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CHAPTER XXX. ( Continued. }
She nad a little money about her ,
: a small check received from Miss Heth-
• erington on the previous day ; this
• would enable her to ward off starva
tion at least for a time. In the mean-
"timo she must fleck work , and by that
-means sustain herself and her boy.
She collected together a few things
"which were necessary for their com-
I .fort , and when her preparations were
* ' inade , she knelt by the couch and
woke , the child. The little fellow
- stared at her for a moment , and then
the seemed to remember what had pass
ed , and he clung to her in fear.
"Where is papa ? " he asked.
_ "Papa is gone , my darling ! "
He looked at her agajn for a mo-
anient , then his little arm s stole "round
" " "
" .her neck , and he laid his cheek against
.hers.
"Poor mamma ! " he said.
Marjorie clasped him to her breast
• and sobbed convulsively.
"Ah , Leon , " she murmured , "you are
• all that is left to me now ; and yet per-
Tiaps it would be better for you to die ! "
She continued her preparations , and
3T "when all was done , she still lingered in
the house , as if fearing to face the
"world.
At length she remembered Suther
land , remembered the pledge to him
. .and she resolved to keep it.
She would go to him , tell him part ,
Jf not all her story , and ask his ad-
• vice.
She took little Leon by the hand and
3eft the house , passing hurriedly
through the streets , until she came to
'Sutherland's lodgings.
She inquired for him , and found to
"her dismay that he was already gone.
He had left the rooms on the previous
night and returned to Scotland.
When she first heard the news , Mar
jorie felt as if her last hope had gone
indeed , and she moved away trembling
• and almost in tears ; but after a rao-
' oncnt's reflection she acknowledged to
herself that perhaps , after all , it was
for the best.
What possible good could have re
sulted from an interview with Suther
land ? She would in all probability
"have brought trouble upon him by
ttelling him her own and she had work
ed mischief enough already to all her
kin. No ; she would trouble them no
more , but , with little Leon to comfort
"lier , she would remain as one dead ,
Tmried in the great city where she had
; not even one friend.
CHAPTER XXXI.
NB b i 11 e rly cold
night early in the
month of Novem
ber , the gendarme
whose duty it waste
to patrol the Rue
Caumartin sudden
ly espied a woman
• with a child in her
tarms crouching for
shelter in a door
way.
He stopped , looked at her curiously ,
stooped down to look at her more
-closely , and demanded her business
• there. The woman stirred , but did
not rise , and the child , which she held
-clasped closely to her , uttered a feeble
• cry. The gendarme paused a moment ,
"then he bent down , took her by the
shoulder , and gave her a vigorous
shake.
This time the woman rose , wearily
-and slowly , like one in physical pain ;
• and the child clung to her skirts , and
cried again. She lifted him in her
-arms , and passed with a slow , totter
ing step down the street.
She was but poorly clad for such
weather. Her garments were threadbare -
- bare , and here and there they hung in
Tags about her , so she shivered and
shrank before every touch of the frosty
wind. The streets were dark and al
most deserted , save for the gendarmes
-who paced with their measured tread
up and down the silent streets. They
looked at her as she went by , and
thought of her no more. She passed
along until she came to the Champs
Eylsees ; then she turned aside , and ,
hiding herself among the trees , lay
down on one of the seats.
A faint cry awakened the woman in
the morning. She opened her eyes ,
N and as she did so she saw the pale ,
pinched face of her child turned toward
lier. and heard him feebly crying for
bread. With a moan she threw her
hands into the air and cried :
"Bread , my child ; I have no bread ,
and you are starving ! "
The ground was frozen and snow
was falling ; her hands and feet were
benumbed and her face was pinched
-with hunger. She spoke to her little
"boy in French , and not ono of those
-who had known her in earlier days
would have recognized Marjorie An-
2ian. Yet it was Marjorie a starving
-woman looking at her starving child.
Two months had passed since she
liad left Caussidiere , and ever since
that day her troubles had increased.
Until now there seemed nothing left
to her but to beg or starve.
r
J.r It was now broad daylight and troops
of workingmen were passing along to
their day's labor , women were passing
along with heavy burdens , pretty
} seamstresses tripping along "to the
shops where they served all day ; and
in the open road a stream of country
carts , laden with produce , was flowing
in from the town gate.
