The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, April 29, 1898, Image 6
OLD AND NEW. . Oh , nometlmoH slciuns upon our flight , Throuvh pre.rnt wronz the otornot right. And step by ntep slnco Umn boifnn Wo ace the stoiuly aim ol man. That all of jooil Um past hath had Kcrnalns to malco onr own tttno Our common dully life tJHInc , And every land u Paloatinu. the harsh nolaos of our fliy A low , 8Wol nrcliulo iinds Its way : Through cloudn of tloiitt and cro&da or fear A light it breaking calm end clear. Henceforth my ucit shall filzh no moro Forohlcn tltiv,1 ami lioHo * here : GoU'H love ami ljoi3R ! ! thni siud thcro Are now and hero und ovcrvwhero. -John G. Whlttler. PERCY AND THE PROPHET. nv COLM.VS. CHAPTER IV COMTIKL'KDL ' After an interval , Percy put the customary question. jl'ho sleeper answered , wearily : "J &eo the inside of a traveling1 carriage , " ho said. "The lady is ono of the persons in it. There is a man with. her. There is " Ho stopped and 1 cgan to breathe heavi ly ; tlio grasp of Ins hand relaxed. "Ain I the ? " man Percy asked. "Or is it Captain Bcrvio again ? " Dr. Lagardo aroused himself , by a r last uffort , to reply. "I can't tell you , " ho murmured drowsily. "My eyes are aching ; the darkness bailies rae. i have toiled long enough for vou. Drop my hand , and leave mete Jf to rest. " \ Hearing those words , Mine. La gardo npivoaclied her son's chair. "It will be useless , sir. to ask him any more questions to-night , " she wind. "Ho has been weak and nerv ous all day. and ho is worn out by the cifort he has made. Pardon rae if .1 ask you to stop aside for a mo ment while I give him the re pus e that he needs. " She laid her right band gently on the doctor's head , and'kept it there foe a minute or so. Are you at rest now ? " she asked. I am at rest , " be answered , ia faint , drowsy tones. Mine. Lajjardo returned to Pevcy. "If you are nut yet satisfied , " she said , "my son will bs at your service to-morrow evening , sir. " "Thanl : you , madam ; T have only one more question to ask. and you can no doubt answer it. When your aon wakes , will ho remember what ho has said to Captain Bervio and myself.-1 "My son will be ai absolutely ignorant of everything that ho has seen , and of everything that be lias eaid. in the trance , as if he had been at the other end of tlie world. " Percy Liuwood followed this la.st outragious assertion with an effort which be was quite unable to conceaL - ceaL "Many thanks , madam , " he said ; "I wish , you good-night. " lie-turning to the waiting-room , he noticed the money-box fixed to the table. "Those look " people poor. he thought to himself , "and I feel really indebted to them for an amusing evening. Besides , I can afford to bo liberal , for I shall certainly never go back. " He drop ped a five-pound note into the money box , and left the bouse. CHAPTER V. The Ball-Kooni. "While tbo consultation at Dr. La-rardo's was still fresh in the memory of the persons present at it. Chance , or Destiny , occupied in sowing the scads for the harvest of the future , discovered as ono of its lit instruments a retired military officer named Major Muqh. Knowing everybody and being welcome everywhere , pla3ring a good hand at whist , and having an in exhaustible fancy in the invention of a dinner , Major Much naturally jbelonged to all the best clubs of his time. Percy Linwood and he con stantly met iii the billiard-room or at the dinner-table. The major ap proved of tbo easy , handsome , pleasant tempered young man. "I have lost the fir.it freshness of youth , " he used to say. modestly , of himself , "and I see it revived , as it were , in Percy. .Naturally I like Percy. " About three we3ks after the memorable evening at Dr. Laga i'de's , the two friends encountered each other oil the steps of a club. "Got anything to do to-night ? " asked the major. "Nothing that I know of. " said Percy , " ; inless 1 go to the theater. " "Let Iho theater waib , my boy. My old regiment srives a ball at"Woolwich to-night. I have got a ticket to spare and I know several sweet girls who .are going. Some of them waltz. Percy. Gather your rosebuds while you may. Come with me. " The invitation was accepted as i-ea illy as it .was given. The major s .found the carriage , and Percy paid sg 'for the pool-houses. They entered the ballroom among the earlier f guests ; and the first person whom c they met. waiting near the door , was " Captain Bervie. Perev bowed , a little uneasily. "I feel some doubt. " bo said laughing , whether wo have been properly in troduced to cash other or not ! " "Not properly introduced ! " cried Major Much" . "I'll set that right. My dear friend , Percy Linwood : my dear -friend. Arthur Borvic ba known to