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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 31, 1897)
K§ ^ * HAJ'TKIl X Xir. —((*oNTIN! ED.) ***11111 ye oVr-Kd.tl", " she (Oti <J, but lv aye 1'ked you because w as sure ye had a stubborn will when •'1,1,1 « on:if h-nee told you that the right wai* ‘,r> your side, if that man has wronged Marjorie Annan, would you be feiiri il to face him and avenge her?” j "If he has played the vllllan,” an swered Sutherland, deadly pale, but de termined, “I would bunt him down and puntislt hltn, though I had to follow hint roumi and round the world,” As the young man spoke, his face | wot ■ an expression which few had ev er noticed there before; all the softness L- an‘* sweetness disappeared, the lines deepened, the eyes hardened, and the entire aspect grew hard as granite, and f a-t unrelenting *%.- ‘ 1 was right,” said the old lady, no- j • Icing the change. "Ye have the Heth erington temper, Johnnie Sutherland. • Hi, that I \n re ;i man to gang In your poec Hut you shall follow them with • hi’ swiftness o' youth and tile keenness o' Injured love.” A -w minutes later, Sutherland left j 'In rustic, fully authorized to bring, Marjorie back If possible, and armed I with ample means, In the shape of a large sum of money, which Miss Heth erlugton thrust upon him. yl Left to herself |p the lonely Castle, the lady retired to her private suite of apartments, and there gave way to the ; wild tempest of her sorrow and de- , spair. Pride and self-reproach eon- j tended together for the mastery of her j heart: hut love was there, too-the In- ! tenze love of maternity, which for near- | ly eighteen years had been flickering secretly like a feeble fire. •7. ■ ' in II*'i iinil -» ll/JII , IIi J II' UU 1/ - Ing leak and her eyes fixed wildly on the window's glimmering square and the dreary prospect beyond, she fell In to a troubled dream of the past. Again she was a proud, passionate girl, reckless in her comings and go ings. earing for nothing in the world J but the smiles of one man, and fearing nothing but the anger of her savag.- , brother, in whom the tigerish blood of the male Hetheringtons ran twice fiery j through lust and wine. So haughty and unlovable had she seemed, so stubborn and capricious, : tlia' only one man had dared to woo i he: that man iter father’s and her: brother’s enemy, the enemy of all her house. They had met in secret, and she. with characteristic stubbornness, had loved him better for the feud that I might have kept them asunder. And ! at last, in a wild moment of impulse, she had placed herself at his mercy, and had loved him without God's bless ing or the sanction of clergyman or priest. J Then, to the terror and amaze of both, came the knowledge that she was about to become a mother. Not' till she confessed her situation to him did she discover that the hate ; of her family was justified, and that she had loved a villain; for almost ; simultaneously came the news that he was about to marry the daughter of an j English earl. She taxed him with it. and lie scarcely took the trouble to do- : n.v it. He could never, he said, unite himself with one of her house. How it cam*' about she scarcely 1 knew; but one night, when site met her ! lover and faced him with wild up- i braidings a hand like Iron was laid j upon her arm. and turning, she saw ; her brother Hugh. The two men faced j ! each other; there were a few words, I i then a blow, and site saw her lover’s j I fai p livid anu bleeding as sue swooned away. l,a;*r that night, when Hugh Ileth erington sought her in that very cham ber where 3h* was now sitting, lie hart wrung the whole truth from her. and. hearing it. hart struck her, too, with his < till' hell hst in the face. V she thought of that ttni*. she rose feebly and looked into the glass, ies, the mark was there yet; she would earrv It to her grave. Her worn fare weir ghastlier yet as she remember'd what ti l followed. How her wild broth'i left the place ami was absent for m, oy days: and how. Ju*t after he return'd and drove her forth she read in a newapuper that laird lashmahen. j of iih yr at l/r hmuhens of the Border, had ju*t died suddenly In lit* 3.*th year, i I somewhere abroad There was no I s<aud..I. th* world did not even know flow I ..ehut a be li perished, hit she | km » that he had fallen l*> the hand of I i IlMgh lictherlngiuii. In a duel fought i with »word> on foreign sell, Ah. the dart to i» the honor, the dea i ids to i, ol Hi* li» v« lew «M> !