Indianapolis Journal, Indianapolis, Marion County, 5 February 1888 — Page 2

THE INDIAKAPOIiTS JOURNAL, SUN DAT, IEBRUAUY 5, 188 8-TWE LVE PAG-ES.

V 6y Special ArranyemeHtConrri-jhltd. 1393.1

PAlETIIORP'S PASSION. I1Y A. E. LAXCASTEK. A small private hotel .n a side street la New York, half-sheeted in flatus and smoke; a compact, yelling crowd; engines, horses, ladders, policemen, shouts, tumult, a midsummer sky star-dotted; from the. third story of the- hotel a broken fire-escape banging useless; among the crowd men, women, children half dressed, escaped from the flames. Suddenly the figure of a young girl clad in a xtigbt dress appears at one of the smoke-framed windows, toward which tongues of flames are beginning to stretch. If she shrieks bo one hears, the noise and confusion are so great She watches with clasped bands the descent from the window of a man down the long ladder balanced against it. The man carries an old woman scantily clad. As be reaches the sidewalk and gives her into the keeping of strangers there, the old woman casts one look upward, sees the figure standing ins: at the window, exclaims, "My daughter! Save ber!" and falls fainting. The man docs sot hesitate. Though smoke and lire have grown more furious, he reascends, catches the white, little, shrinking timid figure in bis strong arms, and once more feels his way down tha ladder amid the cheers of the crowd. God knows whether in those perilous moments the man's heart beat quicker for the tieht pressure of that delicious burden so closely against it Jteaching the pavement the girl, enveloped in bawls thrown around her, exclaims: "Ton fcare saved my life how ever can I thank you? 'Toar namer exclaims the man. 'Curfew Mary Curfew. And yours!" The ladder falls. They aro torn roughly apart by the surging crowd ere the question can be answered. The girl and ber mother flod refuge In a neighboring house, where clothing and shelter are provided. Worn oat, they fait asleep in eaeh other's arms. Their unknown preserver, unharmed, is obliged to bnrry from the dying I fire to catch the midnight train that bears bim ft a distant city. All througn the journey he Minuses upon the young, pure face that had been ipressed so near to bis, and he murmured to himself repeatedly "Mary Curfew." iThts rescue was the first brave act I ever performed, and I gloried in it. I was a physician, oaly twenty-five, straggling for an existence among the warfare of the medical profession in LxJew York city. I was relationless, and a bach elor. On that summer midnight 1 was on my way to catch tbe train for Philadelphia, whence I had been telegraphed professionally. What Inspired me to do the deed I do not know. It was my first act of heroic courage. Perhaps it will be my last Very likely. Making mv way Ftbrough the crowd I ow the two helpless berings, the old woman and the young gin, flame berirt As 1 bore tbe former in my arms l (thought simply of motherhood and tbe reverlence due to it As l clasped the girl against my breast, as in a dream. 1 felt the delirium of a ' burden I had never felt before. A year passed. I had never got rid of the image of Mary Curfew. It mingled with all my duties and employments. In tbe newspaper accounts of the fire her name did not appear. I Neither did tbat of her rescuer, for the falline ladder had created a panic in tbe crowd, and scattered tbe inquiring group of which he I formed the center. On my return from Pbilafdelpi. ia, where I bad been detained a week, I jbad ben unable to trace her. She and ber mother for such I took the eider woman to be had disappeared without a clew. The adventjure promised no sequel. I bad only one intimate rriend residing at a distance from New York, and bim I had never seen. It happened in this wise: Occasionally 1 leavened bard work by reading a noveL One ' evening I picked up "A Modern Inferno, " by a I new author, Edgar Haven. It was a brilliant piece of work, crude but powerful, showing -more imagination tban knowledge of life, and I betraying the effort to make intuition perform tbe task of experience. But it was so full of strength and charm that I addressed the author, through bis publishers, one of those ingenious letters of burning eulogy which are seldom written after twenty-five. Result, a letter of tbanka ; dated from tbe little town of Silverton, in the , northern part of West Virginia. From those i two letters quickly flamed an animated correspondevce at the rate of three missives per weeK from each party. Presently I found I could not eive np this correspondence if I would. Raven's letters revealed a virtue so rich, so varied, so delicate, so noetic, so strong and so unique that I resolved that the first time I could spare three days I would traverse tbe five hundred miles that separated us and enjoy bis company, at least for once, during the greater part of twentyyfour hours. There was no hope of bis coming liitber, at any rate until his second novel should fee completed, and that would not be for a twelve-month longer. It was to this friend, toward the end of the first year of our epistolary acquaintance, tbat I ventured to speak of the love which had so Strangely and instantaneously been borne into Xny heart. I related to him tbe episode of the lire and all the accompanying incidents. I ex?lalaed how tbe flames had stamped the girl's eatnres npon my camera of memory. I stated with all tbe eloquence I could master the profundity and ineffactability of tbe impression. His reply was sympathetic, appreciative. I wrote more and more upon tbe subject, nntil he perceived how irrevocable was the grasp that ii ad been laid npon me. Judge of my surprise when one day I received from him a letter contaming the following sentence: "Yon will be amazed to hear that I have discovered a family residing in Silverton nam ed ICarfew. I will tell you more about them in tiny next. How remarkable, if the young girl wbota you rescued should prove to be one of its I mem tiers!" With what a fever of anxiety I awaited the rsext letterl When it came tbe information was: I "I bave made eertain of the following facts: ythat tbe family of wbich 1 spoke is the only jfamilv of the name at Silverton; that it consists pt only two persons; that those two persons are Ls young lady and an old man." I An old man! It was an old woman I had Lea red. Then it was not my mysterious disap- ' tearer after alL The next letter reawakened hope, however, for it said: "1 have discovered .bat tbe young lady s Christian name is Maida, (not Mary. May it not be just possible that she lis identical with tbe one von seek? In the noise and tumnlt of the fire, is it not probable that you may bave misunderstood Maida, rapidly utItered, for Mary!" Yes, that did seem possible, and I was thank ful tbat Raven's view of the matter coincided with my own. The next thing was to get the .dear fellow to procure me the address of Miss Curfew, and to endeavor to find out whether ber , appearance coincided with my description of her, and also whether she bad ever visited New fYork. In due time an answer came. I transcribe only tbat portion of my friend's letter which relates to the matter in hand. It.said: I have bean more successful tban you would bare , 1een inclined to predict. The