each , other ; esteem each otherl" Captain Eervic acknowledged the introduction-by a cold-salute. Percy , yielding to tUe good-natured impulse of the nionient. began to speak ol the mesmeric consultation. "You missed something worth hearing when , you left the doctor the " " other "iiisrlit. " ho said. "We con tinued the sitting : and you turned up again among the persons of the doc tor's drama in quite a new character. Imagine yourself if you please in a Cottage parlor " ' Excuse me for interrupting you , " said Captain Bervio. "I am a inera- hpr of the committee charged with tne arrangements of the ball , and I must really attend to my dut'.es. " Ho withdrew without waiting fora reply , l crcy looked round \vonder- ingly at Major Much. "Strange , " ho fcaid. "I feel rather attracted to ward Captain Bervie ; and he seems $ o little attracted , on his side , that ho can hardly behave to mo with com mon civility. What dees it mean ? " "I'll tell you. " answered" the ma jor , confidentially. "Arthur Borvie is madly in love madly is really the word , my boy with a Miss Bow moro. And ( this js between our selves ) the young lady doesn't feel it quite in the sa : o way. A sweet girl : I've often bad her on my knee when she was a child. Her father and mother aye od ! friends cf mine. .Cbo is coming to the bull to night That's the true reason why Artnur left you just now. Look at him waiting to be the first to speak to bar. If ho could have his way , ho wouldn't let another man 00:110 near the poor girl all through the even ing ; be really persecutes her. I'll introduce yon , Percy ; and you will see how ho looks at us for presuming to approach her. It's a great pity ; she will never marry him. Arthur Bcrrie is a high-minded , honorable fellow , a man in a thousand : but he's fast becoming a perfcc-t bear under tiie strain oa his tcuipor. What's tha matter ? You don't secin to bo listening to mo. " This last remark was perfectly jus tified. In tolling tha captain's love story , Maier Much had revived his young friend's memory of tha lady in the bltuj dross , who had haunted the inosiarie visions of Dr. Lagardo. "Toll me. " said Percy , "what is Miss Bov.'inoro like ? Is there any tiling remarkable in her personal appear ance : ' I have a reason fo. ' asking. " As he spoke , there arose among th ; gue&ts in the rapidly filling ball room a low murmur 01 surprise and admiration. The major laid one hand on Percy's shoulder , and lifting the other , pointed to the door. "Vi'hat is Jtliss Bowmore like ? " he repeated. "Tlieru &ho is. my boy ! Let her answer for herself. " Percy turned toward the lower cud of tha room. A young lady was en tering , dreasod in plain silk , and the color of it was a pale blue. Except ing a white rose at her breast , she wore no ornament of any sort. Doubly rlistiucfi'.ished by the perfect simplicity of ner apparel and by her tall , supple , commanding figure , she took rank at on o us tbo most re markable woman in the room. Mov ing nearer { / > bar through the crowd , the jrvld-.nco of the corapliis- ant major , y > i-ijj' Lin wood paired a clsaror view of her hair , her complex ion , and the o-oior of inv eyes. In every one of these particulars the was the living image of the woman described by Dr. Lagarda ! While Percy WHS absorbed over this strange discovery , Major Much had got within ti-'Giiking distance of tha young bi'iy and of 'her mother , as th y s'-.n'xl * r > r.3tvn' ; ! in. conversa tion with Captain Bervie. "My dear Mrs. Br.winoro , how ' .veil you are looking ! My dis.Tis3 Charlotte , what a sencsvMon you have made already ! " cried the corilial little man. "The glorious simplicity ( if I may so express myself ) o ! your dress is is w hat was 1 going to say ? the ideas como thronging on mo ; 1 merely want words. " Here Major Much waved bis hand , with all the lingers well open , a-s if words were circulating in the air of tb/j room , and ho meant to catch them. Miss Charlotte burst into a little silvery laush : her magnificent brown eyes , wandering from the lo Percy , rested on the younjr man with a modest and momentary ] interest , which Captain Bervie's jealous attention instantly detected. "They are forming Iho dance , Miss Bowmora. " he said , pressing forward impatiently. "If we don't take our places ve shall bo too late. " "Stop ! stop ! " cried the major. ' Tliers is a , time for everything , and tuia is the time for presenting my dear friend ho re. Mr. Percv Linwood. He is like nu. Miss Charlotte he has bson struck by the glorious sim plicity , and he wants words. " At this part of the presentation he hap pened to look toward the irate cap tain , and instantly gave him a hint on the aubjees of his temper. "I say , Arthur Borvie , we are all good- humored people here. What have you got on your eyebrows ? It looks like a frown , and it doesn't become you. Send for a skilled waiter , and have it brushed off and taken away directly ! " I ask. Miss 15ownioie. if you * ai' " disongaguA. for the next dance ? " said Percy , the moment the major gave him an opportunity of speakin "Miss Bowmora is engaged to me for the u ° xt dunce , " said the angry captaia , before the young lady could "The third dauco. then ? " Percy Dsrsistnd , in hir quietest manner , and with hin brightestsmile. . With pleasure1 , Mr. Linwood , " saM ? .H.