Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1885-07-12

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And when poor Job--isninins job e
pecislly--is sitting in the ashes Of desoIstion
then do they, softly seated on the cushior
OF seHrighteousness proceed to comment
disparagingly on the sufferers past- be
havior.
Now, EEphaz and Co, were not wanting
in Marlborough society, and in the case q
John and Margaret soon perceived "the riff
in the lute;" and being low, mean souls
they set to work to find low, roean cause
for it, having no idea Of the higher love be.
tween man and woman.
They were three middle-sged spinsters,
who had failed to enter the holy estate Of
matrimony in spite of an earnest desire to do
so. When the roses of youth and riches
were no longer for them they would fain
have culled the chrysanthemums OF hfe's
sutumn; but, alas even those sad and
scentless flowers were denied them So these
three had been soured, or rather were I'M
loved through certain sourness of nature
which the masculine portion Of mankind
had ssgaeity enough to perceive and to
avoid. Miss Moss, Miss Brown, and Miss
Jones were friends, and much Of the mischief
in marlborough might be traced to- them.
For instance, had they not discovered Mr.
Blight the curate's shameful Irritation with
little Miss Wilson? and here was Dr.
Enderby taking to his old flirting ways again
If he had married o sensible, intellectual
person, she might have cured him by care
fully looking after him; but now his at
fencing the meetings of the Book Club with.
out his wife, and walking home with little
Miss Fry and her Quaker mother, boded no
coed So said they shaking their heads
This was after morning service on Sunday,
and they resolved that on Monday morning,
while the Doctor was away on his rounds
they would call and eplighten his wife. at
will do her good, poor thing" they remark
ed.
So the three came on Monday msrning,
and after few commonplace, Miss Moss
who was faded beauty, and therefore the
bitterest, began.
"Now, my dear Mrs Eaderby, we can see
that you are suffering, poor dear, and no
wonder"
Margaret locked at them bewildered. II
am quite well, she sand.
but about the Doctor, my dear; we have
SHOWN him so long and understand bis
WAYS If you had been little more ex'
perienced you would have looked better
after your husband.
But he is not i'll, !" answered the wife, still
more bewildered
Not in body" remarked Miss Brown,
with significant smile; but in mind, we
mean; he pays great attention to the Frys
next door, you know.
"And Miss Fry is very pref J" added Miss
Jones.
II she had not been so angry Margaret
would have laughed; John had walked home
with their neighbors twice, and she was
very fond of them. John might not love
her; that she had found out, she thought;
but she knew him to DO the very soul oil
honor. She was generally so quiet that
shen her anger blszed out they we're startled
"Will you be so good as to leave my bus.
bands affairs alone2' she said. IF you
wish to be wicked there is no need to snow
,uch bad taste as 10 come here and endeAvor
% do barn"
Aud then they, feeling that for once they
had been vanquished, quickly took thair de-
arturo Bot their wounds had lett suing
behind them
Wss it so visible, then, even to these
gossips, the TACT that she had found out
some time ago, namely, that she was not to
him sll that be was TO her? When she had dis
covered II she had determined to take thank
fully what he could give; but, alas beloved,
who will be grateful for a few crumbs seeing
full meal beyond2 The hunger of the
soul cannot be stiled; it cries out for food.
Well, she tried not to blame him; he had
mistaken his feeling for her, and was tired
of her; but there was her baby.
She never told her husband Of that visit,
though she believed he regretted his mar
riage; she only chung to the child-such
trail little reed to lean upon. And one day
it broke.
1t was Sunday-one Of those sweet days
in the late Autumn which nature saves out
Of the Summer. The trees had lost their
delicate irregularity-their beauty of mere
form, which had been hidden by the foliage,
The golden asters and red geraniums still
frightened the sheltered garden. A ball
was lying on the frosty grass, but the tiny
fingers that had played with it would never
touch it more, for Baby Jack was going fast
TO land in which, let US not say, there are
no toys for the angel children. You re-
member Martin Luthers letter to his boy
Hans, in which he tells him OF lovely
Paradise, with golden toys, whips, and
drums, and childish delights.
This little child was dying of Group. His
mother could only hold the little form on her
knee, while John knelt beside her trying
useless remedies to comfort her. At last he
stood still, looking down sorrowfully at the
signs of ebbing life.
Suddenly he knelt and touchad the little
clenced hand with his lips, and heavy tears
splashed down upon this dear little boy
it was hard
Margaret bert forward. You do love
him, John" She was jealous for him that
he should have his full share of love before
he went. John understood, and his look
answered her. What instinct had made her
ask?
The apttering breath grew shorter and
shorter; it was near the END now, and little
Jack opened his eyes and said, for the first
and last time, quite clearly, Mamma,
That was all she was to have-the one word,
and the angels would have the rest. Ter
rible. awfullY mysterious death had born
away the spirit Of the babe, and left only
the little body cold and white as snow
wreath: but smile lowered on the tiny face.
At that moment the bells rang out for
morning service, filing the clear air with
their solemn merriment.
"And the bells Of the city rang again,
said John, softly. Margaret could weep
then, and the nurse took the dead child
from her arms, and went softly out, shutting
the door.
V.
So John comforted his wife, but her grief
grew silent. She was gentle to him, but her
thoughts were with the dead child. She
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