Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Sept. 17, 1897)
I CHAPTER I. T WAS Martlnmaa Sunday. The even ing aervlce waa Juat over, and the congregation, more than u a u a 11 y aeanty, had dla peraed llaelf over the Moaa toward the varloua farma and field* which were acattered here fend there upon It. A light atlll burn ed In the veatry, whlla Solomon Mucklebacklt, the aexton, waited on the porch for the mlnlatcr to come forth. "There'll be ,anaw the night," he muttered, placing the key In the oaken door, preliminary to locking up; "there'll be *naw the night, or I'm aalr mlata’en. And the Annan''* rlelng— It'* anawlng noo amang the hill*." All at once the light In the veatry waa extlngulahad, and the ralnlater, a man about fifty year* of age, appeared on the tbreahold. wrapped in a heavy winter cloak and carrying a thick ataff. “Lcck up, Solomon, my man,” be aald. Solomon obeyed, turning the key In tbe Inner door, and then that of the outer one of aolld oak, while the min ister etood waiting on the path. Then tbe two, aide by aide, and with much tbe urn* kind of mechanical trot, paaaed acroaa the churchyard, paualng now and again to etruggle with the fierce guatg, and to hold on their head gear—tbe aexton hi* Sunday "bonnet," w.R 1 _ l _ * _ _ li„ l_j _a clerical bat. Reaching the Iron gate, which wan rattling and creaking In the wind, they descended three woes-grown steps, and peached the highway. Here oil was tiltch dark, for the shadow of tall yew trees fell from tht- other side, deepen ing the nocturnal blackness; but, crossing the road, they opened another gate, crossed the garden where the yew-treea grew, and reached the door of the manse. Standing here In complete shelter, they heard the "sough" of the blast overhead among the tossing houghs, like the wild thunder of a stormy sea. The manse was a plain two-story building, as old as the times of the Covenant and containing numberless cheerless chambers, the majority of which were unfurnished. Here the Reverend Sampson I>orratne had dwelt In solitude for flve-und-twenty years. He had come to the place as a shy young bachelor, a student, and a bookworm; and despite all the sieges that had been laid to bis heart, as was Inevitable in a place where marriage able men were few and spinsters many, a bachelor he had remained ever since. People said that a love disappointment in early life bad made him thereafter Invulnerable to all the charms of wom en, but at first his single condition made him very popular. Presently, however, as his position as a bachelor grew more confirmed, and his eccentri cities Increased, he ceased to awaken much Interest. Opening the door with a latch-key, he entered a bare lobby, and striking a light, led the way into a large room on the ground floor. It was scantily furnished with an old carped, an old fashioned circular table with drawers, and eeveral chairs; but on the walls were numeroue ehelves. covered with hooka. The room had two large win dows looking on the bark lawn which sloped down to the river, but waa with out curtains of any kind. A fire burned on the hearth, and a rude box of prat fuel stood by the ftirslde. One side of the table was spread with a clean doth, on which stood a tray with bread, oatcake, cheese, and butter, and a large atone water-jug, a black-bottle, and some glasses. "811 ye down. Solomon,” said the minister, placing a lighted caudle on the table. Solomon stood, hat In haud. Kvery Sunday evening for many a long year be had entered the house tu the earns way, at the same hour, and received the same Invitation. Seen In the dint light of the room, the eexton was a little wtsrned. white haired man. wtth hoary, bushy eye bruwa. hewn gray eyes, sad sunken, tanned cheek* He was dressed In de cent hlark. wtth n white shirt, and the hind of collar known In ilr.itland as "atleh -ttym” The minister, un the other hand, was tall and somewhat purity, with a round, buyluh face, gen tle blue eyes, and inild guod humored mouth Hla hair waa while aa «aow. and fell almost lo hts shoulders "•It ye down, eit ye down ' he sw iveled , - and tahe a gbsaa the night te cold ” felsawa placed his bonnet carefully on the edge uf the table end seated himself respectful!t on one of ih« rene bottomed cbaife Then teteutely > «vd solemnly he poured out a glaaa uf >ew spirit Meantime Mr Uttsik*. havtgg divested hitn#*lf af hie cluah at 4 bet «at 