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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 2, 1898)
I'MY POOR WIFE. * BY J. P. SMITH. m j > f Jm* '111 * ... rayflHF CHAPTER HI. of the cedar-walk I took ^position, lighted a cigar, and ' wait hb patiently aa I could. IA lovely evening In late June, ' fee drowsy hum of the been, with the breath of rosea and igas, coming from the old English j len behind the walk, sent my ighU wandering back to another , vening In June, Just n year ago, when had aat on the same bench, burning with love nnd suspense, salting to | ask fee fair lady who had glvtui me tryst today to be my wife. We bad j known each other from childhood, anti during my sister's lifetime little Edith r4() almost aa much wife us as smell. I remember 1 had pro to her at the early age of four* d bad been favorably answered, j Paul," the young lady had lifting up her rosy lips for my Bktsa. "I will marry you, as the eldest, and have asked me d then, when you’re dead I’ll irty, he’a good." Ich arrangement Arty - at the Ing hopelessly In love with Kronch governess, a black-eyed Vivacious damsel of twenty-nine— cheerfully ggreed. After that I saw nothing of her for many years. My Sister beginning to 1 all and being ordered to the South of France, I spent my holidays for some yean with her and my father at Riviera; then I passed Into Sand hunt, and. after feat, 1 had five years wife my regiment In Indlu. In fee meantime mailers had not | gone smoothly at home. My handsome I brother Arthur, destined for the bar, and who was supposed to have all the » brains of the family, turned out to be g '4«apernte scamp and an unmiti gated fool. He disgraced himself at Oxford; then, throwiug aHtdo ail sense Of featralnt and decency, sowed the moat prolific crop of wild oats ever chronicled In the sober and respectable annals of the IiennyaeH of Colworth. Before be had reached his twenty-sec ond year he bad squandered two con aldarabto fortunes ~ono left him by his mother, whose favorite child he was - | another by hla godfather, besides j plunging my poor father into a gulf | of debt that eventually hastened his j death. Hearing of his critical state J and heavy troubles, I resigned my com mission and hurried home, only to find him, alas, resting quietly In his grave, sad my wretched brother an exile In the wilds of Australia, whither he had gone to evade hla creditors. It was a very dreary home-return ing, and bitterly did 1 anathematize my L precipitancy In giving up my profee F slou to moon away my life at Colwarth in solitude. Nearly all the "rhums” of my boyhood had “moved on” aomn- . how, except my Immediate neighbor* at the Hall, the old General and hla nice; and I think, hut for their kindly ! reception. I should have started wan dering ugain. The former I found In a very pre?arloua state of health and temper, the comblued influences of gout and unlimited brandy-water making him a trying companlou to poor Edith, who waa however moat patient with him, and as devoted aa any daughter could be. At llrat I did not recognize in the beautiful and graceful young lady who greeted me ho easily and kindly the child I had played with years ugo; but, by degrees, landmarks of old times cropped up, we found we had not for gotten each other in the least. I fell head over heels In love with her at once, and for weeks hovered about her in a state of beatific suffering, not daring to hope, and unable to (ear myself away. Day after day I told myself I had not tho slightest chance. Waa she not the most beauti ful, charming, angelic creature in ex istence, her ides being the presump tive heiress of the old general's vast wealth? Was not every eligible mala In the country my rival? Vet. 1 stayed, and by degrees the delight ful, Intoxicating fact became clear, even to my bewildered senses, (hat aha showed more favor to me than to auy other suitor Hhc had always a smile of welcome and a bright word for me, and at times, when she believed ber Mif unobserved, 1 have caught her lovely blue eyes stealthily resting on me with a look of unmistakable af fection that fired my blood, and made mo looe my head for the moment. One day. driven to desperation by one of those stolen glances, I resolved to try in/ tale and team the beet or wont. lihe had gone to spend the afternoon at the Kectery. her unde told me. but would be beck to dinner. I went to tbe cedar walk, knowing she would teturn by that way. and sprat a feverish hour preparing fur