J Meadow
mr
nARY J.
CHAPTER XXII.
It wa early morning. The wiudows
tt my room were open, admitting the
jrh, cool air. which had been purified
Jy on of those terrific thuuder storm
10 common in a southern clime, for
hany weeks I had lain there in a statu of
inconsciousnes. save at intervals whu
I had a dreamy reuiixatiou of what was
rampiring urouud me. The physician
rho was called in Dr. Clayton's stead
lad more than once hinted of continued
bsauity. citing similar cases which had
louie under his observation; but In spite
if lib opinion, I. that bright August
noruiug, awoke from a refreshing sle;p,
sith perfectly restored faculties. At first
i thought I was alone, for there was a
leep silence in the room, aud from the
kail below I distinctly heard the ticking
f the clock, reminding me of the time,
fears ago, when once before I had hov
ered between life and death. Now, us
'.hen, I experienced the delicious feeling
f returning health, but I missed the fa
miliar faces of my friends, and as I
thought how far 1 was from home find
all who loved me, I said aloud, "I am
alone, alone."
"Not alone, Rosa, for I am with you,"
answered a deep voice near: and the next
moment the dark form of Richard Dela
field bent over me.
Eagerly scanning my face, he said, "Do
sou know me?"
"Yes," I answered. "Mr. lelafi'id."
Then as a dim remembrance of the pat
came over me, I lifted my head and look
ed round the room for one who I knew
had not long since been there.
Divining my thought, he said very
gently, as if the announcement would of
course give me pain. "He is not here,
Rosa. He was obliged to go home; but
I dare aay he will soon return; meantime
I will take care of you. Don't feel so
badly," he continued, as tears of genuine
joy at Dr. Clayton's absence gathered
in my eyes.
I could not tell him the truth; and
when I spoke it was to ask him concern
ing my illness. After telling me all that
he thought proper, he took the letter
from his pocket, and said, "Dr. Clayton
left this for you. Have you strength to
read it now'"
"Yes. yes." I replied, eagerly, at the
s::.jie time stretching out my hand to
take It
There was a blur upon my eyes as I
read, and I pitied Dr. Claytoti, who had
thus laid bare to iae his wretchedness,
but mingled with this was a feeling of re
lief to know that I was free. He told
me what he had written to Mr. Dela
field, and when I came to that portion of
the letter, I involuntarily uttered an ex
clamation of delight, while 1 glanced tim
idly toward him. Hut he made no sign.
The letter which would have explained
all was safely lodged behind the bureau,
and with a gloomy brow he watched me
while I read, interpreting my emotions
into the satisfaction he naturally sup
posed 1 would feel in hearing from my
lover. With me the revulsion was too
great, for I fancied I law in the ex
pression or m iace contempt ror one
who had presumed to love him, and burst
ing into tears, I cried and laughed alter
nate!', while he tried to soothe me; but
I would not be comforted by him he
hated me, I knew, and very pettishly I
told him at last "to let me alone and go
away I was better without him than
with him." 1 aid, "and he would oblig-i
me by leaiehg the room."
The next moment 1 repented my harsh
ness, which I knew had caused him pain,
for there was a look of sorrow upon his
face as he complied with my request. Put
I was too proud to call him back, and
for the next half hour I cried and fretted
alone, first at him for making Dr. Clay
ton think he loved me .when he didn't;
secondly, nt Dr. Clayton for meddling
with what didn't concern him; pnd lastly,
at myself, for being so foolish as to care
whether anybody loved me or not. At
the end of that time Uichard came back.
The cloud had disappeared, and very
good-hnmoredly be asked "if I had tot
cv,er my pet, and if I wanted anything."
sjiefore night I was so much better
that Ada, Lina and Halbert came in to
sec me, each expressing their pleasure at
my convalescence. But one there was
who came not to greet me, and at whose
absence I greatly marveled. She had
ever been the first to meet me in the
morning and the last to leave me at
night. Why, then, did she tarry now,
when I wished so much to see her?