-- 13ov.-ir.orc. She would have boon -.o H'"o Y/ojiisiri if she had notre ro ' " " 1 ir | " ' < " > peu exhibition of AvJih-v'3 jealousy : it was like assert- in n , right c""V her to v.'hich ho bad j " ' not i'.io'shndovr oi n claim. She | r threw a looic at Percy as her partuer led hoi I'Viy. v.'hich was the severest putiishnnt she could inflict on the man who avl-ntly loved her. The tai.-d. 1 iiioo stood in tbo program - gram as : i. wc.lt.- ' . partner's hand. Charlctta hesitated , and looked at her waits ? " said Percy. V "Surely you * _ . . . * " * "I liava learned to waltz , she anav.-orcd , modestly ; "but thisis such a lar o room , sir , and thcro are so many people. " "Once round , " Percy pleaded ; "only once round. " She looked again at her mother ; her foot was keeping tirao with the music , under her dress ; her heart was beating with a delicious excite- ment. Kind-hearted Mrs. Bowmoro smiled , and said , "Once round , my dear , as Mr. Linwood suggests. In another moment Percy's arm took possession of her waist unc they were away on the wings of the waltz ! Could words describe , coult thought realize , the exquisite enjoy ment of the dance ? Knjoyment ? It was moro it was an ep.'ch in Charlotte's life it wa ? the first time she had waltzed with a man. What differences between the fervenl clasp of Percy's arm and the cold , formal contact of the mistress who had taught her ! How brightly his eyes looked down into hers , admiring her with such a tender restraint that there could be no harm in looking up at him now and then in return. Bound and round they glided , ab "sorbed in the music and in thorn- salves. Occasionally her bosom just touched his , at those critical mo ments when she was most in need of Mipport At other intervals she almost lef her head sink on his shoulder in trying to hide from him the smile which acknowledged his admiration too boldly. "Once round. " Percy had suggested ; "once round"hermother bad said. They had been twenty , thirty , forty times round ; they had never stopped to rest , like other dancers ; they had the eyes of the whole room on them 'ncluding the eyes of Captain Bervio without knowing it ; her delicately pale com plexion had changed to rosy red ; the neat arrangement of her hair had be come disturbed : her bosom was rising and falling faster in the effort to breathe before the fatigue and the heat overpowered her at last , and forced her to siy : to him , faintly , 'I'm very " sorry 1 can't dance any more. Percy led her into the cooler at mosphere of the refreshment-room , and revived her with a glass of lem- tfnade. Her arm still rested on his she was just about to thank him for the care he had taken of her when Captain Bervie entered the room. Ho was palo. with the marked and sinister pallor of suppressed rage ; but when ho spoke to Percy be still preserve ! his self-control , and expressed bimself with scrupulous politeness. "Mrs. ! : owmorc wishes me to take you bask to her , " he said to Charlotte. Then , turning to Percy , he added , "Will you kindly wait here while I lake Miss Bowmoro to the ball-room ? I have a word to aay to you 1 will return directly. " Left alone in the refreshment- room , Percy sat down to cool and rest himsslf. With his experience ot the ways of men , ho felt no sur prise nt the marked contrast be tween Captain Bervie's face and Cap- tnn Bervio's manner. "He has seen us waltzing , and he is coming back to pick a quarrel with me. " Such was the interpretation which Mr. LiuwoocVs knowledge cf the world placed on Capiain Bervitj's po liteness. In a , minute or two more 'the captain returned to the rofreshmentii'oom , and satisfied Percv that his anticipations had noi deceived him. [ TO IK CONTINUED. ] COLOHS OFTHE EARTH. _ The Omistiii Cliffs of Grncnlnml Green on to ! .Moora. The wonderful difference between the same landscape in winter and in summer is a phenomenon familiar to a'l ' dwellers in the temperate zones. The two great elements of changes are the presence of snow in winter and of leaves and grass in summer. f we could look at our globe from the moon the variation in its aspect due to seasonal