**»■ N" one but to r brother kBe* her »e ret. I ■ amt he k>'pt It Weil, mi that all th« t wo id heard was that the brother and i i sis.t r hat *ua'>‘t<d and lh*t she Had left t:,» t\t*i'* to dwell. Iwnipui .trtly at teas' ,nIf y,o om; f iih'l* osl Thu t H*ih>riugt'.M temp* '*11 km*"" i a hj wi .tt It was tiai*tt*l that such a brother id »Uf»r shoo'd h •* ea*h ,«th, r . that swords sho«i I . U*a or [ i hi* and lot >. at d' * g rwe fr*. ,aitig ta •> twi ia a >owa ai*‘» the , kinai ish Uokr she had hiddsa h»t i shame armies I he pstnt of the matt No t ot kat a fc.-r at us* ei«*o'id hat that she wa* ******" It a I* vuars ah* had m** iei*i in the manaar usli too mawes aao.ua h* r • *** tkr* it * ta*' a*r little owe was Wot* « dtiliag aad ratwwiag B wit darkly. • •*« *| wwmiot • } haw tom uws#’* . flashing and fading before her, like colors ever changing In a kaleidoscope, Miss Heiherington felt again that wild, murderous thrill which hunted creat ines, animal and human, often feel, and which tempts them despairingly, deliriously to destroy their young. She shuddered and cowered, remem bering her first Impulse. Hut the child had lived; and one night, holding it to tier heart, thr* mother had disappeared from the strange town as mysteriously as she had come, leaving no trace or clew. Fascinated and afraid, site had re turned to Annandaie, hiding herself hy day. traveling )n the darkness only. How dark it had hern, how the wind had roared, that night when she flitted III'' a ghost round the manse, and caw tlie gentle old pastor counting his souvenirs within! Her intention had been to go right on to the Castle with her burden; hut the sight of the good rnau decided her, and she acted as the r-ader knows leaving the Infant on the doorstep, and flitting silently away. i liat night the brother and sister stood face to fare. What was said and dour no one knew; but after a stormy scene the lady remained at the Castle, No one dreamed of connecting her with tin waif just discovered at the manse door, for no one but tier brother knew the secret of her fall; and as if hy a special providence the corpse of a wom Mi was washed up some days later on the Solway sands, and suspicion noint d to JIlls woman as the mother of the little castaway. From that time forth, till the day fwliich came mo soon) when her broth rdled, Miss Hetherlngton had little or no communion with him; and when he passed away, as wildly and darkly ah lie had lived, she shed no tears. She tad never forgiven him, would never rorglve hint this tilde the grave, for buying the only man she had ever oved, and who, perhaps, might have nade amends. She brooded over her vrongs till she grew prematurely old, md dwelt In the lonely house, of which the was now sole mistress, like a ghost n a sepulcher, from dismal day to day, * * * * • • John Sutherland lost, no time In the pursuit. He hastened to Dumfries at once, md, by questioning the railway otll ials. soon discovered that the fugl ives had gone southward by the mall he previous night. Further Inquiry ed him to Carlisle, and the very inn hey had stopped at. Here he learned rum the landlady that' the young ■ouple had been married and had tak •n the one o’clock train for London. It was all over, then; he had lost Mar orie forever. Of what avail was it now o follow and attempt to save her? Dazed and despairing, he found his vay hack to the railway station. He bund the telegraph office still open, md at once dispatched a telegram to Mimfrles, paying for a special messen ;er to take it on to Annandale Castle. The message was as follows: "They were married here this morn ng. and are gone south together. What mi I to do?" To this came the answer; "Do not come back. Follow her; tear the truth from her own lips. Spare no expense, but find her. I leave t all to you.” it seemed a useless errand, but be vas in no mood to argue or disobey. !o he took the first train that was go ng southward, and before mid-day was ar on his way to London. r i I a r>rr tc r> v v ■, r OK days Suther land searched Lon don in vain for a / trace of the fugitive iy : couple; then acel f / t ',0 deni revealed to him wliat a search of months might never have done. He was walking along moodily, with his eyes on the round; he hud passed into the lelghhorhood of Leicester Squat® then suddenly he started and trembled mm bead to foot. A voice, It seemed 0 him a familial voice, struck upon Is ear, Ii was speaking volubly In the 'Tench longue