the at tack, composing heart rendering ap peaia. declarative of eternal devotion, and yet the moment she steed before me la her blooming beauty, wltb n slim nhlte finger held under her euee with la an !a«b of my moustache, and said beeeeebtagly "Oh. Haul, dear boy, do try to get this wretched them not f*»r met That stuphl little terete oalr drove It farther in. nod N dues nor* sol" nil the stored up eUtuenv* went tleaa wot of my head When I had e«"*»e,u,l> though rather elomallv, perhwmed <h« opern ttoa, t feU upon my knees nt her Icei and. mixing her hand, meneeti it te ray Up*, as I stammered out raptur oualy "Edlth, Edith, my darling, I love you—I love you. Oh, say It I.) uot In vain! I-" Horn I stopped In dumb dismay, for Edlfh, with a look almost of horror, hastily dragged her hand from me, and. covering her crimson face with If, cried hysterically "Hiuih, hush oh, please hush! You —you don’t, know what you are say ing! Oh, this Is a dreadful mistake! I—I—thought you knew you had guessed I—I ” “I/Oved some one else?" I prompted florcely. She bent her head in assent, her face still buried In her hands. “No, 1 did not gums,” 1 answered hoarsely, after a short pat we; "and i think, Miss Htopford, if you review your conduct to me during the last two months, you will have to admit you gave inc little reason for arriving at such a conclusion. Who Is he?” 1 demanded roughly. ”1—1 can’t tell you; don’t ask me. Oh, Paul, dear old friend, won't you try to forgive mo?” she pleaded. lifting her lovely tear-stained face timidly to mine. “I am so sorry, so sorry If I have pained you I did not mean to in deed. [—1 thought you looked upon me only as a sister whom you hail known—” “A ateter!” I Interrupted, with a harsh, loud laugh- “a sister! Edith, can you look me In the face and say you believed such a thing? No! I thought not”—os ahe cowered away from me Instinctively. "You knew what you were doing well well; but you would not spare 'your dear old friend’ one single pang you would drag him to your feet, and let your heartlesa vanity batten on his an guish! Oh.il was shameful! Had you not a glut of victims already?" “Paul,” she cried impulsively and there was a touch of decision in her voice that silenced me -“that Is enough; I will listen to no more let me pass, please. One day you will he sorry for those words—on your bended knees you will ask my pardon!” “Now. now, my dearest, my sweet cet,” ! Interrupted Impetuously, falling down again bofore her, love overmas tering every other emotion. “J will ask your pardon a thousand times. If you will only give me one little word of hope! Oh, Edith, If you knew how I loved you, you- you would pity me a little!" I had seised her dress, and was kiss ing Its flimsy frilling wildly, when her cool white hand wan laid on my brow, and she whispered tenderly— “I can't, I can't pity you. Paul. Don’t you don't you understand you have come too late?” OH AFTER IV. With an imprecation I sprang to my feet, cursing her for a consummate flirt, and left her sobbing and re proaching me for my wrath and cruelty. That night I went to town and tried to drown despair In diselpotion. At the end or a fortnight I had almost persuaded mywlf I was cured, when, one nlRht at the opera, I saw* her seated beside a young fellow of whom I had been vaguely jealous from the beginning. 1-ord Handmouth’s eailor son. Just returned from sea. She was smiling on him as she had smiled on me, ami my jealousy broke forth as tlerrrly as ever. I could not tell whether I loved or bated her most. The next day I determined to put the sea between her and me. but couid not at onre decide to which side of the globe I would steer whether to make for Norway or the Nile, New York or New Jerusalem, when 1 remembered ,t commission, entrusted to me by a dy ing friend in India some two years be fore. and I decided on fulfilling It be fore starting on a longer journey. He littd died of fever In the jungle, and I waa the only Kuropaan with him during his Hints*. He bod asked ms on ray return home to find out if his mothsr was still alive, deliver a pack age of letters into her hand, beg her i forgiven***. nud tell her bow deeply he regretted their long estrangement. Kor fifteen years he bad not sees or heard of her, but he gave a# her ad dress at ibelt Hate of parting. In n re mote village on the reset of Donegal, Aft-r a weary railway jourae*. sad man* hours' painful jolting over miles of wild barrea mountain, I found my friend's mother living In n desolate farm-house halfway up a <raggv peak overlooking ihe res elgkt wl lew by mid from the nearest poet -low a and a more dlwigreaehl* repeMeut harsh toned old woman It was never my ill ittek to eome itnu* It nat with a feeling of repwguaare that | delivered Ihe pear fellow a last re^u«a< for forgiveness hearing Ihe war sha sought to make spiritual cap ital la hereelf out of his vary death and improve the ec»MW* lot my hen# It t’oraamonksMly etmlag a phaetaei tgl y hr See short. I was In the act «f using l* ink# my Ireve when a girl eaisrad. her aproa full uf freshly-dug pstntmM, wkhrh ah* held out to Ufa 4a.