St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1884-04-24
The Minister Of MOmtcIair.

1t was no use the letters danced be-
fore his eyes, the whole world seemed
wavering and uncertain, in those days.
He laid his book down, and began to
think of the great trouble which was
shutting him in. When the black
specks first began to dance between
him and his paper, months ago, he had
not thought ofthe matter. 1t was very
annoying, to be sure, but he must
| have taxed his eyes too severely. He
would work little less by lamp-light
spare them awhile-and he should
be all right. So he had spared them
more and more, and yet the black
specks kept up their eltin dance and
now for Il week the conviction had
been growing on him slowly that he
was going to be blind. He had not
told his wife yet-how could he bear
| to lay Oh her shoulders the burden of
his awful calamity Oh, it was too
hard.
And yet was it too hard7 Dare he
say so-he, Gods minister-who had
| told other sufferers so many times that
! their chastenings were dealt out to
| them by a Fathers hand, and that
they should count all that brought
them nearer to Him as joyous and not
! grieviOus
Yet speaking after the manner OF
| this world, his burden seemed greater
than he could bear. What could he do,
a blind. helpless man He must give
up his work in life, let another take
his ministry, sit helpless in the dark
ness. Heaven only knew for how long.
| Could he bp rnsirpaJ
Then, suddenly, a flash of hope
kindled his sky. There might be helr
for him. This gathering darkness
might he something which science
could remove. He would be sure of
that, at least, before he told Mary
And then he became feverishly impa-
tient. He must know at once; it seem
ed to him he could not wait. He calleo
his wife and told her, with manner
/ which lie tried hard to make calm, thai
he was going out of town the mex
morning on Il little business. She
wondered that he was so uncommunI'
cative it was not like him, but she
would not trouble him with any ques
tions. She should understand it al
some time, she knew, still she thought
there was something strange III his
way of speaking.
The minister strOve hard for the
mastery of his own spirits as the cars
whirled him along next morning tow
ards the tribunal at which he was t'
receive his sentence. lie tried to thlnl
of something else, but found the effor
vain so he said, over and over, ~
simply as a child, one form of words
"Father, whichever way it turns, {
rive me strength to bear it,
Holding fast to this prayer, rs to al
, anchor. he got out of the cars an'
went into the streets. What Il curiOu
mist seemed to surround all things
The houses looked high and spectra
through it, the people he met seemed
like ghosts. He had not realized hi
= defective vision SO much at home
where it came on him gradually-an'
all objects were so familiar. Still
with an effort, he could read the sign
! on the street corners, and find his way
He reached at last the residence o
the distinguished oculist for who's
verdict he had come. He found tn
D parlor half filed with people, waiting
, like himself. He WAS asked for hi
n name, and sent in a card on which wa
n written, "Rev. William Spencer, Mont
clair" Then he waited for his turl
He dared not think how long the tim
IL was, or what suspense he was in. IL
y Just kept his simple child's prayer i
his heart, and steadied himself with i
The time came for him at last, and Il
followed the boy who summoned hil
q into Il little room shaded with greer
II with green furniture, and on the tab
Il a vase of flowers. The stiffness, an
the cool, scented air refreshed hin
= He saw diAly, as he saw everythin
that morning, tall, slight man, wit
i kind face and quiet manners, who ad
e dressed him by name, invited him
20 sit down, and then inquired into h
symptoms with such tact and sympath
le that he felt as if he were talking to
sr friend. At last the doctor asked hi
ss to take seat by the window, and ha'
\ his eyes examined. His heart be
chOkingly, and he whispered, und
8 his BREATH
of "Thy will, o God, be done; on
o, give me strength"
a. DR.. Gordon was silent for nome
80 or twO-it seemed ages to Mr.. Spence
Then he said with the tenderest, sa
ne dest voice, as if he felt to the ute
We most all the pain he was iDflicting,-
OF 81 cannot give you any hope. i
malady is incurable. You will not 10
-, your sight entirely, just yet; but
ei must come"
de The minister tried to ask how 10
II. it would be before he should be blin'
he but his tongue seemed to cleave to t
- roof of his mouth, and he could on
a" gasp.
he DIR. Gordon understood, and answ'
to ed kindly, that it might be a mon