changes would per haps bo even more striking than it appears to those upon its surface. in fact , we sometimes loss sight of the very important part which vege tation plays in giving color to what might bo called the countenance of lac planet , says Youth's Companion. It is not the high forms of plants that always produce the greatsst ef fect in this way. Rome of the most striking .scenes upon earth ows their characteristic features to mosses and licbciia. The famous "crimson I cliffs" of Greenland , which extend for miles northward from Cape York. derive their splendid color from the growth of red lichen which covers their faces. The cliffs rise between 1,700 and 2.00U feet straight from the water's edge , and being composed of gray granite their aspect would bo en tirely different from what it is But for the presence of the lichen. " Coming to less magnificent but not less baautiful scenery , the rocky pass called the Golden Gats in the Yellowstone national park owes its rich color and its nameto the yel low lichen covering its lofty walls ; and the indescribable lines of the great hot-spring terraces arise mainly from the prcaencu of minute plants nourishing in the water that o/er- n flows them. p Considered as a whole , the vegetation a tation of a planet may give it a char aa ah acteristic aspect as viewed from a space. Many have thought that the tl red color of Mars may be due to the tlti existence of rod instead of green Q vegetation there. That its broad expanses of forest vo and prairie land cause the earth to reilect a considerable quantity of j t green light to its neighbors is indii i catcd by the fact that at the time of the new moon a greenish tint hag been detected overspreading tha part of the lunar surface v.'hich is Then illuminated only by light from I the earth. Have no friends not equal to 3'oar- j ! self. Goaf ucius. I TALMAGE'S SE MOK . 'STORM CLOUDS BRIGHTENED" | SUNDAY'S SUBJECT. ] ITrom the Text Job 37:21 ns Follows : "And Now Mon See Not tlio Urlght Light Which Is In the Clouds' ' Com fort of Christian Teachings. Wind east. Barometer falling. Storm- signals out. Ship reefing maintopsail ! Awnings taken in. Prophecies of foul weather everywhere. The clouds con gregate around the sun , proposing to abolish him. But after a while he as sails the flanks of the clouds with fly ing artillery of light , and here and there is a sign of clearing weather. Many do not observe it. Many do not realize it. "And now men see not the bright light which is in the clouds. " In other words there are a hundred men looking for storm where there is one niaii looking for sunshine. My object will be to get you and myself into the delightful habit of making the best of everything. You may have wondered at the sta tistics that in India , in the year 1875 , there were over 19,000 people slain by wild beasts , and that in the year 1876 there were in India over 20,000 people destroyed by wild animals. But there is a monster in our own laud which is year by year destroying more than that. It is the old bear of melancholy , and with gospel weapons I propose to chase it back to its midnight caverns. I mean to do two sums a sum in sub traction and a sum in addition a sub traction from your days of depression and an addition to your days of joy. If God will help me I will compel you to see the bright light that there is in the clouds , and compel you to make the best of everything. In the first place , you ought to malu the very best of all your financial mis fortunes. During the panic a few years ago you all lost money. Some of you lost it in most unaccountable ways. For the question , "How many thous ands of dollars shall I put aside this year ? " you substituted the question , "How shall I pay my butcher , and baker , and clothier , and landlord ? " You had the sensation of rowing hard with two oars , and yet all the time going clown stream. You did not say much about it be cause it was not politic to speak much of financial embarrassment ; but your wife knew. Less variety of wardrobe , more economy at the table , self-denial in art and tapestry. Compression ; re trenchment. Who did not feel the ne cessity of it ? My friend , did you make the best of this ? Are you aware of how narrow an escape you made ? Sup pose you had reached the fortune to ward which you were rapidly going ? What then ? You would have been as proud as Lucifer. How few men have succeeded largely in j a financial sense and ydt maintained their simplicity and religious consecra tion ! Not one man out of a hundred. There are glorious exceptions , but the general rule is that in proportion as a man gets well off for this world he gets poorly off for the next. He loses his sense of dependence on God. He gets