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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 4, 1898)
Shell ) a romanceI Wilden CHAPTER XI{[.-(Continued.) "And risk bringing back the Infec tion here? No, thunk you," cries Ru by, hotly. "1 shall ask mamma to for bid you." "My dear Ruby," Interposes Mrs. Wllden’s voice with unusual firmness, "If Shell tulnks it lier duty to go I shall certainly not try to atop b"r. I shall feel terribly anxious, but It will only be for a day or no; and I believe the disease In its first stage Is not very Infectious." “Do you mean that you would take her back here amongst us after being with the children?" asks Ruby, aghast. "Of course she will return when the nurse arrives. There is no need to run unnecessary risk. If you ami Vlo'et fee! liervous, we'd bolted return to the Wildernese, and Shell can stop here until the doctor warrants her safe.” "1 have such a horror of small-pox that I really think that, would be the better plan," remarks Ruby, with a sigh of relief. "What do you say, VI?" "Oh, let us start for Mini ford by all means! 1 am not particularly timid, tmt I feel that 1 ought to go for Ed win’s sake"—Edwin Is her fiance—"It would be such n tell for him If he came borne and found me dlsfigured. Shell, dear”—pressing a hasty kiss on lier cousin's cheek—"you are a hero ine; but the world Is made up of all sorts, and I am the sort that runs away." "I am not a bit heroic. I should run away too If I felt afraid,” laughs Shell; "but I don't, and therefore I shall take no harm." So it Is arranged. Shell, after gath ering a few necessaries together and receiving a teatful embrace from her mother, hurries back to her sleeping charges; and during the afternoon Ru by and Violet take their departure, while Mrs. VVIlden Is left to bemoan the fact that she ever allowed herself to be worried into taking a cottage on the moor. CHAPTER XIV. Two dayH and nights have elapsed; no answer has been received to the dortor’s hastily-despatched telegram; and Shell, sitting patiently beside her charges, begins to think that the ad dress given by Piper must have been an erroneous one. Nor has a profes sional nurse put In her appearance— the children are going on so favorably that the doctor deems the services of one unnecessary, since Shell i3 de termined not to quit her post, and in deed has given a promise to that eflect to her little patients. She is quite Isolated from the rest of the household. The children are in stalled in a large room at the end of the passage which on their arrival was fitted up as a night-nursery. Shell is with them all day; at night she occu pies the roomy old r.ofa in the adjoin ing room, leaving the door of com munication open. All intercourse with the outer world is carried on cautiously round the sat urated Hheet which cuts her off from tne nousenota in general, vet some-, how Shell haa no feeling of Isolation; she has books In plenty to occupy her when the children sleep, anil during their waking hours she has work enough to keep them amused. She is sitting at the ivy-wreathed casement on the third morning, look ing out for the doctor's visit, when a hired carriage drawn by a pair of hors es. turns suddenly into the front yard. She cannot see the occupants as it passes beneath the window, and the front of the house is also out of sight. She rises from her seat with a strange feeling of confusion and nerv ousness; she would give, worlds to be come Invisible; she even glances out of the window, as if meditating escape in that direction. Then steps are heard down the pas sage, the door-handle turns, and the next moment Robert Chainpley enters tho room, followed by the housekeeper at Oliampley House. “Papa, papa." shriek two shrill lit tle voices; “and Tolley dear old Tol ley!” The children are carersed and quiet ed, whilst Mrs. Tolley delights them with a huge bunch of flowers which she has brought with her. Then Robert Cbampley crosses over to the window where Shell Is standing lu the background. The girl looks pale and almost stern, though a very unusual thing with Shell she |s trout tiling visibly. •'Shell, how can I ever thank you for tbla?” says Mr. Chainpley, in a tone broken by emotion “There la nothing to thank me for that i see." answers Shell coldly. I like nursing If mamma would only let uie 1 should like to enter a hospital.” " like naming small *m ■ nun," r