Curfews live in the ("last house toward the north of the main street that yrans through Silverton. It is a white cottage, surrounded by a garden. Last Sunday the young lady was pointed out to me as I was leaving church. She appeared to me to be fair many would call her beau- . tiful with the golden hair, the dark brows and the slender form that have helped to captivate your unhappy heart. But oh! my friend, I have such a heavy disappointment for yon. The yonng lady is not Miss Curfew. She is married. She is Mrs. Curfew. She is the wife of that old man. I crushed tbe letter with a demon's grin. I felt as though my head would burst with the blood that surged into it. The room swam before my injected eyes. There I sat I know not how long; mat', motionless, in this catalepsy of despair. When 1 was able to arouse myself I performed my professional work with mechanical intelligence. My brain acted with the numbness of an automaton. If one of my curable patients died that day, heaven grant it was not due to my paralysis of thought I did not write to Ravn for a fortnight It was the first time tbat a silence longer tban three days had happend during our acquaintance, and the state to which I was reduced despised language. My silence reacted upon bim, for be eeased to write, too. Perhaps a sense of the anguish he had caused made him timid about putting pen to paper. At length, when two weeks bad run their interminable course, there came to me a letter from Silverton in Raven's Urge, clear, bo!d hand, containing these ; words: I am afraid to write to you, for I find that I have i mad a most dread.nl blunder. The blunder consists ' in my not Laving taken pains to verify tbe answers made to me. A week ago 1 met the young lady at the Louse of a mutual friend. She is not married. Her name is Miss Curfew-s-Miss Maida Curfew. Moreover she was in New York once. She spoke to me of She fire, and of ber being rescued by a stranger of whose name she ha -emained ignorant. She has expressed herself fi , admiration and gratitude. Now what do yon wsri n.e to dot bhall I tell her that her rescuer is Dr. 11 ry I'aleihorp, of New York. Or do you wioh first to d Jre her by letter, in order that you may macage matters entirely yourself 1 Instinctively I sank upon my kneep, and lifted my eyes to heaven in gratitude. I might then hope to realize the rapture which .1 had

secretly cherished as a possibility. As I regained my seat I unconsciously turned the letter over, and there, written closely against the topmost edge of the ebeet, I read this postscript: "I ought to add tbat Miss Curfew has a lover, an extremely handsome young man, who is ardently devoted to her. They are reported to be engaged." I knew not with what curse I tore the sheet into fragments and stamped upon them in the impotency of my rage. I was young, yon see, and though I sometimes laughed at tbe nerves of others, I had not yet learned to practice the seif-control I prescribed. This is the only time that Raven or Edgar, as I had now become intimate enough to call bim had ever acted in a manner which I thought unfriendly. It struck me tbat, knowing all tbe torture I had undergone, be ought to have broken tbe unhappy news to me more gently; tbat he ought to have made certain, before writing, that the parties were betrothed, or not betrothed, "Reported to be engaged" might mean nothing, or it might mean everything. It was quite possible that the man might be desperately in love witn her, as I was, and yet not be betrothed. Sucb things happened every day all the world over. Tbe love might not be reciprocal. Her heart might be free. She did remember her rescuer. She had spoken of him with gratitude and admiration. True, if there is anything a lover hates it is gratitude from tbe object of bis love. Still I could not expect her to bave any other feeling for me. Bat sbe was 500 miles away. Her lover was near her. Would it be possible for me to oust bim and take his placet If she loved him and they were advancing in bliss to the marriage day, wonld I not be a wretch even to wish to step between? I balanced this question over and over again nntil my mind became so confused tbat in an agony I sat down and wrote the following to Edgar: I foresee that my mental and bodily health demands that 1 should put an end as soon as possible to the torture I undergo. You may laugh if you choose, and say it is absurd for me to have fallen so deeply in love with a girl whom I saw but once, and of whom all that I know is that she is respectable and beautiful. I say in reply that facts are stronger than our preconceptions are of what facts ought to be. My love started into life amid the names as I may say that I have lived amid the flames ever si ceo. I shall go to Silverton in a few days. I will see this girl with my own eyes. I will firH out by some means whether she reciprocates the lo're of this young man (whose name, by the way, you have not told me), and my subsequent actions will be the rational sequel to that discovery. If she loves him and he is worthy of her, rest assured I shall not annoy her. I shall not claim even her gratitude what is her gratitde to me when it is she herself I am after! But if she loves bim not, then I have the right to take my chance, and try to prevail upon her to think that I may be worthy of holding the place which be aspires to. To this I received a reply, the gist of which was: "To-day is Thursday; leave, if possible, so as to call upon me at 10 o'clock Sunday morning." I immediately telegraphed tbat I would leave New York early on Saturday morning, so as to arrive at my destination a few hours after Saturday midnight, and tbat he might expect me at his residence at the hour mentioned. After.that 1 visited a number of patients. On my return, late in the evening, I found this dispatch from Raven awaiting me: "Will meet you at station and go with you to hotel" This certainly was very kind. Instead of allowing me to go to my hotel alone, be intended to meet me so as to make me feel as much at home as one can feel in alighting in a strange place. It had indeed often struck me tbat though I had frequently urged Edgar to stay with me when he came to New York, he bad never once hinted that, should I viait Silverton, he would like to become my host. But then, I reflected, there may be family reasons though no family bad ever been mentioned. He may have an invalid father or mother; he may live in a style poorer than tbe luxurious one be may impute to me; he may even be married, and his married life, which he has not even mentioned, may be so happy, or so unhappy, that he does cot wish a soul to witness it However, I was in too much of a flurry to give the matter much thought I was going to see a friend who bad become deer to me tbrouth the intimate intercourse of a twelvemonth. Above all I was going to set eyes upon tbe beautiful girl whom I bad worshiped so ardently, and who held my happiness in ber bands. An intolerable journey by rail and stage brought me to my journey:s end at about 4 o'clock on Sundaynornine. Edgar and I knew eaeh other by the photographs we bad recently exchanged. A moment after I had set foot in the station I felt my hand warmly grasped, and a deep, musical voice exclaimed: "Harry! I'm delighted to meet yon!" Yes, there he was, standing beside me, Edgar Raven, the brilliant young genius with whom I had so strangely become intimate. He was a few years older than I, but very handsome (which I waa not) the perfect realization of the Ehotograph which stood on my mantel-piece at ome. Of course, a thousand questions were exchanged, but 1 must limit my narration to what strictly concerns tbe passing episode of my life. After we were seated in my room at the hotel, and one or two subordinate quostions had been disposed of, I said: "And Maida Curfew do you know I have made np my mind to call upon her to-morrow morning, and introduce myself!" A change passed over Raven's face almost a spasm. He cleared his throat, and pouring some brandv from the flask I had with me. he