4>ti la the arm chair by the lieetde Here e fortune, alt * *atd hoiomua, •limbing o|| the whtekt then wiping lW mouth with his Sleeve he sal bolt upright and eapmtwnt waiting to see If hie superior had anything m-<e tu say. Hut, an tne minuter remained silent, Solomon rose to go. "Are ye mindin’ the funeral the morn?" the sexton asked, taking up his bonnet. Mr Lorraine nodded. “Can 1 bring ye anything before I gang to bed? I maun rise ut live to feenlsh the grave." "No; go to bed. I shall sit up and read n little.” "Weal, good-night, sir.” . "Good-night, 8oloraon.” Thereupon Solomon left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Lighting a candle In the lobby, he made bis way quietly to a chamber In the upper part of the house, where he slept, and which was, Indeed, the only chamber In the manse, excepting the minister’s sitting-room and adjoin ing bedroom, which contained any fur niture. Many years before Solomon had taken up his abode there, on the min ister’s invitation, and It was his only hr me. Hexides performing the duties of sexton and clerk, he acted generally us factotum to Mr. Lorraine, attended to the garden, and groomed the pony on which the minister made his visita tions about the country. An aged woman, Myxle Simpson, came In every day to clean and cook, but Invariably retired to her own dwelling at night fall. So the two old men were prac tically alone together, and, despite the difference In their social positions, re garded each other with a peculiar at WWUillQUl, The minister sat for some time mus ing, then with a sigh he took n book from the shelves and began to read. It was a volume of old sermons, writ ten by a south-country clergyman, Impassioned, wrathful, and In the nar row sense Calvlnlstlc. As he read, the wind roared round the house, and moaned In the chimneys, and rattled the shutterless windows; but as the wind rose the darkness decreased, and the vitreous rays of the moon began playing on the window panes. Mr. Ixirralne lit his pipe the only luxury In which he Indulged; for despite his plump figure, which he In herited, he was abstemious und a tee totaler, Then, with another sigh, he rose and walked thoughtfully up and down the room; paused at one of the windows, and looked down the moon lighted lawn which sloped to the river side; talking all the time to himself, hb was his confirmed habit. “Ay, ay, a wild night! and snow comlug. Solomon says! Eerie, eerie, Is the sough of the wind in the trees. It minds me ever of her, and when the moon's up It Is like the shining of her face out of the grave. Wee Marjorie! my bonny doo! Thirty long years ago she died, and I'm still here! still here!” Tears stood In the old man’s eyes as he looked out In a dream. Through the long years of loneliness and pov erty—for his living was Indeed a poor one he had cherished the memory of one who had gone away from him to God when only in her eighteenth year, Suddenly, there came a loud single knock at the front door. “Bless me, what's that?'' he exclaim ed. "I thought I heard a knock at the hall door, but maybe my ears deceived me. It was only the wind, I'm think ing." And he placed his precious relics back In the drawer, locking It carefully and placing the key In a worn leather pnrso which he carried In hla pocket. At that moment the knock was re peated. "Dear me!" he cried, "there's some one knocking after all. Maybe It's a sick call.” Lifting the candle from the labia, ha trotted from the room, crossed along the lobby, and opened the hall door. As he did so the wind sprang In like a tiger, and the light was blown out, Imt the front garden was flooded with miMuillght, save under the very shadow of the trees. He saw nobody, however: whoever had knocked had disappeared "Who's there"" he cried, looking round on e»ery sldt. There was no reply Hsrplesed and somewhat startled, he s'apped out Into the port It, and lu etamaneoualy the door was hanged and dosed behind hint II* took an other step forward, and almost stum bled over somethlag like a dark (ma dia of slothing lying on tha doorstep "Mass my soul!" he murmured 'what a this’" At tha same moment a taint cry came upoa h(« ear dtoopina down la areal aglUHon. he llttad the bundle, and dlfcovered to his consternation that It aunlalned the form of a litrlua child. •tux*) **« *•«(** Fttttttel III# Hifutlt. 