Alas! I did not know that never again
would her home be gladdened by the
sunshine of ber presence, for it was Jes
sie whom I missed Jessie for whom I
longed straining my ear to catch the
sound of her ringing laugh or bounding
footsteps.
At last, as the day wore on and she
did not come, I asked for her and why
he stayed so long away. Wringing her
hands, Mrs. Lansing exclaimed. "Tell
her, Richard, I cannot It will kill me.
Oh. Jessie, Jessie!"
Hut I had no need for further knowl
edge. I saw what I had not before ob
served, the mourning garments of those
round me, and In tears of anguish I
cried: "My darling la dead I"
"Yea, Jessie is dead," answered Rich
ard. "We shall never see her again,
for she is safe in the happy land of
which you so often told ber."
I could not weep. My sorrow was ton
great for tears, and covering my face,
1 thought for a long, long time. "Why
was it," I asked myself, "that always
when death had hovered near me, I had
been spared and another taken," for, ns
In the ease of Jessie, ao had It been with
brother J amis they had died, while I
had lived, and with fervent thanks
giving to heaven, which had dealt thus
e-r'slly f h no, I prayed that It
night not be ia vain.
" Oraslaally, aa I could bow It, Mr. Del
elWd fM bm the aad story how she
feed ho ta- fearlessly over rag pillow whan
.AH l- lJ . SwMBI -A. k.i
rie for hisa; aad bow aa agist bat ber
otbora peremptory cnnimaeas bad lak
n be free my aid. Aa be talked,
li s A f mm a vasst mmIIi.
.- vt t (airy form aerapk 1 taoag'at
.p t have bee.) walck, rten the dark
tr mi ruadM fast at aty foot, bad
rs4 ft, Js'cfcf M woetU of
Brook
HOLMES
love, and bidding some one bury me be
neath the tall magnolia. Then he told
me how she. had stood like a minister
ing spirit by the rude couch of the poor
Africans, who with their dying brwath
had bleased her, calling her "the Angel
of The Pines." From her head he him
self had shorn her beautiful shining curls,
one of which he gave to me, aad which
I prize as my most precious treasure; for
often as I look upon it, I see again the
little gleeful girl, my "Georgia rose,
wlvo for a brief space dwelt within her
fair Southern home, aud was then trans
planted to her native soil, where now she
blooms, the fairest, sweetest flower of
all which deck the fields of heaven.
The shock of ber death very naturally
retarded my recovery, and for many
weeks more I was confined to my oom.
About the middle of October, Charlie,
whose coming I had long expected, tr
rhed, bringing to me the sad news that
death had again entered our household,
that by my father's and Jamie's grave
was another mound, and at home another
vacant chair, that of my aged grandmoth
er, how illness, he said, had prevent
ed him from coming to me sooner, add
ing further that they had purposely lept
her sickness from me, fearing the. effect
it might have. Of Dr. Clayton be eoul 1
tell me but little. He had not visited
Ktiuny Hank at all; but immediately after
his return to Boston he had written to
tl.em, saying 1 was out of danger, and
Charlie must go fcr me as soon as the
iuiriiiw" heat of summer was nvir. ThiR
w as all they knew, though with woman's
ready tact, both my mother and my ris-
rs conjectured that something .vas
wrong, and Charlie's first question after
telling me what he did, was to inquire
into the existing state of flairs between
tin? and the doctor, and if it were my
Illness alone which had deferred the
mnrriage.
"Don't ask me now," I replied, "not
until we are far from here, and then I
will tell you all."
This silenced Charlie, and once when
Mr. Dclafnid questioned bim concerning
Dr. Claytoti, ami why be, too, did not
come for me. lie replied evasively, but in
t manner calculated still further to mis
lead Mr. Delafield. who had no suspicion
if the truth, though he fancied there
was something wrong. One day Charlie,
with his usual abruptness, said to me,
"Rosa, why didn't you fall in lore with
Mr. Delafield? I should much rather
have him than a widower?"