„ ; " No one noticed Mariorle , those who
r
•
•
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i
JS % BOT asi
did glance at her seeing nothing to dis
tinguish her from the other waifs to
be found in all large cities. But pres
ently she saw coming toward her a
burly figure , carrying on its shoulders
a piece of wood , from which depended
two heavy cans. It was the figure of
a woman , though one of man-like
strength , who , to complete the mascu
line appearance sported a black mous
tache and a whisker-like down on eith
er cheek.
The woman was singing in a deep
man's voice. She was about to pass
by when she was attracted by little
Leon.
"A thousand devils ! " she muttered
to herself ; then , striding toward the
bench , she demanded. "What's the
matter ? Is the child ill ? "
Marjorie looked up and met the
gleam of two great black eyes , bold
but kindly. She could not speak , but
turning her head aside , sobbed again.
"Poor little mother , " growled the
stranger to herself. "She is almost a
child herself. Look up ! Speak to
me ! What are you doing here ? "
The tone was so gentle and sympa
thetic , though the voice and address
were rough , that Marjorie cried in de
spair from the bottom of her heart :
"Oh , madame , we have been here all
night , and my little boy is starving ! "
"Starving the devil ! " cried the
woman. "Do you mean it ? "
As she spoke she stooped down ,
freed herself of her load , and rested
her cans upon the ground ; then , open
ing one of them , she took out a tin
vessel brimful of milk.
"See here it is milk of the cow ! Let
the little one drink. "
Eagerly and gratefully Marjorie took
the vessel and held it with trembling
hand to the child's lips ; he drank it
thirstily , every drop.
"Bravo ! " cried the stranger , filling
the can again. "Encore ! Another , lit
tle man ! "
And little Leon drank eagerly again.
"God bless you , madame ! " said Mar
jorie. "How good you are ! "
"Good the devil ! I am Mother
Jeanne , and I have had little ones of
my own. Now , it is your turn , little
woman. "
Thus urged , Marjorie drank , too.
Mother Jeanne watched her with grim
compassion.
"You are too frail to be out in this
weather. Who are you ? You are not
a Frenchwoman , by your tongue. "
"No , madame. I came from Scotland ,
but I have been in Paris a long time. "
"Where do you live , eh ? "
"I have no home , and no money. "
"And no friends ? The devil ! "
"Not one. "
"And what are you going to do ? "
"I do not know. It is a long time
since we have tasted food. I "
Marjorie sank back , and would have
fallen had not the woman's strong arm
supported her.
"Bad , very bad ! " growled Mother
Jeanne. "See , here are two sous ; it is
all I have , but it will buy something
for the child. After that , I will tell
you what to do. Out yonder , close to
the Madeleine , they will distribute
bread to the poor of the arrondisse-
ment at 10 o'clock. You will go there
and take your place with the rest ;
they must help you they cannot re
fuse. Do you understand ? "
"Yes , madame , I will go. "
"That's right , " said Mother Jeanne ,
patting her on the shoulder. "And af
ter that , let me see yes , after that , if
; ou are English , you will go to the
British Embassy and ask them for as
sistance. "
"Yes , madame , " answered Marjorie ,
sadly.
"Courage. . The little one is better
already. He will be all right by and
by. But I cannot linger , little woman.
My customers are waiting , and I have
yet to prepare the milk for the mar
ket. You will go to the distribution of
bread , will you not ? Any one will
show you the place. "
Marjorie promised , clinging , as she
did so , to the good creature and grate
fully kissing her hard hands. Mother
Jeanne was touched. She brushed
away a tear with the back of her hand ,
and uttered another sympathetic im
precation.
"And if all else fails you , " she cried ,
"come to me , Mother Jeanne , at the
Dairy , Rue de Caporal. I am poor ,
look you , but I would not let you
starve. Remember , Mother Jeanne
Mother Mustache they call me some
times 13 Rue de "Caporal. "
And with a rough nod the good soul
shouldered her cans and strode along.
Marjorie watched her till she faded
out of sight ; then , refreshed and
strengthened by the healthful draught
she took little Leon by the hand and
walked away toward the crowded
streets.
CHAPTER XXXH.
7 BOUT the very
timg that laiJorie ;
/JmY
J r4& / > | U was wandering
323 [ "i " homeless ana hun-
) gry in tne streets
wput !