Humcdly lie drew aside lo allow the srson lo pa-* him by: then looking P be recount*' n the Krenrh teacher — , 'an i slil to re Yes, It certainly was he, beyond all iiaunyr of doubt' lie was carrying on n. h au emoted runver cation with his 'iipanloil till! he Mot non noticed iip hcrlatul. whose sleexe he had at' nust brushed Hut In l Urd * first :mpoise u in to n h forward and » .infrom tin tich* i nan hu ni tt to drop back, to remain iii>tnii I behind ,ml follow hint The Ian-1 coarse he followed YYh* i he weal he e mid nut tall, bu ng aniarsed in thn ways and th* by at a of the cat etiy. hat ha was lak a m awd out uf br ttrssii and slttnii saatlr inbaiated by l'i««<li refuge g, r*. gilt tke two men entered a howee runs which aft- r a lapse uf ga hoof 1 ho b is Herlaad seem—l ah il«fgl< y, the I reach man emerged slags H* sited up a h.» a son* Huth-rtand sailed ' p op* a>» ' aad thi y rattled away aft r -sab oibef 1 ha b'tan htnana h.o»<« •'oppwd presently at a house In Gower street. Sutherland, after noting the number of the house In passing, pulled up ais hansom at the corner of the next street and walked quietly back again. By this time both Oaussidiere and his hansom had disappeared, but Suther land recognized the place. He walked up and down on the opposite side of the way, examining the house, staring at it as if he would fain penelratc those dark walls and see the fair fsce which he suspected to be within. Theu he calmly walked over,knocked at the door and inquired for “Madams Oaussidiere.” The servant admitted him, and he was at ones shown upstairs. In one thing Sutherland was fortunate—Caus sidicre was not at home. Ho had entered the house only for a moment to give his hurried instruc tions to Marjorie. “Pack up your things at onre," he had said; “prepare yourself by the hour of my return. We leave for Paris to night.” Then he had hastened down again, entered the hansom, and driven away, • ••••• Just an hour later the hansom con taining Oaussidiere stopped again be fore tlie house. This time the man re ceived his faro, and the cab drove away empty, while Oaussidiere entered the house and went up to his rooms. He found Marjorie in tears, and John Sutherland by her ride. At sight, of the latter lie started, look ing the reverse of pleased; the presence of the young painter, by no means de sirable at any time, was at that mo ment particularly embarrassing. But Oaussidiere was not easily abashed; his presence of mind only deserted him for a moment; then he came forward with a sinister smile. "So it Is you, monsieur,” he said. “I am amazed, but I cannot say that I am altogether pleased, since through find ing Marjorie in your presence, I see her with a sorrowful face, and with tears in her eves ” He came forward as he spoke, and I held forth his hand, but Sutherland did not take It. He rose from his seat, and stood awkwardly looking at the two. Marjorie rushed forward and took her husband's arm. “Ah, Leon,” she said, "do not be an gry because 1 cried a little at seeing an oid friend. Though I love the past, my love for you is not less; and he has told me such strange news." Caussidlere smiled down upon her and patted her cheek. It v/as wonder ful how self-possessed he felt now he knew that no one could step between him arid bis prize, "Well, my child,” he said, “and what is this great news which he has told you ?” "He has told me of my mother, Leon —of my dear mother.” "Positively.” “Do you understand, I-eon, that Mls< Hetherlngton is my-" "Assuredly I understand, little one. If I remember rightly. It fell to my share to tax the lady with the fact some time ago, and she pould not deny It.” "Then you did not know of It. and you never uttered a word; you never told me, Leon!" "Told you! certainly not, mon amie! It was not my province to reveal the dark spots on the fame of the proud old lady of the Castle.” "It was not your province to tempt an innocent girl away from her home and her friends,” cried Sutherland hot ly; "yet you have done it.” The Frenchman Hushed angrily. (TO UK CONTINUED.) WOMAN AND THE CAMERA, rtiolugruyliv hh a I'rofeattlou Should Ap r.ieul to the Fair Sex. Miss Frances Benjamin Johnston, the phot (graphic artist, writes, in the Ladies' Home Journal, on “What a Woman Can Do With a Camera,” tell ing the requisites for artistic and finan cial success in the pursuit of photog raphy as a profession. “It is a profes sion," she contends, “that should strongly appeal particularly to women, and in