The hot blood rushed to my cheeks as
I replied quickly, "He is engaged to Mis
Montrose. They were to have Uen mar
ried this fall, Mrs. Lansing said, but
the marriage is, 1 presume, deferred on
account of their recent affliction. At
least, I hear nothing said of it."
"If I am any judge of human nature,"
returned Charlie, "Mr. Delafield cares
far more for you than for Miss Mon
trose, even if they are engaged. But
then you are poor, while she is rich, and
that, I suppose, makes the difference."
I knew Mr. Delafield too well to tus
pect him of mercenary motives in marry
ing Ada, and so I said. "He loved her,
of course, and it was natural that he
should, for though she had some faults,
he probably saw in her enough good to
overbalance the bad."
At last the morning dawned on which
I was to say good-by to the scenes 1
loved so well. I was to leave the "sun
ny South." with its dark evergreens, its
flowering vines, lu balmy air, I was to
leave him. who, ere the next antumn
leaves were falling, would take to his
beautiful home a bride. Then I thought
of little Jessie's grave, which I had not
seen, and on which my tears would never
fall, and taking from its hilling place the
tress of shining hair, 1 wept over that
my last adieu. It was later than usual
when Mr. Delafield appeared, and as he
came in I saw that be was very pale.
"Are you sick?" I asked, as he wipxl
the perspiration from his face.
"No, no," be hurriedly answered; at
the same time crossing over to a side ta
ble, he poured out and drank two large
goblets of ice water.
Then resuming his former seat near
me, be took my hand, and looking me
earnestly in the face, ssid: "Rosa, shall
I ever see yon here again?
Before I could answer, Ada chim.'d
in, "Of course we shall. Do coax the
doctor to bri"g you here some time, and
let ns see hew you bear tne honors if
being madame!"
Instantly the earnest look passed away
from Mr. DsUf eld's faco. and was suc
ceeded by a stowl. which remained until
the carriage n tiich was to take me to the
depot was announced. Then the whole
expression of mi countenance changed,
and for a brief instant my i eart thrilled
with joy, for I could not mistake the deep
meaning of his look as he bent over me
and whispered his farewell.
"God bless you, Rosa," he ssid. "My
Rosa, I once hoped to call you. Hut it
cannot be. Farewell"
. There was one burning kiss upon my
lips, and the next moment he was gone.
"Are you oing to the depot?" asked
his sister, as he was leaving the room
"No, no, no," be replied; and then as
Charlie again bade me come, I roe be
wildered to my feet, hardly realizing
when Mr. Lansing, Ada and Lina bade
me adieu.
Halbert went with me in the carriage,
and together with Charlie looked won
deringly at me, a I unconsciously re
peated In a whisper, "My Rosa, I once
hoped to call you. It is Ada' who stands
in the way, I said to myself, and cover
ing my face with my veil, I wept as I
thought of nil t bad lost when Richard
Delafield offered his heart to another. IJe
did love me. I was sure of that, but
what did It avail roe. He was too hon
orable to break his engagement with
Ada, so henceforth I must wslk alone,
bearing the burden of aa aching heart.
In the meantime, a far different scene
was being enacted In the apartment I
had Just vacated. Scarcely had the wbls-
tla of (he engine died away In the die
tanee. when a troop of blacks, armed
with boiling sod aad scrubbing brusaos,
entered ary chamber for the parposo of
r leaning It Tbey had carried fro It
eeerly every article of form' are, and
aotkaag rtataiaad aare the uetrtag and
the bureau, the latter of which they were
about to remove when they were surpris
ed at the unexpected appearance of Mr.
Delafield, who could not resist the strong
desire which he felt to stand once more
in the room where Rusa had spent o
many weary week. For n moment the
blacks upended their employment, aud
then Linda, who seemed to be leading,
took hold of the bureau, giving one cud
of it a shove toward the center of the
room. The movement dislodged the long
lost letter, which, covered ith dirt and
cobwebs, fell upon the floor at her feet.
She was the same woman who, weeks
before, had carelessly knocked off the
letter, which she now picked up and
handed to Mr. Delafield. saying, as sh
wiped off the dirt. "It must have laid
'bar s heap of a while, end o 1 think
on't, 'pears like ever so long ago, when
I was breshln' the b tires u, I bearn some
thin' drap, but I couldn't find notulu',
and it must have been this."
