Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1886-04-01

clerk, delighting In baseball matches,
and Niblo's, and than Mr.. Miguel
Altmonty, now paying his addresses
10 snowy young woman employed
by day in an Eighth avenue cloak
store at the halo of romance with
which these two kind, innocent, an
cient women had invested them.
Letters. is like medicine, marin.
Some's good to take and some's bad;
but they all make you feel better, and
set the blood agoing."
"What you say is very true, Abigail.
What would do without my Phila-
delphia mail for thus Miss Jean dig
nified her letter weekly letter from her
cousin Rachel.
That's what's the matter with DIR.
Won Glaeber. Every time the post
man knocks he puts his head over the
bannisters, and then goes tiresome-
like and sad back to his room. He
seems so sort of lost in the world. IL
its only bill for coal, it shows some
body's thinking of you, and that
cheers you bit. To see him sitting
up there among them books makes
me so lonesome want to cry. Think
everybody's gone and forgot HIM"
"He makes me think of King Lear,
Abigail. 1t would not greatly aston
ish me, il he has been forsaken, neglect
ed, ignored by his daughters, who are,
perhaps, proud. naughty foreign prin
cess. He is probably eXpe ting let
ter from his Cordelia every post"
''Learl do you mean that frowzy-
headed OIL man up there" Abigail
pointed to the time stained engraving
"Why Miss Jean, his heads us slick
as yours. At any rate, I've notion
to send him valentine.
ooh, Abigail, such levity."
81 amt laughing. An envelope would
be like quinne and iron to him. He
needs bracn up, if ever man did. |
wouldn't send him anything lace-pa-
perry or frivolous, but some heartsome
sort of words on n sheet of paper,
writ plain, to let him feel that some
body remembers him. II would do
him good. Miss Jean, depend upon it. 3"
Miss Jean was thoughtful mo-
ment.
man, AbigailY"
"Pm sure ! can't tell. | suppose
they do have the Bible in their furren
tongues.
Bring me the Bible and my port
folio. .
Then Miss Jean sat down, and in her
fair, Old-fashioned hand. carefully
copied on AZ creamy sheet the Psalm
beginning:
81 will lift up my eyes unto thG hills
from whence cometh my help
MY help cometh from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.
"He will not suffer thy soot to be
moved. He that keepeth thee will not
slumber," etc.
When she finished she sealed it and
addressed it, Jean standing by, and
with the solemnity OF n benediction
the letter was sent on its errand OF
peace to the lonely, weary man up
stairs.
"Here is a letter for you, DR.. Won
Glaeber." Abigail who had been as
siduously prompt for the postman s
whistle, called gleetully up the stairs,
forgetting her usual decorum, to the
white head bent over the rail
The long spare hand .grasped the
wood for support, and then, erect as
youth, a tail form came hastily down
the stairs. He was man with a
scholarly face, of great refinement in
presence, but showing the traces of
suffering III deep craven lines and hair
of premature Wilderness. The usual
lansuor OF his movements were all
gone. With the impetuosity of a boy,
he took the letter from the maids
hand and tore it open.
His eyes ran over the unsigned con-
tents. He dropped the = eet with a
bitter cry.
"My God, how cruel"
"He is a religious man." Abigail
thought.
He graspcd the bannister and grew
deathly white.
Miss Jean stood horror-stricken at
the door. She came forward. "Abi-
gail bring the gentleman in and get
him glass of wine. Eyes! she ex-
claimed, with gentle lmpcrative1ess.
He was, i'm fact, too much shaken to
climb the stairs, and suffered Abigail
to lead him to one of Miss jeans an
cestral chairs.
Fool to have been deludedl They
ttIC dll SOnC. alii ioIHOlltl.
"He that keepeth thee willnot slum-
Der" said Miss Jean, solemnly stand
ing by his side in the misery OF self-re-
proach.
He looked up quickly
Miss Jean had never heard the ex-
preston, nevertheless she had given
herself away.
1.-THE letter, the letter. he said.
"Where is it?"
"No, no." The blood rushed to her
face. at has done harm enough"
He rose, walked quickly into the
hall and picked up. He read it again
slowly.
"rhose are words OF cheer and
courage" he said. "Some one who
was kind and good and thoughtful
must have sent them to me. In my
first moment OF disappointment could
think of nothing else. But whoever
sent me these must have known they
would help me to bear it, nd thank
her from my heart"
Then Miss Jean burst into flood
of tears, and when Abigail returned
she was sitting in the chair, with DIR.
Won Glaeber endeavoring to soothe
her. And it was Miss Jean, after all,
who had to drink the wine.
An acquaintance with all the pre-
liminaries thus ignored ripens rapidly.
1t was by Miss Jeans little round
table, with its cheerful light, drawn up
| i'm front OF he fire, Miss Jean hemmina
dainty ruilles and Abigail in the cor
ner knitting, that DIR. Won Glaeber
told Miss Jean the story OF his misery
and isolation.