The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1868-11-03

prayer in his heart, and steadied hims
self with it. The time came for him at
last and he followed the boy who sum =
moned him into little room shaded with
green, with green furniture, and on the
table a vase of flowers. The stiffness, and
the ccol scented air refreshed him. He
saw dimly, as he saw everything that mor-
n'ng, Il tall, slight man, with kind face and
quiet manners, who addressed him by
name, invited him to sit down, and then n-
quired into his symptoms with such tact
and sympathy that he felt as if he were
talking TO a friend. At last the doctor
asked him TO take a seat by the window,
and have his eyes examined. His heart
beat chokingly, and he whispered under
Es brcnth, -
"Thy will, O God, be done, only give
me strength"
DR.. Gordon was silent for a moment
or two.-it seemed ages to Mr.. Spencer.
Thea he said with the ;eQderest, saddest
voice, as if he felt to the uttermost all
the pain he was lnhlcting,-
81 cannot give you any hope, The
m ,lady is ncurabe. You will not lose
your sight entirely, just yet but It must
come"
The minister tried to ask how long it
woull be before he should be blind; but
his tongue seemed to cleave to the roof Of
his mouth, and he coull only gasp,
DIR. Gordon understood, and answered
kindly, that it might be n month, possibly
two.
He stood up then to 90. He knew all
hope was gone over. lie paid his fee md
went out of the room-out Of the house.
! 1t seemed to him that things had grown
darker since he went in. lie hardly
knew how he found his way to the cars.
1t was two hours past his dinner time,
aud he was faint for lack of food but he
did not know it. lie got to the station
somehow. and waited till it was time for
the train to start for Montcla;r, All the
way home he kept whispering over to
himsalt-"One month. possibly two,' rs
iii /: we're lesson on the getting by heart
. Of which his hte depended. lie heard
last. and got oul Of the cv- mechanical
ly. His wife ~tolI there waiting for
him. She had been anxious about him
all day.
so William she cried, and then she
saw his face. and stopped, There was n
look on it Of one over whom some awful
doom is pending IA white, fixed look,
which chilled her She took his arm,
and they walked ON silently, through the
summer afternoon. When they reached
home, and she had taken off her bonnet,
he at last spoke:
"Mary, come here and lc, me look at
you. | want to learn your face by heart. u
She came and knelt by him. while he
took hai cheeks between his hands, and
studied every ineament
"Are you gcing away p she asked,
after awhile, for his fixed, silent, mysler-
ions glze began to torture her
"l'e', ! am going into the dark
80 die = she gasped.
"Ye-, to die to everything that makes
up mans life in thi- world" he answer,
ell bitterly. "Mary, am going blind
Think what that means. After Il few
weeks more | shall never see you again,
or our children, or this dear, beautiful
world where we have lived and loved
each other. The whole creation only an
empty sound forever more. O God, how
can bear it !"
SIS there no hope p she asked with Il
curious calmness, at which she hersel
was amazed.
"None. 1t was my erraDd to town to.
day to find out have felt it coming OF
for months, but hoped against hope, anC
now--I know. o Mary, to sit in dark.
ness until my death day, striving for q
sight Of your dear faces 1t is too bitter
and yet what am saying! Shall my
Father not choose his own way TO bring
me to the light of heaven | must say,
:, will say. Ills will be done"
Just then the children came running
in-boyi,h, romping viii; shy, yet mer,
ry little May.
"Ilush, dears,' the mother said, softly,
papa is tired. You had better run out
aglin."
"No, Mary, let them stay" Mr.. Spen-
Ger interposed, and then he said, so low
that his wiie's ears ust caught the whis-
perl cannot see them too much in
this little while-this little while,"
- O how the days went on after that. -
Every day the world looked DINNER to
the minister's darkened eyes He spent
almost all his time trying TO fix the thing;
he loved in his memory. 1t was piiiCul
to see him going round over each well
known, well loved scene, noting anxious.
Iy just how those tree boughs stood oul
against the sky, Or that hill climed tow,
ard the sunset. lie studied every little
flower, every fern the children gathered +;
for all creation seemed to take for him a
new beauty and worth. Most of all he
studied the dear home faces. His wife
grew used to his dim, wistful eyes follow.
ing her so constantly; but the children
wondered why papa liked 50 well to keep
them in sight, why he did not read OF
study any more.
, There came time at last, one Sunday