jimn Robert Chatnpley It b the Drst tin* In her Ilfs »h * Shell has lsr«n exiled “beautiful,” an t a quick flush lies to her white skin which really renders her » ■ for the mono nt Then she break# Into a laugh. ”11 la thicken - pox no; email-pat,” eh* eeya hultkly *■ Ar«» you euret*' asks b*r om pan ion, whilst a look of relief Itsbit up hie whole face *Yea, quite; fo« the hrst twelve hours the doctor feared otherwise, hut thero Is no don It whatever now they are buf fering from chicken-pox In Its mildest form; only aa Mrs. Potnfret's children have not hail It, we are taking every precaution.” "And you have you had It?" asks Itnhnt Champley anxiously. "Yes, three years ago," laughs Shell; "so you see”—with a satirical little smile "1 have been running no great risk." “As It has turned out," answers her eompanion, regarding her steadily; "hut I enn never forget that you nurs 'd them during those twelve doubtful home when all others turned Htid fled." “That is nothing," returns Shell care lessly; then, advancing to the little rots drawn side by side, she says to the children, "Now you have got kind Mrs. Tolley, I am going to run away.” "No, no, Sell—you stop too," lisps Meg, catching Shell's sleeve In her hot hand. "Tolley can't tell about the fairy princess." "Oh, yes, she can!" hazards Shell, with a laughing glance at Mrs, Tolley, “Besides, I’ll find out about more prin cesses to tell you when you are well agnin;" and she bends down to Im print a farewell kiss on tho fevered face. nuucemy a gray-coaiea arm ih tnier posed between 8bf1l'a rcil lips and little Meg's white brow. "I can allow no kissing!" says Uob ert Charnpley decidedly. Shell draws herself up rigid as a grenadier, whilst Meg fights feebly with an Intervening urrn. ‘‘Von hnvo run risk enough without courting it," explains Mr. Ch&mpley al most angrily. Shell merely shrugs her shoulders. "Mrs. Tolley," she says, turning to lhe housekeeper, “it you will romo into the other room with me 1 will explain about the medicine, et-oelera, and the doctor will be here shortly, so you will have full directions from him about the children." Mrs. Tolley does as she is asked, and from that "other room" Shell slips away home without, any further Inter course with Itobert Champley. ***** * * A fortnight has elapsed. In the rus tic porch of (iorse Cottage two figures ! are seated a laughing-eyed merry girl in spotless white, a tall, stalwart man In gray tweed. The house door is closed, and the Interview is conse quently a private one. “I shall call you 'Pear!.' ” the gen tleman Is saying, with laughing de cision. "No, I won't be Pearl; my old name suits me much better. 1 am rough and uneven and hard—In fact, thorough oystor-Shell," pouts the girl rebelllous iy "You certainly conducted yourself hko a Shell when I Urst knew you; but adversity opened the Shell, and then I saw the treasure Inside, and pounced upon tny Pearl.” laughs the gentleman. I hope I rnay really p-ove a treasure to you. but I somatimeg doubt It,” says Shell with corate candor. “You know 1 have a good many faults 1 am quick tempered and blunt, and «oir.e people think me eccentric.” Robert Champley indulges in an amused laugh. “You will perhaps be surprised to hear tliat neither am 1 perfect.” he re turns. “I can be obstinate, and even grumpy at tiroes.” “Really?" asks Shell in a tone of un belief. "Yes—really and truly,” laughs the gentleman. “And now, Pearl—I told you 1 was obstinate—I want to know what induced you to be so particularly uncivil to Ted and me when we tli ;t returned to Champley Mouse.” "Was I very horrid?” „he u3ks evas ively. tlueblng. "You snubbed poor Ted so unmerci fully that 1 doubt If he will ever re | cover Uls normal state of placid cou I ceil." "Well, you see, it was this way." cx i plains Shell in self juMiilcation—“I ] knew that you were rich, and that ev erybody would be particularly gracious und officious, so I made up my mind to lie an exception to the rule." “Which you certainly were. M<*g | was one of the Itrst to find you out," . laughs Meg's father, ns that little dam i set, soon tired after her recent Illness, ci nie» i re< ping Into Shell's lap. "That little dress reminds me of the day I taught y in working at the window, ’ pursues It *U rt fhaniplry, t inching t,i„ ! daughters pah-blue si ills "Ikies It?" rays Shell, with a shy. pleased laugh. "Own ,he truth. P> ari. you made that dress?" “I certainly I ad a Unger In toe p,#, * i answers I tad demurely. "tki you remember, l told yo<| then i that the tuiipt tise was your static *" I —u*uchti'»; her left hautl. on win h dashes a circlet of diamond* surround j tug a turun ae, t tm» t unlttuc tn cal or and stse. “I rein.mi er.” m' in* Hhi-ii dream i uy. t “Tell me a tale, Hail," at this moment t interposes Meg, laying ner tired h* *«1 with a restful sigh upon the girl's plump shoulder ’ I'll tell fort a tale, Meg," rays her father, heading down to kiss the child t I white brow. "Shell has promised to tome to Chatnpley Mouse and live with us always—what do you nay to that?’’ “I r.ay she's a brick," remarks Bob, who has joined the circle. Robert Champley gave an amused fiance at his promised wife, and then they both break Into a hearty peal of laughter. (THE END.) A MUSICIAN’S YOUTH. Jt was by a devious path, some steps of which were painful, that Verdi be came a musician. When he wus seven years old, his mild and somewhat mel ancholy temperament attracted the at tention of the parish priest, and he received the appointment of acolyte at the village church of l.e Uoncole. One day a priest was celebrating mass, with Verdi as his assistant, when lhe boy became ho carried away by the music that his duties were entirely forgotten. "Water!" whispered the priest, but Verdi did not respond. Then, think ing his request had not been heard, the celebrant repeated "Water!" BUM there was no reply, and, turn ing round, the priest found the servei gazing In wonder and delight at the organ. "Water!" demanded the priest, for the third time, accompanying the or der with such a well-directed move ment of the foot that the little Verdi was pitched headlong down the altar i steps. In fal lug he struck his head, ■ and was carried to the vestry quite un conscious. Perhaps It was this Incident, to gether with the child’s unbounded de | light in the organ music he heard In the street, that induced hin father, who wus an innkeeper, to mid u spinet, or pianoforte, to his vvordly possessions. But It was sevtrr.I years after this that his vocation was temporarily de cided for him, though fate afterward stepped lu aud undid the decision. "Why do you want to be n musi cian?" asked Ills confessor. “You have a gift f„r Latin, und must bo a priest." Meanwhile, the lad became an of : flee hoy in ltrezzi'a wholesale grocery store, and for a little over seven dol lars a year played the organ In the ehurch at lloneole; but one day It happened that Father Sclettl, who had i decided that the la,y should Lc a monk, ! was officiating at mass while Verdi played the organ. 'Hie prleat was Btmek with the unusual beauty of the luuslc, and a: the close cf the s rvlee expressed a desire to see the organist. Verdi appeared, and the priest r< cog nized him as the pupil whom he had nought to turn from music to theology. "Who-e music were you playing?" asked Sclettl. "It was beautiful." Verdi said, shyly, that he had brought no mus e with hl:u that day, and had been improvising. "So I played as I f It," said he. "Ah;" exclaimed Sclettl, "I advised you wrongly. You muut be no priest, but a musician." After that the way was easier. The priestly Influence on his side opened many a door to him. ntrortl Rim Share (-oiiihlried. Yankee hands forged the swords with which all Cubans are armed. The machete— pronounced "machetty”— which lu the Implement for all needs throughout Spanish America, has Ions been made by the thousand at Hart ford, Conn., and sold to all Ameri can Spanish speaking neighbors. This blade Is rirst cousin to the saber of our cavalry, but while the saber serves only one purpose, the machete serves many, and Is as useful In peace as in war. Almost every Spanish-American male above the age of childhood carries a machete. The luborer has it, be cause with the machete he cuts sugar cane, prepares firewood, anti trenches the ground for his crops. The horse man weais the machete because with it he cuts his way through the wood lands during Journeys over rough country. It Is sword, spade und hedg ing bill, axe, hatchet and pruntng kntfe. The hidalgo weais It with sil vered hilt and tasseled scabbard; his humbler neighbor Is content to carry i It bare und hilled with horn, wood or leather. The machete may he hud In neatly thirty different form The blade, which varies in truglh from ten to twenty-eight