Port Tobacco times, and Charles County advertiser. (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1845-1898, 1871-12-01

'EUEMBEk L, 1911.
iu vain; but she did not give up. Il
know I shall see him." she kept saying
over and over in her mind.
The nsEt morning uncle said. 'You
have so much going to meeting at home
you won't care to 60 here"
"Oh. yes. shall. Iwant to show my
new winter hat. and see what everybody
else has on, and want to hear Dr.. Kings.
ley"
"The Doctor is not we'll, but be supplies
the pulpit with one young prig or another;
we will hope be will preach himself to-
day"
Seated in church, the Rev: DR.. came
10. and with him-no. it is not-yes. it
is-her friend. But lie cannot be min
ister? He is. for be enters the pulpit.
takes his seat, and takes down the Bible.
Laura bows her head to. conceal the pow
erful emotions which she feels must be
visible in her face; and the prayer was
made. the hymn sung. and the deep voice
she knew so we'll, although heard but
twice before, had read the text before she
could control herself enough to lift her
head. When she did so, the eyes Of the
speaker almost Immediately met her own.
but instead of confusing, they calmed her
with the power Of their strong magnetic
will. She felt that be was talking to her
and appropriated every word to herself.
His subject was silent influences, and the
sermon abounded in noble thoughts as be
aimed to show the peacegiving influences
Of the Gospel. and of firm reliance on
the love of God and the Saviour. He
touched upon the influence Of mind upon
mind, and painted in glowing language
the influence which . silent prayer for
Gods blessing upon friend may have
upon that PERSONS thoughts; believing it
to be the love Of God and his Holy Spirit
working in the minds and hearts Of all his
creatures, and so pervading oil nature as
to cause this strange sympathy between
congenial souls.
"Who is be 2" asked Laura's aunt, as
soon as they we're en- route for home,
Il don't know" answered her uncle
"a queer name, but he is powerful smart. =
Laura said nothing, but the sermon did
her world Of good. and the doubt never
once entered her heart but that he was as
true to her in spirit as she to him.
The winter melted into spring. and the
spring in turn bloomed into summer. and
at the musical convention at Keene they
again for a moment met face to face and
q few weeks later their life-paths crossed
again one pleasant day in Springfield as
their carriages met in the busy street.
Summer was just fading into autumn
when. one glorious Saturday night. our
heroine and her mother were waiting tea
for old Mr.. B., with whom her father was
to exchange next day. The master Of the
house had been gone some hours, for it
was long drive over the hills; and the
elder lady several times remarked her
unusual restlessness as she ar
ranged and rearranged the flowers in the
vases. and altered the disposition of the
furniture in the rooms. which never look
ed more cheerful and home-like.
Laura, always peculiarly tasteful in her
dress. was fairer than ever tonight in
white pique, with purple pansies in her
golden hair and at her throat. From the
where she was standing by
the bay-window watching the sunset
clouds. and thinking. II am going to see
him. I know l am have never been de-
ceived, she heard the little hustle Of an
arrival, and presently her mother came
in to say that Mr.. b. was uuavoidably
detained, but had sent some one in his
stead. Laura's heart gave great leap;
she knew whom she was to meet even be-
fore the tall form came forward in response
to her mothers my daughter, Laura.
MIR. Parkhurst." as she hustled away to
look after her biscuits. It only needed
the earnest. almost fearful, "Thank God,
we have met at last!'' and the firm clasp
10 which be took both her hands, to as
sure her that he had shared the long
months Of waiting. watching, and hoping.
and that the joy at meeting was mutual.
Is there need Of more? This is a true
story. as improbable as it may seem; and
my hero aud heroine were married. and
are living happily together to-day in a
model parish and parsonage among the
New Hampshire hills. When this num-
Der of the chronological journal finds its
way to their study y-tabie. I trust they will
pardon the friend who has woven the ro-
nance Of their lives with a. little senti-