Piped the liquor and spoke these words: 'TVio fntt. ia liniir hnv vnn will be dre&dfnllv angry with me but no such person as Maida Curfew exists in Silverton." 1 listened to him in horror. "You mean to say " I exclaimed. "I mean to say," he continued," "that you have been the subject of a jest of mine from first to last Of course Maida or Mary Curfew exists, since yon have met her. She exists somewhere upon the earth, unless she has died. I saw how anxious you were. Harry, I am a novelist, you know. I work with people's feelings and 'emotions. Novelists seldom have an opportunity of exploring tbe inner recesses of a soul so thoroughly as you gave me tbe opportunity of doing. I could not help myself. You threw the temptation in my way. I have made a study of ' yonr passionate nature. My next novel will be greatly superior to 'A Modern Inferno.'" I listened to this speech in silence. It shattered two illusions at a blow. It showed me tbat I was as far as ever from reaching the one spirit that I loved, and it unmasked the selfish deceit of a heartless trifler. "Wretch!" I exclaimed, starting to my feet. "Do you mean to tell me there is not a word of truth in tbe statements you made to roe so long? Do you mean to say that tbe story of the young girl and tbe old man, of the name of Maida in stead of Mary, of the marriage, of the lover, of all these things which bave Kept me in suspense so long that they are all lies?" "Yes, answered Hidgar, calmly, "lies if. you choose to call tbem so. My dear boy, I have to study hearts, even though the hearts should break upon the inspection. In fact a breaking heart, wbat can be more interesting?" I stood before bim and answered with unnat ural calmness: "I brought you the truest admiratipn and friendship, tbe most generous loyalty and devotion that ever man off ered to man. I opened to you the most sacred depths of nature, and allowed you to see how infatuated I was with a girl, for whose sake I almost forgot divinity. You have sported with these high emotions. In doicg this you have takeu the ground from underneath my friend ship. You have turned my esteem into contempt, and my affection into loathing. Leave the room instantly, and never venture to speak or write to me again, not even on your death-bed, not even to ask my pardon," and so saymg I flung wide the door and pointed ont in to the ball. He arose, and'with an expression of low cunning, dashed with remorse, wbich distorted the surpassing beauty of his face, walked slowly out. As he passed me I restrained with diffi culty an impulse to clutch bis tbroat and strangle him there and then, with the fresh moon-light of a great broadening summer dawn glorifying all around ma. But even as he passed I flung bard tbe door with a violence tbat must Lave bruised bis departing beeL All that day that summer Sunday, with the mingled scents of rustie life floating to my quivering nostrils through the open windows! I spent it partly in the comatose condition of one stricken by an irreparable shock, partly in sobs, wbich betokened the utterness with which all my dearest illusions were dispelled. Toward sundown a sudden thought broke through tbe cloud of feeling an illuminating thought tbat went like a beam of light through all my nature. "This wretch." I said to myself, "being a liar by nature, may have lied to me even while in this room. Perbaps there is a Maida Curfew here in Silverton. Perhaps she lives at the place be told me of. Perhaps he himself is tbe lover whose name be did not mention. But if so, why did he telegraph me to come? Ah! I understand! He would become a master in bis school of romance, aol he loves to study emotion. So he deluded me hither in order to study despair face to face. Possessed witn the idea, unwarranted as it may seem, I dressed myself, and going down stairs, sought the landlord of tbat quaint oldfashioned inn. Of bim I inquired whether a family of tbe name of Curfew resided within the limits of tbe town. CurfewT Well he should think so. all that remained of tbem grandmother and granddaughter, the last house on Maygorce street. I swallowed my amazement. (though the gooa man must nave guessed from my looks that be had told me something astonishing and palatable) and set forth wondering what new mystery was now to be unraveled. As I walked along, a sudden exaltation jumped into my heart and tbe very sun-sparkles in this balmy air seemed

motes of Joy. Perhaps it was all true. Perhaps

my Maida lived as I had pictured her, and then I walked rapidly on until I came near tbe end of Maygorge street and saw the open country stretching beyond. When I bad quite reached the end I caused, for a lonely cottage stood on each side of tbe street Eacn cottage was sur rounded by a garden; and both Karen, when be bad written to me, and my laudlord, wnen di rectiog me. bad omitted to say cpon which side tbe Curfew cottage stood. Wbile I was standing there, hidden behind a tree. I saw a man, whose face was concealed by the wide brim of a slouched hat, standing in tbe front garden of the cottage on the east side of the road. As I looked, 1 saw bim furtively withdraw his band frpm the inside of one of the low, wide-opened windows. His hand was empty, so tbat tbe movement was as though he bad placed something away. He was evidently not a thief. No; be was not a tbief; for as he stepped stealthily and quickly along, and passed through the garden gate and down tbe road, I saw beneath the slouched hat s brim tbe marvelously handsome featnreaof Edgar Raven. Was this cottage, then, hie residence? Or waa it the Curfews', and did he live with them? On the supposition that be was Maida's lover, this theory was dismissed. Could it De then, tnat. after all, Maida was really married, and tbat this wretch was her husband? I bad gon through too much to pause now. As soon as Raven had passed down Maygorge street and was out of hearing, I approached the cot tage and rang the bell. My cold bands, beating heart, trembling knees, and swimming head testified to tbe nervous horror that oppressed me. In another moment I beard some one coming slowly to the door. It opened. Before me stood the old woman whom I had saved. She did not recognize me. "Does Miss Curfew live here?" The old woman looked at me keenly. "Yes, sir," Bhe answered. "And Mr. Raven?" I asked, the question came from me against my wish. "Yes sir," answered the old woman in the same hesitating manner. "He lives here too." So it was