( feBffiMi of Parls ° per"
,
oa j _ _ _ r/II sons were journey-
Jp Q fej * " ing toward the city
? Q $ cJyrf& ° * London by the
ffe&vri nightman.
Hetherin g t o n of
the Castle ; the other was John Suth- ,
erlaad.
* - * . - : '
. , . .
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i iiiiii'i ' linYfiiiMliiH
For fully art hour neither of them
had spoken ; the old lady , looking fully
twenty yeara older than when wo last
beheld her , lay back among the cushions - '
'
ions of the carriage , and fixed her eyes
upon a letter which she held In her ;
hand. For about the tenth time that
night she raised the paper , and read'
the words which were hastily scrawled
thereon :
"Dear Mother I am in great trouble. '
I am in sore need. Will you help me ? .
I do not mind for myself , but to see my
little child in want breaks my heart.
"MARJORIE. "
She read it through ; then with a
moan she let it fall again upon her
lap.
"Marjorie ! " she cried , "my balm , my
bairn ! "
From his corner of the carriage
Sutherland watched in silence. He
was utterly in the dark as to what It
all meant. He only knew that 'they
were traveling to Paris and to Mar
jorie.
On the day before , as he had been
quietly working at his pictures at home ,
his father having partially recovered ,
Miss Hetherington , whom he believed
to be in Edinburgh , had suddenly ap
peared like a specter before him , and
without a word of explanation had com
manded aim to return with her to
Paris.
On hastening with her to the Castle
he found that a stormy scene had been
enacted there ; that Miss Hetherington ,
beside herself with rage , had actually
struck her old attendant in the face
and turned her from the door. What
it was all about nobody seemed to
know , and after one glance into Miss
Hetheringtcn's wild eyes Sutherland
knew that he had better not inquire.
So he quietly obeyed her orders , and
the two started together by the night
mail for the south. But although Suth
erland had been silent he had beenj
none the less curious ; and now , seeing ;
that Miss Hetheringtou's wild excite
ment was passing away , he ventured
to speak :
"Miss Hetherington ! " cried Johnnie
Sutherland. "Is that a letter from Mar
jorie ? "
"Ay , from Marjorie. "
She held forth her thin white hand ,
which now was trembling violently ,
and as Sutherland took the letter she
uttered a low moan again , and for the
first time that night her tears began to
fall.
Sutherland read the letter , then he
looked at the date , and exclaimed :
"October ! why , it's more than four
weeks old ! "
"Ay , more than four weeks ! " she
moaned ; then suddenly sitting erect ,
and looking fixedly into his face , she
added : "Johnnie Sutherland , what has
happened to her now ? "
"God knows ; but maybe after all we
are in time ; but how did it chance to1
be so long in coming to you ? " j
"It went to the Castle , Johnnie , and ]
Mysie kept it there. When I came
home from Edinburgh yesterday I
found it lying on my desk waiting for
me. It had been waiting for me for a' '
month , you see. " j
Sutherland was silent. lie was more1
troubled than he cared to say. A *
month ! Ah ! he thought , what might
not happen in that time to a woman !
and child penniless and alone in the
streets of Paris ? I
He returned the letter with a sigh ,
and did all he could to rouse and cheer
his companion , who , now that her ex
citement was over , suffered with a
frightful reaction , and trembled and
cried like a child.
( TO BE CONTINUED. )
MRS. OLIPHANT.
Her Indomitable Courage anil Saving1
Sense of Humor A Pretty "Woman.
One day in the last week ol her life
Mrs. Oliphant said : "Many times I
have come to a corner which I could
see no way around , but each time a
way has been found for me. " The way
was often found by the strengthening
of her own indomitable courage , which
as long as her children were left to
her never seemed to flag ; it was the
courage of perfect love , says the Fort
nightly Review. But it is certain that
if she had no moral qualities except
courage she could not have toiled on as
she did ; a saving sense of humor , a
great capacity to enjoy what was really
comic and everything that was beau
tiful , made life easier for her , and "the
great joy of kindnesses" was one never
absent from her. So that whatever
suffering might be lying in wait to
seize upon her solitary hours there was
almost always a pleasant welcome and
talk of the very best to be found in her
modest drawing room. If the visitors
were congenial her charm of manner
awoke , her simple fitness of speech
clothed every subject Jwith life and
grace , her beautiful eyes shone ( they
never sparkled ) , and the spell of her
exquisite -womanliness made a charm
ed circle around her. She was never a
beautiful woman at any time of her
life , though for many years she was a
very pretty one , but she had , as a fam
ily inheritance , lovely hands , which
were constantly busy , in what she
called her idle time , with some dainty
sewing or knitting ; she had those won
derful eyes > vhich kept their beauty
to the last minute of her life , and she
had a moat exquisite daintiness in all ]
her ways and in the very atmosphere
about her which was "pure womanly. " ,
"I don't know what I would have
done if it hadn't been for you ! " ex
claimed the discharged prisoner. "Well , '
you probably would have dore time , "
said the proud lawyer. Yonkers
Statesman.