1st 4 H uf it* t*«| ■ \ NXttU»i)r 14* H« letted la -y Wtd * '*•« 4: ed the truth—that the hapleaa crea ture had been left there by some one who had knocked and fled, Still hold ing the child in hla arms, be ran out In the garden and looked on every side. "Come back!” he Raid; "whoever yon ore, come back!” Hut no one responded. The wind moaned dismally in the treea that lifted their black branches overhead, that was all. He ran to the gate and looked up and down the road, but could see nobody. As he stood In per plexity the child cried again loudly, and struggled In his arms. "Bless me!” he murmured, "I must take It In, or It will die of cold!” He ran back to the door and knorked loudly again and again. It waa some time before he waa heard. At last, however, he heard footsteps coming along the passage, and redoubled hi* knocking. The door opened, and Solomon Mucklebacklt, half dresaed, apppeured on the threshold. Without a word the minister ran Into the lobby.1 "lajsh me, meenlater, is It yourael'?” ejaculated Holomcin, In amazement. "I thought you were In bed.” “Come this way quick!” shouted Mr. fairralne. “Bring a light!” And still carrying his burden, h« ran Into the sitting-room. Solomon closed tbe door, atruek a match, and lignted a tandle, and followed him Im mediately. Then his amazement deep ened. To see Mr. fairralne standing by the fireside with a crying Infant In Ms arms was Indeed enough to awaken perplexity and wonder. “My conscience. meenlxter, what hae ye gotten there?" "A child! Home one left It In the porch, knocked, and ran away. Run, Holomon, search up and down the road, and ace If you can And them. Hhame upon them, whoever they are. Don't stand staring, but run." Perfectly bewildered, Solomon stood gaping; then with one horror-stricken look at the Infant, left the room, and run from the house. Left alone with the child, the mln Irter seemed puzzled what to do. He held It awkwardly, and Its cries con tinued; then, to still It, he rocked It to and fro In hie arma. Finding It ftill troublesome, be placed It down In the arm-chair, nit) softly loosened the shawl In which It waa wrapt, freeing Its little arms. Its cries ceased for a time, and It lay with eyes wide open, spreading It* little hands In the warm twilight. The minister put on his glasses and looked at It with solemn curiosity. It was a t,!ny Infant, about two months old; Its little pink face was pinched with cold, and Its great blue eyes dim with crying, A common linen cap waa on Its head, and Its gown was of coarse linen. But It was so small, so pretty, that I he minister's tender heart melted over It at once. He offered It Ills forefinger, wblrh It gripped with Us tiny hands, blinking up Into his face. "Poor wee mite!” he murmured, "I wonder who your mother Is? A wick ed woman, I'm thinking, to cast you away on such a night as this!" As If In answer to his words, the child began to cry again. “I can eee naebody," cried Holomon, re-enteilng the room; "I hae searchlt up and doou. a* far loonwaya as Myale Simpson’s door, and beyont to the waterside, and there's nane stirring. It's awfu' strange!” He looked at the child, and scratched hi* head; he looked ut the minister, and nodded It ominously. A curious conjecture, too Irreverent for utterance, had passed across his nat urally suspicious mind. (TO SB CONTIMCKD.) THE TROLLEY BUZZ. And Something About tlio Trolley Curl ua a Cure tor tleaciaelir. "Ever heir of the trolley buzz?" said a Brooklyn resident whose business Is Ip New York. "They suy that some people who travel regularly on the trolley ears get Ihe trolley buzz. You know the sound of the trolley, the bz-z-z-z that Wglns low and rises grad ually as the car Increases in speed, kteping a uniform tone when the ear Ir. running at uniform speed, and theu declining again as the ear runs slow er und stopping when the ear stops? They say tb>re are people who travel regularly on th« trolleys who hear this sound ul! the time wherever they are, •-\rcpt when they are asleep. They call this havlug the trolley bun*, I m vrr had the trolley bun. but the trolley rare sotueitnies do tne a great deal of good. They cure me of head ache 1 work here all day. keeping ttry busy, and someiinv * when I start home at mgbt I have a hard head si h< t get Into a trolley car and take a seat over on« of the ailta. They say that no electricity gets Into the ear, but I imagine there must be more or lews of It la tbe air. I know there ta