true! Tbat fatherless liar, that remorseless vivisector of human hearts, lived under the same roof with my darling. "Will you please give Miss Curfew my card?" I was shown into the parlor. No one was there. Without pausing an instant I advanced to the window through which I had seen Raven withdraw his arm. On a small table whose top was about on a line with tbe window-sill lay a letter bearing the simple address, "Miss Maida Curfew." While I was glancing at it the door opened and the angel of my dreams stood before me, more beautiful in her modest composnre tban when upon tbat wild night I bad strained ber to my breast. Once within the room, she blushed slightly, and I blushed, too. "You you do not know me," I stammered. "Not know you?" she exclaimed, in accents of the deepest gratitude, "not know tbe man who saved my grandmother's life and mine?" as she held one of my bands in both of hers, while ber features looked still more beautiful in their deepening flush. "But how is tbat posstble?" I asked. She paused. "Mr. Raven told me you were to be here at 10 this morning." "But I should not have thought that possible." I replied, "since he told me this morning tbat no such person as Miss Curfew resided in Silverton." We had sat down. At these words she almost sprung to ber feet "Mr. Raven told you so?" "Certainly. He met me at the station about 4 o'clock this morning and accompanied me to my room." She rose rapidly from her seat, her faee flushing painfully. "He and 1 had become intimate friends," I added, and explained briefly the circumstances that had made us so. "May I ask how you recognized each .other, seeing that you had never met," she asked. I explained the exchange of photographs. Shades of confnsion and surprise passed over her features. Then taking from tbe mantlepiece a photograph I had not noticed, she handed it to me and eaid: Is this the gentleman who met you at the station?" I looked. Yes; there were the magnificent features again. Here was the phototype of tbe likeness on my mantel in New York. As I looked at it, I heard Miss Curfew utter an exclamation of surprise. Her eves had fallen on the letter, and she ejaculated: "How came this here?" I described the circumstances under which I had seen Mr. Raven place it there only a few moments ago. "Will you excuse me?" she said, and as I turned away she opened the envelope. Silence ensued I looked out of the wiodow. In a moment more "Read! read!" she exclaimed, and taking the letter which she extended I read the following: Dearest Maida By the time you read this note I shall be on my way from Silverton never to return to it in all my life. I write this not from penitence or from remorse, but because ray offense has been detected at the postoffice, and I dare not remain here another hour. Sooner or later you must know all the truth. I prefer that you should know it all from me. My position at the postoffice enabled me to openhitherto without detection various letters, the address of which excited my curiosity or cupidity. Some of those which passed between Edgar Raven and Dr. Palethorp thus came to my knowledge. I found that Dr. Palethorp was about to visit you. I was frenzied for an opportunity to see him, in order to judge what kind of a man he was. I knew of no readier way than that of adopting the name of Edgar Raven the friend to whom he was so attached. I did so, telegraphing, under that signature, that I would meet him at the station early this morning. Upon meeting him (I knew him by the photograph I had seen in Raven's possession), I felt doubly furious, for I saw tbat he was an honorable man. I lied to him. I told him you did not live here that your existence was an invention. He believed me. I hoped to drive him back to New York without seeing you. In the madness of the moment I c'id not stop to think that on his arrival there, fresh letters would continue to reach him from Raven, and that though he might for a time decline to answer them, the final explanation, could only be deferred, and my pertididy be discovered. Farewell. I would kill myself if I dared. Since I do not dare, I take to flight. Yours eternally, Charles Plaisted. Amazed at this iniquity, I gazed at her in questioning silence. "Thank God it is so," I exclaimed at last "Raven remains to me my truest friend. There was a conspiracy between him and me for me to meet you. Is he in the house?" "Yes, I left him up stairs. I will go and bring him, and leave you alone together, for I know that he esteems you, as much as you do bim." She was gone. I heard her light feet mount the stairs. There was entire silence for a few moments, and then I heard feet returning. The door opened. Miss Curfew entered alone. "Dr. Palethrop," she eaid in an embarrassed tone. "I am afraid you will be disappointed, but 1 am t,dgar Kaven." Then, e'er I could speak a word, as all that this implied flashed across me, she continued rapidly: "I wrote The Modern Inferno! I chose tbe name of Edgar Raven simply from caprice. It has not yet transpired that Edgar Raven is a girl a woman I was flattered immensely flattered by your appreciation. I wrote you as I did, first to give spice to a monotonous life. Then I was ashamed to tell the truth. I could not see my way and I made all tbe misrepresentation I did to see whether O bow can I say it whether I could tire your patience. I sent Mr. Plaisted's photograph because, of course, I could not send my own. H9 was one of the very few who knew the secret of my adopted name but ah" She hid her face in her hands, but the blushes were visible through her fingers. I do not know how I did it. Bnt in a moment more I bad her in mv arms, exclaiming, passionatelv, "I love you! I love yon!" for bad we not explored each other's sonls, and was there mnch more left to be said? We loved each other perfectly. The dear old grandmother came in, and wept and laughed over onr romsnce, and a year hence was as proud and happy a great-grandmother as we could wish to see. The Ways of Women. Saadi: A handsome woman is a jewel; a good woman a treasure. Boncicault: I wish Adam had died with all his ribs in bis body. Bulwer: To a gentleman every woman is a lady in right of her sex. Cowley: What is woman? Only ofjj of nature's agreeable blunders. ; Rochefoucauld: A fashionable' woman is always in love with herself. Victor -Hugo: Women detest., a trpent through professional jealousy. - , j Cervantes: All women are good-'. ,,4 for something or good for nothing. 7. , George Eliot: A passionate woman' love is always overshadowed by her fear. Heine: Handsome women Without religion are the flowers without the perfume. " Shakspeare: There was never yet. a fair woman bat she made mouths in a glass. ., ' Cervantes: Between a woman's "yes" and "no" I would not venture to stick a pin. Socrates: Trust not a woman when she weeps, for it is her nature to weep when ahe waTits her way. Jean Ingalow: Oh, woman! thou wert fashioned to beguile, so have all sages said, all poets sung. Voltaire: Ideas are like beards men never have any until they grow up, and women none at all. ' After Careful Observation. Nebraska State Journal. There is reason to believe that the man who wears a long blonde beard should not chew tobacco, excepting when in exile.