A Chicago paper tells of a bicycle
crank who reads all the coal strike dispatches -
patches that have a Wheeling date line
to them.
JBM * " ° Jr"Tir-iiiTiir. "
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*
TALBIAGE'S SEBMOS.
. . .
' "
"WATCHING THE BOAT. " LAST
SUNDAY'S SUBJECT.
from the Text , Kxoilm .1:3 nit Follows :
"AnU HI * Sister Stood Afr.r OIT , to
IVltncasriint Would Uo Dauo to
Hliu. "
'Vy X RINCESS THER-
II f ij I MUTIS- daughter of
Pharaoh , looking
' out through the lat
tice of her bathing
house , on the banks
fJI of the Nile , saw a
curious boat on the
river. It had
neither oar nor
helm , and they
would have been
useless anyhow. There was only one
passenger , and that a baby boy. But
the Mayflower , that brought the Pil
grim Fathers to America , carried not
so precious a load. The boat was
made of the broad leaves of papyrus ,
tightened together by bitumen. Boats
were sometimes made of that material ,
as we learn from Pliny and Herodotus
and Theophrastus. "Kill all the He
brew children born , " had been Phar
aoh's order. To save her boy , Joche-
bed , the mother of little Moses , had
put him in that queer boat and launch
ed him. His sister , Miriam , stood on
the bank watching that precious craft.
Sne was far enough off not to draw at
tention to the boat , but near enough
to offer protection. There she stands on
the bank Miriam , the poetess , Miri
am , the quick witted , Miriam , the faith
ful , though very human , for in after
years she demonstrated it.
Miriam was a splendid sister , but had
had her faults , like all the rest of us.
How carefully she watched the boat
containing her brother ! A strong wind
often upset it. The buffaloes often
found there might in a sudden plunge
of thirst sink it. Some ravenous water
fowl might swoop and pick his eyes out
with iron beak. Some crocodile or hip
popotamus crawling through the rushes
might crunch the babe. Miriam watch
ed and watched until Princess Thermu-
tis , a maiden on each side of her hold
ing palm leaves over her head to shel
ter her from the sun , came down and
entered her bathing house. When from
the lattice she saw that boat she or
dered it brought , and when the leaves
were pulled back from the face of the
child and the boy looked up he cried
aloud , for he was hungry and fright
ened , and would not even let the prin
cess take him. The infant would rath
er stay hungry than acknowledge any
one of the court as mother. Now Mir
iam , the sister , incognito , no one sus
pecting her relation to the child , leaps
from the bank and rushes down and
offers to get a nurse to pacify the child.
Consent is given , and she brings Joche-
bed , the boy's mother , incognito , none
of the court knowing that she was the
mother ; and when Jochebed arrived ,
the child stopped crying , for its fright
was calmed and its hunger appeased.
You may admire Jochebed , the mother ,
and all the ages may admire Moses ,
but I clap my hands in applause at the
behavior of Miriam , the faithful , bril
liant and strategic sister.