**i fur ireywlkh ' Ulh* e*hi >*»u la them. sad wants to know If he’s to go digging for tha market." With an Imperious gesture she si lenced the girl, motioning her to the window, where, after the first startled glance In my direction, she sat quit* still, looking out to sea. I resumed my seat half unconcern edly, and utared at the new arrival with an Interest quite unaccountable to myself; certainly, her beauty did not appeal to me, she did not even atrlko me n* being posuwed of ordinary good looks. Her face was covered with freckles and tanned bv the sun, and her hair fell In an unkempt mass around her neck ,*uid shoulders; her drew was a coarro serge, unrelieved by the slightest attempt at trimming or ornament. While 1 looked, my thoughts went hack to KdKh. on whose fairness 1 had often feasted, sitting In the sunlight, ns this girl was now. her pretty flngrrs sparkling wild dia monds, bangles and bracelets tinkling musically on Inr wrists and mingling with the soft frou frott of lace and silk each time she draw her needle through the everlasting strip of oatmeal cloth. I.ace- could I Imagine such a texture shadowing that child’s little brown flat fingering the < Isy-crusted pota toes on her knees! I began to won der lazily who she was servant or re lation of the grisly chatelaine? when my surmises were brought to an abrupt close, Mr*. Casey's Improving oration had retched a rounded period, and I was evidently expected to say “Amen" and take my departure, chas tened and edified In Bplrlt. 1 roee to say good-by. “You will have a charming after noon for your walk, Mr. I>ennys,’’ ehe said, taking my hand with come alacrity. “Situated as you behold I am, away from all civilization, I regret It Is not In my power to offer you even the form of hospitality." When I had murmured a hasty disclaimer she re sumed complacently, “But you will have a charming afternoon for your walk; you came from Ballyklllagan, did you not?” “Yea. I walked thence—I could And no car In the village; It must he eight or nine miles at the leaet." “Because you came by the road; by the cliffs and screws the Goat'* Back It’s not quite five. Helen, my grand daughter here, will pul you on tha track If you like.” I said I would like, and the next minute Helen and I were standing out side, I waited for a moment thinking she would want hat. cloak, or sun shade, hut, as she seemed to consider beroclf fully equipped, we started at once ncrovs the sloping meadow that led to the brink of the cliff, where ehe paused with shyly averted face, pointed to a tiny sheep-track winding round the coast, hade me keep to that until I had turned the third point, then to steer Inland in a southerly direction until 1 came to a ruined cabin. Here I Interrupted her, somewhat sggrievedly. explaining that I was quite a stranger In these parts, and would ha sure to lose myself If she did not accompany me farther. “Besides,” I concluded tentatively, “as your grandmother Impretued on me, It certainly Is lovely weather for walking, and you have nothing par ticular to do this afternoon, hava yon?” “I have nothing at all to do; If you wish. I’ll go with you as far as you like,” sh answered, much to my eur prlse, and starling at a break-neck pace down the cliff. (To he Continued.) NONPLUSED JOKERS. On* V*r»* of Poetry Paid for Kubtil* Moru’* Dinner. Here In a story told of Robert Burns In his youth. Burns was living In the town of Ayr. and though still young bad attulned more than a local reputation as a poet, says the Newcas tle (England) Chronicle. One day he was passing through the main street of the town and saw two Grangers sit ting at one of (he Inn windows. With idle curiosity he stopped to look at (hem. Seeing him and thinking that the rustic might afford them some uniusctnent while waiting, the strang ers tailed him in and asked him to dtne with them. Burns readily ac cepted the in vital Ion and proved a merry, entertaining guest. When din ner was nearly tlniahed the strangers suggested that each should try his baud at versemsking aud that the one w ho failed to write a rhyme should pay for the dlnuer. They felt secure In the challenge, believing that their rustic guest would pay for the meal. The rhymes were wrltteu aud Burn* raad the followlug. "I, Johuuy Peep •aw two sheep; two sheep saw me. Half a crown apiece will pay for their flee* e. sad i. Johnny P ep, go fre#.’