Written for the Sunday Journal. February. Sometimes o'er winter's frozen dead The sodden sun. unheralded. Through clouds of ashes, flashes red, As from the valley of gray hairs Fair Fortune sought till Hope despairs. Sometimes o'er takes ns unawares. A wrinkled dame, a grewsome waith. She binds in haste the frosted swath Of life's ungarnered aftermath; While through the fringe of crimson rifts The sun, his clouded splendor sifts Across the church-yard 'a fleeces drifts. There, wrapped in slumber sound and deep. The souls, our souls, most sadly weep, Await us in their dreamless sleep. While on the altars of the frost, Among the cold, white marblea lost, Glows winter's solemn holocaust. Roll on. sad earth, too prone we are To dwell among the tombs, and swear A dumb allegiance to despair. For all the prophets of the sky. Foretell, when scarlet sunsets die, A golden sunrise by and by. And from the graves that hold our dead With God's sweet sunshine overhead. We turn to living deeds instead. O. earth, roll on, roll on, and swing Pastmidnight into morning, bring Our souls from winter into spring. Edwin S. Hopkins. jElTiEgOHViLLE, Jan. 30, 1888.

Written for the Sunday Journal. My Good Angel. As I drifted by night With the wild tempest blowing, Came a ship into sight With love's signal light glowing. She appeared on the deck As a oeing God-gifted; And she saved me from wreck, And my soul she uplifted. In her presence I stand One to whom love has granted To be borne by her wand Into gardens enchanted. Like the shadows in flame Are her eyes darkly beaming; First in wonder I came. But I linger in dreaming. And her voice, with the charm Of its cadence so tender. Seems a magical arm That enfolds me in splendor. For the speech-giving sign On her head has descended, And the powers divine With the woman are blended. So my heart sweetly 6ings, And the ages may hear it. For it clings to the wings Of her beautiful spirit. ltichard Lew Dawson Written for the Sunday Journal. The Dialect Craze. O Robert Louis Stevenson, The fashion toward you now doth run, And poets small, and poets great Must scratch a line to celebrate The virtues that your genius earns, In words that smack of Bobby Burns, Whose "blythe" and -brew," and "teen" and "twa'a" Are intertwined with much of praise. You must not think it strange if thus Their verses look like some rebus; With "'wi's" and " 'na's" forced in so thick There's scarcely room for "frae" and "sic;" For though they may not know the land - Where you were born, they understand That quite the proper thing to do Is to pretend as though they do. Since now with us you do abide. It may be you'll be Yankeefied, And in your cottage by the lake A new world reputation make, With tales and legends of the land You bave adopted second hand. Alas, R. S., can you not see That this must never, never be? No sooner will your tales wy home Than backward o'er tiie sea will come A thousand lines from Scottish friends Of praise in verbal odds and ends; As "wal" and "haint,.' and "hev" and"thru," And "fer" and ;wuz," and "ef'and "du" All from our Blgelow papers spun; O Robert Louis Stevenson. The Tear of Grace. Last year the roses bloomed so red, - As red as fire, as life-blood dear. So red it never could be right! The boding heart within me said "They are so red, they must be white Next year!" Last year there was such waste of gold. The yellow flowers grew so near The meadow's green could scarcely show, You gathered more than vou could hold; .But spring came silver white with snow This earl ' Now you may watch the pale moon rise, And I may see the sunsets drear. All greens look grayer than before. Or do we see with other eyes? And not together any more This year! Violet Hunt, in Longman's Magazine. A Day in Winter. How could one live through a day like this, Sweet! were one not with his books or in love? I am both; I am happy; with that dear bliss Of lovers who have no faith to prove, Of readers who have no task for heeding, But read from the sheer, sweet love of reading. The sun is dead, and the clouds hang low, And the winds are weeping a dirge. What though? My life is full; in my heart I know 'T is only distance keepeth the kiss On thy lips from mine. On my lips from thine; No task to learn, no faith to prove Oh, how could one live through a day like this, Sweet! were one not with his books or in love? Orelia Key Bell, in February Century. Love's Ways. Two paths hath love for entering lovers' feet, And one is broad and fair and very sweet. And every grace of song and flower hath; The other is a straight and narrow path Where stones and brambles choke the bitter way, And songs it hath, but never one is gay; And some who enter are with roses bound. And some with thorns, but none may go uncrowned; And yet, both ways are thronged with eager feet, And voices, gay and sad, chant Love is sweet. Henrietta Christian Wright, in February Scribner. Jacqaemlnot Who is there now known aught of his story! What is left of him but a name? Of him who shared in Napoleon's glory, And dreamed that his sword had won him his fame! Ah! the fate of a man is past discerning! Little did Jacqueminot suppose, At Austerlitz or at Moscow's burning, That his fame would rest in the heart of a rose! Bessie Chandler, in American Magazine. Each man's chimney is his golden mile-stone; Is the central point, from which he measures Every distance Through the gateways of the world around bim.. In his farthest wanderings still he sees it; Hears the talking flame, the answering night wind. As be heard them When he sat with those who were, but are not. Henry W. Longfellow. A Doeen Facts