a , distaste for prayer meetings. With plenty of bank stocks and plenty of government securities , what does that man knows of prayer , "Give me this day my daily bread ? " How few men largely successful in this world are bringing souls to Christ , or showing self-denial for others , or are eminent for piety ! You can count them all up on your eight fingers and two thumbs. One of the old covetous souls , when he was sick , and sick unto death , used to have a basin brought in a basin filled with gold , and his only amusement - ment and the only relief he got for his inflamed hands was running them down through the gold and turning it up in the basin. Oh , what infatuation and what destroying power money has for many a man ! Now , you were sailing at thirty knots the hour toward th se vortexes of worldliness what a mercy t was , that honest defalcation ! The same divine hand that crushed your store-house , your bank , your office , your insurance company , lifted you out * of destruction. The day you honestly suspended in business made your fortune - S tune for eternity. a "Ohr" you say. "I could get along S very well myself , but I am so disappointed - j pointed that I cannot leave a compe tence for my children. " My brother , a the same financial misfortune that is c going to save your soul will save your children. With the anticipation of " large fortune , how much industry s would your children have ? without T which habit of industry there is no safety. The young man would say , "Well , there's no need of my working ; my father will soon step out , and then I'll have just what I want. " You cannot - ? not hide from him how much you are * worth. You think you are hiding it ; e he knows all about it. He can tell you almost to a dollar. Perhaps he has been to the county office and searched the records of deeds and mortgages , and he has added it all up , and he has ! made an estimate of how long you will " probably stay in this world , and is not as much worried about your rheumat ism and shortness of breath as you are. The only fortune worth anything that you can give your child is the for tune you put in his head and heart. Of all the young men who started life with $40.000 capital , how many turned out well ? I do not know half a dozen. Again. I remark , you ought to make the very best of your bereavements. The whole tendency is to brood over these separations , and to give much time to the handling of mementoes of the departed , and to make long visita tions to the cemetery , and to say , "Oh , can never look up again ; my 1'ope is gone : my courage is gone ; ray religion : jone : my faith in God 5s one ! Oh. the wear and tear and exhaustion cf this loneliness ! " The most frequent bereavement Is the loss of children. If your departed child had lived as long as you have lived , do you not suppose that he would have had about the same amount of trouble and trial that you have had ? If you could make a choice for'your child between forty years of annoyance , loss , vexation , exaspera tion and bereavements , and forty years in heaven , would you take the respon sibility of choosing the former ? Would you snatch away the cup of eternal bliss and put into that child's hands the cup of many bereavements ? Instead of the complete safety into which that child has been lifted , would you like to hold it down to the risks of this mortal state ? Would you like to keep it out on a sea in which there have been more shipwrecks than safe voy ages ? Is it not a comfort to you to know that that child , instead of being besoiled and flung into the mire of sin , is swung clear into the skies ? Are not those children to be congratulated that the point of celestial bliss which you expect to reach by a pilgrimage of fifty or sixty or seventy years , they reached at a flash ? If the last ten thousand children who had entered heaven had gone through the average of human life on earth , are you sure all those ten thousand children would have finally reached the blissful terminus ? Besides that , my friends , you are to look at this matter as a self-denial on your part for their benefit. If your children want to go off in a Maj'-day party ; if your children want to go on a flowery and musical excursion , you consent. You might prefer to have them with you , but their jubilant absence satis fies you. Well , your departed children have only gone out in a May-day par ty , amid flowery and musical entertain ment , amid joys and hilarities forever. That ought to quell some of your grief , the thought of their glee. Some of you talk as though God had exhausted himself in building this 'urld , and that all the rich curtains he ever made he hung around this plan et , and all the flowers he ever