eomsihtitg (here ibai eiiree my bead ache I alt down In the car with the headai hr bad I get down from It af ter n ride of abotl three mile* feeling bright and freeh and with Ihe be«4 ache gone “ Me* Me>e«»a Newtpaper men go lain etirtoaa « . ,n end are tu'vver miming *■ i»m i uritoM people la them The I eel pi«ev I met dea* wlu <Ul Uatatteh a »• a but# to the aail In UiM feeaty* *. oath sir* iall*-4 t*> loorieav a n*sih tX'Mtiil We tamed it I.Hita Isis tin* of Halts-'t tat «oa«i>rgea •ae the head of th« es’abliebawal and it • *» ptmsdbte ta obtain an *»,« Ileal d na»< tbei* for u> > or te«uty lit , <ota Uat »n| ,»e i hw itswi and ap* 1 t artil plane* ! attb the company tgal t •unwashed him tb ***gn tt ana c«ttg* of *■ **(• i* r nad artigtg * ih taatv g«e t* th*b money, TALM AGE'S' SERMON.] *A MOMENTOUS QUESTION.M LAST SUNDAY’S SUBJECT. From thf Following Tail, •luinca IV. 14: IVhat In lour Life? Yen, Life In Worth Living If I'nople Will Only Live for CJod. F we leave to the evolution!.!* to guess where wo came from and to the theologian* to prophesy where we •re going to, we still have left for consideration the Important fact that we are here. There may be some doubt •bout where the river rises, und some doubt about where the river empties, but there can be no doubt about the fact that we are sailing on It. Ho I am not surprised that everybody asks the question, "Is life worth living?" Solomon in his unhuppy moments, •ays It Is not. "Vanity," “vexation of spirit," "no good," are his estlmute. The fact Is that Holomon was at one time a polygamist, and that soured his disposition. One wife makes a man happy; more than one makes him wretched. But Solomon was converted from polygamy to monogamy, and the last words he ever wrote, as far as we can read them, were the words "moun tains of spices." But Jeremiah saya life Is worth living. In a book sup posed to be doleful, and lugubrious, and sepulchral, and entitled "Lamenta tions," he plainly Intimates that the blessing of merely living Is so great and grand a blessing that though a man have piled on him all misfortunes and disaster* he has no right to com plain. The ancient prophet cries out In startling Intonation to all lauds and to all centuries, ‘‘Wherefore doth a living man complain?" A diversity of opinion In our time os well ss In olden time. Here Is a young man of light hair and blue eyes and sound digestion, and generous sal ary, and happily affianced, and on the way to become a partner In a commer cial firm of which he Is an important clerk. Ask him whether life is worth living. He will laugh In your face and say, "Yes, yes, yes!” Here Is a man who bus come to the forties. He Is at the tip-top of the hill of life. Ev ery step has been a stumble and a bruise. The people he trusted have turned out deserters, and money he has honestly made he has been cheated out of. His nerves arc out of tune. He has poor appetite, and the food he does eat docs not assimilate. Forty miles climbing up the hill of life have been to him like climbing the Matter horn, and there are forty miles yet to go down, and descent Is always more dangerous than ascent. Ask bltn whether life Is worth living, and he will drawl out In shivering and lugu brious and appalling negative, "No, no, no!” How arc we to decide the mutter righteously and Intelligently? You will find the same man vacillating, os cillating In his opinion from dejection to exuberance, and if he be very mer curial In hla temperament It will de pend very much on which way the wind blows. (If the wind blows from the northwest and you ask him, he will say, "Yes," and If It blow from the northeast and you ask him be will say, "No." How are we then to get tho question righteously answered? Sup pose wo call all nations together in a great convention on eastern or western hemisphere, and let all those who are In the affirmative say "Aye,” and all those who arc In the negative say "No." While there would be hundreds of thousands who would unswer in the af firmative, there would be more millions because of the greater number who have sorrow, and misfortune, and trou ble, the •'Noes" would have It. The answer I shall give will be different from either, and yet it will commend ltBelf to all who hear me this day as the right answer. If you ask me. “Is life worth living?” I answer, It all de pends u|»on the kind of life you live. In the first place, I remark