Glancing at the superscription, and rec
ognizing the handwriting of Dr. ('lay
ton. Mr. Delafield broke the seal, and
read. From black to whit from white
to red from red to speckled and from
speckled back again to its natural color,
grew 'his face as he proceeded, while his
eye grew so dazalingly bright with the
intensity of his feelings that the negroes,
who watched hiin, whispered among
themselves that he "must be gwine stark
mad."
His active, quick-seeing mind took in
the meaning of each sentence, and even
before he had finished the letter he un
derstood everything just as it was why
Rosa had appeared so strangely when
she read Dr. Clavton's letter to herself,
and realized perfectly what her feelings
must have been as day after day went by
and he still "made no sign. '
'But she is mine now, thank heaven!
and nothing shall take, her from me," he
exclaimed aloud, unmindful of the pres
ence of the negroes, who. confirmed in
their impression of bis insanity, looked
curiously after him as he went down the
stairs, down the walk, and out into the
street, proceeding with rapid strides to
ward the depot.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Mr. Delafield'. great object now was
to reach Charleston before the boat in
which Rosa was to sail should leave the
landing. .Suddenly he remembered that
the express train left Augusta about four
o'clock p. m. It was now ten, add he
could easily reach it in time for the cars.
provided there hud been no change in
the time table. To ascertain this, th.-re
fore, he hastened to the depot, whr.
to his dismay, he learned that the train
eft Augusta at two.
But with him to will was to do. Fly
ng rather than walking back to his
house, he called out Bill, his coachman,
startling him with the inquiry a to
whether it would be possible, with bis
best horses a span of beautiful dappled
grays, which were valued at a thousand
dollars to drive to Augusta in less than
four hours.
Besides being naturally lazy and un
willing for exertion of any kind. Hill was
also remarkably tender of said sr.i.
who were his pride, and whom he bad
tamed Fred and Ferd. On hearing bis
naster's inquiry, therefore, he looked
perfectly aghast, and diving both bauds
into bis matted wool, by way of illustra
tion undoubtedly, replied, "Mighty tough
seratchin', I can tell you mar'r. Them
ponies hain't been driv, only what 1'v.e
ex'cised 'em for health, for better'n a
month, and to run 'em as I'd hev to run
em, would kill 'em stone dead. o.
mars'r, can't think on't for a minit;" and
a if this were conclusive, and bis word
the law, Bill stuffed hi hands into his
bagging trousers, and wa walking quiet
ly away, when Mr. Delafield stopped
him, saying, "I shall try it at all events.
So get out the carriage immediately, and
mind yon are not over five minutes d.-
ing it. Ask some one to help you if nec
essary. Ho, Jack!" he caiied to a tag
ged mulatto boy who wa doing nothing,
and bade him assist Bill in harnessing
the horses.
Rolling his white eyes in utter aston
ishment at what seemed to him the folly
of his master. Bill began to expostulate.
"Mars'r, you kill "
"Silence, and do aa I bid you!" said
Mr. Delafield in a tone which Bill
thought best to obey, and sauntering off
to the stables, he brought out the ponies,
who pranced and pawed tit ground,
while he admired their flo alien
and smooth, shining coat.
Mr. Delafield hastily packed a few
articles in his portmanteau, wrote n line
to his sister, and dime out to sjperin
teiid in person the movement of his ser
vant, whose peculiarities he perfe-.-tly
understood. He ordered him to start tip,
and entered the carriage, while Bill
mounted the box, where he spent quite
awhile in comfortably disposing of his
long, lank limbs and in r.djustitig his
palm-leaf !.at.
"Go on, you rascal!" shouted Mr. Dela
field, bcgimif.ig to lose his temper; and
gathering tip the reins. Bill whirled to
the spirited animals, who dashed off at
a far greater speed than their driver
thought was at ail conducive to (heir
well-being.