Worth Knowing. The sure preventive of cholera is cleanliness. Bathrooms should not open into sleeping apartments. Keep a separate saucepan for boiling potatoes in if possible. Antique oak or cherry is the favorite wood for bedroom sets. Pine pillows are used on library lounges as inciting slumber. Tbe of tener flour is sifted for sponge cake the lighter the cake will be. The water in which codfish has been soaked is very good for washing the zinc under the stove. Bathroom accessories may be simple or elegant, but plenty of water and soap are within the reach of alL Take a bucket of fresh water into your . bedroom every night and let it remain uncovered. It will absorb all poisonous eases. Every one should have eight hours' sleep, and pale, thin, nervous persons require ten. which sbonld be taken regularly in a well-ventilated room. Paint stains that are dry and old may be removed from cotton or woolen goods with chloroform. First cover tbe spot with olive oil or butter. To enre warts take an Irish potato and cut a piece off the end and rub on the wart two or three times a day, cutting a slice from the potato each time used. Very often one potato ia sufficient for the cure. Tbe roctrlne of Kternat Torture. Laboncbere's 1-etier. been expelled from Mr. Spurgeon'a Sundayschool because they refuse to believe in tbe doctrine of eternal torture. The Superintendent OI me scnooi now auvrriuN lor veuuers iriixa . khViIi.V.m 9rv b tiaw Vitrmn twwlr fA vi.a in ffViA school. It is stipulated tbat the hymns "must J M 1 1 A "L contain pure ana unmuiifrswa itospei macu.I M ttfk A A mat tKk ftnv-kwi ntan.l am s 0 t w m. once that he wanted a book of brimstone? He . . ...... . . . 1 . t WT A Client can it tne Drimsione nymn noon. v na a delightful theme for song! And for children, tnnl

HEADING F0U THE SABBATH.

Sundny School Lesson for February 13, 1888. Jesus and the Little Ones. Matt, xviii, 1-11 Golden Text But Jeans eaid. Suffer little children and forbid tbem not, to come unto me; for of such is the kingdom of heaven. Matt, xix, 14. Mon ..Matt, xviii 1-13. Like children Tues.. Luke ii. 40-52. An exampl ed Mark ix. 33-50. A childlike believer Tha. ...... --..John xiii, 1-17. Serving one another FrL. ....... Isaiah xl, 1-11. The children's snenherd Sat 1 Peter v, 1-14. Grace for the humble Sun Matt, xxv, 31-46. Christ and the least After the transfiguration, when three of th e disciples bad been specially honored, there grew up a sharp discussion among the twelve as to who among them should hr.ve the chief places of honor in the new kingdom. They are back in Capernaum, and in the house (probably the home of Peter), and there tbe question of preeminence is raised again and answered in a most unlooked for way. A little child (probably one of Peter's), is called, a8d tbe sweet, simple, loving and trustine spirit of the child is used to condemn their selfishness, and to illustrate the character that makes one really the first in the kinedom of heaven. Lest they inieht not sufficiently appreciate the trustful, obedient spirit of the child, and lest they mieht undervalue ''these little ones which believe," he guarded the teachings with words never to be foreotten. HELPS AND HINTS FOR TEACHERS. Some Test Quationa: 1. Who is really the greatest in tbe kititrdomf 2. Wbat is meant here by conversion! 3. What is it to become like children! 4, How can we humble ourselves! 5. What is an offense! 6. Wbat is meant by hell fire! 7. Who are the angels and wbat their work? Some Subjects for Lesson Talks: L Except ye he converted. 2. Ye shall not enter into the kinedom of heaven. 3. Reeeivine a child m tbe name of Jesus. 4. The common stones of stumbling before children. 5. Cutting off tbe hand and foot. 6. The everlasting fire. 7. The ministry of an eels. 8. Tbe wandering sheep. 9. The seeking shepherd. 10. The joy over the lost one found. SPECIAL APPLICATION. In what way could the Great Teacher have put more forcibly the right of children to membership in the church, since they are now members of his spiritual kingdom! But not every child is childlike in the scriptural sense. The obedient, loving, trusting cbild ii likely to remain in the fold of the church if he sees clearly these great troths, of which be is the center. 1. The Great Shepherd's love and care. 2. The ministry of God's strone angels. 3. The careful keepine of the church. Itelleioue Notea. The French Court of Appeals has decided that priests are entitled to marry. Froude: You cannot dream yourself into a character; you must hammer and forge yourself one. Of the seven missionaries of the Enelish Baptist mission on the Congo, who went out in 18S5, four have died. The Rev. Dr. Furniss, of Philadelphia, still preaches with eloquence and vigor, although he has passed his eighty -sixth year. Bishop Hall: Whatever becomes of my body or my estate, I will ever labor to find somewhat added to the stature of my sonl. For nearly a yar two Mormon missionaries have been preaching in southern Virginia, and have recently announced their purpose to form a church in Roanoke county. Sunday-schools are growing in favor and making their wny in Italy. Spain. Bohemia and other countries, where tbey have been, until quite recently, almost unknown. Webster: The longer I live the more highly do I estimate the Christian Sabbath, and the more grateful I feel toward those who impress its importance on tbe community. C. H. Spurgeon: We are in hot haste to set the world rieht and to order all affairs; the Lord hath the leisure of conscious power and unerring wisdom, and xt will be well for us to learn to wait Brooks: The ancients painted