grew he has woven into the carpet of our dais ied meadows. No. This world is not the best thing God can do ; this world is not the best thing that God has done. One week of the year is called bios- som week called so all through the land because there are more blossoms in that week than in any other week of the year. Blossom week ! And that is what the future world is to which the Christian is invited blossom week forever. It is as far ahead of this world as Paradise is ahead of Dry Tor- tugas , and yet here we stand shivering and fearing to go out , and we want to stay on the dry sand , and amid the stormy petrels , when we are invited to arbors of jessamine and birds of pare adise. One season I had two springtimes , I went to New Orleans in April , and I marked the difference between going toward New Orleans and then coming 1 back. As I went on down toward New Orleans the verdure , the foliage , bet came thicker and mere beautiful. When I came back , the further I came toward t home the less the foliage , and less and less it became until there was hardly any. Now , it all depends upon the direction - rection in which you travel. If a spirit from heaven should come toward a our world , he is traveling from June h toward December , from radiance to- If ward darkness , from hanging gardens w toward icebergs. And one would not w be very much surprised if a spirit of tl God sent forth from heaven toward our world should be slow to come. But how strange it is that we dread going out toward that world when going is C from December toward June from the snow of earthly storm to the snow of ! Si Edenic blossom from the arctics of f trouble toward the tropics of eternal It joy. joy.Ob si Ob , what an ado about dying ! We sifr get so attached to the malarial marsh frhi in which we live that we are afraid to hiD go up and live on the hilltop. We are al alarmed because vacation is coming. alp Eternal sunlight , and best programme p of celestial minstrels and hallelujah , m no inducement. Let us stay here and p keep cold and ignorant and weak. Do ai not introduce us to Elijah , and John al Milton and Bcurdaloue. Keep our feet se on the sharp cobble-stones of earth instead tl stead of planting them on the bank of amaranth in heaven. Give us this 1O small island of a leprous world instead " of the immensities of splendor and de a light. Keep our hands full of nettles , abe be and cur shoulder under the burden , beT and our neck in the yoke , and hopples on our ankles , and handcuffs on our mW' W' wrists. "Dear Lord , " we seem to say , ct "keep ns down nere where we have to suffer , instead of letting us up where cc hi we might live and reign and rejoice. " I am amazed at myself and at yourself taTl Tl self for this infatuation under which deer we all rest. Men you would suppose or would get frightened at having to stay orw in this world instead of getting frightened ' 'ul ened at having to go toward heaven. I congratulate anybody who has a right to die. By that I mean through sick ness you cannot avert , or through acci dent you cannot avoid your work con bu summated. "Where did they bury feiGi Lily ? " said one little child to another. Gi "Oh , " she replied , "they buried her in ca the ground. " "What ! in the cold ch ground ? " "Oh , no , no ; not in the cold ar ground , but in the warm ground , where nc ugly seeds become beautiful flowers. " Ce "But , " says some one. "it pains me so much to think that I must lose the body with which my soul has so long companioned. " You do not lose it. You .no mere Icse your body by death iia than you loss your watch when jou da send it to have it repaired , or your sti jewel when you send it to have it reset , re or the faded picture when you send it in inv to have it touched up , or the photo \ ve < graph of a friend when you have it put in a new locket. You do not lose your hotly. Paul will go to Rome to get his. T ! Payson will go to Portland to get his. President Edwards will go to Princeton ru to get his , George Cooknian- will go > to > the bottom of the Atlantic to- get his. and we will go to the village churchV yards and the city cemeteries to get ours ; and when we have-our perfect spirit rejoined to our perfect ! body , then : we will be the kind of men and women that the resurrection morning will ! make possible. So you see you have not made out' any doleful story yet. What have you proved about death ? What Is the case * you have made out ? You have made out Just this that death allows us to have a perfect body , free of all aches , united forever with a perfect soul free from all sin. Correct your theology. What does it all mean ? Why , It means that moving day is coming , and that you are going to quit cramped apart ments , and