"Hold on clar, Ferd! Stop dat foolitf,
will you, Fred! Easy lar. both on you.
for you come mighty nigh bistin' aie eff
de box."
This last was said quite loud for the
lienefit of Mr. Delafield, who, perceiving
that their speed had slackened, for they
were well trained and readily obeyed
Bill' voice, called out, "Drive faster, I
tell you. Give tbcm the ribbons, and
let them run."
The horse started forward as if a
volley of artillery had been fired at their
heel, while mingled with the roll of the
wheel Mr. Delafield heard the distress
ed Bill faying. "Whoa, dar, FerdinanJ;
can't you whoa when I tell you? Come,
Frederic, you set him a 'xample. That's
a good boy; no 'casion for all dis hurry;
if we miases one train we catches an
other. All de same thing. We uln'i
chssin' a runaway gal, as I know jf."
After a little he succeeded in stopping
them, and for the next ten or fifteen min
utes they proceeded on rather leisurely,
and Bill was beginning to think his mas
ter hsd come to his sense, when he wa
rtartled with the stern command, "I,et
them run now as fast a they will. Don't
check them at all until we reach the
depot"
Accordingly, for a mile or so the horses
rushed on at headlong speed. Kill sym
pathising with them deeply, and mental
ly promising himself "to 'tend 'em mighty
kcerful to pay for thin."
At last, when be thought it safe to do
so, be beM thorn in. taking the proonn
tlon, however, to aay aloud, "Get alcng
dir. Ferd none yoar laiy trick lie re
when mars'r' in ikeb a burr. Can't
you get along dar. I aay? An' yoo Fred,
wake up vr bone to de nierita of de
case."
But if in this way he thought te de
ceive the resolute man inside he wa
mistaken. Perceiving that their speed
was considerably slarUened, and hearing
Kill Inn ''v reproach the horses for their
laziness, Mr. Delafield softly opened the
carriage door, ami leaning out, learn A
the cause of the delay. Bolt npright up
on the box, with hla brawny feet lirnily
braced against the dashboard so as to
give him more power, sat Rill, clutching
the rein with might aud main, for ths
horses' mettle was up, and it required his
entire strength to keep them from run
ning furiously. All this time, toj, ths
cunning negro kept chiding them for
their indolence hi moving so slowly.
"Bill," said Mr. Delafield. sternly,
"stop the carriage instantly. I under
stand your tricka, and for the rest of
the wit I shall drive myself."
Rolling bis eyes wildly In t lit ir sockets,
the crestfallen Bill folded hi arm and
resigned the horse to their fate, say
ing mentally, "I shall wear inourniu'
for 'em, I shall, and he may help bis
self." Over rough and stony places, over
smooth and sandy roads, over hills. oer
plains, through the woods, through the
swamps, and through the winding val
leys, on they sped like lightning, the
excited horses covered with foam, their
driver silent aud determined, while poor
Bill, with the perspiration streaming
down his shining face, kept up a con
tinued expostulation, "Now, mars'r, stop
'em 'fore dey draps down dead.' Loik at
de white specks al over Ferd' back
he'll never stau' it. You kills 'em sartin,
and dar goes a thousand dollars smack
an' clean."
(To be continued.!
CANNOT FIND ITS SPECIES.
Singular Animal Urouaht from the
Kast Indie Puzzle Naturalist.
A very fine example of the lilntnrong
(arctictis blnturotig) lias Just been re
ceived nt the zoological gardens and
placed lu the small mammal-house,
says the Iximlon Standard. This curi
ous animal is a native of (lie Hast In
dies, ranging from Assam wiutliwnrd
through Siam ami the Malay peninsu
la to Sumatra and Java. A large
fjKvlmen will measure about five feet
In total length, of which the tall
counts for nearly a half. The long,
coarse hair is black, but there In a
gray wash on the head and forellmbs
and' there lu a little white over the
eyes and on the throat; the ears are
fhort aud carry long tufts of hair.
Us Knglish book name, "bear cat," la
modeled on Its generic appellation and
records the difficulty early naturalisfs
experienced In ascertaining the ani
mal's true place In their schemes of
classification.
