The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1882-06-21
FROM NATURES LIPS.
WHAT THE NIGHT SAID.

JOnn ffencQ Leaned Dack IN his seat
in the dimly-lighted car and thought
1t was an uncommon thing for John
French to think much, and either the
thinking itself or the subject of which
he was thinking was far from pleasant.
For there was frown upon his face
which made it darker even than either
nature or the shadows of the night
could have done. 1t did not make the
face less landsome, perhaps, but it
made it less lovable it changed it from
ii face that would have else been called
good to one which could only be c3ll ed
strong.
man across the aisle from John
French was studying him. Too full OF
the cares OF business to sleep, he, never
theless, was honestly trying to Danish
The thoughts of business by studying
intently the face OF a man whom he had
never seen before, in the hope of fixing
upon the nature and character of man
who would probably never cross his
path again.
"This man has seen a great deal of
life," said the gray-haired student OF
human nature TO himself, "and has
either found much evil in those around
him or las had evil in his own heart
which he has not found out yet. The
world is not in harmony with him nor
he with the world"
And the observer was right.
HE is man with tastes beyond his
means; he has the courage OF man
who believes he can triAe with evil
habits and escape their NATURAL results;
he is noble in many things-meah in
some; he drinks, while he takes pride
in never being under the influence of
liquor; he has grand possibilities in his
nature, but L wouldn't trust him."
And the looker.on was right again.
But he knew as little of it all as we
generally know of those whom we
merely meet in the hustle of life. He
would never have guessed that John
French was on his way to a wedding,
and that wedding his own, but so it
was. And with every mile the frown
was growing deeper.
The young man pressed his face
against the window, shaded the glass
from the light of the car and looked out
ixfo the night. A farmhouse, with a
wooded hill behind it, dim and dream
like in the uncertainty of the night of
mist and rain, shot, like u scene in a
panorama back into the pbscurity, and
the man who was flying with the wings
of steam toward the woman who was
to be his wife in less than twenty-four
hours, followed the scene backward
with hungry eyes, and envied the
humble happiness which he pictured as
the1ot Of those who lived there. He
coveted place in that humble home,
with all that might fall to his lot be-
cause of it.
%Life couldn't be worse" he NUT
. tered, and then shut his teeth closer
together with sound that was halfway
between a groan and 8 curse.
A cool, dark lake, with little ridges
of white rolling over its blackness,
stirred his heart. 1t seemed to whisper
of peace. The thought of suicide,
which comes sometimes TO every man,
however sane, stole through his mind.
Not death by any of the means he had al
hand notin any of the ways he might
readily command no, not that; but 9
thought that when life had become
more unbearable than now, when heart
and brain and nerves had grown wearier
he would seek out this little lake-seeR
it out in the night--fnd 1t with the
white waves just breaking its surface
aud lie down under it to rest and dream
for ever.
Long reaches of plowed land and pas
ture land succeeded, and he wondered
with dull pain at his heart, how thos,
who gained living there could bear tt
live 90, toiling early and late, summe
and winter, for the little they coulC
get.
Then his own pain came back again
and his head sank more heavily ant
wearily against the pane. Perhaps h
slept a little then; but if he did tn
drip OF the rain against his windoy
seemed like tears shed by the night fo
him. And later, when he surely slept
the monotone IS sound of the train wa
changed by his dream into the beat G
q hammer, forging a chain which b
knew was for him. The whole nigh
seemed saying to him some of the stern
est things which nature can say TO mt
some of the most fearful things whic
truth can say to falsehood.
For John French,prop. John French
poor in every sense of the word, ha
engaged himself a year ago to one {
the loyeliest and noblest of womeI
and had known, without feeling, I'll