* The atraagart' aatontahmeni waa great and they both eselalmed: "Who art you? You must be Rubbia Burma." rUMl»| lk« Mint* A actant tut om* put an automatic mW|ill Un uu tba lawn, and apant many buur# unlading tha robblaa, kiuaktrda and utbar btrda gatbatlng about It. k l«M»kii*g gUaa put up akara ib< bird* ran aa# tbamaoivaa (n it, la alao vary attrartlca. uhtla a i«a |.;a*tlun ut a n»u»i.al »*«»a and a k“>k tag glaaa pl«aaaa tba bird* nura lban anytblng alaa wu would put out tor tbalt amuMmaat Uaa >»—H»— "I know tbataa a ■ »> t da a I <4ll about m»dr loundatlwna, * obaarwad tba UMtapbyataal bunrdar "but aaai toak-u lb. b».i f» i*11 *« far a p»i«a 4gktaf" "iHtU," ubjavtad <ba argu went at tea Wuardar, r«u *aa t build n nriaa bgbt on anything but racba."— I'bimgu Trlbuna. TAKM AUK’S 8KKM0N. *‘A WEDDING PRESENT.” LAST SUNDAY'S SUBJECT. *TI»«« llm Ul«*a M« « Nualh Wail. UN* A tea of Water. Anil If* **•*» Mar tfca lpiH>r anil Sr*«li*r Jnahua I As it*. --. 1 he city of licbtr was the Host on of antiquity a great place for biatn and hooks. Caleb wanted It, and he offered hl» daughter A<hsah an a prlat to any one who would rapture that city. It was a strange thing for Caleo to do; und )et the man that could tuke the city would have, ai any rate, two elements of manhood bravery and patriotism, Reside*, l do not think that Caleb wa* an foolish in offering hla daughter to the conqueror of He bir, as thousands In thla day who seek alliance* for their children with those who have large means, without any reference to moral or mental acquire ment*. Of two evils, 1 would raiher measure happiness hy the length of the sword than by the length rtf the pocket-book. In one case there ts suI'* to he one good element of character; In the other there rna> Ik* none at all. With Caleb's daughter as a prize to fight for, Oencral Othniel rode Into the battle. The gates of Hebir were thun dered Into the dust, and the city of hooka lay at the feet of the conquerors. The work,done, Othniel loroes hack to rlalm liin bride. Having conquered the city, It fa no great Job for him to con quer the girl’s heart; for however faint-hearted a woman herself may he, ahe always loves courage In a man. 1 never saw an exception to that. The wedding festivity having gone by, (Ttbniel and Acbsuh are about to go to their new home. However loudly the cymbala may flash and the laughter ring, parent* are always sad when a fondly-cherished daughter goes off to stay; and Aehsah, the daughter of Caleb, knows that now la the time to ask almost uuytblng she wants of her father. It seems that Caleb, the good old nt;.n, had given aa a wedding pres ent to hla daughter a piece of land that was mountainous, and Hoping south ward toward the deserts of Arabia, awept with some very hot winds. It waa called "a south land.” Hut Aehsah wants an addition of property; she wants a piece of land that Is well watered and fertile. Now it Is no won der that Caleb, standing amidst the bridal party, his eyes so full of tears because she was going away that he could hardly see her at all. gives her more than ahe nsVs. Hhc snld to him,. "Thou hast given me a nouth land; give me also springs of water. And he gave her the upper springs, and the □ether springs.” The fact ta, that as Caleb, the father, gave Aehsah, the daughter, n south land, ao (lod gives to us the world. I am very thankful he has given It to us. Hut I am like Aehsah In the fact that I am not satisfied with the por tion. Trees, and flowers, and grass, and blue skies are very well In their places; hut he who has nothing hut thla world for a portion has no portion at all. It Is a mountainous laud, slop ing off toward the desert of sorrow, awept by flery siroccos; It la "a oouth land,” a poor portion for any man that tries to put his trust In II. What has been your experience? What has been the experience of every man, of every woman that has tried this world for a portion? Queen Elizabeth, amidst the surroundings of