Inches, may he either blunt or pointed, curved or s’ralsht, ; broad or narrow. '1 he fuvortte with the labor* r is the machete of medium length, with utioruaim uted handle nnd 1 broad, straight blade. The HpntUh* American b .1 rls.i Iwurs a *>•*blunted nuclide, long, itrabtht, or carved, us tarte prompt Origin nl t surnames. Surnames were introduced into line ' land by the Norman i and were adopted by the nobility ab< ut lido. 1 be n’.d Normans u <- t hits, sli'ih signified j hib, as l*u«t|jrb*rt, I he Irish used O I f r grandro i ti'Nia', O Ikiri ill, Th«* . Scoii h lllehlatidara u»* I Ma *. % • M.u I donald run of l* us'd ‘the Welsh uk. | An us Ap Itti)e (he mi of Hut*. i A(i llit-burd The pietlx \p rveittn 1 ally was coin bias I with th« umen of it* father h 'nr* I'rys. I'M It 'nl, etc. ■j he north*, a n» ;>i.» add* • the word i.in to the fattier s name, as W iliteci ion Slang of the tuo*t common sur canton, *i»rh •• JohPsou, Wllatu. I*v , ids, Mb ho Ison, ill., were taken hy llrabantera and otheta. I tem n»* who wete n.tintallied tn the reign of Henry , VI, lUu. TALMAUU’S SKiiMON. "IMPROVEMENTS IN HEAVEN.” SUNDAY'S SUBJECT. '•'rom nitrlallniM, tluplpr \XI, tens 1, a* rollawa: "Anal I K»w a Nr« 11 aavan”—A (ilorluu* i|iccta<le. The stereotyped heaven doe* not Make adequate impression upon us. We need the old story told In new stylo in order to arouse our apprecla* tlon. I do no: suppose that we are compelled to the old phraseology. King James' translators did not exhaust ull the good and graphic words In the iCnglinh dictionary, I suppose If we should lake the idea of heaven, and translate It into modern phrase, we would llnd that It* atmosphere Is a combination of early June and of the Indian summer In October a place combining the advantages of city and country, ihe streets standing for the one. and the twelve manner of fruits for the other; a place of musical enter tainments—harpers, pipers, trumpe ters, doxologles; u place of wonderful trcbltecture— hchold the temples; a place where there may he the 'ilgher forms of animal lil< the beasts which were on earth beaten, lash-whipped, and galled and unblanketed, and work ed to death, turned out among thn white horses which the* Book of Reve lation describes as being In heaven; a place of stupendous literature- the books open; a placo of aristocratic and democratic attractiveness tbo kings standing for the one, all nations for the other; all botanical, pomologi es), ornithological, urborescent, wor shipful beauty and grandeur. Hut my Idea now 1* to speak chiefly of the Improved heaven, I’eople some time* talk of heaven as though It were an old elty, finished centuries ago, when I have to tell you that no city on earth, during the last fifty years, has hud such changes as heaven. It Is not the same place a* when Job, and David, and I’atil, wrote of It. For hundreds and hundreds of years It has ueen going mrougn tlon, and year by year, und month I>'/ month, and hour by hour, and moment by moment, It la changing, and chang ing for something better. Away back there was only one residence In the universe—the residence of the Almigh ty, Heaven had not yet been started. Immensity was tho park all around ; about this great residence; but Ood h sympathetic heart after u while over flowed In other creations, and there came, all through this vast country of Immensity, Inhablte I villages,which grew and enlarged until they Joined each other, and became one great cen- | tral metropolis of the universe, street- ! ed, gated, templed, watered, Inhabited. One angel went forth with a reed, we ] are told, and he measured heaven on ] one side, and then he went forth and ; measured heaven on the other side; ai.d then Ht. John tried to take the census of that city, uud he became so j bewildered that he gave It up. That brings me to the llrst thought i of my theme that heaven Is vastly i improved In numbers. Noting little , under this head about the multitude of j adults who have gone into glory dur ing the last hundred, or live hundred, | or thousand years. 