working- among them?"
She was so deeply impressed with this
thought that she returned to New
York, enlisted the support of the mis
sionary boards, and went to the Indian
reservation to teach what she had
learned from the woman whom she
once rescued.
The experiment proved highly suc
cessful, for the Indian women had a
natural aptitude for lace-making and
soon learned to do the most delicate
work. The system was extended to
many reservations, to the credit of the
missionary Miss Carter whose own
story has here been repeated.
The forlorn lace-maker in Chicago,
starving and dying, seemed to have lit
tle potentiality for usefulness in the
world; and the missionary's call at tha
tenement house was a trivial incident,
an insignificant deed of kindnes, which
gave no promise of large results.
But nothing' is so small or feeble as
to be lost in the moral economy of
God's universe. The lace-raaker's tal
ent and the missionary's humane im
pulse were little things that passed
without observation; but out of them
was evolved a system of industrial edu
cation for Indian women, the full re
sults of which only Omniscience can
know. Youth's Companion.
THE CHARITY THAT COVERETH.
The Character of True Friendship Illus
trated by a I'arablc.
I am sure it is impossible for us to
over-estimate the chemistry of influ
ence, the strong power of persons over
persons. The closest vision of a man
is not always the most helpful vision;
nay, you are sure to find some blemish,
some flaw, some stain, some evil, and
often, quite unexpectedly, in that very
trait that had attracted you to your
friend; he is not so true, not so pure,
not so noble. And when you become
sure of that, your own growth into
truth, purity and nobleness, so far as
his influence is concerned., cease. It is
just here that one may show the most
beautiful of all the graces of friendship
generosity, forgiveness, carefulness,
charity. I have met a beautiful para
ble. "Dear moss," said the old thatch,
"I am so old. so patched, so ragged,
really I am quite unsightly. I wish you
would come and cheer me up a little.
You will hide my infirmities, and
through your love and sympathy nJ
finger of contempt or dislike will be
pointed at me." "I come," said the
urns.; and it crept up and over and in
and out, till every flaw was hidden and
all was smooth and fair. Presently the
sun shone out. and the old thatch looked
glorious in its glorious rays. "How
beautiful the thatch looks!" cried one.
"How beautiful the thatch looks"
cried another. "Ah!" said the old
thatch, "rather let them say: 'How
beautiful is the love of the moss,
which spreads itself and covers all my
faults, and keeps the knowledge of
them all to herself, by her own grace
casting over me a beautiful garb of
freshness and verdure." In every true
friendship there must be much of the
charity that covereth, concealing"
where itcan not help the human frailty
and imperfection. Dr. Wavland Hoyt,
D. D.
"Chances" for Dolrs Oood.
No one has any right to suppose that
he will do better by and by unless he
is prompt to seize upon means and
plans for doing better. Better living"
and better service tio not come by
chance. They are the result of thought
ful and earnest effort. We grow as we
go. United Presbyterian.
PITHY SAYINGS.
Sharp Klats Heart! a id Re. Echoed from
the Kant's Horn.
Time in an island of Eternity.
Long prayers shorten devotion.
A godly life is a living prayer that
will never end.
All that Goti requires of any of as im
our prayerful best
The rest of Christ is only for those
who are tired of sin.
God's work should always be done in
a Christlike spirit
The best aim to have in this life is to
aim for Heaven.
The devil always leads the man who
hesitates about doing right.
When we are living to do good we
can depend on God and angels to help.
Every man has as much right to kill
himself as he has to live a useless life.
The man who votes to sustain a
wrong is helping the devil, whether he
knows it or not.
The devil was more anxious to de
stroy Job's influence for good than he
was to destroy his property.
God never calls anybody to a work
that can be done with head and hands
without any help from the heart.
The devil will not care who does tle
preaching, so long as his plans are
adopted for raising' the money to run
the church.
No church is ever made a bit strong"
er by having an unrepentant sinner
with a pocket full of money walk up
and join it
It won't do any good to pray for the
South Sea Islander as long1 as you won't
speak to the man who lives in the next
house.
There are parents who let thefr chil
dren read books about pirates and ut
throats, and then wonder why they
will not join the church.
If the whole truth could be known
aKut the goodness of God, some of the
stillest people in the world would shout
themselves to death,