pomp. Is unhappy be cause the painter sketches too minute ly the wrinkles on her face, and she Indignantly erlea out. "You must afrlke off my Ilkeneas without any shadow*-!” Hogarth, at tho very height of his artistic triumph, Is stung slmnst to death with chagrin because the paint ing he had dedicated to the king does not seem to be acceptable; for George II. cries out, "Who Is this Hogarth? Take his trumpery out of my presence.'' Briusley Sherldun thrilled tho earth with his eloquence, hut had for his last words. “I am absolutely undone.” Walter Scott, fumbling around the Ink stand, trying to write, says to his daughter. "Oh, take me bark to my room; there is np rear fnr Sir Walter but In the grave!" Stephen Girard, the wealthiest man In his day, or, at auy rate, only second In wealth, says, "I live the life of a galley-slave; when I arise In the morning my one effort U to work ho hard that 1 can sleep when It gets to be ulght." t’harles lamb, ap plauded of all the world. In the very midst of his literary triumph, says, • Do you remember, Bridget, when we used to laugh from the abillti gal lary at the play* There are now no good playa to laugh at from the buses But why go so far as that? I need to go bo farther thaa your attest to had sa Illustration of what I sot sayiag. Pick me out tan successful world Bags and you know what I mean by thoroughly ate easeful worldlings pick ■a out tan successful wm Idling t. and you can out ltd mors than aae that luoha happy. Cara drags him la busi ness. car* drags hint bach Tabs your • tsnd at t»u o'clock at the target of tbs streets aad **• tbs agonised pbysl jgnomie*. Your high cRi'irli, your haabera. your lasurnate man, your Importers your wholesaler*, and your •taller* m a rla*o as a *la* , are they happy ? No fare dug* ibetr step* aad, mahthg no appeal la God far haip or coat tort, mas* of than era toes*.) every whither Haw has it bean t ab you. my bears* I Are you nvure ton I tested la (ha bouts of fourteen rot.m« thaa fan vara la iha two room* you bad la a hoot* when you started' Hive you nat had wore tar* ant sur l rlastat ataea you aua that Rftp Ik wo saad dollars thaa you did Itsfure? dame of tbs poorest man I hay* aver I hauwa bay# baas those sf great tor two* A <aaa of small tweaas may hw put In great buxines* strait*, but the ghastliest of all embarrassment* I* that of the inan who has large estates. The men who commit suicide because of monetary looses are those who can not bear the burden any more, because they have only lift) thousand dollar* left. (»n Howling Green, New York, there Is a bouse where Talleyrand used to go, lie was * favored roan. All the world knew him, and he had wealth j a I most unlimited; yet at the close of | hls life be says: "He hold, eighty-three years have passed without any pi at j tlcal result, nave fatigue of body and fatigue of mind, great discouragement for the future, and great disgust for ihe past oh. my friends, this I* * "south land," and It slope* off toward desert* of sorrows; and the prayer which Achssh made to her father Caleb we make this day lo our Father God; “Thou hast given m« * south land; give me also springs of water. And he gave her the upper hprlng*. **<• llu' nether springs." ItlcHMcd be God! we have more *d vgntage* given ti* than wn can really appreciate. We have spiritual blesa Ings offered u* In tbl* world which 1 shnJI call the nether springs. and glories in the world to come which I shall call the upper springs. Where shall I And word* enough threaded with light lo set forth the pleasure of religion? Unvld, unable to describe It In words, played It on a harp. Mis. Ilemaus, not Andlnx enough power In prove, sings that praise In a canto. Christopher Wren, unable to describe It In l»n‘ gunge, sprung II Into the arches of SI, Paul’s. John Uutiyan, unable to pre sent It In ordinary phraseology, takes .ill Ihe fascination of allegory. Han del, with ordinary music unable to reach the height of the theme, rouse* It up In nn oratorio. Oh, there Is no life on earth so happy a» H really Christian life! 1 do not mean a sham Christian life, but a teal Christian life. Where (here I* a thorn, there is a whole garland of rosea. Where there I* one groan, there are three doxolo gle*. Where there Is one day of cloud, there Is a whole reason of sunshine. Take the humblest Christian m»n that you know angels of God canopy him with their white wings; the lightnings of heaven are hi* *rmed allte*; the U>rd Is hls Hhepherd, picking