"Go home , " some one might have
said to Miriam ; "why risk yourself out
there alone on the banks of the Nile ,
breathing the miasma , and in danger of
being attacked of wild beast or ruffian ;
go home ! " No ; Miriam , the sister ,
more lovingly watched and bravely de
fended Moses , the brother. Is he
worthy her care and courage ? Oh ,
yes ; the sixty centuries of the world's
history have never had so much in
volved in the arrival of any ship at any
port as in the landing of that papyrus
boat calked with bitumen ! Its one pas
senger was to be a nonsuch in history
lawyer , statesman , politician , legisla
tor , organizer , conqueror , deliverer. He
had such remarkable beauty in child
hood that Josephus says , when he was
carried along the road , people stopped
to gaze at him , and workmen would
leave their work to admire him. When
the king playfully put his crown upon
this boy , he threw it off indignantly ,
and put his foot upon it. The king ,
fearing that this might be a sign that
the child might yet take down his
crown , applied another test. Accord
ing to the Jewish legend , the king or
dered two bowls to be put before the
child , one containing rubies and the
other burning coals ; and if he took the
coals , he was to live , and if he took the
rubies , he was to die. For some reason
the child took one of the coals , and put
it in his mouth , so that his life was
spared , although it burned the tongue
till he was indistinct of utterance ever
after. Having come to manhood , he
spread open the palms of his hands in
prayer , and the Red Sea parted to let
two million five hundred thousand people
ple escape. And he put the palms of
his hands together in prayer , and the
Red Sea closed on a strangulated host.
His life so unutterably grand , his
burial must be on the same scale. God
would let neither man nor saint nor
archangel have anything to do with
weaving for him a shroud or digging
for him a grave. The omnipotent God
left his throne in heaven one day , and
if the question was asked , "Whither is
the King of the Universe going ? " the
answer was , "I am going clown to bury
Moses. " And the Lord took this
mightiest of men to the top of a hill ,
and the day was clear , and Moses ran
his eye over the magnificent range of
country. Here , the valley of Esdrae-
lon , where the final battle of all na
tions is to be fought ; and yonder , the
mountains Hermon and Lebanon and ,
Gerizim , and the hills of Judea ; and
the village of Bethlehem there , and
the city of Jericho yonder , and the vast
stretch of landscape that almost took
the old lawgiver's breath away as he
looked at it. And then without a pang
as I learn from the statement that the
eye of Moses was undimmed and his
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4
natural force unabated God touched
great lawglver'u eyes and they closed ;
and his lungs , and they ceased ; and hiH
heart , and It stopped ; and commanded ,
saying , "To the okics , thou immortal
spirit ! " And then one Divine hand
was put against the buck of Moses , and
the other hand against the pulseless
breast , and God laid him softly down
on Mount Nebo , and then the lawgiver ,
lifted in the Almighty's arms , was car
ried to the opening of a cave , and placed
in a crypt , and one stroke of the Divine
hand smoothed the features Into an
everlasting calm , and a rock was rolled
to the door , and the only obsequies , at
which God did all the offices of priest ,
and undertaker , and gravediggcr , and
mourner , were ended.
Oh , was not Miriam , the sister of
Moses , doing a good thing , an import
ant thing , a glorious thing when she
watched the boat woven of river plants
and made water-tight with asphaltum ,
carrying Its one passenger ? Did she
not put all the ages of time and of a
coming eternity under obligation when
she defended her helpless brother from
the perils aquatic , reptilian , and raven
ous ? She it was that brought that
wonderful babe and his mother to
gether , so that he was reared to be the
deliverer of his nation , when other
wise , if saved at all from the rushes
of the Nile , he would have been only
c-ne more of the God-defying Pharaohs ;
for Princess Tliermutis of the bathing-
house would have inherited the crown
of Egypt ; and as she had no child of
her own , this adopted child would have
come to coronation. Had there been
no Miriam there would have been no
Moses. What a garland for faithful
sisterhood ! For how many a lawgiver ,
and how many a hero , and how many a
deliverer and how many a saint are the
world and the church indebted to a
watchful , loving , faithful , godly sister ?
Come up out of the farm-houses , come
up out of the inconspicuous homes ,
come up from the banks of the Hud
son and Penobscot , and the Savannah ,
and the Mobile , and the Mississippi ,
and all the other Niles of America and
let us see you , the Miriams who
watched and protected the leaders in
law , and medicine , and merchandise ,
and art and agriculture , and mech
anics , and religion ! If I should ask
all physicians and attorneys and mer
chants and ministers of religion and
successful men of all professions and
trades , who are indebted to an elder
sister for good influences and perhaps
for an education or a prosperous start ,
to let it be known , hundreds would
testify. God knows how many of our
Greek lexicons and how much of our
schooling was paid for by money that
would otherwise have gone for the
replenishing of a sister's wardrobe.