it there are great oimortunitles for h good-paying lunduesti but only under very well-defined nonunions. The prime requisites as summed up In my mind after long experience and thought are these: The woman who makes photography profitable must have, as to personal qualities, good common sense, unlimited patience to carry her through endless failures, equally unlimited tail, good taste, a quick eye, a talent for detail, und a genius lor hard work. In addition, she needs training, experience, some capi tal. un i u tldd to exploit. This may set m. ai first glum e, an uppallug list, lint It Is incomplete rather than exag g< rated; although to au energetic, am bitious wutuun, with even ordinary op IHirtuultles, success Is always possible, and hard, Int •iiigent snd cons* .entlou* work ueldotn falls to dnselop small be ginning* into large results. "wood work should c trnmaud good prices und the w|ie woman will placs 1 u paying value upon her beat t (torts j It Is a tuintakeu business policy to try j and build Up Hade by doing something | l, . :l> Co.than some body else, Vs to your personal attitude, be bust- i in tS-IIVe iu all your methods, militate I iMrt, au affable manner, and an unfail- I in» i ir|. t> It n ils i! ohtng but a litil- self tuuirol and determination to be i itien and fsHl'ktistwl under m. st e|rt utlitl tm • * V pltaasgl, oblig ing and hi s «».■ » like bearing will of ,,. -it-- i,itM.t uni- : >nt pa it t»f s ilsier wowwn • capital ' Many of ik* events Iw Kress S pris ons are pwtd l»f itself abut, end earn an art Iff a Vs 4 day Half of Ibis they ate a -.a-l to ,* td p r estrs tu4. p»e» age. etc *nd the rest te sated. to be #«*•» tg th.- i vs Ihn 4i« v-arga i TALMAGES SERMON. SCRIPTURE OF THE DEEP COD AMONG THE CORALS. — From th* Text—“No Mention Khali It* Mail* of Coral” .lob Chap. XXVIII. Verne IN Love vtf (.oil for the Ileau tlfnl. IIY do you say that, inspired dra matist? When you wanted to set forth the superior value of our religion, you tossed aside the onyx, which is used for making exquisite cameos, and the sapphire, sky-blue, and to paz of rhombic prism, and the ruby of frozen blood, and here you say that the coral, which is a miracle of shape and a transport of color to those who have studied it, Is not. worthy of men tion in comparison with our holy re ligion. "No mention shall be made of coral." At Saint .Johnsbury, Vt., in a museum built by the chief citizen, as 1 examined a specimen on the shelf, I tlrst realized wliat a holy of holies tiod can build and has built in the temple of one piece of coral. I do not wonder that Ernst Meckel, the great scientist, while In Ceylon, was bo entranced with the specimens which some Cingalese divers had brought up for his inspection that he himself plunged Into the sea, and went clear under the waves at the risk of Ills life, again, and again, and again, that he might know more of the coral, the beauty of which he Indicates cannot even be guessed by those who have only seen it above water, and after ivmni arc n» »cui|iiwi», and architects, have died and the chief glories of these submarine flowers have expired. Job, in my text, did not menu to depreciate this divine sculpture in the coral reefs along the sea coasts. No one can afford to de preciate these white palaces of the deep, built, under God’s direction. He never changes his plans for the build ing of the Islands and shores; and for uncounted thousands of years the coral gardens, and the coral castles, and the coral battlements go on and up. 1 charge you that you will please God and please yourself If you will go into the minute examination of the corals—their foundations, their pinna cles, their aisles, their pillars, their curves, their cleavages, I heir reticula tion, their grouping- families of them, towns of them, cities of them, and continents of them. Indeed, you cannot appreciate the meaning of my text unless you know something of the coral. Labyrlnthlan, stellar, col umnar, floral, dented like shields from battle, spotted like leopards, embroid ered like lace, hung like upholstery— twilight and auroras and sunbursts of beauty! From deep crimson to milk white are its colors. You may find this work of God through the ani malcules eighty fathoms down, or amid the breakers, where the sea dashes the wildest, and beats the mightiest, and bellows the loudest. Nothing so Impresses me with the fact that our God loves the beauti ful. The most beautiful coral of the world never comes to human observa