The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1882-03-16

sceptical and cynical. IL should lik
to ask you question:" he said. ID
you believe in purgatory, doctor? 1t
not in the tenets of the Church, 81
far as I know"
Sir said DIR. Moncrieff, san oil
man like me is sometimes not yer,
sure what he believes. There is JUS
one thing | am certain of-and that il
the loving-kindness of God
But | thought that was in thi
life. | am no theologian-''
Sir" said the old man again, will
tremor in him which | could fee
going over all his frame, IF | saw
friend of mine within the gates O.
hell. | would not despair but his Fathel
would find him still-if he cried lik'
you."
II allow it is very strange. can
not see through it. That there mus
be human agency, | feel sure Doctor
what made you decide upon the person
and the name?"
The minister put out his hand with
the impatience which a man might
show if he were were asked how he re.
cognized his brother. ''Tuts!' he said
in familiar speech-then more solemn
ly, "how should | not recognize per-
son that | know better-far better
than [ know you?"
Then you saw the man?"
DR.. Moncrieff made no reply. He
moved his hand again with little i'm
patient movement, and walked on.
leaning heavily on my arm. And we
went on for long time without an
other word, threading the dark paths,
which were steep and slippery with the
damp of the winter. The air was
very still-not ore than enough to
make faint signing in the branches,
that mingled with the sound of the
water to which we were descending.
When we spoke again, it was about
Indifferent matters-about the height
of the river, and the recent rains. We
parted with the minister at his own
door, where his old housekeeper ap-
peared in great perturbation, waiting
for him. "Eh me, minister! the young
gentleman will be worse?" she cried.
Far from that-better God bless
him! DIR. Moncrieff said.
| think if Simson had begun again
to me with his questions, [ should
have litched him over the rocks as we
returned up the glen; but he was 81
lent by good inspiration. And the
sky was clearer than it had been for
many nights, shining high over the
trees, with here and there a star
family cleaning through the wilder
ness of dark and bare branches. The
air, as have said, was very soft in
them, with subdued and peaceful
cadence. 1t was real, like every nat
ural sound, but came to US like hush
of peace and relief. | thought there
was sound in it as of the breath Of
a sleeper, and it seemed clear to me
that Roland must be sleeping, satisf-
ed and calm. We went up to his
room when we went in. There We
found the complete hush Of rest. My
wife looked up out of doze, and gave
me smile; Il think he is great
deal better; but you are very late"
she said in a whisper, shading the
light with her hand that the doctor
might see his patient. The boy had
got back something like his own
color. He woke as we stood all round
his bed. His eyes had the happy half
awakened look of childhood, glad to
shut again, yet pleased with the inter-
ruption and glimmer of the light. l
stopped over him and kissed his fore
head, which was moist and cool. at
is all we'll, Roland" SAID. He looked
up at me with glance of pleasure,
and took my hand and laid his cheek
upon it, and so went to sleep.
For some nights after, l watched
among the ruins, spending all the dark
hours up to midnight patrolling about
the bit of wall which was associated
with so many emotions; but [ heard
beyond the quiet course of
nature; nor, SO far as | am aware. has
been heard again. DIR. Mon
Grief gave me the history of the
youth, whom ahe never hesitated to
name l did not ask, as Simson did,
how he recognized him. He had been
a prodigal-weak, foolish, easily i'm
posed upon, and lied away" as people
say. All that we had heard had pass
ed actually in life, the doctor said
The young man had come thus day
or two after his mother died-who |
was no more than the housekeeper in
the old house-and distracted with the
news, had thrown himself ,odown at |
the door and called upon her to let
him in. The old man could scarcely
speak of it for tears. To me it seemed
as if-heaven hel p us, how little do
we know about anything scene
like that might impress itself some
how upon the hidden heart of nature
do not pretend to know how, but |
the repetition had struck me at the |
time as, in its terrible strangeness
and incomprehensibility, almost me-
if the unseen actor could |
not exceed or vary, but was bound to
re-enact the whole. One thing that
struck me, however, greatly, was the
likeness between the old minister and |
my boy in the manner of regarding
these strange phenomena. DIR Mon
Grief was not terrified, as had been
myself, and all the rest of us. 1t Was
no "ghost," as | fear we all vulgarly |
considered it, to him-but a poor
creature whom we knew under these
conditions. just as we had known him
in the flesh, having no doubt Of his
identity. And to Roland it was the
same. This spirit in pain-if it was
a spirit-this voice out Of the unseen
was a poor fellow-creature in misery,
to be succored and helped out of his
trouble, to my boy. He spoke to me