1 remember there j are sixteen hundred millions of peo- | pie In the world, and that the vast tna- ! Jority of people die In infancy. How 1 many children have gone to heaven | during the last five hundred or thou- ; aarm year*: u new 1 org snoum gather In one generation a million population, if London should gather In one generation four million popula tlon, what a vast Increase! Hut what a mere nothing as compared with the five hundred million, the two thousand million, the “multitude that no tnun can number,” that have gone Into that city! Of course, all this takes for granted that every child that dies goes as straight Into lieaveu as ever the light sped from a star; and that Is one reason why heaven will always he ' fresh and beautiful—the great multi- | tude of children in It. Put five hundred | million children In a country, it will he a blessed and lively country. Hut add to this. If you will, the great multitude of adults who have gone In to glory, and how the census of heaven must run up. Many years ago a cler gyman stood In u New Kngland pulpit and said that he believed that the vast majority of the race would finally be destroyed, and that not more than one person out of two thousand per- i sons would be llnally saved. 't here I happened to bn about two thousand ! people In the village where he preach- j (d. Next Sabbath two persons were 1 heard discussing the subject, and won- j dering which one « f the two thousand j people in the village would finally j reach heaven, and one thought It would be the minister, and the other thought it would be the old deacon. Now. I have not much admiration for j a lifeboat which will go out to a ship kinking with two thousand passengers, ! and get ope off in safely, and let nine teen hundred and ninety-nine go to the bottom W hy. In iv*-n must have If*# a village when Abel, the fit t soul from earth entered 11, us compared with the present population of that great city. Again I remark that heaven has ! vastly improved In knowledge, Illy* a man forty or fifty >« us to study on* •clear*, or all i.nmrs, with all the ! advantage* «f lat.orattrb*e an t ubsorv stories and philosophic apparatus, h* ' wtll t»e a marvel of Information Now, j Into what Intelligence must hwavoa mount, angelhood and ».»inthi * d, not , after atndytng fur f ,rty or fifty years, hut for thousand* of year* studying , tiod aa<l the soul and Immortality aad j the universe* llow the intelligence vf that world must tw*ep on and fin. with eyesight farther reaching than telescope, with power of calculation mightier than all human mathematic*, with power* of analysis surpassing all chemical laboratory, with speed awlft er than telegraphy. What must heav en learn, with all these advantages, lu a month, in a year, In a century, in a ! millennium? The difference between the highest university on earth and tlie smallest class In a primary school cannot be a greater difference than heaven uh It now is und heaven us It once was, n0 y&u not suppose that when Dr, James Simpson went up from (he hospitals of Edinburgh into heav en he Itncw more than ever the science of health; and that Joseph Henry,grad uatliiK from the Smllhsoninn Institu tion Into heaven, awoke Into higher realms of philosophy; and that Blr William Hamilton, lifted to loftier sphere, understood better the construc tion of the human Intellect; and that John Milton took up higher poetry In the actual presence of thing.* that on earth lie had tried to describe? When the first saints entered heaven they must have studied only the A 11 C of the full literuturo of wisdom with which they are now acquainted. Again, heaven Is vustly Improved In Its society. During your memory bow many exquisite spirits have gone Into It! If you should try to make a list of all the genial, loving, graelous, blessed souls thut you have known, It would bo a very long list souls that have gone Into that glory. Now, do you suppose they have enriched the society? Hove they not Improved heaven? You tell of wliat heaven did for them. Have they done nothing for heaven. Take all the gracious souls that huve gone out of your acquaint anceship, and add to them all the gra cious and beautiful souls that for live hundred or a thousand years have gone out of ull the cities and ail thu villages, und all the countries of this earth Into glory, and how the society of h>avcn must have been improved! Suppose Paul, the Apostle, were Intro duct d Into your social circle on earth; but heaven has added ull the apostles. Suppose Hanuuh More und Charlotto Elizabeth were Introduced Into your social circle <m earth; but heaven has added all tile blessed and the graelous and the holy women of the past ages. Suppose that Robert M'Cbeyne and John