that a life of mere motiey getting is always a fail ure, because you will never get us much us you want. The poorest people in this country are the millionaires. There Is not a scissors grinder on the streets of New York or Brooklyn who Is so anxious to make money us these men who have plied up fortunes year after year In storehouses, lu government se curities, In lent incut houses, lu whole city blocks. You ought to see them jump when they hear the tire bell rlug. You ought to see them lu their excite ment when a bank explodes. You ought to see their agitation when there . la proposed a reformation In the tariff Their uervea tremble like harp strings, hut no music In the vibration They read the reports front Wall street lu t the morning with a concernment that , threatens paralysis ur apoplexy, or. ft are probably, they hay# a telegraph or a telephone In their onn house, so they egteh every breath ut change In : the money market The dleeaae of ac cumulation baa ealen into them eaten Into their keart. into their lunga, into their spleen. Into their liver, Into their bouse Chemists have sometimes analysed the human body, and they sav i s set much magnesia, so at * b lint- so tau> h chlorate of potassium If t* - c'hrts llen chemist would analyst one of these hnanstat behemoths he Would had he woe made up of copper, and gold, and stiver, and sin* and lead, and coal, and iron that in nut a life • ortn It»tag there are im many •arthuuahee in It, lent mxny agent*# in tl, to-** many p»> dittos* ta it. They t *iid th«i< ensile*, awd they pan thefr pi tut* galleries, end they (Utaxtun prim# do* u*» and they offer every In- 1 ffiisemeni lor hnppiavns tu otgr and . live there, but happiness will not come. They send footmanm d and postillloned equipage to bring her; she will not ride to their door. They send princely es cort; she will not take their arm. They make their gateways triumphal arches; she will not ride under them. They set a golden throne before a golden plate; she turns away from the ban quet. They call to her from uphol stered balcony; she will not listen. Mark you. this is the failure of those who have had large accumulation. And (hen you must take Into consid eration that the vast majority of those who make the dominant Idea of life money getting, ft 11 far short of afflu ence. It Is estimated that only about two out of a hundred business men have anything worthy the name of suc cess. A man who spends his llfo with the one dominant Idea of financial ac cumulation spends a life not worth liv ing. 80 the Idea of wordly approval. If that be dominant In a man’s life he Is miserable. Bvery four years the two most unfortunate men In this country are the two men nominated for the presidency. The reservoirs of abuse, and diatribe, and malediction gradual ly fill up, gallon above gallon, hogs head above hogshead, and about mid summer these two reservoirs will be brimming full, and a hose will be at tached to each one, and It will play away on these nominees, and they will have to stand It, and take the abuse,and the falsehood, and the caricature, and the anathema, and the caterwauling, and the filth, and they will be rolled In It and rolled over and over In it until they are choked and submerged, and strangulated, and at every sign of returning consciousness they will be barked at by the bounds of political parties from ocean lo ocean. And yet there are a hundred men today strug gling for that prlvlhge, and there are thousands of men who are helping tkntn in 1 li. k.T_ >L..i a Ufa worth living. You ran get slan dered and abused cheaper than that! Take It on a smaller scale. Do not be so ambitious to have a whole reservoir rolled over on you. But what you sec In the matter of high political preferment you see in every community In the struggle for what Is called social position. Tens of thousands of people trying to get Into that realm, and they are under ter rific tension. What Is social position? It Is a difficult thing to define, hut we all know what It Is. Good morals and Intelligence are not necessary, but wealth, or a show of wealth, Is abso lutely Indispensable. There are men today as notorious for their libertinism as the night Is famous for Its darkness who move In what Is called high social position. There are hundreds of out and-out rakes In American society, whose names are mentioned among the distinguished guests at the