be mansioned forever. The horse that stands at the gate will not be the one lathered and bespattered , carrying bad news , but it will be the horse that St. John saw in Apocalyptic vision the white horse on which the King comes to the banquet. The ground > ' fl around the palace will quake with the tires and hoofs of celestial equipage , and those Christians who in this world lost their friends and lost their prop erty , and lost their health , and lost their life , will find out that God was always kind , and that all things work ed together for their good , and that those were the wisest people on earth who made the best of everything. See you not now the bright light in the clouds ? GLADSTONE PICTURES. Story of Ills Physiognomy ns Told by tlio Brush. One of the curious things about Mr. Gladstone is the difference which years have produced both in his appearance and expression. At all times he must have been a handsome man. But strangely enough , when he entered the house of commons in his twenty-sec- _ end year , it was the beauty that seem ed to point to premature death. "His face , " said Mr. McCarthy , "was pallid , almost bloodless , " and the pallor was brought into greater life by the abun dant and intensely black hair and the J large , fiery black eyes that blazed up on the world. Different portraits of Mr. Gladstone form an interesting study. The face that looks cut from the portrait of 1832 is thin : the fea tures look sharp ; the cheeks have the smoothness and the moderate fullness of youth ; of the mouth , beautifully shaped , full , and yet not large , the dominant expression is sweetness and tranquillity. In a later picture one sees the cheeks expanding , the chin getting squarer , the brow heavier and the mouth stronger , larger and grim mer. The expression is altogether one of seriousness , strenuousness , almost of frowning earnestness. And then when one comes to the portraits of old age there is ano'ther and quite as great a transformation. The heavy , black locks < have , of course , disappeared , and this brings out the enormous size of the ] head , large in brow and in back ; the mouth appears , again , to be fuller than ] even in middle age , and the whole face has broadened ; but the expression has lost all the stern and strenuous gravity of middle age , as well as the sweet softness of youth , and there is genial smile , as of the warrior who has done all his fighting and can now look with some detachment , and even with some humor , on the battlefield which knows him no more. McCar thy's Life of Gladstone. Died for His Mistress. A line instance of canine devotion comes to us from Kansas , through the columns of the Topeka State Journal. Samuel Dodge , a ranchman , living southwest of Topeka , went to Vinita , Indian Territory , on business , and shortly after he had gone , Bessie , his five-year-old girl , wandered away from home in an attempt to follow him. Mrs. Dodge discovered the child's absence about two hours after Mr. Dodge's de parture. ; She made a search of the premises ] , and failing to find the child , notified the neighbors of her disap pearance. They turned out in force , and scoured the prairies all day , and all that night and all the next day , searching for the little wanderer. Late the following evening an Indian came upon 1 her fast asleep just south of Post Dak ; creek , in an old road known as the whisky trail. " Across her bcdy stood Newfoundland dcg , which had always been her companion about the ranch , fhe ! dog was torn and bleeding , and near his feet lay the bodies of two wolves. ' Although the little girl's cheeks were stained with tears and : covered with dust she , was quite un banned. She and her protector were taken home , a distance of twelve miles * Ihe dog died that night. He received a lecent burial , and his master at once jrdered a marble monument , which svill be placed at the head of the faith- animal's grave. The Farmer Prosperity's FottmTutloij. Bunco Bill - ' BillThere's no use talking. usiness is improving. The farmers are 'eeling easier than for four years past. " Granger Grip "Xo dream , pardner ! I ran report three gold brick sales , eight rhecks cashed and sixteen jays shown iround town for last week , as against lothing but the sale of a ticket to entral Park for the corresponding veek of last year. " Puck. Washington Evening Star : "It secnu larder for men to fae really great nbwa- lays than it was years ago , " said the student of " ' history. "That's very true. " eplicd Senator Sorghum ; "very true , indeed. But I am inclined to think get better paid for it nowadays. " Cigars are often referred to as weeds. Fhe reason is obvious. Scorchers and gossips are always running other people down.