Summerfleld should be added to your earthly circle; but heaven has gathered up ull the faithful and earn est ministry of the past. There Is not a town, or a city, or a village that has so Improved In society In the last hundred years as heaven has im proved. Hut you Bay, "Hasn’t heaven always been perfect?” Oh. yea; hut not In the cense that It cannot bo augmented. It has been rolling on in grandeur, t'hrlst ha* been there, und he never < hanges the same yesterday, today, and forever; glorious then, and glor ious now, and glorious forever. Jiut I i peak now of attractions outside of this, and I have to tell you that no place on uirth has Improved in society as heaven has within the lait seventy years; for the most of you within for ty years, within twenty years, within live years, within one year; In other words, by the accessions from your own household. If heaven were placed In groups an apostolic group, u patriarchal group, a prophetic group, group of martyrs, group of angels, and then a group of your own glorified kindred—which group would you choose? You might look around and make comparison, hut It would not take you long to choose. Again, I remark that heaven haa greatly improved in the good cheer of announced victories. Where heaven rejoiced over one soul, It now rejoieea over a hundred or a thousand. In the olden times, when the events of hu man life were scattered over four or five centuries of longevity, and the world moved slowly, there were not so many stirring events to be reported in heaven; hut now, I suppose, all the great events of earth are reported in heaven. If there is any truth plainly taught in this Hible It is that heaven is wrapped up in sympathy with hu maii history, and we look ut those In ventions of the day- at telegraphy, ut swift communication by steam, at all these modern Improvements which seem to give one almost omnipresence — and we see only the secular relation; but sinrits before the throne look out aud see the vast and the eternal rela tion. While nations rise and fall, I while the earth is shaking with revo lution, do you not suppose there la arousing Intelligence going up to the throne of God, and that the question is often asked before the throne, "What is the news from that world— thut world that rebelled, but is com ing back to Its allegiance?" If minis tering spirits, according to the UiUle, are sent forth to minister to those that shall he heirs of heaven, wheu they come down to um to bless us, do they Uot take the ut ws back? l»o the ships of light that come out of (tie celestial harbor into the earthly harbor, laden with tut goes of blessings, go back uutrelghted? Ministering spirits uot only, but our loved ones leaving us, take up the tidings, rtuppose you were In a far city, and had been ih tre a good while, and you heard that some on j hud arrived from your native plat* (time oue wbu bad recentiy aecn your family and fr|en|« you would tush up to that uian and yuu would ask all alum the old folk* at hotiM And do you not supple when your child weul up to find, yvur glut m« d kind, vd in heaven gathered around and asked about you, to aw rtalu as tu whether you w«r« gelling alung well In the struggle of life, tu Und out whether )' <i w«< e In any e»| e« lai peril, that with swift and mighty wing they might tuM down to intercept your perils1 Oh, ytuG Iteavcu la a greater plane for news than It used to be news that sounded through the streets, news ringing from the towers, news heralded from the palace gate. Glad news! Victorious news! • • • I do not think It was superstitious when, one Wednesday night, I stood by a deathbed within a few blocks of the church where I preached, and on the same street, and saw one of the aged Christians of the church going Into glory. After I had prayed with her I said to her, ‘'We have all loved you very much, and will always cher ish your memory In the Christian church. You will see my son before I seo him, and I wish you would give him our love." She said, "I will, 1 will;’’ and In twenty minutes she was* In heaven—the last words she ever spoke. Jt was a swift message to the skies. If you had your choice be tween riding In a heavenly chariot anil occupying the grandest palace In heaven, and sitting on the throne next highest to the throne of God, and not seeing your departed loved ones; and on the other hand, dwelling In the humblest place In heaven, without crown or throne, and without garland, and without scepter, yet having your loved ones around you, you would chooso the latter, I say these things because I want you to know It Is a do mestic heaven, and consequently It I* all the time Improving. Every on# that goes up makes It u brighter place, and the attractions are Increasing month by month and day by day; and heaven, so vastly more of a heaven, a thousand times more of a heaven than It used to he, will he a better j heaven yet. Oh, I say this to luten i i.lfv vonr nnt Iclrint Inn 1 I enter heaven one day. It la ttl* moat empty. 