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