Opportunity with a hairy forehead, but bald behind, to signify that while a man hath opportunity before him, he may lay hold on it: but if he suffer it to slip away, he can not pnll it back again. . Tbe Presbyterian Church of which Rev. Dr. John Hall is tbe pastor supports three missions In and about New York city, and on a few Sundays ago took np a collection of $12,000 for them. In his twenty years' pastorate it is said that Dr.. Hall has never been absent except on two Sundays. The late Mme. Boueieaut, of the Bon Marche in Pans, amoni ber many and princely legacies, bequeathed $20,000 to the Lutheran and Reformed churches in Paris, for the purpose of promotine religions instruction am one the young. Similar legacies were bequeathed to the Roman Catholics and to the Jews. The largest and mostly-widely organized college society to-day is the College Young Men's Christian Association. It ex'sts in nearly three hundred institutions in the United States, Canada, Japan. China, India, Ceylon. Syria and Turkey. Over eleven thousand Christian studeuts are connected with these organizations. On the 20th of January, 1788. the first colored Baptist Church was organized in Georgia. The centennial celebration will-not take place until next June, so that the weather will permit holding a great open-air meeting in Savannah. The work of the centnry has resulted in 1,409 colored Baptist churches, 500 ministers, 2,000 licentiates and 160,000 members. Thomas Heath: Sunday-school teachers cannot overestimate the importance of securing a a large store of good illustrations. I would also strongly advise teachers to make illustrations of their own, jotting down anything coming in their way from every-day life that may be turned to account. It will fully repay the little trouble tbat is required. Our beloved Lord is our example in this matter. The Gospel in All Lands, in summing up a series of articles on China, gives some interest ing statistics on the condition of the work in that vast empire. Thirty-eight Protestant societies have missionaries, there aggregating in number 925. of whom more than one-balf are women. Native helpers, ordained and unordained, to the number of 1,488, assist in the work, and the communicants registered are 28,506. This summary is brought down to the close of 1886. "Eighty-five years ago," says the Missions ry Herald, "the directors of tha East India Company placed on solemn record: 'Tbe sending of Christian missionaries into our eastern possessions ia the maddest, most expensive, most unwarranted project that was ever proposed by a lunatic enthusiast.' A few months since Sir Rivers Thompson, Lieutenant-governor of Bengal, said: 'In my judgment, Christian missionaries bave done more real and lasting good to the people of India than all other agencies combined.'" The Universalist Register for 1888 reports a total of 988 parishes, 30.338 families, 730 churches. 37.807 church members. 657 Snnday schools, 54.636 members of Sunday schools, 796 church edifices, and a valuation of church property amounting to $7,591,500. Reports are given for twelve academies, colleges, seminaries and divinity schools, having in all 110 professors and teachers and 1.284 students. The estimated value of school and college property is $2,716,500, of which total $1,100,000 represents Tufts college. There are, according to statistica just published, 367 pastors and 315 local preachers belonging to the Baptist denomination in Wales. There are 701 places of worship and 616 churches fully organized. Tbe places of meeting provide accommodation for 240.992 persons. In the chnrchea proper there ia accommodation for 75,443 members. Tbe Sunday schools were attended by 77,877 children, and the teachers number 8.535. These fignres do not cover Monmouthshire nor any Welsh chapels in England. Bishop Williams, of Connecticut, the oldest member of tbe American house of bishops of the Protestant Episcopal Church, is a tremendous worker. Besides attending to the details connected with his diocese and those which pertain to bis position as tbe primate of the bouse of bishops, he delivers twelve lectures a week to the students of the Berkeley Divinity School, Middletown, Conn., and also lectures frequently at Trinity College, Hartford. He preaches nearly every Sunday, and is an incessant reader. He reads not only philosophical and religious works, but keeps up with current fiction. He is a student of contemporary politics and an authority on affairs in central Europe. He is, perhaps, the finest conversationalist in theeonntry, and baa at command a vast number of good stories. Michigan Advocate: Did you ever huar tbe English sailor's description of a modern eburch anthem! If not, you will enjoy it. He bad been induced to attend service at a great cbnrcb, where he, of course, beard some very fine music. Returning from service he was descanting particularly upon an anthem which gave bim mueh pleasure. His shipmate listened for a time, and then said: "I say. Bill, what's a hantbem!" "Wbat!" replied Bill, "do you mean to aay you don't know what a haothem isP "Not me." "Well, then, I'll tell yer. If I was to tell yer, "Ere, Bill, give me that 'andspike, that wouldn't be a banthem. But waa I to say, 'Bill, Bill, Bill, eive. give, give, me, give me that; Bill, give me, give me, that hand, rive me that hand, handspike, spike, spike. Bill, give, give me, that, that band, handspike, hind, hand

spike, spike, spike. Ah-roen. ah-raen! Bill glvemethathandpikespike. Ah-men!" wby, that would be a hanthem." Eternity, what art thou, say! Time past, time present, time to eome, to-day James Montgomery.