out for him green pastures by still water*; If be walk forth, heaven I* hls body guard; If he He down to sleep, ladder* of light, angel-blossoming, are let Into hls dreams; If he lie thirsty, the poten l late* of heaven are hi* cup-bearer*; If he sit down , to, food., hi* plain lablp bloom* into the King’s banquet. Men say, "l-ook at that odd fellow with the worn-out coat;’’ the angpl* of God cry, "Gift up your heads, ye everlasting gates, and let him come In!" Fastid ious |>eople cry. “Get off my front ateps!" the door-keepers of heaven cry, "Come, ye blessed of my Father. Inherit the kingdom!" When he eome.t to die, though he may be rarrled out in a pine bo* to the potter’a Held, U> that potter’* Acid the chariot* of Chrlat will come down, and the cavalcade will crowd all the boulevard* of heaven. • • * Man of the world! will you not to day make a choice between these twe portion*, between the "south land” of this world, which slope* to tha desB-t. and this glorious laud which thy Fath er offer* thee, running with eternal w*ter-courses? Why let your tongue be consumed of tblr*t when there are the nether spring* and the upper springs; comfore here and glory her. aiier: You and I need Mnetfelnt better than this world fan give u*. The r*ct is that It cannot give us anything after a while. It Is a changing world. Do you know that even the mountain* on the back of a thousand streams arc leaping Into the valley. The Alle ghantcs are dying. The dews with crystalline mallet are hammering away the rocks. Kroata. and showers, and lightnings are sculpturing Mount Washington and the Catskills. Niag ara Is every jear digging for ilsclf a qulekci plunge. Tha sea all around the earth on Its shifting shores is maklug mighty changes In bar, and bay. and frith, and promontory. Home of the old sea coasts are midland now. Off Nantucket, eight feet below low . water mark, are found now the stump* < of trees, ahowlug that the waves are conquering the land. Parts of Nova Scotia are sinking. Ships today sail over wbat, only a little while ago, was solid ground Near the mouth of the Ht. Crols river la an Island which. In the movements of the earth, la alowly hut certainly rotating. All tha fare of the earth changing < hanging In Ibll an island springs up In ths Medi terranean sea. In 1ls« another Inland comas up under ths obeervntlon of (he American consul as ha looks off from tka I>«ach Tha earth all the tint* < hanging, the columns of a temple near Htsoll show that tha aster has rise a alaa feat above iba place It nae wbea ibe rolumaa were pul down. Chang lag! Our Columbia river, uni# vaster than the Mississippi Sun lag thr wgh Ihs grant Amathia desert, which wn then an Kdea of luaurtaaee. has now | dwindled ut a *mall stream (reaping down through a gorge Tha earth I Itself, that was once vapor, afterward i water nothing hat water afierwaiu 1 molten rush tooling off through '.be ages until pianla might lisa, sad an imal# might live, and men might llv*. changing nit ike while now (tum bling. now kiss king off The sun burning down gradually la Its wuhet changing' (hanging1 an latltnsitoa lho last grout change lu come uses the a or hi * vew lofusod Inin ike mind I of the bouthsn who has waver eeew the NIMe Tha lllnduwo believe Ihti Hrt* mah, the creates, uk« made all thing* j Me * ranted the ester, then moved over | the naler, out of It lifted the lead •«aw the ptants, and animal*, and men on it. Out of hi* eye went the eun. Out of his tips went the Are. Out of his ear went the air. Then Itramah laid down to sleep four thou sand three hundred and twenty million year*. After that, they say. he will wake up, and thru the world will be destroyed, and he will make It over again, bringing up laud, bringing up creatures upon It; then lying down again to aleep four thousand three hundred and twenty million years, then waking up nnd destroying the world iijrain creation and demolition following each other, until after three hundred and twenty sleep*, each on" of these slumliers four thousand three hundred and twenty million year* long, Itramah will wake up and die. end the universe will die with him - an Intimation, though very faint, of the great change to come upon this physical earth spoken of In the Hlble. Hut while Itramah may aleep, our Uod never slumliers nor sleeps; and the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent best, and the earth and all thlngu that are therein shall be burned up. "Well," *a>s *oinn one, ‘if that I* ■o; If