While the brother sailed off for a re
sounding sphere , the sister watched
him from the banks of self-denial.
Miriam was the eldest of the family ;
Moses and Aaron , her brothers , were
younger. Oh , the power of the elder
sister to help decide the brother's char
acter for usefulness and for heaven !
She can keep off from her brother more
evils than Miriam could have driven
back water-fowl or crocodile from the
ark of bulrushes. The older sister de
cides the direction in which the cradle
boat shall sail. By gentleness , by good
sense , by Christian principle she can
turn it toward the palace , not of a
wicked Pharaoh , but of a holy God ; and
a brighter princess than Thermutis
should lift him out of peril , even re
ligion , whose ways are ways of pleas
antness and all her paths are peace.
The older sister , how much the world
owes her ! Born while yet the family
was in limited circumstances , she had
to hold and take care of her younger
brothers. And if there is anything
that excites my sympathy , it is a little
girl lugging round a great fat child
and getting her ears boxed because
she cannot keep him quiet ! By the
time she gets to young womanhood
she is pale and worn out , and her at
tractiveness has been sacrificed on the
altar cf sisterly fidelity , and she is con
signed to celibacy , and society calls
her by an unfair name ; but in heaven
they call her Miriam. In most families
the two most undesirable places in the
record of births are the first and the
last ; the first because she is worn out
with the cares of a home that cannot
afford to hire help , and the last be
cause she is spoiled as a pet. Among
the grandest equipages that sweep
through the streets of heaven will be
those occupied by sisters who sacri
ficed themselves for brothers. They
will have the finest of the Apocalyptic
white horses , and many who on earth
looked down upon them will have to
turn out to let them pass , the char
ioteer crying : "Clear the way ! A
queen is coming ! "
General Bauer , of the Russian cav
alry , had in early life wandered off in
the army , and the family supposed he
was dead. After he gained a fortune
he encamped one day in Husam , his
native place , and made a banquet ; and
among the great military men who
were to dine , he invited a plain miller
and his wife who lived near by and
who. affrighted , came , fearing some
harm would be done them. The miller
and his wife were placed one on earh
side of the general at the table. The
general asked the miller all about his
family , and the miller said that he
had two brothers and a sister. "No \
other brothers ? " "My younger brother
went off with the army many years
ago , and no doubt was long ago killed. "
Then the general said : "Soldiers , I
am this man's younger brother , whom
he thought was dead. " And how loud
was the cheer , and how warm the em
brace !
Brother and sister , you need as much
of an introduction to each other as
they did. You do not know each other
You think your brother is grouty and j ;
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cross and queer , and ho thinks you nro Mwrn
nolfish and proud and unlovely. Both ' 1 1
wrong ! That brother will be a prlnco J l
In some womnn'n oyen , and that Bister 3 1
a queen in the estimation of some man. * L\
That brother is a magnificent fellow , l |
and that sister ia a morning in June. | ] H
Come , let mo introduce you : "Mosch , J L\ \
this is Miriam. " "Miriam , this in H
Mo3es. " Add soventy-flve per cent to > M
your present appreciation of each H
other , and when you kiss good morning - M
ing do not stick up your cold cheek. H
wet from the recent washing , as though " M
you hated to touch each other's lips In H
affectlonato caress. Let it have all the M
fondness and cordiality of a loving M
sister's kiss. M
Make yourself as agreeable and helpful - M
ful to each other as possible , remem- M
berlng that soon you part. The few H
years of boyhood and girlhood will 1
soon slip by , and you will go out to M
homes of your own , and Into the battle H
with the world , and amid ever-chang- M
Ing vlcis aitudes , and on paths crossed 1
with graves , and up steeps hard to M
climb , and through shadowy ravines. 1
But , 0 my God and Saviour ! may the
terminus of the journey be the same M
as the start namely.at the father's and M
mother's knee , if they have Inherited H
the kingdom. Then , as In boyhood and H
girlhood days , we rushed In after the s\mMt \
day's absence with much to tell of ex- j H
citing adventure , and father and mother - H
er enjoyed the recital as much as we m