tion. Sunrises and sunsets he hangs up for nations to look at; be may green the grass, and round the dew Into pearl, and set on tire autumnal foliage to please mortal sight, but those thousands of miles of coral achievement i think he has had built for his own delight. In those galleries he alone can walk. The music of those keys, played on by the fingers of the wave, he only can hear. The snow of that white and the bloom of that crimson he alone can see. Having garnitured this world to please the hu man race, and lifted a glorious heaven to please the angelic intelligences, I am glad that he has planted these gar dens of the deep to pleAie himself. Hut here and there God allows speci mens of submarine glory to be brought UUU BCI. IUIC IIS 1UI OUUIlUJt' t UU“ templation. While 1 speak, these great nations of zoophytes, irieandrinas and madrepores, with teutacles for trowel, are building Just such coral as wc And In our text. The diamond may lie more rare, the crystal may be more spark ling. the chrysoprase may be more ablaze, but the coral is the long, deep, everlasting blush of the sea. Vet Job. who understood all kinds of precious stones, declares that the beauty and value of the coral are nothing com pared with our holy religion, and he picks up this roralltne formation and looks at It, and flings It aside with all the other beautiful things he has ever heard of, and cries out In ecstasy of admiration for the superior qual ities of our religion: "No mention shall be made of coral." Take my hand, and a* will walk ! through this bower of the sea, while I 1 show you that even exquisite rural la | not worthy of being compared with the richer Jewels of a t'hrtstlan soul. The Aral thing that strikes m« in look ing at the eoral Is Its long continued j vii initiation It la wot turned up like , t'oiepaxi, bm Is an outbultlng and an i mitbrsui klng of ages. In Ptdytteela , there are reefs hundreds of feat deep and oue thousand ntllea long V> bo built these reefs, Ibtne islands? The , s<Hiphytes, the corallines They were not stitk workers who built the pyra mid* as Were these Masons, these on ture* uf the tea II kal small »r*a- - b«s« amounting is what vast aggrt gallon* Who ran satimul# I ha agt* between 'hr lime when the madrepores •aid the founda'tona ef the island* and the lime when the madrepores I put Ml the S«p*tu*e *f * ■ omplelsd | wolhf It |>-titles *|| the *t ten tut* lu j • sans Ihi egh h-e mint year* the corallines were building the Sandwich and Society Islands and the Marshall and Gilbert groups. But more slowly and wonderfully accumulative Is grace in the heart. You sometimes get discouraged because the upbuild ing by the soul does not go on more rapidly. Why. you have all eternity to build in! The little annoyances of life are zoophyte builders, and there will be small layer on top of small lay er. and fossilized grief on the top of fossilized grief. Grace does not go up rapidly in your soul, but, blessed be God, it goes up. Ten thousand million ages will not finish you. You will never be finished. On forever! Up forever! Out of the sea of earthly dis quietude will gradually rise the reefs, the islands, the continents, the hem ispheres of grandeur and glory. Men talk as though In this life we only had time to build; but what we build in this life, as compared with what wfe shall build in the next life, is as a striped shell to Australia. You go into an architect's study and there you see the sketch of a temple, the corner stone of which has not yet been laid. O, that 1 could have an architectural sketch of what you will be after eter nity has wrought upon you! What pillars of strength! What altars of su pernal worship! What pinnacles thrusting their glittering spikes into the stiu that never sets! You do not scold the corallines because they can not build an Island in a day. Why should you scold yourself because you cannot complete a temple of holiness for the heart in this short lifetime? You tell me we do not amount to much now, but try us after a thou sand million ages of hallelujah. Let us hear the angels chant for a mil lion centuries. Give us an eternity with God, and then see If we do not amount to something. More slowly and marvelously accumulative Is the grace in the soul than anything I ean think of. "No mention shall he made of coral." Again. I take your hand, and we walk on through this garden of the sea and look more particularly than wc did at the beauty of the coral. The poets have all