Although It was at one time placed
with the 1:?arx It Is nivr rcja riled a
closely allied to the palm civets. In
matters of diet the blnturong Is not
hard to please. When opportunity
serves It will take small mammals,
birds. Insects and worms. When these
cannot lie secured It will support it
self on fruits, and In captivity It wll.
take fruit of all kinds readily. Tht
blnttirong is more active by night than
In the daytime, and lives almost en
tirely among the branches of the tree
of the forest regions In which It Is
found. It Is remarkable as being the
only true mammal of the eastern hem
isphere which has a prehensile tall. It
can wind this organ around a branch
and thus the tall aids the animal In
Its arboreal life.
Blyth showed, many years ago, that
the young of Ibis species could hang
on to a bough by the tip of the tall.
Whether the adults can suspend them
selves In this manner has been doubt
ed. There can. however, be no quea
tlou that the tall Is of considerable
service to them, and that they use this
"fifth band" as a holdfast. The ex
ample which has just arrived at the
gardens Is nearly adult, and, though
somewhat shy. Is fairly tame, for, with
a little coaxing. It will come to the
front of the cage to take fruit from
visitors. Like all new arrivals, how
ever. It Is somewhat distrustful. If
one advances too near It darts for
ward with a splitting noise, like an
angry cat, while the paw delivers b
round-handed blow, like that of a
bea r.
I'seful as Well aa Ornamental.
"What ups and downs there are In
life even In one short twelvemonth of
existence!" gloomily observed Mr.
YoungbuHbanil, as be climbed out of
the connubial couch at midnight's chilly
hour, fell over a rocking chair and thi n,
limping, made his way toward a crib
In which a fretful infant with sole
leather lung was wildly pawing the
atmosphere and emitting hair-raising
bowls of agony.
"Yes," he went oil, bitterly, reaching
for the complaining buudle of humani
ty lu the crib and cradling It 'on his
arm, "one brief year ago I prided my
self on being chief partner In the matri
monial firm. Now, bang It, I And I am
only floorwalker in the Infant swear
department !"
And with a hoarse chuckle at bis own
wit be continued to walk. New York
Times.
Hoping for the Beat.
"Professor," Inquired the thoughtful
member of the claaa, "don't you ii.
pose there will come a time when nil
the coal and all the coal oil stored n M a
in the earth will bare become eibnns;
ed?" "Certainly," said the Instructor.
"What will we do then?"
"We shall be playing harps, I hope '
Om Reasoa.
"What Is the faaclnatloa about tbo
atoriea of arctic travel, anyhow?"
"I think It comes from I he kiiowl.'dg
that there art place on the earth m i, i ,
tb people suffer mora from e..ld . i
or than we do bm."
Trr.-clcvsvtb of tat wort t i
a iv north o' tka aqoator.
THE KOI b'S KK'Tl HV.
Br T. A. 8. Cessfer
I will arise and go to my father
Luke iv., 18.
The sweetest of stories told lu any
- iigue among men Is this beautiful
parable of the prodigal son. Every
where Is It attentively heard. Simple
een to plainness, told ten thousand
times. It never lose Its marvelous
bai m.
What Is jierhaps most wonderful
about It Is that, while the quiet of the
wanderer Is never for a moment hid
den, while bis transgression Is set before-
us lu characters bo distinct as
never to be mistaken, we do not for
a moment lose our sympathy for the
wanderer himself. So the Master wish
ed it. For so He opens the iuexliuiiHt
itle fountains of the divine love to out
vision; so lie shows us 'bow He re
ceives sinners and ents with them;
bow He welcomes the guilt to the
feafct of His love ami rejoices over
tin in ns a father over a child that
was lost.