great le vee*. They have annexed all the known vices and are longing for other worlds of diabolism to conquer. Good morals ure not necessary In many of the exalted circles of society. Neither Is intelligence necessary. You find In that realm men who would not know an adverb from an adjective If they met It a hundred times In a day, and who could not write a letter of acceptance or regrets without the aid of a secretary. They buy their li braries by the square yard, only anx ious to have the binding Russian. Their ignorance Is positively sublime, mak ing English grammar almost disrepu table. And yet the finest parlors open before them. Good morals and Intel ligence are not necessary, but wealth or a show of wealth, Is positively Indis pensable. It does not make any differ ence how you got your wealth, if you only got It. The best way for you to get into social position Is for you to buy a large amount on credit, then put your property In your wife's name, have a few preferred creditors, and then make an assignment. Then dis Ul'l'' ~ UIUII I IK breeze is over, and come back and start In the same business. Do you not see how beautifully that will put out all the people who are in competition with you and trying to make an honest liv ing? How quickly It will gel you Into high social position? What Is the use of toiling with forty or tifty years of hard work when you can by two or three bright strokes make a great for tune? Ah! my friends, when you really Use your money how quickly they will let you drop, and the higher you got the harder you will drop. * * Amid the hills of New Hampshire, In olden times, there sit- a mother. 'I here are six children In the hou-chold — four boys and two girls. Small farm. Very rough, hard work to c.ci\ a |iv tng out of It. Mighty tug to nuke two ! end* of the year ineci The hoys go to ! school in winier and work the farm In \ summer. Mother Is the chief presiding i spirit. With her hand* she knits all the stockings f> r the little f i t, and '< she Is the mantuatuaker for the boys, > and she Is the milliner for the g rls There is only one musical Instrument In the house the spinning-wheel. Tin food Is very plaiu. but It Is always well > provided The winters are very cold, i but are kepi out by the blankets she j quilled. <H| Sunday, when she appeals ' In the vtllagv < hutch. her children ] around her, Ih* uiiuuctrr looks down and la reminded of the Ulbl* descrip ticn of a good bvoMostfe "Her civil 1 tills arise up, ant >4)1 her blessed; her ! husband also. a,. I he ptaleetb her “ dome years go by, and the two eld- , set hoys want a collegiate education , aud the hiuutbohj oui.um n are se~ ■ verer, and the go.-uiettoni are ■ luwt end until these two bsyi gel their edit ; t. lion there te n hard battle for bread j line of these toil enters me university, elands in a pulpit widely tadoeatigl. ' and prea- n«a rvghteoueueea. judgment and t»wp«r#av# and th-owtande dor Ing nte ministry are bieeaad. The ether | lad who gut the uiiegiate ed'WStU>a Sees Into the lee aad then,* Inin teg ielalive hatie, and after n while h» Scmmande iteteniag heagtee eg he WMthea a plea for the downtrodden snd j the outcast. One of the younger boys becomes a merchant, starting at the foot of the ladder but climbing on up until his success and his philanthropies arc recognized all over the land. The other son stays at home because he prefers farming life, and then he thinks he will be able to take care of father and mother when they get old. Of the two daughters: when the war broke out one went through the hos pitals of Pittsburg Landing and For tress Monroe, cheering up the dying and the homesick, and taking the last message to kindred far away, so that every time Christ thought of her, he said, as of old, "The same is my sister and mother." The other daughter has a bright home of her own. and in the afternoon—the forenoon having been devoted to her household she goes forth to hunt up tho sick and to en courage the discouraged, leaving smiles and benediction all along the way But one day there start live telegn.ms from the village for these five absent ones, saying: "Come, mother la dan gerously 111.” But before they can bo ready to start, they receive another telegram, saying: “Come, mother Is dead.” The old neighbors gather in the old farmhouse to do the lust offices of respect. But as that fanning son, and the clergyman, and