been fascinated with It. One of them wrote: “There, with a broad and easy motion, The fan coral sweeps through the clear deep sea, Anil the yellow and scarlet tufts of the ocean An bent like corn on the uplanl lea.” One specimen of coral Is called the dendrophilia, because it Is like a tree; another is called the astrara, because it Is like a star; another is called the brain coral, because It Is like the con volutions of the human brain; another is called the fan coral, because it Is like (lie instrument with which you cool yourself on a hot day; another specimen Is called tho organ pipe coral, because It resemble* the king of mu sical instrument. Ail the flowers and all the shrubs In the gardens of the land have their correspondencies !n this garden of the sea. Corallum: It is a synomym for beauty. And yet there is no beauty in the coral com pared with our religion. It gives physiognomic beauty. It does not change the features; it does not give features with which the person was not originally endowed, but it sets behind the features of the homeliest person a heaven that shines clear through. So that often, on first ac quaintance, you said of a man: "He is the homeliest person I ever saw,” when, after you come to understand him and his nobility of soul shining through his countenance, you said: "He is the loveliest person I ever saw.” No one ever had a homely Christian mother. Whatever the world may have thought of her, there were 'wo who thought well—your father, who had admired her for fifty years, and you, over whom she bent with so many tender ministrations. When you think of the angels of God, and your mother among them, she outshines them all. Oh, that our young people could un derstand that so much beautifies the IIII IIIilII L'UIIIUCIIUUL’O US 1111* religion '<1 Jesus Christ! It makes everything beautiful. Trouble beautiful. Sick ness beautiful. Disappointment beau tiful. Everything beautiful. Near my early home there was a place called the "Two Bridges." These bridges leaped Ih'e two streams. Weil, my friends, the. religion of Jesus Christ is two bridges. It bridges ail the past. It arches and overspans all the future. It makes the dying pil low the landiug place of angels fresh from glory. It turns the sepulchre into a May-time orchard. It catches up the dying into full orchestra. Cor allum' Anil yet that does not express the beauty: "No mention shall he made of coral.” I take your band again, and walk a little further on In this garden of tire sea. aud I notice tbs durability uf the work of the coral. Montgomery • peak* of It. He says- "Krai! were iheir form*, ephemeral their Ityi-a, their masonry Imperishable." It hi so pod* are insect* mi small that they are Intislble. and yet they built the Ap pcnluc* and they planted ter their nm monument the Cordillera*! It take* III.wh) two uf them In make one grain Corals are changing the na«l gatlon of the aeg. saying to the com merce uf the world, "Take this cb in set,” take this channel.” "av-rld the oik»r channel. Animalcules bent* tag bn- k the Atlantic and tb* l*a*tn« seas' It the Ibaecta uf the ureas have Ou t. a reef a Ihowaaad mile* tueg.whn knows but that they may yet hut hi a reef 1 <mm mite* long and than, that fey on# *Imh# bridge, Kurupe shall he untied with this continent on one site and by another atone bridge beta will be united with this continent on the -cbet etde. end (he lenrMt ei the world, without the turn of a steamer'* wheel, or the spread of a ship’s sal), may go all around the world, and thus be fulfilled the prophesy, "There shall be no more sea." But the durability of the coral’s work Is not at all to be compared with the durability of our work for God. The coral is going to crumble in the fires of the last day, but our work for God will endure forever. No more dis couraged man ever lived than Beethov en, the great musical composer. Un mercifully criticized by brother artists, and his music sometimes rejected. Deaf for twenty-five years, and forced, on his way to Vienna, to beg food and lodging at a plain house by the road side. In the evening the family opened a musical instrument and played and sang with great enthusiasm; and one of the numbers they rendered was so emotional that tears ran down their cheeks while they sang and played. Beethoven, sitting in the room, too deaf to hear the singing, was curious to know what was the music that so overpowered them, and when they got through he reached up and took the folio In his hand