And yet this sympathy turns alto
gether upon the incident to which this
ciriptitre directs us. Let the narra
tive have another termination and our
pity turns to disgust. Let it mid;
"But be was besotted and rejoiced lu
the husks with the svvlue; he longed
not for his father's home; he Ignored
its plenty and died In bis wretched
ness." We should then say: "Miser
able brute, he lived and died us he de
sen ed." '
In the strange land to which we
have come, whether our feet go Into
flower gardens or deserts, we are apt
to lose knowledge of the fatherhood
tliat is over us. The material advan
tages of the world, nil Its profits, hon
ar.s and emoluments, can never satisfy
the highest aspirations of the human
loul. We want something m;ire eniur
:tig and profound. Nor will art, litera
ture or sentiment satisfy the craving.
Not jiJiytbing that exhnusta Itseif lu
the .realm of the Intellect or the e;:io
tlor.s nlonc rcrpir-d '.o th? sottl'a b!gh
tst aspirations. The leverage by
which It is to be lifted must be out
side Itself. It wants God.
The burden of sorrow, care and an
xiety that oppresses us requires a
higher ministry than this "strange
land" affords. Its comforts are but
"husks." Many a business man who
reads these words to-day shudders as
be recollects that the Sunday rest Is
already half gone and that to-morrow
he must resume the grind of yester
day and take up the agouSea that bad
oniy lieen laid aside during bis rest
ing spell. The mother who left the
body of her child In the cemetery a
few days ago Is not relieved by the
thought that she shares only the com
mon lot of mortals. A tuaerer band
than that of philosophy Is needed to
stay the rush of her tears.
No, It Is not satisfying, this "far
country." Many of Its gifts are high
and noble; Indeed they are all of them
of the Father's bestowal we must not
forget this when we are tempted to
belittle the world's favors but they
are only the media and not the sub
stance of a divine affection. We need
to get beyond and above them all to
the perennial fountain from which all
benetlcence flows if the soul Is to be
ratlsficd with perfect refreshment. "I
will arise and go to my Father." I,ct
every reader say this to his own soul
to-day. Beyond and above all songs
and psalms, beyond and above all rites
and ceremonials to the loving heart of
the Father!
There Is no room for doubt as to
my welcome, for His arms are always
open to receive His sorrowing, suffer
ing, penitent children. They are Hi
very own. He gives them a peace
which this world can neither bestow
nor despoil.
My Father! When every sou) shall
come to the sense of proprietorship
which this pronoun suggests, then
shall men cease to tremble before an
awful tyrant, nud that sense of de.
pair which accompanies the idea of
an lniKTsooil or absent power that
Is above us perishes. The vague yearn
ing that had its birth lu our early
Childhood when at a mot hen's knee we
learned to say, "Our Father, which
art In heaven," finds a higher realiza
tion than was then possible to our
dreams, for the heavenly gates have
opened and the Father has come down
to meet bis returning child In an In
effable ministry of comfort, pence and
love.
TIIK RKXKWAL, IV 'Ot'TH.
jv. J. H. nut.
Ill the aged, childhood, youth and
manhood are not dead. They tlll live.
Childhood has only liecn put to bed;
youth );ns only gone off to school ai'
liuiiihood has only engaged lu busi
ness or enlisted In the army or gone
olf on an exploring expedition Into
the region of old age. In due time
liiiblbood will awake from a long, re
aching aleep and come bounding out
of bed more Joyful than ever; youth
will iou:p h'liie from college Willi bis
-' ps sp-kllng with Joy and bla face
.'.ng with wisdom and knovpdge,
u.id manhood will return from tbe
biiltleilehls of life and the weukuesa
of old age enriched with firmness, en
durance and experience, and together
they will blend Into one glorious and
coniMjs!te being, embracing all ihe
stages of human life miuua their de
fects and Imperfections. Childhood
will then have lost Its whims, youth
its follies and age Its wrinkles, sslluw
skin, dim eyes atid gray hairs. Tbue
youth. It seems to me. Is to be the per
manent state or condition of redeemed
human life In the great future. It la
certainly the most Joyful and dealra
ble period of life. Goethe haa truly
said: "All men would live long, but
no man would grow old." This dealro
is of divine origin, and must therefore
be gratified sometime and somewhere,
I cannot believe that gray hairs, dim
eyes, wrinkled faces, sallow skin and
trembling limbs represent the normal
condition of human life, liecause they
are evidence of disease, decay and
death, aud disease Is an abnormal con
dition brought on by sin. God made
health tbe normal condition of life
and disease the abnormal condition.