the world la going from one fhnnge to another, tnen what la the Use of my tolling for Ha bettermentr' That Is the point on which I want to guard you. I do not want you to be come misanthropic. It is a great and glorious world. If Chrlat could afford to spend thirty-three years on it for Its redemption, then you can afford to toll and pray for the betterment of the nations, and for ths bringing on of that glorious time when all people shall see the salvation of Uod. While, therefore, I want to guard you against misanthropic notion* In re»pect to this subject | have presented, 1 want you lo take thi* thought home with you: This world is a poor foundation to build on. It Is a changing world, and It is a dying world The shifting scenes and the changing sand* are only emblem* of nil earthly expectation. I.lfo Is very much like this day through which we have passed. To many of us It is storm and darkness, then sunshine, storm and darkness, then nfterward a little sunshine, now again darknoes and etorui. Ob, build not your hope* upon tills uncertain world! Httlld on Uod. ConAde In Jesus. I’lan for an eternal residence at Christ's right hand. Then, come elckness or health, euine Joy or sorrow, come itfe or death, all la well, ull Is well. In ths name of the Uod of Caleb, aud his daughter, Aehsuh, 1 this day ofTor you the "upper springs’* of un fading and everlasting rapture. JtM HEARD CHARLES DICKENS. Ami II* Malil Ilia Aiiftlrnr* Wat Vary ■till. Jim waa a student at Yale in (he lat ter '60s, and so waa In New Havan when Charles Dickens gave public readings in that city from nla own works, snys the New York Times. Jim neglected many of the privileges the college offered lo him, but be had sense enough to take advantage of the op portunity to hear Dickens. The mas ter’s Interpretations were a revelation lo Jim und (o this day he has not lost the deep Impression they made upon him. The Young Women's Dlckeua club of liozvllie somehow recently learned these facta and a cordial Invi tation was promptly nent to Jim to meet the club and give his recollections of Mr. Dickens. The Invitation waa accepted and Jim, who Is a good talker and not a bit shy, simply delighted hla auditors with his description of Mr. Dickens as a man and u really eloquent estimate of him as a reader. 11a told what a wonderful actor he was and how a strange new light was shed up on his characters by the revelation of his own conception of them. From generalization Jim cume finally to par ticularization and was telling of the wonderful effect produced by the rapid changes of tone of voice as Mr. Dick ens was reading from the "Christmas t'arol." Jim raid there was a suspicion of Yuletlde In the atmosphere as the leader Introduced the henevoleut old gentleman, who had come to Kbeneaer Scrooge for a Christ mas contribution. He then described the tremendous ef fect of the sudden transition of the harsh, metallic voice of Scrooge, aa that ' clutching, graaplng, covetous old sinner" surlily asked whether there were no longer any workhouses. "The audience wax so still." said Jim. "The audience was so still that you might have- might have picked up a pin." And Jltn. utterly unconscious how he had spoiled hts climax, continued se renely on, albeit not a little pusaled at tha smiling faces before him rtMlil ml the Pewlty ItiMn 'I b« ‘Decadence ur Parsing of tba Faintly lllbto." 'I bra# word* mean much Kor* iban appears on tba aur fara. Kerry man and woman teniem Ian tba pleasure and pride which ha or •he felt In the large family I Utile to Ilielr rblldhood «ieya Nemeatberlag thla. hat# you stopped to thlali (ur a moment how few Urge family Hlblee ara In eeldence today? My attention haring haan . allad to thla. virtually prompted me to me he latyulrlm of Mia manager of one of tha moat prominent religion* publishing bunaaa in tha city. ‘The demand fur tha large book grad' ually taa«ed during lha Utl decade.' ha aatd “It la an longer iuaeider*d Ihe thing lo ha*e a haadeuiaa family Hlble w the principal nr name at of the parlor table In lha Irtl piece, Ihe recur4* which were otoe made la It ara a«w registered Tha etna whlca baa now taken lu pier* U a *arcIcaahla oaa with gc«»l mape. dee I hie cor era and eacelleat print ll U gotten ap at lane eapeata, aad ll to ants rowetdeewd proper for aeery member of ihe family to tort an ladle ideal Itibte, Instead ef depending upon tha Urge, naetotdp relume of anr grand'e*aern ‘ A tare ewphuard alway* for a take* food fur thought