and found It was his own music Beethoven’s Symphony in A- and he cried out, "I wrote that!” The household sat and stood abashed to find that their poor-looking guest wus the great composer. But he never left that house alive. A fever seized him that night, and no relief could be afforded, and in a few days ho JleJ. But Just before expiring he took the hand of his nephew, who had been sent for und arrived, saying, “After all. Hummel, I must have had some tal ent." Boor Beethoven! His work still lives, and In the twentieth cen tury will be better appreciated than It # was In the nineteenth; and as long as there is on earth an orchestra to play or an oratorio to sing, Beethoven’s nine symphonies will be the enchant ment. of nations lint vnu are not a composer, und you nay there is nothing remarkable about you—only a mother trying to rear your family for useful ness and heaven. Yet the song with which you sing your child to sleep will never cease Its mission. You will grow old and die. That son will pass out Into the world. The song wil* which you sang him to sleep last night will go with him while he lives, a con scious or unconscious restraint and in spiration here, and may help open to him the gate of a glorious und trium phant hereafter. The lullabies of this century will sing through all the cen turies. The humblest good accom plished In time will last through eter nity. I sometimes get discouraged, as I suppose you do, at the vastness of the work and at how little we are do ing. And yet, do you suppose the rhlzopod said, "There Is no need of my working! I ran not build the Cordil leras." Do you suppose the madrepore said: “There Is no need of my work ing; I ran not build the Sandwich Is lands.” Each one attended to his own business; and there are the Sandwich Islands, and there are the Cordilleras. Ah. my friends, the redemption of this world is a great enterprise. I did not see It start; I will not In this world see Its close. I am only an Insect as compared with the great work to be done, but yet I must do my part. Help build this eternal corallum I will. My parents tolled on this reef long be fore I was born. I pray God that my children may toll on this reef long after I am dead. Insects all of us, but honored by God to help heave up the reef of light across which shall break the ocean’s Immortal gladness. Better be Insignificant and useful than great and Idle. The mastodons and mega theriums of the earth, what did they do but stalk their great carcasses across the land and leav^ their skele tons through the strata, while the cor allines went on heaving up the Islands all covered with fruitage and verdure. Better he a coralline than a masto don. So now I am trying to make cue little coralline. The polyp picks out of the wave that smites It carbonate of lime, and with that builds up Its own insectile masonry. So out of the wave of your tears I take the salt; out of the bruise I take the blue, and out of your bleeding heart I take the red; and out of them altogether I take this eoral. which I pray may not he dis owned In the day when Ood makes up his Jewels. t Little things decide great things. All that tremendous career of the last Napoleon hanging on the hand of a brakemun who, on one of our American railways, caught him as he was fall ing between the cars of u flying train. The battle of Dunbar was decided against the Scotch because their matches had given out. Aggregation* of little thing* that pull down or build up. When an army ur a regiment come to a bridge they are alway* com manded to break rauka, for tbelr aim uilaueoua tread will destroy lb* strongest bridge. A bridge at Anglers, France, and k bridge at Uroughtoa, Kngland. went down because the regi ment kept atep while crossing Ag gregation' of temptation, aggregation* of sorrow, sggrtgallon* of *aa*ulls, aggregation* of Christian effort, aggre gation* o( self sat rthese! Three make the irresistible power to demolish er to uplift, to destroy ur to save, l.ittle causes and great result* Christian j uy was iuiM«lui*J Into Japan by ibe railing overboard of a porhet Hleta from a *bip in the harbor of Tulle. .. “ 1 .. give Weaesel Sam About the meanest man I ever I knew,” said ibe steady liar, "was a | l> How over in Indian* Ills little bay ««t a leg mi off by a sawmill and tine i old v It tala bad a wundfra leg mole few the bid of green willow la Ike kaye i >bal H might grow a* the boy did. a*# i *ave aim ibe espenae of gelling a net* | we ea ultra