1 enter the temple* of worship, and there are no worshiper*. I walk down the *treet, and there are no paiiKenger*. I go Into the orcbea tra, and I find the Instrument* are 1 suspended In the baronial hull* of heaven, and the great organa of eter nity, with multitudinous banks of keys, are closed. Hut I see a shining one at the gale, as though he were standing on guard, and I say, "Sentinel, what does this mean? I thought heaven was a populous city. Has there been some great plague sweeping off tho population?" "Have you not heard the news?” says the sentinel. “There Is a world burning, there Is a great conflagration out yonder, and all heav en has gone out to look at tho confla gration and take the victims out of the ruins. This Is the day for which all other days are made. This Is the Judgment! This morning all the chariots, and the cavalry, and tho mounted Infantry rumbled and gal loped down the sky." After I had lis tened to the sentinel, I looked off over the battlements, and I saw that tho fields of air were bright with a blaz ing world. I said, "Yes, yes, this must be the Judgment;" and while I stood there I heard the rumbling of wheel * and the cluttering of hoofs, and the roaring of ini.r.y voices, and then I saw the coronets and plumes and ban ners, and I saw that all heaven waa coming back again coming to tho wall, coming to the gate, and the mul titude that went off in the morning was augmented by a vast multitude caught up alive from the earth, and n vast multitude of the resurrected bodies of the Christian dead, leaving the cemeteries and the abbeys and tho mnupolcmns and the graveyards of tho earth empty. Procession moving In through tho gates. And then l fotind out that what was the fiery Judgment day on earth was Jubilee in heaven, and I cried, "Doorkeepers of heaven, shut the gates; all heaven haa come In! Doorkeepers, shut the \2 gates, lest the sorrows and the woes of earth, llko bandits, should aomo day come up and try to plunder tha city!” Tlmlillty imil (treatin'**. M. Dugas, a Frenchman, has writtei an extremely Interesting paper or "Timidity." He finds that the vast majority of people ure timid In (heir youth; a considerable minority remain timid all their lives. Timidity leads to meditation and analysis. It enters Into the temperament of the philoso pher ar.d man of H-lence. Per contra, a thoroughly stupid man ia seldom tim id. Virgil, Horace. Ilptijam'a Con stant, Michelet an 1 Amid were ail not ably timid men. M. Dugas not** that in the Intellectual man you are apt to find great speculative hardihood com bined witli a pructlcul timidity. Car lyle's Ih the typical case. The mere thought of having to order a coat or buy a pair of gloves cau.ied him the most acute discomfort. In Ita extreme type timidity approaches the malady of the will, which some medical dic tionaries call HKotaphobia the dread of the* crowd, of the gaxc of other peo ple. All public speaker* have known till* feeling eveu. It Is said, the hraxen M. Huchfurt. Clet to, und as ha waai to the roatrum. waa prevented by "btua funk" from delivering hta “Mlloalaa" speech. M Haney, who has lectured every week for twenty yearn, says ha has never been at In to conquer his timidity, I'alilet. a famous Parisian advocate, wait so nervous that be used to say he half toped some accident would happen hltu In the street on hla way to the court, so that he might !» prevented from appearing Veteran actors, whm they are worth thdr watt, MddoRi get over their "stage-fright" AIuimIuwm llul*. line of the newest things In the building tins Is an aluminum hut. for shipment to r< utots pUew* difficult of ai < rso, When packed fur vgrrltgs It Wright IN pounds. It la composed of four sides and a roof uf thin shaoui of aluminum, and when pul up the huUM contains ltd ruble feol.