the senator, and the merchant, and the two daugh ters stand by the casket of the (lead | mother taking the last look, or lifting their little children to see once more the face of dear old grandma, I want to ask that group around the casket one question: “Do you really think her life was worth living?" A life for God, a life for others, a life of unselfishness, a useful lfe, a Christian life Is always worth living. I would not find It hard to persuade you that the poor lad, Peter Cooper, making glue for a living, and then amassing a great fortune until he could 1 build u philanthropy whicn has nau its i echo In ten thousand philanthropies all over the country—I would not find It hard to persuade you that his life was worth living. Neither would 1 find It hard to persuade you that the life of Susannah Wesley was worth living. She sent out one son to organize Meth odism and tho other son to ring his anthems all through the ages. 1 would not find It hard work to persuade you that the life of Frances Lee re was worth living, as she established In England a school for the scientific nursing of the sick, and then when tho war broke out between France nnd Ger many went to the front, and with her own hands scraped the mud off tho bodies of the soldiers dying In tho trenches, and with her weak arm— standing one night In the hospital — pushing back a German soldier to bln couch, as, all frenzied with his wounds, he rushed to the door, and said: “I>et me go, let me go to my libe mutter,”— major-generals standing back to let pass this mgel of mercy. But I know the thought In the minds of hundreds of you today. You say, "While I know all these lived lives worth living, I don't think my life amounts to much.” Ah! my friends, whether you live a life conspicuous or Inconspicuous, It Is worth living, If you live aright. And I Want my next sen tence to go down Into the depths of all ' your souls. You are to be rewarded, not according to the greatness of your] work, but according to the holy indus tries with which you employed the tal ents you really possessed. The ma jority of the crowns of beayi n will not be given to people with ten talents, for most of them were templed only to serve themselves. The vast majority of the crowns of heaven will be given to people who had one talent, but gave It all to God. And remember that our life here is introductory to another. It Is the vestibule to a palate; but who despises the door of a Madeleine be cause there are grander glories within? VICISSITUDE. Tli« "Original Mark*,” Untr n .ImUku, lu Poverty lu ( hiiago. The original of "My name in Marks, I'm a lawyer, shake," Is living in poor circumstances in Chicago at the age of eighty-three. His name it Abraham Marks. He says that Mi Stowe wish ed to localize "I'ncle TtrnV Cabin,” and some one told her he was the only attorney in the vicinity. .Taige Marks he was made a probati judge by Sam Houston- has had a chi kcred ca reer. Graduating from t nion College in 1S32, he Biudied law. v.i admitted to the bar, and went to New Orleans. From there he went t Mi > , e, J.a., 'f when he established thi Standard, ills conduct of that paper drew him in to several duels and in wt- indicted half a dozen times for 1. *1. In 1K37 he met a tire-eater named Alt x inder on "the Held of honor," and maped with a bullet through his real. After this duel he marled fur Texas on lio.sebui k. At Houston he met the famt.ua Sam Houston, then president of the Texan Republic. Houston made him judge .it the I‘rebate Court at Hun Anton >. Hu remained In Texas a numuer of years and Iheu returned In Arfcpuxa* All his life Judge Marks h..s been an se lls* politician He was at it it s Whig, hut afterwards in cm. . H put,. Ueau, lo which parte h< hat Nkutged since ll was bora, lu h i He ««>« thst when he was a Xtri situil child hi* paienis, who lived at I • n»*. oia, were intlnial* with Uen >. x*i u . fum lly. sad that he r*tu*W'* * »v» , itg vii* Jai kstut aU la th* chmuu r • v > m r nod smoke a pipe. Ih aa**> t* nv ,■ y Ward IWeilicf »« •» tobi I u lilt , „ a Hally that If h* could *»• li« nuts wtlptuf i'S'l* Tuliut s ;. |,i would that h* the h*tr t l «> ’t*a a large part of >h* booh A *t’hiittlt« thin* elwtf w- >t a sttvp ittg plant *xpoaed hie son * t«».« i« ih* fUMle* of *>duriitoi ta or •«*-• msed Ml* sruritf. th* •Iwt vf DA SOI** Home an a plant balnp Us »*>*e*a «l what It la a* ah animat