Ingersoll once said: "If I had been
making the world Instead of God I
would have made health contagious
instead of disease.' to which a medi
cal professor replied: "Then he would
have been compelled to have made
disease instead of health the normal
condition of life." How dreadful
would this have Imm-ii! But God knew
belter bow to make a world than lu
tldels do.
Now, If the decrepitude of age Is the
result of disease, and disease Is an ab
normal condition of life brought about
by sin, It follows therefore that all
these abnormal Conditions will forever
disappear when our redemption 1
fully completed In the morning of the
resurrection. All the weakness, cor
ruptibility and dishonor to which tbe
laxly lias been subjected on account
of sin will be exchanged for iiieorrup
tlon, glory, honor and immortality. (1
Cor. xv., 42 58i. Where there Is no
decay or corruption there cnu be no
old age. This was remotely antici
pated by ICllliu. where he represents
nn old mulcted skeleton of a once
powerful man returning to the days
of his youth. "His flesh shall be fresh
er than a child's; be shall return to
the days of bis youth." (Job xill.,
10-2.".) The IValmW also says i t the
man whose life has been redeemed
from destruction that be shall have
his "youth renewed like the lagle's.''
(IV. cill., 3-5) And Jesus says: "lUy
bold I make all things new." (Rev.
xxl., 1-5.) From this it appears that
J the earth, together with all Its re
deemed Inhabitants, shall eventually
be rehabilitated upon the original plan
of Immortal youth. Age will pass
away as winter, aud tbe spring of
childhood will bloom out Into the fra
grant and luxurious summer of Im
mortal youth. Those who were once
old and Infirm will resume the appear
niite of their youth and experience
again, its health and enjoyments, en
lichee! a thousaiid-fcdd by tbe knowl
edge and exiH'rlciices of manhood and
old age. Tbey shall look out upon the
renewed and glorified earth through
reuewed and glorified eyes, hear Its
joyful sounds with the ears of youth,
taste Its superabouudlng Joys with the
mouth of youth, walk its highways
with the feet of youth, and enter
heartily Into all Its Joys and activi
ties with the vivacity of youth. Oh,
blessed state! Oh, happy condition!
And It will be Immortal. We shall
never grow old again. "And there
shall be no more death, neither sor
row nor crying; neither shall there be
nil) more pain: for the former thing
(sin. disease, old age and death) are
passed away." Look up, then, ye
nged. "for your redemption lira wet h
ingh." Your childhood, at times, I
partially awakened and your youth
may be partly renewed In this life,
but you will not embrace them In all
their glory until you pass Into th
great beyond.
Family Itookkeuplng.
Most persons know so, many com
pet en t business wouieu that It will not
do to take too seriously the populur
slander that the better half of the rae
cannot master the principle of bank
ing, mill there Is occasionally a Joke
of this kind good enough to stand wltb
apologies, and a recent one from the
Chicago Iot will not lie taken -Ims.
"My account book." aha aald, loud
ly, "showed that I had eight dollars
and fifti-eti cent more than I really did
have, so I felt at liberty to apend th
excess."
"But there waan't any axceas!" b
protested.
"Oh, ye, there waaP' ahe replied.
"The book showed It"
"If you didn't have the money," h
urged, "t waa a shortage."
"Certainly not," she returned. "II
wn right there on tho book eight
i'dlars and fifteen centa mora than I
had, and when the balance waa so
much bigger than It should be, I fell
free to sjieiid the money."
"If you had more money In yoni
purse than the look sjaiwed," be aog
gest "whnt then?"
"I .,iu!d bare spent If afee an
Hwered. "Hither way, Ifi aj fj,,
same."
Now he la trying to get hag t ffv
lip keeping account.
It com the average veaael fLBOO U
pa thro'tfh tbe loea matX