who made It , so we shall on the hill- f |
side of heaven rehearse to them all the 3 m\
scenes of our earthly expedition , and 'i m *
they shall welcome us home , as we I |
say : "Father and mother , we have ill
come and brought our children with i |
us. " The old revival hymn described 1 |
it with glorious repetition : i |
"Brothers and sisters there will meet. f |
Brothers and sisters there will meet , 'Jj l
Brothers and sisters there will meet , 1 |
Will meet to part no more. " I |
I read of a child in the country who f |
was detained at a neighbor's house on ' |
a stormy night by some fascinating Lm
stories that were being told him , and H
then looked out and saw it was so dark H
he did not dare go home. The incident - H
dent impressed me the more because in H
my childhood I had much the same H
experience. The boy asked his comrades - H
rades to go with him , but they dared LW
not. It got later and later seven H
o'clock , eight o'clock , nine o'clock. H
"Oh , " he said , "I wish I were home ! H
As he opened the door the last time a H
blinding flash of lightning and a deafening - H
ening roar overcame him. But after H
awhile he saw in the distance a Ian- H
tern , and lo ! his brother was coming H
to fetch him home , and the lad stepped H
out and with swift feet hastened on to 1 LM
his brother , who took him home , where " > H
they were so glad to greet him , and LM
for a long time supper had been wait- H
ing. So may it be when the night of LM
death comes and our earthly friends j H
cannot go with us , and we dare not H
go-alone ; may our Brother , our Elder H
Brother , our Friend closer than a
wmmm
brother , come out to meet us with the # W
light of the promises , which shall be I " H
a lantern to our feet ; and then we will ) MMm
go in to join our loved ones waiting 'MMM
for us , supper all ready , the marriage j H
supper of the Lamb ! H
MMM
lllcli Rnclcy Kiver ISottorn' . M
We mentioned a year ago the re- mj
markable crop of corn raised by W. K % m\ \
Q. Hammond on 150 acres of bottom iM m\ \
land on Rocky river , aggregating over H
5,000 bushels , says the Honea Path kM
( S. C. ) Chronicle. The present year H
he has done even better than that. H
He planted 110 acres of bottom laud H
and has finished gathering the corn , kM
which has yielded him 7,400 bushels , |
or a fraction over C7 bushels to the Lm
acre. This is a wonderful crop. In H
addition to that he has gathered about |
350 bales of cotton by field weights , as H
none of it has been ginned yet. This Lm
crop has cost him , he says , a cash outlay - H
lay of about $0,000. At $23 a bale this | |
cotton will pay the expense of making H
the crop and leave him a net profit of H
$2,500 and all his corn. Or , if the corn H
were sold at the current market price H
of 00 cents per bushel , it would bring v H
$4,400 , nearly enough to pay the ex- mMm\
pense. He has twenty-six mules on hi3 * " 'j H
farm and his farm operations have \Wm
been conducted by a force of thirty- H
five convicts. Besides this , he raised ' kw
1,000 bushels of oats. He informs \n H
that his corn crop would have been H
larger , but fifteen acres of it were badly H
damaged by the cut worms. He says H
he had several acres that produced H
over 100 bushels to the acre. And , be- LW
sides , he now has on hand a quantity H
of his last year's crop of corn for H
sale. This is the most successful ex- mM
ample of good farming -xe know of. mW
A Few Palindromes. MMl
The palindromist sends us the following - H
lowing list of words , clipped from some H
paper , which may be spelled forward Her
or ' backward : "Anna , bab , bib , bob , H
bub , civic , dad , deed , deified , did , ecce , H
eve , ewe , eye , gog , gig , gag. level , ma- j fl
dam , noon , otto , pap , peep , pip , pop. M
pup , redder , refer , repaper , reviver , rotator - H
tater , sees , sexes , shahs , tat. tit , toot. " k\ \
This leads us to ask : "What is the M
matter with Hannah ? " Her name is ' " H
also palindromical. Dr. Moxom's fain- M
ily name is equally capable of being M
spelled backward. But can we not |
add to the above list ? Adam's alleged M
remark to Eve , "Madam. I'm Adam. " i m\
and Napoleon ' s "Able was I ere I saw f H
Elba , " should be barred on account of a m\
age. Boston Journal. I H
l.l.iated Hopes. 4 m k
Old Gentleman "Why arc you cry- H
iny , my little man ? " Small boy ( sobbing - H
bing ) "I dreamt last night dat do H
school burned. " Puck. m\
Bridca and horses both require H
grooms. M
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