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