HUMOR OP THE DAT. A Boy's Theaghtfalnese. Minister (dining with the family) You were I noticed you kept very quiet and still. Bobby Yes, sir; I was afraid of waking pa np. . . Disturbance in Church. EevJew. i After church: Spoggs Was it tot disgraceful the way in which Smiegs snored in church to-day! . Stuges I should think it waa Why, he woke us all up. - ' A Powerful Argument. Kew York Puu. "So you believe in cheaper whisky, do yonr "Certainly I do. Get the price of whisky down to a reasonable basis, and a poor man like myself, with a family to support, would have more money left to buy bread with." He Preferred tne Old-Time Slipper. Puck.Mr. Solomon King (who is an enthusiast over wall-decoration) brings home one of tuose pretty canoe-paddles to hang over the mantel. Rehoboam King (from the lair to wbich he has retired) I ain't been d-doin; nothin honest, Pop! n Leap Tear. New York Sun. "Charley is eoming to see me to-night," remarked Ella. "I don't know why I feel so nervous about it, but I have a presentiment tbat something's going to happen." "Oh, there's no use feoling nervous about it if you've made np your mind to do it." answered Clara. "Very likely hell say yes, he was always soft." An Arizona Seanee. Omaha Man Went to a spiritual seance down in Arizona, eh! Anything happen! Arizona Mao Well, yea The medium went into a trance and then announced that he was a spirit of a man who bad been mnrdered, and that the murderer sat in the audience. "Well, well! Did anybody run?" "We all ran." Duty va. Sentiment. New York Sun. "Ab, gentlemen," said the foreman of the jury as he wiped the copious tears from his eyes, "tbat was an affecting summing ud of the defendant's counsel. Excuse this emotion, but is tbe verdict guilty or cot guilty!" And each juror, his voice thick with emotion, murmured "guilty. Whither Are We Drifting? Omaha World. Young Husband (year 1900) Well, did you succeed in getting a girl! Young Wife Yes, I secured one, finally, but, Ob, Jobn, at such a cost. "What were the terms!" "She is to receive $50 a week if she doesn't like you. but if she likes you I am to get a divorce and let her have you." An Accommodating Climate. Puck. "Pretty cold out your way, winters, isn't it! Mercury twenty below, and all tbat sort of thing!" "Why, yes," said the Minneapolis man: "it is kind o' cold; bnt tben tbe fact is, the cold sort o' strikes right in and takes hold, and stays there; and you really aren't conscious of it until it begins to thaw out of your system in tbe spring. And then the weather 's warm, and you can stand it." Hie Only Snow. Life. Kpidv Tndividna.1 Can T cft n. noeition n.a runvasser for that new book vou intend nutting ont on subscription! Publisher Do vou know anvthins about the book! Seedy Individual Yes. I'm the author, and I honcht if I nonld ppt n. nnaitinn aa runtiSMr I might be able to make a little money out of tbe DOOJ. No Use to Him. Life. Book agent (to one of tbe "several times" a millionaire lumber "barons" of Michigan) Let. me show you, sir, the New American Encyclopaedia Lumber ro; never mind. - I am very busy to-day Agent Bnt it will surely require very little time to examine Lnmber No, no; I tell you I am very busy! And if I weren't I couldn't ride one of the infernal things any way. A Sweet Girl's Base. New York Epoch. "Mr. Sampson," she said with a blush, "I want to ask. what you may think is a very strange question: Do you know if young Mr. Brown is a gentleman or correct nabitsr' Mr. Sampson grew pale, and .hemmed and hawed: "Well ernm yea," h said, "I think he is, but oh, Miss Smith Miss Clara Clara .' A little later be looked down into her eves and said: "Why did you ask me about Mr. Brown, dar ling!" "Because! fancied be is becoming interested in a very dear friend of mine," said the girl, unblushingly. Future Prosperity Assured. Omaha World. Striking Coal-Miner We'll stay out till spring 'e other workingmen will give us the help ed. Are you a workingman! anger Yes. 'ell, if you'll stand by us coal will be worth $30 a. ton." "That's just what I came here to nee about. We are getting up an organization to extend all over the country, and we'll help you if youT support us when we go out.'" "Glorious! When do you want to strike!" "In the spring." "We'll support you. What's the name of your organization!" " 'The American Confederation of Farm. Hands.' If you'll stand by us, flour will be $50 a barrel." Penny Coffee Stands. Philadelphia Press. An intelligent and well-directed effort is being made in Brooklyn to relieve the wants of the very poor. Coffee stands have been started in different parts of the eity, where a balf-pint of coffee with milk and sugar and a slice of bread can be bought for a cent. The coffee is of the best quality, as are also the sugar and milk, and tbe bread is prepared especially for the purpose. Four of these stands bave been established and have been in operation since Oct. 1, 1887, Tbe experiment is under the charge of an association of women, one of whom studied the cheap coffee system in London before starting the enterprise in Brooklyn. Thus far the number of people fed has been about 1,000 a day and tbe cost of tbe food supplied bas been about $291 a month. The sales, it will thus be seen, meet tbe cost of tbe food supplies and leave a small surplus which is applied towards tbe payment of the rent. In addition to this, alsns; is the cost for service, which baa averaged about $20 a week at the four stands. The deficit of $1 16 a month for the whole enterprise haa been met by voluntary contributions of those interested in the experiment. Brooklyn is the first eity in this country to give a trial to this method of supplying work-, ingraen and working worn en with wholesome food at cost prices. In every great city there is a large amount of destitution, especially during the cold months of the year. How much of It could be avoided if the working classes exercised eeonomy and foresight this is not the place to discuss. Tbe fact that thia want exists must be recognized, and tbe method of relieving it which partakes tbe least of cbarity and encourages the least dependency in tbe recipient deserves the largest degree of support. The Gilbert and Sullivan Birthday Book. Pali Mall Gazette. I have been looking over the Gilbert and Sullivan Birthday Book, wbich haa jnst been published. It is certainly the most candid composition of the kind out. What must bave been tbe Queen's feelings when she turned in her presentation copy to May 24, and found the following suggestive distich: For I'm not so old, and I'm not so plain. And I'm quite piepared to marry again. The Latest Coiffure. Paris Letter. Tbe very latest coiffure, wbich as yet is neither a hit nor miss, is to bring the hair to the top of the head and tben braid it in a Grecian plait, letting it stand up rather high, if becoming to the profile. The ends must curl and fall as they will carelessly, butsotcovering the nape of the neck. A ribbon passes around this braid. It is pinned down behind with a diamond pin," and is tied either in front or at the side with a small bow. Sympathy for the Savage. Boston Transcript. Scientists say that the savage bas a more acute sense of smell than civilized people. When twf savages get together how they must suffer.